"If anyone can explain it to 'er right, it will be the duke, I 'm certain of it, my lady."
Valentine appeared to have confided quite a bit of the story to the girl. She could only hope it wouldn't be a problem if Nancy had a change of heart. She examined her maid in the mirror as the girl concentrated on brushing out the elaborate curls and braiding her hair for sleep. Could she be trusted? It had been her former maid who had betrayed their elopement plans to the duke three years ago. The silly girl had been shocked when Emily's parents had sacked her without a reference for letting the plans get as far as they did.
She closed her eyes, remembering. They had been so close . . . an hour more and they would have been safely wed. She no longer blamed the duke, or even the maid for her betrayal. Elopement had not been Valentine's choice. He wanted a real wedding, an honorable match. Instead, through no fault of his own, he had gotten a near scandal. No, it had been Emily's own fault. She should have stood up to her parent's indignation sooner. If she had done as Valentine begged, and allowed her father time to come to know him, things might have been so much different now. But she had been in love and impatient with her parents' unromantic concerns with title and wealth.
And she had caused Valentine more pain than she had ever meant. She still recalled the way the color had bled from his face when the duke stepped into the carriage and said quietly "I had thought much better of you, Fenster." Valentine had been deeply ashamed, true. But it had been love in his eyes when she left the carriage, and when he looked directly into her eyes and promised that he would never breathe a word of the near scandal to anyone. He had loved her then, she couldn't bring herself to doubt it.
His feelings for her had obviously cooled, although it spoke well of him that he had come when the duke had been unable to. He apparently considered her an obligation to be met. Unfortunately she hated feeling like someone's obligation. She was not going to be a burden to anyone, least of all to Valentine. She would make that clear to him the moment she saw him tonight.
But how? Perhaps there was a way to deal with that role, without feeling a fool. Valentine might be insulted, but she was willing to chance it, nevertheless. Surely she could put it in such a way that he understood it was to the benefit of both of them? She must pay him for his help in rescuing her from this intolerable engagement. She would not need to be ashamed to be rescued by a former love, and he would not lose because of all the trouble he had gone through on her account.
She nodded. He would see the sense in it. A business arrangement, nothing more. He would be comfortable with that kind of relationship with her, especially since he did not seem to want more of her any longer. And she would just have to accept that she had lost his love and trust long ago because of her impatience.
If she wanted his love again, she must win it back . . . somehow.
Nan was skittish as they crept up the unlit staircase. He followed her lead, avoiding the loose boards, making no noise, though their progress was less rapid than he would have liked. The risk of being found here was great. But he could think of no other way to ease Emily's mind. He tensed as they approached Emily's room, both moving quietly There was silence from behind the door.
Nan did not even trust him to use the keys, instead barring the way to the door with her body, and holding out her hand for the key ring. He relinquished it reluctantly, aware of how much trust he had put in the hands of a mere lady's maid. There was something about Nan, however, which suggested she deserved that trust.
Perhaps it was the way she continued to protect Emily, even against him. He did insist on recapturing possession of the keys, though, as soon as she had the door unlocked. She gave them back with a scowl and scratched lightly on the door to warn Emily of their arrival. She would have barred him from the room while she checked that Emily had not changed her mind, but he made certain to insert himself in the gap in the doorway before she could push it closed. He did not want to be standing alone in the hallway for any longer than absolutely necessary.
Emily had not yet been to bed. She turned away from the window, outlined by the light of the moon. There was a small lamp burning by her bedside table. The room felt unbearably intimate, even more so than it had last night. Perhaps it was Nan's presence, or perhaps it was the way Emily stood waiting for him. She was dressed for bed, with only a robe thrown over her nightgown for modesty's sake. Her eyes were steadily focused upon him and he felt that he was about to learn what it felt like to be an errant husband brought to account by his angry wife.
She said accusingly, "When you weren't here, I was afraid the dogs had found you."
He shrugged, acutely aware of Nan's unwavering gaze, daring him not to misbehave. "Actually, I never got outside the house." He smiled. "Probably truly confounded them." Again, he was grateful for the maid's presence, since it prevented him from doing what he most wanted to do — take Emily into his arms and kiss away her anger and her fears.
"No doubt." She was cool.
He wondered if she was embarrassed by this morning, by his playing hidden witness to her toilette. "I am sorry for the way things went this morning. I wish I could have made my escape earlier, and saved you any embarrassment or discomfort." Though the memory of her bare ankles would remain with him forever. He did not think she would forgive him any more easily if he told her so, though.
Flustered by his reference to the morning, she started to say something then halted, apparently changing her words. "Thank you for wishing to cause me less distress than you did." Her voice, if possible, was even colder. Why?
He searched his memory of the previous night‚ spotty as it was because of his laudanum-induced sleep. Had he done something to offend her? Had his words implied that he had enjoyed more than a view of her shapely feet? To reassure her, he said, "I would not take advantage of circumstances, Emily, I assure you."
Nan tsked and he realized he had forgotten to call her Lady Emily. So much for not taking advantage.
"Take advantage? You spent the night in my bed, the morning underneath it, and then you left without a word, a sign, anything to let me know that you were safe."
He saw that she was not angry but hurt instead. "I could not — "
"Why didn't you leave me a note? Or some kind of sign, so that I would know you hadn't been taken up like a thief!"
He clenched his hands into fists, warring with his natural instinct to pull her into his arms for comfort. "A note might have — "
" — warned others. Yes," she sighed. "I knew that, but it did not make it any easier, wondering whether you had made for London, or been cornered by the pack of dogs."
He supposed an apology for leaving her uncertain and wondering would not be out of place. "I could not stay here, Emily, it was only a matter of time before I was discovered. I did not want to bring harm to you." When she did not soften, he said tensely, "I came to help you, not put you in further danger."
She pressed her lips together in exasperation. "Certainly, danger is too much. If I truly do not want to marry Lord Granbury, I may be destitute and without reputation, but that is hardly danger. I might not want the lot of a governess, but surely I am sturdy enough to survive it?"
She was standing there looking so defiant and courageous, he had difficulty disagreeing with her. He thought of the silks, the expensive clothing she wore. Saying nothing, he looked around at her well appointed room — a prison to be sure, but a luxurious one. Could she survive being a governess? Two dresses, and, if she were lucky and her employer generous, an extra one for special occasions like Sunday service? "I don't doubt that you could make a success of yourself however you might. But some people have no scruples, and you might not even be left with the ability to be a governess. The situation is not easily explained, but I must tell you that Lord Granbury is much more dissolute than you could ever have realized."
Her eyes dipped away from his, as if she were ashamed and wished to hide something from him. "He is not a kind man, I agree. But dissolute?"
"Even worse than dissolute, I'm afraid." What was she hiding? Had Granbury already shown his true nature to Emily even protected as she was in this castle? He had not expected that. Granbury's preferences seemed to be for servant women who were helpless and dependent upon him for their very lives. As a prospective wife, Valentine had assumed Emily would see nothing of the man's worst side.
"I've seen only one sign of behavior that suggests he would be anything but a model husband." He heard the slight rise of discomfort in her voice.
Granbury had done something. "And what sign was that?"
She must have heard the menace in his voice, because she could not keep the alarm out of her face when she replied. "Nothing terrible. It just seems that Lord Granbury has a strong streak of jealousy."
"And how did you discover this?"
"When I tried to convince him that I am star-crossed and he should break our engagement or he might not . . . remain healthy, he suspected there was another man. I denied it, of course."
"Did he say who?" Had he seen through Valentine's disguise? No, that was impossible.
"He said he did not care. And then . . . he suggested that he was up to the challenge of winning me, from another if necessary."
A challenge. Yes, that would be how Granbury would perceive it. With Emily as the prize.
"I cannot overstate the hazards of the situation you are in. You have to believe with all your heart that this man has no scruples. Jealousy could lead him to do something dangerous. " Emily laughed, as if she were too afraid to believe what he had to say. He couldn't blame her, since she might very well be married to the man soon. How could he convince her?
"Show 'er the letter." Nan spoke and both Valentine and Emily started, having forgotten for a moment that she was in the room.
"What letter?" Emily moved toward him, but then, as if recollecting their circumstances, kept her distance, and asked again. "What letter, Valentine?"
He hoped it would not be the last straw for her self-restraint. He had to pray that she would not read the truth about her intended and run away for certain this time. It was certainly difficult trying to protect her reputation when she was so willing to throw it away. He took the letter out and, careful to keep a respectful distance, approached just close enough to hold it out to her. "This letter."
She read swiftly, bending over the bedside lamp, and was silent for a moment. Wiping away a tear, she lifted her gaze to his. "This is monstrous!"
"Yes."
"We must expose him."
"First, we need to extract you from your engagement and then we can worry about exposing him. My concern is your well-being, Emily. If we achieve that, I will be satisfied."
"I will not." Her eyes flashed in the lamplight and she turned to read the letter again. "Monstrous! And to think I considered him a bit on the dandyish side. How could he? How could anyone — "
He thought of the club to which the marquess belonged, a club which encouraged such depravity. "It is not as uncommon as you might think. You have been sheltered."
"I may have been sheltered, but I also have been taught the rules of moral and ethical conduct. To enslave someone, to put your hands around their necks and squeeze the life out of them because--this behavior is . . . is . . . madness." She collapsed onto the bed, unable to find a more fitting word for what the marquess of Granbury had, in the past, considered an evening's entertainment.
He could see that she was shaken to the core by the revelations in the letter. But he sensed no urge to flee in her. Instead, it seemed these revelations had kindled a revulsion so strong that she wanted to wipe it out, not escape from it. For a moment he regretted that he had been unable to protect her from the truth.
But, no, she was the one in danger, if Granbury truly thought he loved her. He had freed many of the women he had tormented. Strangulation had been reserved only for those he loved too well to let go. Thinking of Emily struggling to breathe as the life choked out of her, he supposed it was for the best that she understood exactly why he had been willing to travel to Scotland, and was willing to help her escape marriage. After all, it would not do for her to think it was because he still loved her.
"I had hoped, when your mother read this, that she would command you to break the engagement. But she would not allow me to show it to her."
"Perhaps I should try…." Emily shook her head and sighed. "She will not read it from my hand. She will think it a ploy." She put her head in her hands for a moment and stood still as a lamplit carving before she sighed and looked up at him. "I dare not even try or she could take it into her head to destroy it before the duke had a chance to read what it said."
Valentine tended to agree with that assessment. "She refused to take it from me when I offered it to her. Do you think if I showed it to the new earl, your cousin — "
Emily shook her head emphatically. "Harold and mother are not blood relations, yet their temperaments are quite similar. We must pray that the duke arrives soon."
What he was about to say was a dangerous gamble, but she must not decide to run away without at least consulting him. "If he does not, I will take you away, I promise."
She frowned. "Why not now?"
"Trust me. I want you safe." He moved nearer, but suddenly Nan was between them, fussing with the lace collar of Emily's robe. He smiled and stepped away. "But if we can salvage your reputation a little longer, then perhaps we needn't toss it away except for cause."
She sniffed, darting an annoyed glance at the maid. "What is my reputation compared to the lives of those young women?" She looked at him as if some of the silver of his suit of armor had tarnished before her eyes. "I want him to pay for what he has done."
So did he, but not at the expense of Emily's well being.