A Christmas Wedding Wager (27 page)

'I think my grey poplin would be best for today. It is serviceable, and I have much to do about the feast today. After I have spoken with my father and laid this bit of gossip to rest I have the twelfth cakes to inspect. Can you imagine how Mrs Mudge will click her tongue if the royal icing is not just so?'

Annie did not give an answering laugh. Her brown eyes sobered and she tucked her hands under her starched white apron.

'It is your choice, miss, but I think the blue brings out your eyes more. And grey always robs the colour from your face, if you don't mind me saying. Mr Stanton's face lights up when he sees you in the blue dress.'

Emma gritted her teeth as a pulsating warmth flooded through her. 'You are becoming very bold, Annie.'

'Someone has to take you in hand, miss. Don't you want Mr Stanton's eyes to light up?'

She wanted that, and more. Her treacherous body wanted the feel of his hands and his lips again. She wanted to taste his mouth. Emma put her hand to her head, tried to clear it of the image of Jack's expression just before his lips touched hers, of his hands entangled in her hair, the tiny beat of his pulse at the base of his throat.

'You are being ridiculous, Annie! Please get me a tisane for my head, and kindly refrain from comments about Jack Stanton.'

'Sometimes I think there are those that don't know what is good for them, like.'

'I do know. And concentrating on the upcoming Goose Feast is what I need to do. It means a great deal to the employees and their families.'

'Very good, miss.'

The worst part was that a large chunk of her hoped the servants' gossip was true--all of it.

She did want to marry Jack Stanton. She wanted his eyes to light up each and every time they saw her. She wanted to feel his mouth against hers again. But more than that she wanted to be with him. To spend hours discussing bridges and other engineering projects. To travel to unknown places and see the sights he had described. Just to be with him. But she wanted him to marry her because he wanted to. Not because he had to, because society dictated it.

It did not matter if the whole of her dream was true--including the nasty bit with Lottie at the end. Emma caught her lip between her teeth, considering the implications if the worst should happen.

Lottie would make much of it. She'd be unable to help herself from giggling and gossiping.

The story would fly from lip to lip, become embroidered. Some women might even pull their skirts away from her as she walked in Grainger Town near the Theatre Royal, or refuse to return her calls. The penalties for such scandals were severe, and strictly enforced for some time. But she would recover from the scandal...eventually. Such talk would die down and disappear over Christmas. Scandals were always nine-day wonders.

She was on the shelf. It was not as if she anticipated a brilliant alliance such as her mama had dreamt about. She'd rise above it. Hold her head high. Show it did not matter. What more could they do to her?

And Jack Stanton was not the marrying kind. He had made that quite clear that first day at the bridge. And after what had happened between them, would he risk humiliation by asking her?

No, she could not be engaged to Jack.

Emma forced down the tisane. The infusion of herbs and barley helped restore a measure of confidence. She was not stupid. She would know if that were the case. However much her heart whispered that she wanted it to be true.

Emma discovered both Jack and her father in the study. They were sitting in front of a blazing fire with cups of coffee at their sides, discussing bridges. Jack's legs, encased in tight-fitting cream trousers, were stretched out in front of him, and Emma glimpsed the tops of his black leather shoes.

Emma listened, half hidden by the door. Jack's voice flowed over her, making her heart pound. It had been just a dream last night. It had to have been. She forced her breath to come naturally.

Jack's long-fingered hand held his cup, and Emma was forcibly reminded of how his fingers had intertwined in her hair. How they had felt skimming her jawline. A warm fluttering sensation grew in her belly as she felt her jaw. It had to have been more than a dream. Surely she could not remember such a thing so vividly if it had never occurred? And yet she could not imagine what had caused her to so forget all notions of propriety.

She was glad that she had listened to Annie and chosen the blue wool in the end, rather than the much more practical grey.

The two men paused in their conversation when she rapped on the door. Only Jack rose, and as Annie had predicted his eyes did light for an instant, before becoming veiled.

Her father lifted a lazy hand but remained seated. 'You took your time, daughter.'

'My eyes have just opened. I have come down with a pounding head and little memory of yesterday afternoon.' Emma gave a smile, but there was no answering one on either man's face. 'Events appear to be a little hazy. The only thing I know for certain is that I left this house to go skating and Mr Stanton arrived to take me home in his sleigh. My eyes must have closed the moment I sat down.'

The explanation would have to suffice. To reveal her dream was unthinkable.

'Hazy?' Her father's face turned the colour of the Turkey pattern carpet. 'How much punch did you have to drink yesterday, daughter?'

'I had the one cup of lamb's wool that Dr Milburn brought me, and a sip of brandy from Mr Stanton's flask.' Emma kept her head high, but two spots of heat formed on her cheeks. 'I had thought my mind was clear, but it appears not.'

'Shamming serves no useful purpose.' Her father's voice was deceptively quiet. Emma shifted in her slippers. She could have dealt with him if he'd shouted, but when he was quiet like this she knew worse was to come. 'This is a scandal of immense proportions.'

She looked from his face to Jack's, found comfort in neither.

'I went for a sleigh ride. Nothing happened.' Emma wrapped her arms about her waist.

'Anyone who tries to say differently is mischief-making.'

Her father harrumphed. 'It all depends on what you call nothing. I never thought you a flirt, my girl. I thought your mother and I had brought you up better than that.'

'My head is so woolly this morning, Father, please try to understand.' Emma bit her lip. The last faint hope she'd had faded. Everything that she'd been certain had been a dream had in fact happened--her insistence on a kiss, and then the aftermath. Her cheeks flamed. She had behaved in such a brazen fashion, pressing her body against Jack's, demanding more. Her father was quite right. She was ruined. Her future lay at her feet, broken and shattered.

'I believe we have already discussed this, Harrison.' Jack moved between her father and herself. 'We have already determined the fault was mine.'

'You have behaved admirably without question, Stanton.' Her father harrumphed again.

Jack held up a hand, silencing him. Her father covered his mouth and nodded. 'We have reached an acceptable arrangement, with good will on both sides.'

'Your fault? An arrangement?' she whispered. Jack made it sound like a formal business deal.

Good will on both sides, indeed.

'In light of what has happened I have offered to do the decent thing.' His eyes became hard black lumps of granite, his mouth uncompromising. 'We will marry with all speed.'

'And I have no choice in the matter?' Emma hated the way her voice squeaked.

'Neither of us has any choice.' Jack's voice was cold, his stare hard.

'There is always a choice.' Emma raised her head and glared back at Jack. 'No one has asked me to marry.'

'The asking was unnecessary,' her father blustered. 'It is all settled. You will marry and marry quickly, daughter.'

'Is it necessary for us to marry quickly?' Emma stared at Jack. His words from that first day clearly reverberated in her head. He had no wish to marry her. It was only the circumstances.

How could she marry a man like that?

'I consider it a necessity,' her father said.

'Would we not be better to wait until the scandal has died down? See what happens then?

This whole sorry episode will be forgotten by New Year.'

'No.' Jack's dark eyes pierced her and his lips became a thin white line. 'We marry tomorrow.'

Emma's heart pounded in her ears. She stared uncomprehending at Jack, hoping for the slightest sign of softening. There was none.

'Tomorrow? But that will create a bigger scandal.' Emma stared him. Tomorrow was tomorrow. Even for Jack Stanton and his money it was surely an impossibility. There were conventions to be followed. Rules. Regulations. She had to concentrate. There had to be a way. She refused to be married in such a fashion.

'I don't think so.' His mouth took on a cynical twist. 'We shall explain that you and I were close seven years ago, but parted. Now that we have become reacquainted we have discovered our hearts remained true. In light of your father's recent illness we wish to marry quietly but quickly, so that your father can see you as a blushing bride.'

Emma walked over to the fireplace and looked at the embers. Our hearts remained true. She rejected the idea. It had not happened. On either part. A cynical tale served up for public consumption. She spun round on her heels.

'But the banns will have to be posted. Those take three weeks.'

His lip curled upwards. 'Not with a Special Licence. You know that as well as I do.'

'A Special--?'

'No need for such a thing. A common licence has already been obtained,' her father said.

This was going altogether too fast. Emma clasped her hands to her head. 'Stop--stop.'

'Is there something wrong, Emma?' Jack asked, in an infuriatingly calm voice. He raised an eyebrow and his fingers beat a slow tattoo against his thigh.

Emma struggled to contain her temper. 'I have not said yes. I have not agreed to marry Jack Stanton or any man.'

She heard the sharp intake of breath, saw Jack's eyes glitter, and she took a step backwards.

Her father pounded his fist against the table. 'You will cease this nonsense and do as I say.'

'Are you ordering me?' Emma put her hands on her hips. 'I am a grown woman, Father. I should have the right to decide my own life.'

'This discussion has little merit.' Jack's words cut through the room. 'Your father and I have reached an agreement.'

'I shall leave you, Jack, to explain the situation to my daughter. Perhaps you can make her see sense where I cannot. You are a man who can make things happen. Here and at the bridge.'

Her father turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Make things happen. Here and at the bridge. A slight chill went down the back of Emma's spine. Jack and her father had intended on this happening. No one could get a common licence that speedily. It was a physical impossibility.

This marriage had already been decided. Signed and sealed. She had fallen into the trap.

Jack's offer to buy the company at a decent price had been a ruse. All the while he had intended to acquire it in a different fashion.

The room started to spin slowly, and Emma sank down into the chair that her father had vacated. She put her head in her hands, willed it to stop.

The deal must have been done the night of the St Nicholas Ball. It must be why her father had allowed her so much freedom. She had been naive. She had tumbled headlong into a manipulation--a merger between companies. She had been used as a pawn. What exactly was the agreement between her father and Jack? She did not doubt Jack had used it to his advantage. Her father must have bought her respectability with his company. It had to be her dowry. There could be no other.

Jack had cynically kissed her. Pretended to be her friend. Damning thought piled on damning thought. And all the while her mind was crying no, somehow she was mistaken, overreacting.

He was interested in her. It was not all pretence.

'You appear less than pleased, Emma,' Jack said. 'I would have thought avoiding a scandal would be something you'd desire. You always set such great store by what society thought.'

Emma raised her face from her hands and looked directly into his uncompromising face. She refused to let him twist things. This wedding was happening because it suited Jack's purposes--his business purposes.

'You are marrying me for my father's company. It is the price you have exacted for marrying me. You made my father promise it as my dowry.'

A muscle jumped in his cheek but he stayed stubbornly silent.

'I need to know,' she begged. Her insides were jelly. She wanted him to say that it did not matter, that he was marrying her because he could not imagine a future without her.

His eyes raked her up and down. Emma's heart beat so loudly she thought he must hear it. He had to say something. Her throat closed and she struggled for breath.

'I am a businessman,' he said, breaking the stretching silence. 'I have made no secret of wishing to acquire your father's company. That is the truth.'

'I see.' She kept her head high, ignored the sudden prickle of tears behind her eyelids.

Whatever happened she refused to cry. She gazed up at the ceiling, blinked rapidly, regained control. Then she looked him directly in the eye and smiled. 'It makes perfect sense now.

Thank you for being honest.'

'But perhaps you want soft meaningless words?' His mouth twisted into a hard smile. 'Should I say that I am suffering from an undiminished passion for you? That I have carried a torch for you these past seven years? That not a day has gone I did not think of you and wonder how you fared? What words do you wish me to say? Tell me, and I will say them.'

Emma held up a hand. 'Stop, please. Such cynical sentiments do not become you. You must not think that because I am a woman I spend my day reading Minerva Press novels where the hero declares undying passion for the innocent maiden. Such things do not happen in real life.'

However much we might like them to, she added silently.

'Very well.' Jack gave a slight shrug. 'I won't say it.'

'It is not good to pretend things that one doesn't feel.' Emma strove for a normal voice, but it sounded high and strained to her ears. The knots in her stomach ached and her feet were rooted to the spot. She longed for him to draw her into his arms and whisper that he wanted to marry her, and only her. She wanted to believe his kisses had been real, that he hadn't simply been pursuing her for the sake of acquiring another company.