Candice Hern (20 page)

"I cannot make up for those years," he said, bowing his head slightly, "but I would have you know how much I regret them." After a moment he looked up once again and pinned her with an imploring gaze. "It is foolish to perpetuate the prejudices of our fathers without cause. I am my own man, Cousin, and I would not see another generation continue this painful and senseless estrangement. My father and I have none but each other, Emily. My grandparents and my mother are dead, and I have no siblings. I am also aware that you are as alone in the world as I am. If you will allow me to offer my friendship and ... and . .. well, my affection, as your nearest relation, I am sure in time I can exert some influence on my father's opinion. And if not... well, at least you and I should be friends."

Despite her best intentions, Emily found herself actually warming to the man. His words seemed so sincere, regardless of her first impression of his character. She knew he spoke no more than the truth. In fact, she was stunned beyond imagination to hear someone of her mother's hated family speak so openly about the injustice and pain of their long estrangement. For all of her life she had believed that no one cared. To hear her cousin speak otherwise quite disconcerted her.

She was as confused as she could be. She wanted to believe him, but it was so hard to let go of the anger that she had lived with every day of her life. Could a lifetime of anger and bitterness be washed away in only a few moments? Could she so quickly dismiss her mother's grief and pain?

No, she could not. She must not allow herself to be so easily swayed by her cousin's eloquent plea for understanding. For all she knew of him, he might be a consummate actor manipulating her for his own purpose. But what that purpose might be Emily could not imagine. In fact, she was inclined to believe him, but she somehow felt that she must not yet let him know that. She allowed that she may in time grow to trust her cousin, but she knew she should not be so quick to make that judgment.

She glanced at the dowager, who was still scowling, but this time those brows were furrowed at Emily. She gave her employer a tiny nod to indicate that she knew she must think twice before committing herself.

"What would you have me do, my lord?" she asked in an indifferent tone which hopefully masked the turmoil of her emotions.

He smiled brightly. "I only ask that you allow us to become better acquainted," he said. "Let us spend some time together and get to know one another. As I have said, if nothing else I would be your friend. As a first step, I would request the honor of taking you up in my carriage this afternoon for a drive through the park."

"I am afraid I am engaged this afternoon, my lord."

"Thursday, then?"

"I am also engaged Thursday afternoon, my lord," she replied truthfully, remembering Lord Sedgewick's invitation.

"
Please
, Cousin." His voice took on a beseeching tone, and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. "Believe that I am serious and completely honorable in my intentions. I only seek to become better acquainted with one of my nearest relations. If you will only name the day, I am at your service."

Emily glanced at the dowager, who shrugged in resignation. There was no polite way out of this, even if she wanted out. But Emily was willing to give him a chance, a very small chance, to convince her of his sincerity.

"Saturday, then," she said.

Lord Faversham stood and bowed over Emily's hand. "You honor me, Cousin. Saturday it is. I will take my leave until that time." He turned toward the dowager and Lady Dunholm. "Ladies," he said, bowing crisply.

The morning room door was opened before he could reach for the handle. Claypool must indeed have been standing by.

"Well," the dowager drawled when the door was once again closed. "What an interesting development, to be sure. What do you think, Dolly?"

"I don't trust him."

"Neither do I," the dowager said. "But I think you were wise, Emily, not to reject him out of hand. It would be well to see what game he is playing. But take care, my girl. Do not forget that he is his father's son, after all."

"Do not worry, my lady," Emily said. "I shall never forget that."

Chapter 14

"I thought I might find you in here."

Emily looked up with a start from the book she had been reading to find Lord Bradleigh standing in the doorway of the library. "Oh," she said, slightly flustered.

"I learned in Bath," Robert said as he sauntered into the room, careful to leave the door ajar, "that whenever you weren't with Grandmother—who, by the way, is still in the morning room sharing gossip with Dolly Dunholm—you could most likely be found with your nose buried in a book. What better place than here?" he asked as he indicated the walls of books with a sweep of his arm.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," she said.

He cocked a brow. "I thought we had dispensed with my title ...
Emily
."

"Yes, of course," she said, feeling the unmistakable heat of a flush on her cheeks. "Robert." His wary expression melted into a warm smile. She was immediately at ease and smiled in return. "I am sorry to be making so free with your library. I only came in to see if I might find something interesting to read, but found myself enchanted with exploring the shelves." She looked around the room with admiration. "What a magnificent collection. Goodness, I had no intention of sitting down and making myself quite so much at home. I'll just take this volume and be on my way." She closed her book and made to rise from the leather armchair.

"The library is at your disposal, Emily." He placed a hand gently on her shoulder to prevent her from rising. "There is no need to leave. Please feel free to make use of it at any time. I am happy to know it is affording pleasure to someone besides myself." He stood next to her and reached down for the book in her hand. He noted the title and looked back at her, eyes wide with feigned astonishment. "The
Agricola
of Tacitus?"

She grinned and retrieved the book. "I have always wished to further my knowledge of the classical authors," she said. "Of course, I read the
Histories
and the
Annals
of Tacitus while still in the schoolroom. I have never, however, had the privilege of reading the
Agricola
. I find it quite fascinating. I was just now reading of the revolt of the Britons under Boudicca."

"And her subsequent rout by Paulinus," he added.

"True, the Romans were quite thorough in their victory. Nevertheless, one cannot help but admire Boudicca's courage and leadership. Tacitus even reluctantly admits that had Paulinus not acted quickly, Britain would have been lost to Rome. All due to the fury of one woman."

"Indeed," Robert said as he eased himself into an adjacent chair, "it seems our ancestors made no distinction of gender in their leaders, and even Rome faced Boudicca with all the respect due any great warrior."

"And rightly so," Emily said, enjoying the ease with which she and Robert were able to converse. As she looked at him, sprawled casually in a leather armchair—legs outstretched and crossed in front of him and that wayward lock of hair falling inevitably over his brow—she was reminded of the warmth of their encounter the night before. But she deliberately forced such thoughts to the back of her mind, and gave herself up to the pure enjoyment of his often lively conversation. While in Bath she had most enjoyed those discussions in which they disagreed. He was a man of strong opinions, but was also able to listen to opposing views with some objectivity and offer intelligent debate on the issues at hand. More than once she had thought how much she would like to hear him speak in the House of Lords, which she knew him to do from time to time. Out of sheer contrariness, Emily decided to bait him.

"I suppose," she said with a wistful sigh, "that one could mark Boudicca's defeat as the beginning of the end of the right of women to play an equal role in the destinies of their lands, their families, and even their own lives."

"Good lord," Robert groaned, eyeing her with some suspicion. "I hope you are not going to start preaching Wollstonecraft to me. That woman was a menace to society as far as I'm concerned. And hypocritical to boot, since she couldn't seem to live without the company of those same men she so vehemently denounced for their treatment of women."

"Regardless of how she may have conducted her private life," Emily replied, sitting forward in her chair, eager to explore this debate with Robert, "there can be no question as to the truth of her arguments about the emancipation of women. As a man, you cannot possibility appreciate the frustration and indignity of being required, purely on the basis of one's gender, to always identify oneself in terms of persons one neither admires nor respects."

"Do you condemn us all, then?" Robert asked. "Do you have no admiration or respect for any man?"

"Of course I do," Emily replied with some impatience. "But you must admit that in my own life men have done little to inspire admiration." She at once wanted to bite her tongue. She hadn't meant to turn the discussion toward personal matters.

"For example . . ." Robert prompted.

Emily's immediate reaction was to cut short their conversation rather than embark on an analysis of her reprehensible family. She looked across at Robert and sighed as she gazed into his soulful brown eyes, his brows slightly raised in invitation. All at once she experienced, as she had the previous night, an overwhelming sensation of compassion and companionship which made her want to share her most private thoughts with this man. In fact, as she recalled her monologue on the terrace last night, she realized there was little she had not already shared with him. So she plunged ahead.

"Well," she began with some hesitation, "there was my grandfather who disowned his own daughter for failing to obey him, and my father who succumbed to drink and gambling because he was too weak to face the realities of life. Then, of course," she said with a sneer, "there is my Uncle Pentwick, who—"

"Who insults his own niece in public. Yes, I must agree that your male relations have not been all that is admirable in their treatment of you."

"Oh, Robert," Emily said. Her shoulders sagged as she slumped back into the chair and dropped her face into her hands. "I am so sorry you had to witness that scene last evening. I am mortified that you overheard my uncle's words." She lifted her head and once again looked up at him, and was almost lost to the warmth and concern in those dark eyes. She took a deep breath and continued in a soft voice. "But I am also very grateful for your intervention. I was so stunned I was unable to speak. I suppose my uncle would have continued to stand there and hurl insults at me if you had not come along and hustled me away. I cannot apologize enough for my own missish behavior afterward. I have no right to condemn weakness in others after I so shamelessly sobbed into your neckcloth."

"I did not consider your tears a sign of weakness, Emily," Robert said in that low, deep, almost seductive voice that so often unnerved her. "You had every right to react as you did. In fact, you handled yourself better than many I could name if faced with the same situation."

Emily gave him a thin smile in response, wanting to believe him, but still somewhat embarrassed by the whole incident. Suddenly she recalled the image of Augusta standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock and anger. "Good heavens," she said, "I had almost forgotten about Miss Windhurst. Were you able to set things right with her? I hope she did not draw the wrong conclusions from my ... from our... from what she saw."

"There seems to have been no permanent damage done," Robert replied in a drawl worthy of his grandmother. "But what about you? I lost track of you for the rest of the evening. Did the tabbies get their claws into you?"

"On the contrary, your sister and grandmother went out of their way to shield me from scrutiny, for which I shall be forever grateful. In fact, Lady Bradleigh made an even more valiant effort on my behalf this afternoon as she received callers."

"I suppose they all came to unearth the story of what really happened with your uncle?"

"Almost to a person," Emily replied with a grin. "But your grandmother was marvelous. Not a single caller left with any information that wasn't already well known."

"Yes," Robert said, nodding in understanding, "she can be fiercely protective of those she loves. She is a powerful ally. And she has great credibility among the
ton
. She will be able to combat whatever scheme Pentwick may have in mind."

Emily watched as Robert leaned his head on the back of his chair and gazed up at the ceiling, stretching his legs out farther in front of him.

"I wonder," he continued lazily, "if Pentwick will quietly disappear now, or if he intends to continue to force himself on you anytime you happen to meet in public? Or perhaps he will take a new tack and try to make himself agreeable to you. He would have seen the impact of Grandmother's influence—and mine—so that he must know that you will continue to be protected in public."

"As a matter of fact," Emily said, "when Lord Faversham called this afternoon—"

"
What
?" Robert suddenly sat bolt upright, his hands tightly grasping the arms of his chair. "Faversham was here? You received him?"

"Yes," Emily said, somewhat alarmed at Robert's angry reaction. "He came after all the other callers, save Lady Dunholm, had departed. Lady Bradleigh was convinced that I should hear him out, so he was admitted."

"And what did he have to say?" Robert asked, slowly enunciating each word through tightly clenched lips.

Emily told him all that Lord Faversham had said, leaving out her own ambivalent reaction to him. Robert remained quiet while she spoke, offering no comment, though his brows were tightly knotted and his eyes black with fury.

"And so," he said when Emily had finished speaking, "you are to drive with him on Saturday?"

"Yes," she replied hesitantly.

Robert leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and looked down at the floor. He did not speak. Neither did Emily. She had never seen him look quite so dangerous. She was almost afraid to speak. She held her breath and waited, the only sound in the room that of the ticking of the mantel clock. After a few moments, Robert looked up at her with an unreadable expression. Leaning forward slightly, he reached out for Emily's hand.