The Rejected Suitor (18 page)

"Blackmail
does not become you Agatha, not at all."

"Yes,
so people have said." Agatha smiled as the duke retreated to the
refreshment table. But her smile soon soured as Miss Susan Wimble swished off
the dance floor in a rustle of pearls and silk, disappearing into the hall.

"Here
you are," Roderick said a minute later as he bent down to deliver Agatha a
glass of red wine.

"I
said punch," she scowled, handing it back to him.

Roderick
smiled and took a seat next to her. "Ah, but if I am an impertinent young
man, as you say, I should not do your bidding."

"Where
is your sister?"

He
looked across the crowd. "I have not seen Emily. She should have returned
by now. No doubt she's probably with Mother."

Agatha
frowned. "Fetch Jared this instant. Over there, by the violins."

Roderick
shot from his chair. "I believe this is where I do become the impertinent
duke, madam. I will not—"

The
parasol hit his leg, and he jumped. "You will fetch my nephew this minute or
I will share with him my comments about the French doors and your lovely
Jane."

Roderick's
face hardened as he lowered his voice. "That is despicable, Agatha, even from
the likes of you."

"I
have been called worse. Now, off with you." She clacked her parasol
against his shiny black shoes. "Hurry now. This is of the utmost
importance."

"A
matter of life and death then," he said sarcastically, bowing to her.

Agatha's
eyes narrowed as the duke retreated into the crowd. "More than you will
ever know," she murmured.

A faint
shaft of light filtered from the hallway through the open door, stopping at the
toe of Emily's slippers. She needed to return back to the ballroom before someone
missed her. But she had no intention of giving Jared the satisfaction of seeing
her cry. A metallic taste rose in her throat at the thought of Miss Wimble
wrapped in his arms. What a fool she had been!

She
would enter the ballroom with her head held high, her face wiped clean of all
tears. She vowed to show him how indifferent she felt about his false proposal.
She would prove to herself that she was immune to him after all.

"I
see you are still here."

Emily
flinched. She glanced up at the doorway, where the silhouette of a woman stood.
Miss Susan Wimble. Even in the dim lighting Emily noted the pale yellow gown
with its low-scooped neckline, showing more than enough bosom for two women.

Hopefully
the darkness hid the wetness on her cheeks. She assured herself that this woman
had no idea who she was or what she was to Jared. Emily drank in the sight of
the attractive lady and felt her heart break in two. "Good evening."

"I
had wondered where you had run off to after scurrying from the conservatory
like a frightened little mouse."

Emily
stared back in shock. Had the woman overheard her conversation with Jared, or
even with Roderick for that matter? She spread her hands against her skirt.
"The conservatory?"

The
woman stepped into the room. "I happened to be taking a tour with the
countess when I saw you run from the room."

Emily
was momentarily speechless. Had the countess seen her with the other two men?
Then, as if knowing her very thoughts, the woman snapped back.

"No,
the countess did not see you. She turned into the blue room before you made
your escape."

"I
had been interested in the plants," Emily countered.

"Oh,
I daresay, Lady Emily, you were interested in more than plants. And, yes, I
know what you want. I saw you dancing with Lord Stonebridge, and I do not
appreciate you smothering my fiancé with your girlish flirtations. If I were
you, I would stay away from him. Far, far away."

"Is
that a threat?"

"A
threat?" The woman threw her head back and laughed. "No, take it as
fact. You will stay away from him or I will make your life a living—"

"Hello,
Susan."

Susan
spun around, her eyes wide. "Jared. I thought you were still in the
ballroom."

"Obviously."

Emily
sank deeper into her chair as the dark shape of Jared's tall body came into
view. The very way he stood there told her he was angry with the woman. His
massive shoulders blocked any light shining into the room, and Susan shrank in
his presence, yet her flowery perfume seemed to seep into every crevice in
Emily's chair, making her ill.

"Lady
Emily," Jared said curtly, looking down at her.

Emily
felt a mounting fury so intense that she thought it might choke her. "Yes,
my lord?" She unfolded her body from the chair and stepped forward.

"Emily—"

"Was
just leaving," Susan interrupted. "Were you not, my dear?"

Emily
lifted her chin and stared at the man beside her. "Indeed," she said
stiffly and moved toward the door.

"Emily."
Jared detained her departure with a firm hand to her elbow. "Miss Wimble
and I—"

"Are
more than friends," Emily spat out. She leaned away from him, her gaze
still misty with tears. "Do not take me for a simpleton, my lord. I have
two eyes." And only one heart, she thought, and you have broken it one too
many times.

"Wait
for me in the ballroom," he commanded, letting her arm drop to her side.

Emily
pressed her lips together, not trusting herself to speak. She took one last
glance at Miss Wimble's smiling face and retreated with unyielding dignity, her
chin lifted, her steps unfailing, while inwardly, her heart felt sliced in two.

As soon
as Emily entered the ballroom, Clayton, Marcos, and Stephen surrounded her like
a gathering of grumbling hyenas.

"Dash
it all," Clayton said in exasperation. "Where have you been?"

Stephen
slid beside her. "By Jove, you have been gone over an hour. At first we
thought you with Mother. But we just discovered she had not seen you the past
hour either. Had we known, we would have been searching for you earlier."

Marcus
moved in front of her, blocking her way to the hall. But Emily was not about to
cater to their pompous attitudes now. She stared at them defiantly. "I
appreciate your concern, but I daresay, my whereabouts tonight are none of your
affair."

Horrified
at her outburst, Clayton and Marcus stared back at her as if she had a wart on
her nose. But it was Stephen who smothered a chuckle, his eyes sparkling with
surprise.

"None
of our affair, is it now?" Marcus growled. "I will have you know that
your welfare is our affair, little sister."

"Roderick,"
Clayton said, glancing over his shoulder as the duke approached. "Set her
right, will you?"

Emily
had no intention of letting her brothers bully her tonight. She had experienced
enough of that from one man already. She decided that her only way to take her
leave without them giving her another one of their pompous speeches was to
hasten to Lord Bringston's side.

Her
brothers had already picked the marquess for the top spot on the list of
suitors as her future husband anyway. Just as Roderick made it to her side, she
broke through the towering male forms and hastened around the perimeter of the
room.

"Em,
come back here," Roderick hissed.

Emily
dismissed her brother with a contemptuous glare as she continued on her path to
Lord Bringston. She felt quite relieved when the marquess took her hand, leading
her past the refreshment table and onto the dance floor.

She held
her breath when she caught sight of Roderick’s flashing gray eyes. Feeling
daring, she answered back with a brilliant smile and watched with pleasure as
four male mouths dropped open in shock.

"By
Jove, she is not our little Emily anymore, is she?" Stephen replied.

Clayton
frowned. "Look at Bringston drooling over her like a sick puppy. It's
enough to make a grown man ill."

Stephen
lowered his voice. "If I am not mistaken, Clayton, you had that same
drooling face only fifteen minutes ago when you were dancing with Lady
Eugenie."

"Lady
Eugenie now, is it?" Marcus said with amusement. "I thought it was
Lady Cassandra."

"No,"
Roderick interrupted. "That was an hour ago. Clayton's tastes change like
the wind."

"Aho,"
snapped Clayton. "Speaking about tastes, what say you about Miss Jane
Greenwell? I thought she was rather fetching in my arms."

Roderick
pushed Clayton against the wall while behind them Stephen and Marcus began to
chuckle.

"Boys."
Their mother's voice sounded in the distance.

"Mother,"
Stephen drawled, turning toward her, smiling. "What can we do for
you?"

"Have
you seen Emily? I need to speak to her about an invitation I just received from
the Duke of Wellington."

"Wellington's
here?" Roderick asked.

"Over
there." His mother pointed across the room. "The man has been here
only five minutes, and as luck would have it, I met him at the door just as I
was speaking to the countess."

She
sighed in delight. "Oh, what a hero. I want our Emily to meet him."
She looked about. "Have you seen her about?"

"Over
there." Stephen tilted his head across the dance floor. The duchess picked
up her spectacles. "I daresay the man beside her does look familiar."

"Lord
Bringston," Stephen offered.

The duchess
gave a tremulous smile. "Ah. You have done well with your choice, dears.
Why the man is known throughout all of England as a positively handsome
specimen, not to mention a very honorable gentleman indeed."

She let
her spectacles fall to her bosom and cleared her throat. "But he is much
older than your sister, is he not?"

"Five
and forty, Mother."

"Four
years younger than myself," she said, frowning. "Do you believe he is
in good health?"

Stephen
raised a sardonic brow. "Well, Mother, we have not yet given him the
physical."

"Physical?"
the duchess asked warily.

"Yes,
he will have to beat Roderick at boxing." Stephen looked at his older
brother and laughed. "That in itself will not be too hard. But then he
will have to win Clayton at a game of whist, and of course with Marcus, he will
have to drink him under the table and then—"

The
duchess gasped. "Marcus, do you drink to excess?"

Marcus
gave his brother a curt glance and looked back at his mother. "Stephen
jests, do you not, dear brother?"

Stephen
covertly received another elbow to his gut and spoke through pained lips.
"Jesting, Mother. Only jesting."

"This
is not the place to jest, dear boy. Now, I need to speak to Emily."

"She's
gone," Roderick said with a scowl.

"What?"

"She
disappeared through the French doors."

"The
cad," Clayton snapped. "I am going to break his confounded
neck."

The
duchess held Clayton back. "You will do no such thing."

"Then
I will go," Roderick growled. "What does Bringston think he is doing?
This was not in the plans."

"The
same thing you were doing tonight, I suspect," Stephen added.

"What?"
the duchess asked.

"We
are wasting time," Marcus interrupted. "Our Emily is out there with
that . . . that man!"

"Of
course, he is a man," the duchess said. "What, pray tell, do you think
Lord Bringston is? A monkey?"

Roderick
heaved a frustrated sigh. "There is no time to argue about this. Our Emily
is in jeopardy out there."

"What
can happen?" the duchess asked with innocent eyes.

All four
male mouths thinned.

"He
is a man, Mother. That is all you need to know," Roderick snarled. "I
am going to retrieve her."

His
mother put a hand to his chest. "You are not."

He
stiffened. "What?"

"You
are not going to retrieve your sister. If you believe that Lord Bringston is
the man for her, then you will leave well enough alone."

Stephen
looked almost cross-eyed as he stared at the French doors, his arms flailing.
"But he ... the man ..."

The
duchess glared at her four sons. "He is a gentleman and will act
accordingly."

All four
men rolled their eyes.

"I
forbid you to interfere with Emily and Lord Bringston," she commanded.
"Do you boys understand?"

A tense
silence filled the group. The music played on. The sound of voices drifted in
and out of the family gathering. The duchess looked every one of her sons in
the eye. Each acknowledged her command with a curt nod. Everyone except
Roderick, whose jaw turned taut with fury. "Roderick?"