The Star-Crossed Bride (17 page)

Oddly enough he had no concern that she would become a jaded society wife alleviating her boredom with a series of meaningless affairs. That was not Emily's way and he did not imagine that even marriage and a difficult life with him would ever drive her to such disloyalty. But could life with him drive her to become a pinch-mouthed society matron? He looked at her sweet lips, curved upward in a half smile as she watched him deliberate. What kind of life would turn that smile into a permanent frown? The only kind he could offer her. Just as his father's poor stewardship of his estate had embittered his mother. He would never do anything to bring her to that fate. Not if he could help it.

"Do you think of me as a stranger?" Her voice was faint and he could hear her sudden doubts.

He considered dissembling, but she watched him so closely he felt certain she would not accept any answer but the truth. "No, I never could."

"Then why will you not kiss me? Why must you stand apart from me when we are properly wed and there is no law to keep us apart?"

"Darkness and stealth are not the way you should be won." He shook his head. "If we are truly to marry, I want to do it properly — with a courtship, and with you given a fair chance to see what life would be like for you as my viscountess before you must commit to a life with me."

She smiled, as if he had made a jest. "There is no help for that now."

He refused to accept that he had condemned her to an impoverished future without recourse. "I think there might be. Even though we did marry, if a ceremony in the middle of the night by the light of a paltry candle can be called a wedding, we have told no one." He watched her carefully as he spoke. "Since the marriage is a secret — only Nan knows, and she is loyal to us, I am sure of it — we are not obligated to honor it when we return to London."

"What do you mean?" Emily's expression was both stunned and bruised, as if she had unexpectedly fallen down a flight of stairs.

Hoping to somehow ease her hurt with a logical explanation, he continued, "No one ever need know that we were married, if we are not forced to tell them because your marriage to Granbury cannot be foiled otherwise."

"I see," she said slowly "You are hoping that we will escape this predicament without actually proclaiming our marriage?" The expression on her face convinced him that she still held to her romantic notions of love conquering all, including the scarcity of funds.

"Exactly," He, however, had seen what impoverishment had done to his parents' once affectionate relationship. He would never cause Emily such unhappiness if he could avoid it.

"How?" Emily hoped that he could not see how his careful words devastated her, but feared she had failed when he reached out to touch her. Before his hand reached her face though, he froze.

Emily could feel the warmth of his fingers where they nearly touched her cheek. "I cannot wait for the duke's help any longer. I will provoke Granbury to either leave or expose his guilt."

She turned her head and felt the light brush of his fingertips against her skin as she asked, "What will you do?"

"Blackmail."

"Blackmail?" The thought made her nervous. Blackmailing Granbury would be as dangerous as baiting a wounded bull.

"Seems fitting, considering the man, doesn't it? I will ensure he receives anonymous notes detailing his crimes and threatening to expose them if he does not go abroad immediately and never return to England."

"And if he does not?"

"Then I will find a way to expose him for what he is before the countess's guests." His voice was assured and strong, but she knew he was as aware of the risks he took as she was.

"Very well. But you must remain here with me still, for the nights." And during those hours snatched from fate's hand, she must find a way to change his mind, to convince him to share her bed. They were meant to be together, and now that they were so close, she was not willing to throw it away because he had some foolish masculine pride about being forced into marriage by circumstance. She didn't need him to court her again, he had won her three years ago — and her heart was still his.

"That doesn't seem wise."

She was encouraged by the way his fingers lingered a moment before he snatched his hand away. "No?" Did he not want to stay with her, or did he not trust himself with her? How could she tell the difference?

"Certainly not. If we were discovered — " His answer was frustrating in its ambiguity.

And then she realized she had the perfect argument to get him to stay, no matter his reasons for being reluctant. "Can you not understand? I am not asking for your company as a blushing bride, but as a woman who fears for her life. He will suspect me of sending the notes at first."

He must have sensed the bitterness she tried to hide, because he moved to interrupt her, but she overrode him before he could say a word. "I am asking you to stay with me to protect me should Granbury once again decide he must invade my bedchamber to question me about the blackmail."

Again, he tried to speak. "I — "

Again, she overrode him. She did not want him to offer any argument, good or bad. She was simply determined that he do as she asked. "You can sleep on the floor — perhaps even under the bed, if you wish, since you are so familiar with the area. If he dares to . . ." She could not bring herself to say the words that described what she most feared would happen.

"Of course." As she had suspected, that argument convinced him. His whole attitude changed, and his glance swept the door with a challenging look, as if he'd welcome the marquess to come through it and meet his fate. It was somewhat comforting to know that she could count on him to protect her from danger. But what would protect her heart from his rejection if she found that he truly did not wish to have her as wife? That she had misread some other, milder emotion in his eye as desire for her?

One question remained — the question which would determine whether she dared try to make Valentine her husband in truth. "And if we do need to declare the marriage? What then? It will be real, as it will have been announced before all your family, as well as all of my mother's guests." She watched his face avidly as he struggled to compose an answer to her question. At last, resolutely, he said, "Then I will make you a good husband. But it will not happen — " he broke off, staring at her.

She did not look at him. She knew why he had stopped speaking. She had begun to remove her robe. "What are you doing?" His surprise sounded strong, but there was less assurance in the shaky breath he released after his question. She buried her hands in the folds of her nightgown to hide the fact that they were trembling. "I am going to sleep of course. It would not do to be bleary-eyed tomorrow morning. My mother will ask too many questions." With a turn of the knob, she put out the lamp beside her bed and climbed up into the bed.

A lengthy silence indicated that he was taken aback at her answer for a moment and then he collected himself with a sigh. "Of course."

She moved carefully as she settled herself under the covers, mindful not to upset her collection of dolls covering the other half — the half that Valentine might soon lie upon, if she had her way. The pale porcelain faces were light, round smudges in the darkness. The girls had been her friends and confidantes — silent, but good listeners — throughout her childhood and since she had been locked away in the castle. "What will he do, girls?" she asked them silently. As usual, they offered no answer. Oddly enough, however, the weight of them, the light patches of their smooth faces in the dark, seemed disapproving. As if they knew she should be doing something more. But what was she to do if Valentine would not even come near her? She sighed and settled into the bedcovers, tossing and turning for a bit to find a comfortable spot close to the edge, where she could gaze toward where she imagined he still stood. Would he come to her now, or would he choose the unwelcoming floor over his own wife?

He did not move for several minutes, and then the shadowed darkness shifted a bit, and she heard the creak of his boots as he said again, "Of course."

She held her breath and her heart pounded in her chest as he moved toward the bed. "I think I'll sleep on the floor, but not under the bed."

The threat of tears was so great that she could not reply for fear he would hear how they choked her voice.

After a pause, he sighed. "Things will work out as they should, Emily. If we are truly meant to be together, we will be. Once Granbury is dealt with."

She feigned a sleepy tone, not wanting him to hear her disappointment as she listened to the creak of the floorboards as he settled somewhere in the darkness. Away from her. "As you wish."

Emily glanced quickly out the door. "There is no one in the hallway."

He gave her a brief, hard hug, wishing it could be more. Sleeping on the floor of her room while she was only feet away and obviously willing to be his wife was taking its toll on him. The tension, waiting for Granbury to acknowledge the blackmail, to corner her with accusations was taking its toll on her, as well. He could see it in her face, hear it in her voice when she lay in her bed at night and talked with him softly until she fell asleep. She felt small and fragile in his arms and, as he did each morning, he wished he did not have to leave her.

If only Granbury could be brought down once and for all — but the plan required all its pieces in place. The three notes he had delivered had provoked no reaction yet. Surely Granbury could not ignore them, not when they were so obviously damning. Any day now he would show his hand. Still, the waiting and planning tried his patience to the limits. To leave Emily here alone while he continued the pretense of footman felt as if he were leaving a defenseless lamb tied up before a hungry wolf.

He said, more to placate himself than her, "You should be safe enough, but between Nan and I, we will keep an eye on you, just to make certain that Granbury does not decide you should join the others who dared to cross him."

Emily stopped him with a hand upon his arm. "Do you think we can trust Nancy?"

He had been wondering the same thing. The girl had given no sign of disloyalty, but as the days progressed with them no closer to their goal, he found himself questioning everything. "She has not let us down yet." Which was beyond doubt true. She let him into Emily's room each night, and unlocked the room for him again in the morning.

However, it was one thing to expect her to keep a little romantic subterfuge quiet. Blackmail, no matter the reason, was a crime.

Granbury's downfall was all Valentine cared about. Nancy might want to save her own neck, and he could not bring himself to blame her if she did.

"I had complete faith in Mary, as well, only to find that she had betrayed us."

He thought of her here, worrying, locked in her room and unable to do anything to help, and knew he must reassure her.

He stepped back inside the doorway, closing the door so that they would not be discovered there. "Nan is not a silly young girl like Mary. I doubt the countess could easily sway her to betray us with gold. I cannot imagine her falling under the marquess's influence after what he did to her sister. She has a true understanding of his nature."

"Better than we do, perhaps." Emily then grew silent, thinking of what it must feel like to lose a sister to a murderer and see him prosper as if he had done nothing more than dispatch a lame horse.

Valentine shook his head. "If he killed her sister, I don't think we can doubt her allegiance to the cause of bringing him to justice."

"How can we be certain that she is telling the truth? That Granbury really did kill her sister? After all, you showed her the letter yourself. She could have made that up simply to keep our trust."

True enough. But such thinking was a trap of uncertainty that he was not willing to fall into at this late date. "Is there anything at all that one can be absolutely certain of, Emily?" He had no doubt meant the question casually, to end the conversation, but Emily took it as a challenge.

Pressing her entire soft, curved length against him, she put her hands to his cheeks, so that he looked full into her eyes. "You can be absolutely certain of me. I will never desert you. I will never betray you. And I will never stop loving you."

Looking into the clear certainty of her expression, he felt humbled by her trust and faith in him. "I can't say I deserve such loyalty. But I cherish it. And I promise you that I will not let you down." But did his promises mean anything anymore? Had he not promised the duke that he would never disgrace the family by attempting once again to elope with Emily? And, yet, he had.

Now, he had promised himself that he would not sleep with her, married or not. With her tight against him like this, though, that promise seemed insubstantial. The need to put his arms around her, to kiss the lips that were so very close to his own right now . . . These last nights had put that promise to the test until he thought he might go mad. Listening to Emily's soft disembodied voice in the velvet darkness of night as they talked of their plans, their future, their past. And — after she had fallen asleep — hearing her even breathing, lying upon the uncomfortable floor wishing he could leap up and —

Emily tapped his chin with her fingertip. "I will see you tonight, then? And perhaps you'll agree to share the bed with me." Stubbornly she asked him this each night.

He was beginning to suspect she knew exactly how close she was coming to eroding his ability to refuse her. "Emily — " He pulled away from her embrace. "It would not be wise."

She smiled sadly. "I only mean for you to pass a comfortable night in sleep. I understand that I have no hope of anything else from you, for now." She reached up and touched his cheek.

Feeling like a craven coward, he slipped through the door and locked it behind him. He was not his usual cautious self. His head still buzzed with the thought of what promises he might have broken if he had spent one more second with her looking at him as she had. Thankfully, he made it down to the servants' quarters without notice, due to a small disturbance Nan caused just as he walked into the kitchens and stumbled over a basket of potatoes.