Lady Emma's Dilemma (9781101573662) (8 page)

He reminded himself of the enormous risks he had taken to create the life he now lived. He'd staked sums of hard-won capital, the loss of which could have sent him into utter ruin and penury. In light of what had transpired in the last thirteen years, crossing the room to say good evening to Lady Fallbrook should be a mere trifle. Yet, to his continuing annoyance, it was not.

Just then, she turned from the Countess of Tunbridge and looked directly into his eyes. Her lovely face was serene, unreadable. Her cool sea blue gaze passed over him without so much as a flicker of recognition.

He stopped for an instant as an unexpected wave of cold anger gripped his insides. Taking a deep breath, he fought for calm as the memory of the last time he saw her came back with such clarity he remained where he stood, uncaring of the attention he drew to himself.

Thirteen years ago
The Vale of Kelbourne, Kent

On a rise, far above a night-shrouded valley, Kelbourne Keep loomed before him like some gargantuan dragon slumbering in the gleaming moonlight. He turned his gaze away from the imposing castle as he pulled on the reins to slow his trotting cattle.

The lane he traveled upon, though dark and lonely, held few surprises as he tooled his carriage around ruts toward the designated tree, the one with the gnarled scar from a long-ago lightning strike. He breathed in the balmy night air and murmured reassuringly to his skittish horses.

He glanced up again, and saw the impressive dwelling through the rising bank of trees and wondered if Emma had managed to get away from the place yet. He did not need to consult his fob watch to know that it was well past midnight, for when he had left the Bell and Candle some time ago, the clock in the common room read half past eleven.

A misting rain began to fall and he pulled the silver flask from his coat and took another quaff of the biting liquid.

It still seemed almost inconceivable that the incomparable Lady Emmaline Wenlock was about to run away with him.
No, it is not inconceivable. We belong together
, he told himself fiercely, lifting the flask to his lips once more.

Stuffing the flask back in his pocket, he again looked at the massive structure looming in the distance. He reminded
himself, and not for the first time, that his name was as good the Kelbournes'. The barony of Devruex was actually older than the Kelbourne dukedom. The first Devruex had come over with William the Conqueror. He had served William bravely and faithfully and the king had bestowed upon him the barony as well as his beautiful cousin's hand in marriage. It had been instilled in Jack from birth that there were few families in England who had more reason to be proud of their lineage than the Devruexs.

That is, until his father had taken the name and made it a byword for disgrace.

He flexed his fingers around the ribbons and spoke to his uneasy cattle. But his thoughts would not let him have any peace regarding the action he and Emma were about to take.

If only her uncle had not refused him, they would not be forced to such drastic measures.

Reaching into his pocket for the flask, he cursed his father for selling almost everything that represented the history of the Devruexs, all to feed his irresistible need to gamble. No doubt if Kingsmount had not been entailed, his father would have sold it as well.

Taking a deep breath, he forced the bitter thoughts from his mind. Tonight, none of that mattered.

Emmaline, Emmaline, Emmaline.
His heart sang her name and his chest tightened as he tried to see down the moon-shadowed lane, willing her to appear. He knew he could not relax until they were together. His horses must have sensed his mood, for they neighed and tossed their heads restively.

Raising his gaze to the sky, he saw fingers of heavy clouds spreading across the face of the full moon. He cursed under his breath. He was depending on the moonlight to guide him out of this remote country.

Nevertheless, he refused to allow the threatening weather to dampen his excitement. Any moment she would find him and they would head for the border. Once they
were married it wouldn't matter what anyone else thought or said.

Once they were married.
The thought of the threadbare draperies and carpets awaiting them at Kingsmount made him reach for his flask again. It pierced his pride to think of her living in the wreck of his home.

Tonight, that did not matter either. The only thing that did matter was that she would be here any moment and they would be flying through the night toward their future.

Nothing else mattered except that his life would start anew because everything that gave it purpose and joy would be at his side.

He continued to wait beneath the gnarled tree, feeling an uncharacteristic sense of patience settle over him. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

When he fumbled returning the flask to his pocket, it occurred to him that he had eaten little since breakfast. After the several draws from his flask, on top of the tankard of ale he had drunk at the posting inn, he'd probably consumed enough false courage for one night, he thought with a wry laugh.

Besides, he did not need courage for everything was going as planned, he reminded himself.

From the moment they had been introduced two and a half months ago, every other interest and pursuit faded before this sudden and single-minded desire to be with Lady Emmaline Wenlock.

Of course, like everyone else, he had heard that the announcement of her engagement to Charles Fallbrook was imminent. But those rumors had not caused him even a moment's pause.

Charles Fallbrook was not his only rival for Emmaline. Every other eligible buck in Town was smitten by Lady Emma. Not only was she unusually beautiful, but she was also quick witted and up for any spree. Her sparkling personality had captured the beau monde, and within a week of
her arrival in Town, Beau Brummel himself had declared her an Incomparable.

Spooked by the caw of some night bird, the horses neighed and fidgeted, but Jack's thoughts never left Emma.

His love for her had been so immediate and intense that, from their first dance, he had had to resist the urge to take her by the hand, walk out of the ballroom, and hang the scandal.

Despite his straitened circumstances, Jack felt confident about his future. After all, his father had not been able to sell off everything the Devruexs had accumulated over the centuries, and he was—thankfully—no longer able to accrue any more debt.

Jack's pride had prevented him from revealing to Emma that since his father's death more than a year ago, he had been reeling from the discovery of how bad his father's gambling excesses really were.

It was shameful enough to owe tradesmen such enormous sums, but to find out that his father had left debts of honor had been the most lowering news of all.

The day he had discovered the sheet of parchment in his father's desk, with its neatly written columns of gambling losses, had been the darkest day of his life. His father had lost staggering sums of blunt to some of the most prominent men in the realm.

Feeling the sting of mortification with every quill stroke, Jack had immediately sent letters to all the gentlemen, simply explaining his circumstances and promising to settle the debts as soon as he was able.

To his surprise, most of the peers had written back, expressing the very generous desire that the new baron dismiss the matter completely.

Jack's relief that he would not have to immediately sell more family heirlooms was matched by his determination to pay back every guinea and remove the stain from his name.

But his relief was short-lived, for one of the gentlemen
who had been so gracious about the gambling debt turned out to be none other than Emma's uncle and guardian, Lord Chilcrest.

Jack took another swig from the flask as he recalled the day he approached Lord Chilcrest about marrying Emma. The gentleman had not been as gracious about this matter.

Lord Chilcrest had made it exceedingly clear that it was one thing to forgive the debt of a deceased peer and quite another thing to give his consent for his niece—one of the greatest heiresses in the land—to wed a penniless, disreputable young man.

“It matters not that your family name was once respected,” Lord Chilcrest had stated coldly. “Lady Emmaline was made for much greater things.” He rose from his chair, an indication that Jack should take his leave.

But Jack had not been so easily dismissed. He refused to walk out before being heard and continued to earnestly press his case. He tried to explain about his plans to refurbish his farms and start a thoroughbred stable.

But the cold-eyed gentleman had not been moved. “You are overreaching yourself, sir” was how he concluded the interview.

Jack had left Lord Chilcrest's townhouse feeling frustrated and embarrassed, but undeterred. As long as Emmaline loved him, nothing could prevent him from marrying her.

The encounter with Emma's uncle had taken place the day before yesterday. To his utter relief and joy, Emma had been just as determined to be with him as he was with her. The last thirty-six hours had been a whirlwind of planning and preparing. He and Emma had worked out a simple scheme to flee to Scotland to be married.

She had left London on the pretext that she was too distraught to stay for the rest of the Season and headed for Kelbourne Keep, the family's country seat. None of her other family members were in residence, so they knew their plan could not fail.

Once they were married, they would face the wrath of her family together. No matter how powerful her relations were, he would not allow them to abuse her. As he sat in his carriage on the dark and lonely lane, he vowed that he would love and protect Lady Emmaline Wenlock for the rest of his life.

Exactly how he would do this without any blunt was a question that made him reach for his flask again.

“I am here, Jack.”

He jumped at the softly spoken words and it took a moment to control the surging horses. As soon as he did, he set the brake and leapt from the conveyance and swept her into his arms in a fierce embrace. It was not until his lips were on hers that he realized that the misting rain had turned into a heavy shower.

“Emma, Emma, Emma,” he murmured against her soft, warm cheek as he felt her arms tighten around his neck. A moment later, he pulled back to look at her beautiful face.

Her eyes, black pools in the moonlight, held his gaze. Her lips were slightly parted and there was a look of concern mingling with pleasure on her perfect oval features. “Are you all right, Jack?” she asked a little breathlessly.

“Never more now that you are here.”

They held each other again, unheeding of the rain, even though her pelisse was already soaked.

“I love you so much,” she said. “I was almost afraid that you would not be here.”

He laughed. “I will always be here, dearest Emma. Now are you ready to head for Scotland?”

“Yes, please.” Her laugh of delight matched his.

Releasing her, he glanced down and saw her portmanteau. Reaching down, he picked it up, moved to the back of the carriage, and unbuckled the wide leather straps in preparation to secure the case. “Did you have any trouble leaving the keep?”

“No, I was only a little nervous in case one of the servants saw me,” she said, wiping the rain from her cheeks.

She walked around to join him. “Jack, do not you think that a phaeton—a high-perch phaeton—might be a bit conspicuous for our purpose? We shall be traveling for days, at least, and an open carriage seems foolhardy.”

In the silver gloom of the night, he could see her furrowed brow, and the slightly tremulous tone made him abandon his task to pull her into a loose embrace. “I did not have time to arrange for another carriage. But we will be fine.”

She looked doubtful. Even though he had been honest with her about his straitened circumstances, it probably never occurred to her that he would not own another conveyance. Because her life had been one of unfettered wealth and privilege, she could not truly know what it was like to struggle. He just counted himself lucky that his father had deemed the phaeton too fashionable to sell, or he would not have any kind of conveyance at all.

“It seems to me this will be a difficult vehicle to handle on a cross-country trip. And it's raining….” The tremor in her tone increased.

Putting his hands up to cup her wet cheeks, he said, “Do not worry, my love. We shall be safe. I will never allow your family to frighten you again.”

Even in the indifferent light, he could see the confusion cross her features. “Frighten me? Whatever are you speaking of?” The confusion turned to suspicion. “How much have you been drinking?”

“Just a bit,” he said with a grin. “Now shall we go?”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression still confused and a little scared. He stayed motionless, waiting for her answer, suddenly unsure of himself. He did not understand what had occurred to make her suddenly skittish.

Finally, to his immense relief, she nodded, albeit a little hesitantly. Without a word, he helped her up onto the seat. After leaping up beside her, he released the brake and with a flick of the ribbons the horses set off at a fast trot.

They drove, as the rain continued to soak them, in silence
for some time before he became aware that Emma was behaving strangely. He glanced over to see her staring at him, her hands gripping the edge of the seat. Frowning, he was about to question her when she suddenly spoke sharply.

“Stop, Jack! Stop at once!”

Yanking back on the reins, the horses kicked up mud as they skidded to a stop. An instant later, she had jumped down from the rocking phaeton and stood on the shadowed road staring up at him.

Her look of shattered disappointment caused his heart to lurch in alarm. “What are you doing? If we don't hurry someone may become aware that you are missing and raise an alarm before we reach the border.”

Even in the dim silver glow of the moonlight he could see the tears pooling in her eyes. Her half-sad, half-hysterical laugh caused the horses to start nervously.