Her Reluctant Groom (2 page)

Chapter 1

One Week Later

Dear Marcus,

I am writing to you to prevail upon your lasting kindness one more time, dear cousin. Emma has come to stay with Alex and me for reasons I am not at liberty to disclose. And while I love her dearly and enjoy her company more than just about anyone else's, I have gotten myself into a predicament and need your help.

Later this week, I shall be hosting my first house party! It is only for close friends and family, but Emma has declared she has no interest in participating and plans to spend the ten days secluded in her room. Now, Marcus, do not put the paper down! I am
not
asking you to attend. I know you'd sooner gouge your own eyes out than attend a social event, which is why I would like you to convince her to stay at your estate for the duration of the house party. She currently doesn’t have a chaperone, but I trust that shall not be an issue as I know you think of Emma the same as you think of me and will take care to make sure she is safe and her reputation well-guarded.

We both know she’d never come to you to ask for any sort of favor, so please do this for me, Marcus. I am the one asking, not her.

I will be sending her to Ridge Water on an errand Wednesday afternoon. That should give you plenty of time to think of a viable excuse for her to stay.

I thank you so much.

Yrs,

Caroline

Marcus, Earl of Sinclair, looked down at the missive in his hand and fought the urge to crumple it and then see if he could remain sitting in his chair and throw it directly into the rubbish bin thirty feet from his desk.

“
Bad news?” Patrick Ramsey, Viscount Drakely, asked from the other side of his desk.

Marcus twisted his lips. “Not bad exactly. But not good, either.”

Patrick reached forward for the missive, and Marcus made it easy for him by sliding it across the desk. He had no problem feeding the younger man's curiosity. The two had been close friends for thirteen years. Patrick knew all about Marcus' past with Louise and Emma. In fact, he knew more than anyone else since the two had met the day of Marcus' horrific accident. Marcus was convinced if not for his friend’s interference that day, he would not be alive.

Patrick's lips moved and his eyebrows rose as he scanned Caroline's missive. “Are you going to let her stay?”

Marcus scrubbed his scarred face with his equally scarred fingers. Caroline had said she didn’t have a chaperone, and heaven knew between the three female staff members he employed, not a one had the time—or suitability—to act as a proper chaperone. “I shouldn’t.”

“
Ah, but you will anyway. I can see it in your eyes.”

Marcus jerked his gaze away. “Caroline has never asked me for a favor before.”

“
Mmmhmmm,” Patrick said slowly. He idly tapped the missive from Caroline on his thigh. “So your agreement to invite Miss Green to stay is only because Caroline asked it of you? It has nothing to do with your attraction to Miss Green, and this being the perfect opportunity to spend time with her?”

“
Don't I owe Caroline a favor for all the hell my family put her through?”

Patrick put the parchment back on Marcus’ desk. “I suppose so,” he said casually. “But what if it were Miss Green asking?” His eyes held an unusual sparkle. One that gave Marcus pause. Patrick had been nearly expressionless since his wife died in childbirth almost five years ago.

Marcus shrugged. “I supposed I'd let her stay then, too,” he said, annoyed.

“
Of course you would,” Patrick agreed jovially, the gleam in his eye still present. “You're probably just irritated she's been staying with Caroline and her husband and didn't come here in the first place.”

Dropping his head to hide his scowl from Patrick and his eerie perceptiveness, Marcus pretended to take a sudden interest in his ledger. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a mite disappointed she hadn’t seen fit to come to him if she were in trouble; but he couldn’t blame her for not seeking his assistance, considering his past engagement with her sister.

Patrick chuckled. “Why do you fight it so?”

“
Stop,” Marcus snapped, piercing his friend with his gaze.

Shrugging as if to say he really didn't care one way or the other what Marcus said or did, Patrick turned to look at his three young daughters who were playing together on the floor with whatever little trinkets they could find to entertain themselves with in Marcus’ study. “I have an idea.” He turned back to Marcus and flashed him a brilliant smile.

“
No,” Marcus said, eying the girls. “They're all very sweet, well-behaved children, but I'll not use watching your children as an excuse to keep her here during Caroline's house party.”

“
And why not?” Patrick countered, his voice laced in mock indignation. “As you said, they're very well-behaved. I have to go to London for a series of meetings to get ready for when parliament sessions begin in a few weeks. At least this way they wouldn't be stuck with that horrid woman they call a governess.”

Marcus shook his head. “Emma may like them as much as the rest of us, but it's not fair to anyone to do that.”

“
How so?”

“
First, it's not fair to Emma to ask her to take care of three little girls without any help for such a long time. Second, it's not fair to me to have my house suddenly overrun by the female species. And third, it won't be fair to the girls when it's time for them to leave.”

“
I see your point,” Patrick conceded solemnly. “They would miss her something terrible.”

“
Exactly.” Marcus smiled at Patrick. “Just think how difficult it would be when they cry and refuse to leave her to return to your tedious care.”

Patrick scowled then bent his head to look at the floor. He rested his palms against his temples, scratching the sides and top of his head as he thought. Suddenly he sat up straighter than a sword. “That can be fixed.”

“
How?” Marcus asked with a scoff. “Do you plan to request Emma act like more of a dullard than you so they're actually excited to return home when you come back from London?”

“
No, no.” Patrick shook his head for emphasis. “She can be as entertaining as she wishes. She could be a one woman Astley's act, for all I care. Actually, it's encouraged. My plan is that I could ask her to marry me. That would solve everyone's problems.”

Marcus' heart constricted in the most painful way. Patrick was a good man. He'd make an excellent husband. Just not for Emma. No, actually he would. He'd treat her right and take care of her in a way she'd never been cared for before. The problem was Marcus. He'd always known Emma would marry, but the thought of her marrying his closest friend was the cruelest fate of all. “I suppose you could,” he said flatly, refusing to meet Patrick's brown eyes.

Patrick leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, head cocked in contemplation. “This would work out well for all of us. Miss Green could finally have a true home, and the girls would have the mother they lack.”

“
And you would get another chance at your heir,” Marcus put in, trying to disguise the bitterness he felt by forcing a thin smile to his lips.

Shaking his head, Patrick's eyes went wide. “No. This would be a marriage of convenience only. Those girls having a mother is far more important than producing an heir. My cousin isn't a bad sort. He can inherit.”

The quill in Marcus’ hand snapped and, ignoring the keen look of interest from his friend, he put the bottom half of the quill back into the stand as if nothing were amiss. “She deserves better than that. I cannot stop you from asking her. Nor can I advise her one way or the other about whether to accept your suit or not. But I'm asking you as my friend to do what's right and explain to her she'll never have children of her own if she accepts your suit.” Those were the hardest words he'd ever spoken aloud.

Patrick sighed. “You're right, deuce take it.” His lips twisted in irritation. “No woman wants to marry knowing she'll never get to be a true mother.”

“
Just so,” Marcus clipped, staring at his desk.

“
Maybe I should just marry Mrs. Jenkins,” Patrick mumbled.

Marcus grinned and met his friend's eyes. “Sounds like a much better arrangement. She's what, fifty? She'd probably be relieved you have no interest in frequenting her bedchamber.”

Patrick shuddered. “More than one kind of fear would keep me out of that room.”

A picture of the ancient, crotchety old woman flashed in Marcus’ mind.

“
What if you ask Emma to watch the girls for a few hours during a couple of the days?” Patrick suggested hopefully. “Remember when Caroline still lived here, they'd come over and Caroline and Emma would let them take tea and try on their hats, and all that other female nonsense?”

Marcus closed his eyes. That might actually be a good way to go about convincing her to stay with him for the duration of the house party. Emma was almost too stubborn for her own good sometimes; she’d need a good reason to stay.

“
You agree,” Patrick said smugly. “I can tell by your face.”

Marcus opened his eyes and stared at Patrick, bewildered. His accident had left his face so scarred that those who hadn’t been around him very much couldn’t decipher most facial expressions aside from a smile or outright anger, or so he'd been told. Most of the time people had no idea what he was thinking or feeling due to his scars.

“
Your lips curl up only on the left side when you're smiling in agreement,” Patrick explained.

Unconsciously, Marcus brought his fingers up to his lips and ran his fingers across them. He cleared his throat. “Right. Well, you might have said something I
might
agree with.” He sighed. “I'll ask her if she'd be interested in entertaining them for a few days during her stay.”

Patrick nodded. “Very good. They'd like that.”

“
I know.” He could empathize with the little girls who only had themselves for playmates. For the past thirteen years, he'd lived a life of solitude except for a few close family members and even fewer friends.

“
Excellent.” Patrick got up, walked over to the three motherless girls, and allowed them each a chance to make a fool of him by having him rock their doll or wear their fanciest tea hat for a few minutes. Then he informed them it was time to go home.

Marcus said goodbye to the three girls, and as always, let them each pick two candies—one for each hand—from his tin of sweets before seeing them out.

“
I'll let you know what she says,” Marcus murmured to Patrick as he helped his daughters into the carriage.

Tipping his hat, Patrick climbed up into his carriage, leaving Marcus to go back into his empty estate and prepare for Emma’s arrival.

Stubborn Emma may be, but he'd persuade her to stay. He was sure of it.

Chapter 2

Emma stared blankly at Caroline. “Me?” she squeaked. She hated it when her voice sounded that way and her eyes nearly popped from their sockets, but just now she couldn't help it.

“
Yes, you. I just need you to bring these things over to Marcus.” Caroline gestured to an array of things Emma considered beyond trivial. Why in the world did Marcus need an embroidery hoop? Or what about the mismatched, heeled slippers? He was a man. What did he need this junk for? Did he, like Olivia, have a strong need to keep everything he'd ever touched? Still, when would he have touched an embroidery hoop or mismatched slippers?

“
Why?” she asked, staring at Caroline.

Caroline grinned. “Hmm, how interesting. Just a minute ago you were squealing that you didn’t want to be the one delivering the box, and now it seems you want to know why? Does that mean you've accepted the task?”

“
No.” Emma picked up a blank and slightly yellowing paint canvas. “Why do you need to send this rubbish to him? He probably doesn't even know any of it's gone.”

Shrugging, Caroline Banks, Lady Watson, Emma’s dearest friend, tossed a magnifying glass with a hairline crack running the length of the glass into the wooden crate. “Whether he knows it's gone or not, it belongs to him. Well, to Olivia,” she amended, sneering. “Olivia kept all sorts of bizarre things, and these all belong to her.”

Emma stared at her highly intelligent friend as if she were a simpleton. “And your reason for returning it is?”

“
They're hers. She has a right to have them.”

“
But she's in America,” Emma pointed out, inspecting a comb that was missing more teeth than it had.

Caroline sighed. “I know, but somehow I ended up with all of this, and I don't want it and she does. Since it's hers, I'm sending it back.”

Emma blinked as she tried to make sense of her friend's unusual sentence. It wasn't typical for Caroline to be acting this way. Something was off. “Caroline,” she said slowly. “Say I do take this crate of detritus over to Ridge Water. What good is it really going to do? Olivia isn't there to know if you have it, if her brother has it, or if it's at the bottom of the Thames. Why does it matter? Find the closest rubbish bin and deposit it there.”