The Duke's Dilemma (19 page)

He raised bleary eyes to the intruder and encountered a blaze of color so bright it forced him to close his tortured orbs lest the shock to his senses of daffodil yellow trousers, a scarlet top coat and a purple and gold waistcoat should hasten the nausea already roiling in his stomach.

“Go ‘way, Percival,” he muttered.

“It is a matter of terrible urgency. I’ve already spoken to our lady aunts, but they insisted I must inform you of my plans since you are the head of our family and my guardian as well.”

“Go ‘way, Percival,” Jared said again. “Don’t think I can help you right now.”

“I don’t need your help. I already know what I’m going to do. I wouldn’t even bother you if I hadn’t promised the lady aunts.”

Somehow the urgency in the earl’ s voice penetrated the fog of alcohol in which Jared had immersed himself. He took another look at the boy and decided the only way to get rid
of him was to listen to whatever was bothering him. He pulled himself upright, aware that while he was capable of understanding what was said, he would have a devil of a time if he had to make any intelligent comments.

“Ring. Coffee,” he managed, pointing to the pull chord.

The earl did as he was asked and moments later Pettigrew arrived with a tray containing a pot of coffee and two cups. He poured one for the earl and spoon-fed the other to Jared. Eventually the steaming, black liquid took effect and Jared waved Pettigrew away. “All right, Percival, I’m ready to listen,” he said, rubbing his temples which were beginning to ache abominably.

The earl stopped his pacing. “It’s like this, your grace. Lord Hargrave says he can’t wait the year until I come into my inheritance and can offer for Lady Lucinda. He’s going to marry her off to Lord Woolsey, who ‘s offered him enough blunt to pay off his debts.”

“Woolsey? Good God. The man’s a known deviant and old enough to be the girl’s grandfather. Already gone through four—no, five wives.

“Exactly.” The earl looked about to burst into tears. “I have to save her. I love her, you see, and I cannot bear the thought of that filthy old lecher putting his hands on her.”

He flopped into the chair facing Jared and held his head in his hands. “And she loves me, too. Oh, I know everybody else thinks I’m a bit of a nodcock and a funny-looking one at that. But Lady Lucinda don’t. She thinks I’m smart as a whip and handsome as any exquisite in the
ton
—and the thing is when I’m around her,
I
think I’m smart and handsome too.”

For the first time he could remember, Jared was in complete sympathy with his young cousin. Emily had seen him as a dashing highwayman—not the stiff-rumped aristocrat he knew he appeared to most other people. Even in his present alcoholic stupor, he could remember feeling tall as the oak tree under which he ‘d first kissed her.

“So, you want me to advance you enough money to persuade the earl to let you have her instead,” he surmised.

“No, your grace. That ain’t it at all. For then it would be you who saved her and what would I have risked?”

The earl raised his head and looked Jared in the eye.

” I have a plan, only it will bring more disgrace down on our family and that’ s why the Lady aunts said I was obliged to tell you. But you must know it don’t really matter what you say, for nothing will make me change my mind.”

Jared could scarcely believe this determined young man could be the same shy, tongue-tied youngster he had judged ill suited to be his heir. If this was what love did to one, it was more powerful than he had credited it. “What is your plan?” he asked, strangely eager to hear what the boy had come up with.

“I’m going to take her to Gretna Green—tonight. Once the deed is done, the earl can’t touch her even if we are underage, can he?”

“He can, but he won’t. I’ll see to that,” Jared replied. “But Gretna Green! You’ll both be in disgrace.”

“What do we care long as we have each other?”

Jared found himself humbled by his young cousin’s single-minded devotion to a girl he had seen as nothing but a silly little fribble without a brain in her head.

“And how do you propose to support your wife?”

“I’ve already talked to Tattersall and arranged to auction off my cattle. They’re prime blood and should bring enough to get us by until I come into my inheritance,” the earl said offhandedly. But Jared wasn’t fooled. He knew how much the boy prized his stable of fine horses.

“Very well. I won’t stand in your way,” he said. “What would be the point when you’ve already informed me it would do me no good.”

He thought for a moment. “But I think you must let me help you to this extent. When you return, I’ll arrange for you to take over the management of one of my small estates in the Midlands. It’s in need of a man who knows horses, and it will provide you and your lady a comfortable living until you come into your own money.”

With an impatient gesture, he waved aside the earl’s attempts to thank him and watched him rise to leave. “Wait one moment,” he said somewhat hesitantly. “Just out of
curiosity, I should like to know what makes you so certain you love Lady Lucinda?”

“Why that’ s easy, your grace,” the boy said without hesitation. “I care more what happens to her than what happens to me. Never felt that way about anyone else, so it has to be love.”

Long after the young earl had departed, Jared pondered his profound words. The boy was right, of course. He remembered those hellish nights when had searched for Emily in the slums of London, with no thought to the danger to himself. Even now, if she were in harm’s way, he would gladly give his life to save her. Hell and damnation, he must have been in love all along and hadn’t had the sense to know it.

Absentmindedly, he rubbed his aching temples. And Emily loved him too. Why, he couldn’t imagine, considering all he’ d done to hurt her, but she did. She had put his welfare before her own so many times in so many ways, only a blind man—or a pompous ass—could have failed to see the shining glory of her love.

No wonder she had refused to marry him. Somehow he must prove to her his eyes were open at last; somehow he must make her believe he loved her as she deserved to be loved. It would have to something spectacular. Something that would leave her no alternative but to agree to become his wife.

It came to him in a sudden flash of light which illumined all the dark and dismal corners of his brandy-soaked mind. Without a moment’s hesitation he rang for Pettigrew.

“More coffee,” he ordered. “Lots of it and black as Satan’s heart. And food. Tell cook to prepare something hearty enough to settle a man’s stomach and sober his mind.”

He crossed to his desk, found pen and paper and began writing furiously. The Earl of Chillingham wasn’t the only man in London with a plan to win the heart and hand of his ladylove.

I
t
had been four days since she had rejected the duke’s offer and Emily still could not control the tears that slid down her cheeks every time she thought about him. She found herself wondering how many times a heart could break before it was shattered into so many minute fragments there was no heart left at all.

Even now, as she pushed the lovely breakfast Cook had prepared around on her plate, a tear splashed onto the bit of scone she hadn’t been able to convince herself she could swallow.

She was thoroughly disgusted with herself. She had made the only decision that made sense; one would think she could live with it without turning into a hopeless watering pot.

Lady Sophia and Lady Cloris had been kindness itself, but she could tell she was distressing them. It was time she took her leave of the two old dears and let them get
back to enjoying the placid life they had led before she had invaded their home.

But what should she do with all the gowns and fans and slippers they had purchased for her? For she could see now they had been secretly supplying her with a trousseau for when she married their nephew, and she felt sick with guilt that she had disappointed them.

All things considered, she wondered if she would have the courage to refuse him if she had it all to do over again. She was beginning to think pride was a poor bedfellow, and that even a few crumbs of affection from the man she loved might be more satisfying than a banquet with any other man.

“You must try to eat something, my dear,” Lady Cloris chided. “You haven ‘t consumed enough food to keep a sparrow alive these past few days.”

Sparrow. He had called her a plump. little country sparrow.
Another tear splashed onto Emily ‘s plate.

She looked up to find Finster, the ladies’ butler hovering in the doorway. The fellow always looked mightily pleased with himself; today he looked as if he had just been appointed to the post of Majordomo at Carlton House.

She looked again. Martha was peeping around one of his shoulders and the housekeeper around the other, and she caught glimpses of two liveried footmen in the background.

“What is going on here?” Lady Sophia scowled. “Why is the entire staff peering at us as if we were beasts on display at the Tower?”

“The
Times
has arrived, my lady,” Finster intoned in his usual sepulchral voice, but Emily was certain she saw a peculiar glint in his eye. Behind him Martha and the housekeeper dissolved into giggles.

Lady Sophia’s scowl deepened. “Is that any reason to suspend all work in the house?” She flipped open the folded paper and perused the front page briefly. “Well, I never! What will that scamp think of next?” Without another word, she passed the paper to her sister.

Lady Cloris’s eyes grew wide and she gave a little shriek of delight. “How romantic! I just knew the dear boy would think of something.”

“Romantic? Fiddle-faddle ! More like attics-to-let if you ask me. Before the fool is finished, he’ll have ‘Montford’ as common a name in London households as ‘digestive biscuits’!”

“Well, I’m sure Miss Haliburton will think it romantic,” Lady Cloris declared, handing the paper to Emily.

The entire front page was blank except for a framed paragraph in bold letters in the very center

Let it be known to all citizens of London, indeed of all of England and unto such far flung regions as Ireland and Scotland, that I, Jared Neville Tremayne, Eighth Duke of Montford, do publicly declare that I love Miss Emily Haliburton and desire above all else to make her my wife.

Emily stared at the incredible statement in stunned amazement. She read it again and still couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Dear God, he loves me!” she exclaimed, laughing and crying at the same time. Clutching the paper in one hand, she pressed the other to the spot where her heart was thumping so madly against her ribs she could scarcely draw breath.

Lady Cloris beamed happily. “Of course he does, my dear. I have known that all along.”

“Humph! The arrogant puppy is monstrously sure of himself to risk the ridicule he’d face if the marriage didn’t come off,” Lady Sophia muttered.

Emily laughed softly. “There is no denying he is arrogant, my lady, but in this case I rather think I am the one of whom he is so sure. He must have seen through all the dreadful things I said to him and realized I was hopelessly in love with him.”

Lady Sophia’s smile had an ironic twist. “Perhaps you are right. As I can attest, Montford is devilish clever.”

She glanced toward the door and frowned. “Well, what is it this time, Finster?”

The butler held out a small silver tray on which one heavily embossed card rested. “The Duke of Montford presents his compliments, my lady, and requests the pleasure of Miss Haliburton’s presence in the music room.”

Lady Sophia raised an eyebrow. “What in the world is he doing in the music room?”

“Playing the pianoforte, my lady. A little known composition by Mr. Mozart, unless I am mistaken.”

“Well, I never. He is not acting himself at all. Has he lost all sense of decorum?”

The corners of Finster’s mouth twitched, which was as close to a smile as Emily had ever seen him come. “It would appear so, my lady. But I understand that is quite common with young men in love.”

Blushing furiously, Emily rose to her feet and, still clutching the newspaper to her breast, walked toward the door.

“If you turn him down again, Miss Haliburton, I shall wash my hands of you,” Lady Sophia called after her.

Emily smiled. “Never fear, my lady, I have no intention of turning him down this time. For I gave him his chance to escape. Henceforth, whatever comes of this impossible union, the blame is on his head.”

He was indeed playing Mozart—the very piece she had played that first night at Brynhaven—and playing it very well too. Emily paused in the doorway to listen.

“If you’re thinking this is an odd thing for a duke to be doing, you are correct,” he said. “But music has always been my secret passion—my only passion, actually, until I met you.”

“What I am thinking, your grace, is that you are a man of many talents,” Emily said as she stepped. into the room and closed the door behind her. “Horseman, actor, blackmailer, and now accomplished pianist “

“Do not forget highwayman,” he said, as his fingers moved lightly over the keys. “For that is my favorite.”

He looked up. “You’ve been crying. Your eyes are all red and puffy and you look as if you’d eaten one too many strawberries and developed the hives.”

“And you have such black smudges beneath your eyes, you look very much like a barn owl I once had as a pet,” she retorted.

“That’s because I have been on a three-day drunk, thanks to you, my dear.” He ended the piece with a flourish and rested his hands in his lap. “I find myself wondering why I want you so badly. I can’t remember when any woman has wreaked such havoc in my life.”

“I have to wonder the same thing. For nothing has changed, you know, except that I plan to hold you to this.” Emily waved the newspaper before his eyes. “I am still hopelessly unsuited to be a duchess.”

He nodded solemnly. “I agree. I could not possibly make a worse choice.”

“I have a terrible temper.”

He nodded again. “And a tongue as sharp as Wellington’s sword. Furthermore, you’re hopelessly impulsive—a trait I am certain you will pass on to. our daughters, who will most likely be the scandal of the
ton
before they ever make their come-outs.” He sighed. “And God only knows what our sons will be like. Avowed revolutionaries, no doubt, who will attempt to abolish the House of Lords.”

Emily smiled. “With my help, no doubt, if the members I’ve met so far are any example of that august body.”

The duke stood up and moved to stand directly in front of her. “I suppose I shall be expected to turn my precious library over to you so you may continue your research into ancient myths and legends—even though I consider it a most unsuitable occupation for a duchess.”

“I shall insist upon it.”

“And, of course, I shall have to give up any idea of keeping a mistress, for not even the most notorious Cyprian will risk the wrath of a woman who thought nothing of turning the Royal Opera House into her own personal battleground.”

“A wise decision, your grace.”

“And considering your lowly background, you will undoubtedly insist we share the same bed like the most common of married couples, rather than maintain your own suite as a proper duchess should,” he murmured as one by one he removed the pins from her hair and tossed them to the floor.”

Emily felt a laugh start deep in her throat “I warned you I was hopelessly unsuited for the role, but you would ‘t listen and now it is too late.”

He buried his fingers in her heavy locks and drew her to him until she could feel every muscle and sinew of the lean hard body pressed against hers.

His long, sensitive fingers cupped her chin and he searched her face with his molten silver eyes. “I can see it now. I shall never have another moment’s peace. My quiet, orderly life will be turned completely upside down.”

He brushed his lips across hers ever so lightly. It was not a kiss—merely a tantalizing promise of things to come, and Emily felt a terrible hunger start in those secret places deep inside her.

“Why, if I am such a trial, did you trap yourself by telling all the world you loved me?” she asked innocently.

“Why, little sparrow?” His warm, seductive mouth hovered just a breath above hers; his soft laugh whispered across he lips. “Because with all the trouble you cause me, life with you is so much better than life without you, I shall probably never realize how miserable I am.”

It was not precisely the romantic declaration Emily had hoped for, but as it turned out, it was of little consequence. For it soon became apparent that while the Eighth Duke of Montford was no Lake district poet when wooing a lady with words, he was truly a man without equal when it came to action.