The Rejected Suitor (23 page)

He
jerked his head to the door slipping closed behind him. Rats indeed! Two
conniving rats if he knew his aunt. The silhouette turned and Jared stood
immobile, entranced by Emily's beauty. He was going to strangle Agatha when
this day was done!

"Never
mind, Sabrine. It sounds as if Madame has taken care of the situation. However,
I find myself in an awkward situation. It seems the two top buttons have become
undone, and I cannot reach them to see how my bodice holds up to this
silk."

Jared
almost choked on his own saliva as he edged himself toward the screen. He
watched Emily's shadow pivot again, and he nervously pulled at his cravat.
Sweat formed along his brow.

"Sabrine?"

Jared
stretched his neck in discomfort, then pulled at his waistcoat, moving around
the screen.

Still
oblivious to her awestruck onlooker, Emily bent down to touch her slipper.
"There," she said as she wiggled, trying to fix something, then stood
up, her back to the mirror.

Without
saying a word, Jared stood wide-eyed, reached toward the gown, and gently
slipped the delicate buttons into their perspective places.

"Will
that do, sweetheart?" he said in a husky whisper.

Emily
spun around, her violet eyes widening in disbelief. "This is most
improper, my lord."

Jared
picked at the lace attached to her dress, his fingers trailing along the edge
of her sleeve. The last bit of his fierce determination to stay angry with her
was instantly squelched. He could not let her marry another.

"Improper
is what you are doing," he said curtly, dropping a stiff hand to his side.

She
looked away, her slim fingers tracing the edge of the screen. "I'm to
marry Lord Bringston in three days, so if you have anything to say about it, please
. . . wish me a happy life."

Jared
stared at the black tresses piled above her slender white neck and waited for a
sign that she still wanted him, still loved him. Pride kept him from begging
her to come back to him. With more control than he knew he had, he kept his
hands stilled at his sides.

"You
cannot marry him. You do not love him."

Her
shoulders slumped and she pressed her hands to her face. "I have made my
choice and you have made yours."

"I
was afraid for my daughter because of my work, is that so hard to
understand?"

Without
warning, she pushed past him and fled from the room. He opened his mouth to
call her back, tell her he loved her, but the words would not come.

Agatha
suddenly popped into the room and rapped her parasol against his Hessians.
"What kind of Englishman are you?"

"One
with a broken toe if you do not desist your insistent thumping of that blasted
weapon, madam."

Indifferent
to his warning, Agatha rapped her parasol harder against his leg. "Go
after her, you fool!"

Jared's
patience was slipping. "I will meet you outside, madam, because if I do
not, I will surely be tried for murder."

But
Agatha was not about to be slighted. "Kidnapping, bribery, anything will
work. I thought you learned something the last three years!"

He grabbed
the handle of the door and stared over his shoulder. "Fool? Kidnapping?
What a wholesome mixture, Aunt. Just swipe Emily from the bosom of her family,
and she will be mine. Why ever did I not think of that before?"

"La,
you think me mad, do you?" Agatha snapped, lowering her voice. "So
you are telling me that you are just going to sit around while sweet Emily has
some other man's babe?"

At the
thought of another man giving Emily children, Jared pounded his fist against
the wall in rage. "The devil she will!"

Agatha's
eyes twinkled with triumph as she drew in a deep sigh. "I daresay,
kidnapping sounds lovely, does it not?"

Jared
regarded his aunt with a detached inevitability. "Lovely."

Chapter
Sixteen

E
mily dabbed a drop of rose water on
her neck, staring at Jane through the looking glass of her bedchambers at
Elbourne Hall. "Happy? How could I not be? Lord Bringston is gentle and
kind, everything I should want in an agreeable husband."

Jane
frowned, setting a curled tendril of Emily's ebony hair over her ear. "Kind
and agreeable? But is that enough?"

Emily
took in the soft silk wedding gown she was wearing and forced a smile. "I
will have my freedom, Jane."

"Oh,
Emily. But is freedom worth your heart?"

Emily
brushed an imaginary piece of lint off the lace of her dress, weary of arguing.
"Lord Bringston will take care of me. I will want for nothing."

She
gazed back into the looking glass, giving her pale cheeks a pinch for color.
"My brothers seem to agree."

Jane
curled her fists in anger. "Your insufferable brothers! I will never
forgive him, the mastermind of it all."

Emily's
brows drew together in concern. "Jane, please, you must not blame
Roderick. It was my choice."

"Did
you know Cousin Jared sent me a letter yesterday?"

Emily
shrugged, not wanting to show her interest. "And?"

"And
he has given me his blessings concerning Roderick."

Emily
turned around and gave her friend a hug. "Oh, how wonderful. Now, I will
have a sister."

Jane
pulled back and held Emily's hand. "You must see that Cousin Jared is not
an ogre, dearest. He has a heart. It's not too late to cancel the
wedding."

Emily
sighed. "I don't want to speak of it. Please. But back to you, I am
assuming Roderick has asked for your hand."

"Yes,
but he never said he loved me, you know."

Emily's
eyes widened. "Gracious, did you refuse him?"

"No."

"He
loves you, Jane. He is just a bit proud." She wondered if Jared had the
same pride.

"And
arrogant. And stubborn." Jane's eyes flashed with mischief. "And
handsome."

Emily
smiled. "And that is why you love him?"

"Oh,
Emily, that is not what I wanted to talk with you about. You would not have
felt forced to choose Bringston if those fool brothers had not interfered in
your life, including Roderick. You and Cousin Jared would have had a
chance."

"Your
guardian made his choice the day he kept his secrets from me, Jane. It was not
Roderick who did that. Please, let us not bicker on my wedding day, I beg
you."

"But,
Emily—"

Emily
shook her head. "I will be a married woman soon. Be happy for me, Jane. I
am happy for you."

"Very
well. I won't try to stop you, and I do so want you to be happy." Jane
giggled. "But I must tell you that one of the maids mentioned she thought
she saw Mr. Fennington wandering about the village yesterday."

Emily
smiled. "I doubt the man is within twenty miles of here." But her
memory of Jared booting Fennington out of the conservatory brought her thoughts
full circle.

Jared.
The undeniable fact was she still loved him, and Lord Bringston knew it. Yet
the marquess was still going through with the wedding.

"Nevertheless,
I believe he wants you very badly," Jane said, her eyes dancing. "But
seriously, dearest, anyone could fall in love with you. I believe Mr.
Fennington is not such a fool after all. You do make the most perfect
bride."

Perfect,
Emily thought sadly. With pearls, lace, silk, and her friends and family at her
side, everything was perfect.

Everything
but her heart.

Stephen
paced the floor of the Elbourne library, his expression grim. "By Jove,
you have certainly botched this affair with all the glory bestowed on your dukedom,
Roderick."

Roderick's
penetrating gaze turned black as midnight. "Correct me if I am wrong, but
was it not you who voted on Lord Bringston being the best choice for
Emily?"

Clayton
snorted, raising one black pump shoe toward the hearth. "We are not fools,
Roderick. Give us some credit. You were the one that instigated this entire
affair."

Marcus
narrowed his gaze on his eldest brother. "Yes, indeedy, Your Grace. You
have unquestionably bungled this entire affair into cataclysmic
proportions."

Roderick
downed his third glass of brandy and slapped the snifter onto the sideboard.
"How the hell was I supposed to know Bringston was mother's childhood
sweetheart?"

"Childhood
sweetheart?" Stephen snapped, halting by the duke's desk. "I would
say it was a bit more than that."

Roderick
scowled. "He was a mere child at seventeen. Mother was what? Twenty-one?
None of it makes sense."

Stephen
snorted. "Ha, and what pray tell were you thinking at seventeen, Roderick?
Or doing? I am quite certain your life was not mere child's play."

Marcus
gave a sarcastic laugh, his fingers slowly drumming the sideboard near
Roderick. "Bringston is no longer a mere child. He is in love with our
mother and not his wife to be. The situation is intolerable, and you, Roderick,
are the cause."

All at
once Marcus raised his hand and cuffed Roderick on the shoulder, splashing
brandy on the duke's white linen shirt.

A tense
hush fell over the room.

Roderick
shot Marcus a scorching glare. "I will forget that happened only because
it is Emily's wedding day."

Marcus's
gray eyes flashed with contempt. "Your shirt has a bit of a spot on it,
does it now? And you wish to pass on boxing my ears? Thunderation, I am overwhelmed
at your benevolent indulgence, Duke. Thank you kindly."

Stephen's
smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Looks as though you have been
shot, Roderick. Right through your sordid, dukie heart."

"Very
good, gentlemen," Roderick said in a stern voice, "make your jests,
but if we fail to derive a plan in the next thirty minutes, Mother's future as
well as Emily's will be forever our fault."

"Our
fault?" Clayton scowled. "Ho! Do not include us in this little scheme
of yours. 'Tis your fault, Roderick! Your arrogant, egotistical fault!"

Roderick's
first blow made contact with Clayton's chin, sending the man flying against
Marcus's chest with a thud.

"So
that's the way of it, is it?" Stephen countered, a challenging smile
crossing his face as he immediately tore off his jacket, watching Clayton
staggering to a standing position.

"You
keep out of this," Marcus said indignantly, as if Stephen had no right to
question their authority.

Stephen's
first blow swung wide, knocking both Clayton and Marcus to the floor. "That,
you conceited oafs, is for Emily." He shrugged. "And me."

"Well
done," Roderick said, smiling. "Well done, indeed."

Stephen's
eyes twinkled, his only warning before he granted the duke a facer, sending the
gentleman to the floor.

Stephen
pulled his shoulders back in triumph. "Gentleman Jackson has been giving
me a few pointers, boys. Now," he said, clearing his throat, "enough
of your hare-brained schemes involving Emily. This is the plan that we will
follow . . ."

Emily
nervously fingered her book of Wordsworth poems and choked back a sob.
"Oh, Jared. What am I going to do?" If only you had told me you loved
me, I would have had some hope.

She
pressed the book to her chest, knowing in five minutes that she was to exit her
chambers and make her wedding vows. Yet she knew she could not follow through
with it. Lord Bringston deserved a woman who loved him, and no matter what
Jared had done to her in the past, Emily would always love him.

It was
useless. She dropped the book onto the bed and buried her face in one of her
pillows, smothering a sob.

Oh,
Jared.

A light
scratch at her window brought her head about. Wiping the evidence from her
face, she groaned at the thought of Mr. Fennington bothering her today of all
days. It could not be him. The maid had been wrong. It had to be the wind.

Another
scratch.

She
stiffened. "Dear heaven, not again."

Another
scratch.

She
would have laughed at the situation if she did not find herself in such
wretched circumstances. Blinking back tears, she marched across the floor and
tore back the curtain. A pair of scuffed Hessian boots hung onto the sill. She
could not see the rest of the man, but she had no doubt of the identity of her
caller and her lips thinned.

"Mr.
Fennington, my brothers will surely kill you if they discover you. This is not
the time to play the knight in shining armor. I have made my choice. I should
think—"

She was
interrupted when the man began to wobble. With a groan, she reached out to grab
hold of Fennington's leg. "Sir, I declare you are vexing me to no end. To
no end!"

With one
hand wrapped around his calf, she froze. Mr. Fennington's powerful limb
surprised her, sending a shiver of recognition throughout her body. Mercy, she
was truly mad if Mr. Fennington made her heart thump.

"Hold
on to me and climb inside." You fool!

Suddenly
she felt herself falling backward with a resounding oomph. Mr. Fennington
slammed on top of her, knocking the breath out of her. She pushed at his chest,
clasping a more massive body than she had ever remembered. Not that she had
ever touched Mr. Fennington so intimately before, perhaps that time in her
bedchamber and then in the conservatory. But . . . oh! This was the end! The
wretched man was not making a single move to leave her person.

"Mr.
Fennington! Remove yourself! This is most improper."

"Improper?
I thought it rather cozy myself."

Emily
froze at the sound of the silky, baritone voice caressing her right ear.
"Jared?"

"Mr.
Fennington? I am most offended." There was a trace of laughter in his
voice, and he rolled off her and stood.

Emily
raised a disbelieving gaze. He took her breath away. "What are you doing
here? I am to be married within minutes!"

Deep set
amber eyes locked onto hers in a gentle but firm warning. "Is it so
surprising that I have come for my wedding?"

"Y-your
wedding?"

He let
out a deep, rumbling laugh, bent down and scooped her into his arms, embracing
her like a babe to his breast. The shock of him holding her ran through her
body like liquid fire. He smelled of fine soap and very, very male. She wanted
to cling to him forever, but she was no longer the girl he remembered from
three years ago and her heart ached with regret.

She
pushed her hands against his chest. "Put me down."

"No,"
came the husky reply.

"No?"
she swallowed and felt his chest rumble. Why, the man was laughing at her.
"I said put me down."

Paying
no heed to her plea, Jared carried her to the window and peered over the ledge.
"Put you down?" He repeated her words in a mocking, but amused tone.

Emily
closed her eyes and tightened her hold on his arms. "What are you
doing?" she screeched. "Not out there!"

The
gentle kiss to her forehead caught her by surprise. "I won't drop you out
there. I'm going to carry you out instead."

She
stared back at him, the blood pounding in her veins. "Carry me out?"
There was a devilish gleam in his eyes that told her he was not lying.

"You
don't believe me?" he said dryly. "You, of all people, must know the
means Black Wolf used to disappear from an enemy's home."

Emily
found herself speechless when he lifted her closer toward the opening. She
tightened her grip. "Jared!"

"Take
a look into the courtyard, sweetheart."

"You
are not going to throw me out?" she asked, enjoying the sound of his heart
beating against her ear.

"Well,
perhaps . . ." He sounded amused as he tipped her toward the courtyard
below.

Emily
squeezed her eyes tight, her body melting at his touch. But she had to remember
Lord Bringston. She was pledged to him, not Jared.

"Now,
what do you see?" he whispered close to her ear.

"Nothing,
now put me down. You . . . we . . . well, you must see this is most
improper."

"You
see nothing?"

Had the
man heard a word she'd said? "Nothing but black."

His
laughter wrapped around her heart like a fur-lined cloak on a winter day.
"Then open your eyes, sweetheart, or I will drop you out that
window."

Emily
opened her eyes. "You would not, would you?"

"Look
down," he commanded.

"Very
well, but on one condition."

"What?"