Daring Miss Danvers (16 page)

“These are too fine,” Penny said, looking at the gowns Emma had collected from her own wardrobe and her mother’s. “Surely you can’t part with these.”

“My mother wears only bright fabrics now, with garish flower prints. You would shudder to look at her,” she exaggerated with a laugh and earned one in return. There was even a dress her mother had wanted Emma to wear this Season, but the peacock blue was far too flamboyant and wouldn’t have suited Rathburn’s quest. Although, she did wonder if he’d have remarked on the color should she have worn it. Would he have found her pretty, perhaps?

Penny knew better than to argue with her and accepted the clothes with a gracious smile. There were also a few of her father’s more sedate shirts and waistcoats, along with little odds and ends for the shop that Penny’s parents had owned. Inside the basket were a few essentials: cakes of fragrant soap, hair ribbons, handkerchiefs, and ruffled caps. She’d also brought a crock of soup, a loaf of bread, and a small ham that the cook had prepared special for the Smiths. It was the least she could do to repay the Smiths for all they’d sacrificed.

“You are too kind.” Penny fought back tears this time. “When I think of the generosity your family and Lord Rathburn’s family have bestowed on us, it makes my heart burst for how much it swells.”

Emma leaned in and hugged her, though she wished she could do so much more. “Both you and Mr. Smith are the kindest—”

“Gracious me!” Penny said with a start. “His lordship. Oh dear! I just knew it would happen.”

Emma jerked her gaze toward the storefront window. Sure enough, Rathburn’s curricle was directly outside.
Oh dear, indeed!
“Is he alone?”

“I’m not sure, Miss Danvers.” Penny fretted, pressing her knuckles to her lips. “Though he would hate to know you were here without a chaperone.”

Surely, he wouldn’t bring his grandmother here. Nonetheless, she couldn’t risk being seen unless she were absolutely certain. “Is there a back entrance to your shop?”

“No. Only the front,” Penny said in a rush, dashing through the door that led to the back room, gesturing madly. “Quick. Through here. There’s a curtained pantry between the kitchen and the parlor.”

Emma didn’t hesitate. “Thank you, Penny,” she whispered as she dashed to the room.

She found the heavily draped pantry and slipped into the darkened alcove just as she heard the jingle of the bell. The familiar rumble of his voice made her heart quicken. She needed to calm herself, and her audible breathing, or else he’d discover her the moment he passed by on his way to the parlor, where Archie spent most of his time.

Having lost his leg in addition to having severe burns on the same half of his body, Archie had trouble getting around. Yet, his mind was still as sharp as ever, and he had the use of his dominant hand to help him earn income by fixing clocks. Rathburn seemed to find a clock or personal timepiece each week for Archie to fix.

When the thud of his footfalls came near, she held her breath, waiting for him to pass by.

He opened the parlor door, but didn’t bother to close it behind him, which kept her prisoner in the pantry.

“Just the man I wanted to see,” Rathburn said, his voice cheerful. “No, don’t you dare try to get up. It’s only me, after all. Besides, I’ll only be here for a minute.”

Lighter footsteps crossed in front of the pantry and soon Penny peeked through the curtain, her face pale and anxious. Emma nodded, letting her know that all would be well.

“It’s good to see you, Lord Rathburn,” Archie said, his voice raspy but strong. “Unfortunately, I haven’t finished the clock . . . as you can see by the state of the workings strewn over this table.”

Rathburn chuckled. “There is no rush. Of late, I need no clock to remind me of the passage of time.”

Hearing this, Emma felt a pang of remorse. The date of their wedding was fast approaching. Fifteen days. It must be weighing on his mind as much as hers. Strange, she hadn’t realized until now how difficult the situation must be for Rathburn. The more that time passed, the more strained and fragile their bargain became, and their options for severing it even fewer. And the less she wanted to.

“However, I bring good news,” he continued. “Mrs. Smith, come into the room, for you will want to hear this, too. I have just received word from Dr. Kohn, the great surgeon from Germany, whom I mentioned to you before.”

He waited a beat, leaving Emma enough time to wonder what this could be about. Rathburn had never mentioned correspondence with a surgeon from Germany before.

“The good gentleman has accepted my offer. In two months’ time, he will be here in London, and it is my greatest hope that he will find Goswick Hospital to his liking.”

Emma heard Penny’s cry of joy. Her own hand came up to cover her mouth, even though she wasn’t entirely sure what was being said.
Goswick Hospital?
As far as she knew, there was no such hospital near London.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Penny,” Archie said, even though his voice had gone softer, as if he were holding back emotion. “It’s been years since the fire, and there might not be anything he can do for me.”

“It’s true, my friend,” Rathburn said. “He stated the same to me in his letter. However, that is not to say he doesn’t know a thing or two about making you more comfortable. So, he leaves us to hope for small things.”

Emma listened carefully as they continued to speak about the hospital and how long the project had taken, from the first brick to the last. Apparently, Rathburn had decided soon after his father’s death that he wanted to leave a legacy in his father’s name.

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, her heart breaking for him. A lesser man would have allowed the loss of a parent to excuse poor decisions. Yet, Rathburn had chosen to rebuild Hawthorne Manor
and
a hospital to honor the memory of his beloved father instead.

She’d known all along that Rathburn was a good man at his core. Now, she had proof.

No wonder he’d been desperate to gain his inheritance.

A small sob escaped her. Covering her mouth, she finally admitted to herself the traumatic truth—she loved him. Some part of her always had.

The painful realization struck a mighty blow that wrenched her heart: She could never marry him.

After all, how could she, in good conscience, jeopardize his inheritance? He needed to marry someone of whom his grandmother approved. If the dowager ever discovered how similar Emma was to her father . . . all would be lost. Society had shunned him, just as surely as they would shun her if her secret were revealed. Therefore, Rathburn would be ruined by association in the eyes of his grandmother and the funds he needed to finish Hawthorne Manor and Goswick Hospital would be forever out of his reach.

Not only had she lost her heart to him, but her head as well.

Oh, Emma. How could you have been so foolish?

Feeling brokenhearted and bereft, she needed to leave and figure out her next course of action. However, before she could make her escape, the curtain jerked to the side. Emma started. The sound of the rings sliding over the pole reverberated in the small pantry.

Rathburn stood there, staring at her in stunned disbelief. “Emma, what are you doing in here?”

“I—” Guilty, she swiped the tears from her cheeks. As his expression altered, she realized there was no use pretending she hadn’t heard everything. He’d already figured that out. “Why didn’t you tell me about the hospital?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug and his gaze disconnected from hers for a moment as if he were embarrassed. “For the same reason, I suspect, that you never speak of coming here each week. Although, I would prefer it if you would allow me to chaperone you in the future. After all, Maudette certainly isn’t”—he stopped and his gaze collided with hers again—“Where exactly
is
Maudette? And I don’t believe I saw your father’s carriage . . .”

Now it was her turn to look away.

“You came here alone? Without any chaperone, or any protection at all?” His tone was deadly quiet. Reaching out, he took her chin in a gentle but firm grasp, commanding her to look at him. “Promise me you will never . . .
ever
. . . do that again.”

Mutely, she nodded. His eyes blazed with a mixture of anger and fear. Was he actually worried about her?

He lowered his hand, but instead of stepping back, he reached for hers. His mouth hitched up on one side in a smug grin. “Good. I see no reason why we cannot combine our visits from this point forward.”

She would argue with him, but this was not the time or place. In fact, she was starting to believe all this talk about her venturing out without a chaperone, when it had never concerned him before, was nothing more than a way to distract her.

“Goswick Hospital,” she said softly, steering the conversation back to the issue at hand. The real reason behind his desperation for his inheritance. “I think it’s a very noble endeavor. Your father”—her voice cracked, threatening to break—“he would have been so proud.”

Rathburn squeezed her hand. With a slow shake of his head, a dark shadow of overwhelming sadness snuffed out the golden specks of light in his eyes. “I couldn’t save him, Em,” he whispered as if this was a secret he could share only with her. “I tried, but I couldn’t . . .”

And in that quiet moment, standing in the pantry, she fell in love with him even more.

N
ow that she knew about the hospital, Emma had to tell Rathburn the truth before it was too late. Her terrible secret would surely end their pretend betrothal, just as it would ruin any chance for her to marry at all.

But she couldn’t risk waiting any longer. It had to be today. The wedding was less than two weeks away.

“I felt this way, too,” her mother said on their way to Hawthorne Manor for the picnic. She reached across the carriage and squeezed Emma’s hand. “In the weeks leading up to marrying your father.”

Emma drew in a breath, refusing to mention how it wasn’t the same at all. They all knew the truth. Rathburn needed the money. She made a show of peering up at the sky, instead of staring aimlessly at the passing landscape. “I don’t feel any way in particular. I was only worried that it might rain and spoil the picnic.”

Her father bit down on the end of his unlit pipe and peered up to the sky as well. “It has been an uncharacteristically sunny spring, though that is not to say we haven’t had our share of drizzles. Unlikely though it may be, I suppose those ebullient clouds could suddenly squeeze out a few drops.”

The view through the window drew her attention again. Yet, instead of the grove of trees that flanked either side of the park surrounding Hawthorne Manor, she only saw Rathburn’s face, and heard his unexpected declaration at the theater. The more she thought about it, the more it confused her. Especially after learning about the hospital and truth behind his need for his inheritance.

Why did he pretend to care more than he did? Only one conclusion made sense to her. Rathburn must have realized she’d found out about his mistress and had sought to pacify her. In the heat of the moment, he’d made an outrageous vow.

Yet, she couldn’t disguise the fact that she’d been ensnared by his demeanor. He’d seemed uncharacteristically serious. There hadn’t been even a shred of his usual teasing manner. In fact, for days, her foolish heart wouldn’t allow her head to drop the matter. She’d even started to wish that the declaration they’d both made at the theater a week ago had been true. Or could be true.

If only
.

That enormous
IF
hung over her head like the clouds dotting the sky today, only hers were much darker and threatened to spoil what could have been a perfect afternoon, and a dream that had only started to blossom.

Her mother smiled at her in the mysterious way she often did. “Be careful, my dear. If you spend too much time looking for rain, you’ll likely find it.”

Instead of making an argument against her mother’s assertion, this time Emma took note and nodded. She didn’t need to look for the dark cloud, because she carried it with her.

The carriage came to a halt in front of Rathburn’s grand estate. Her heart started to flutter in opposition to her twisting stomach. The first footman assisted both her and her mother from the carriage. Rathburn was detained further down, assisting the dowager duchess, as well as his mother from their carriage.

The Weatherstones were directly behind them. She’d known in advance that Merribeth and Delaney were planning to ride with the newlyweds, so it came as no surprise when her friends came rushing forward to pull her away from her parents.

“Elena Mallory is positively chartreuse with envy. She even tried to cajole an invitation from me, if you can believe it,” Delaney said with no small amount of delight brightening her broad grin. “She went so far as to suggest that I should explain to Lord Rathburn how she and I are cousins.”

Only the tail end surprised Emma. “
Are
you cousins?”

She gave an offhanded shrug. “Distantly, through my mother’s side. Although, after last year,” she said, her mouth tight, her voice lowered, “it’s no wonder she hasn’t acknowledged the association until now.”

“I for one am glad she’s a horrid green. I’ve been pinching myself all morning thinking about my first visit to the famed Hawthorne Manor. The balls once held here are still talked about,” Merribeth said, gazing starry-eyed at the house. Some of the most legendary parties were from the era before the Rathburn title had reformed. “I don’t know if I’m more excited about seeing the house or the gardens.”

“You’ll be pleased with both,” Penelope said, walking up to the group on the arm of Mr. Weatherstone, who inclined his head.

“Miss Danvers. A fine day for a picnic.”

Embarrassed that both Ethan and Penelope knew about the mock courtship, a rush of heat rose to her cheeks. “Rathburn would have it no other way, I’m sure.”

Her friend’s husband broke free of his usual stoicism and surprised her with a chuckle, before his gaze shifted to a spot over her shoulder. “My thoughts exactly.”