The Marriage Bargain (26 page)

Lady Vellamy arrived early for breakfast so that she and Emma’s mother could supervise her toilette. Lady Vellamy chose a morning dress of palest blush and Lady Holgrove’s maid dressed Emma’s hair in a simple knot atop her head. A light touch of rouge put some needed color in her otherwise pale face.

The ladies pronounced her ravishing and were nearly giddy with excitement that her husband would see her in such fine looks. Her mother assured her she would finally make a real conquest of him and come into all the deserved privileges of her rank.

The only privilege Emma wanted was to produce the heir—or a daughter—any baby to love.

Spence arrived promptly, but her mother insisted she keep him waiting.

“Shall we receive him with her, Phoebe?” her mother asked, clapping her hands in excitement.

“I beg you would not,” Emma piped up. “I must see him alone, without interruptions.”

Her mother gave a moue of disappointment, but Lady Vellamy said, “Oh, let them be private, Agatha.”

Spence waited for her in the drawing room. She opened the door to see him staring out the window onto Hartford Street.

He turned. “Emma.” He crossed the room to her with his hands extended, but, rather than clasp them, she wrapped her arms across her chest.

Spence regarded her. “You are still pale, Emma. Are you feeling ill?”

Her pallor probably disappeared because she felt her face flush. “I am perfectly well. Say your piece, Spence.”

She wanted to sustain her anger toward him, to not be seduced by his tall good looks or his spoken solicitude.

His eyes looked remarkably tormented. “I do not know what to say.”

She glared at him. “Begin by telling me why you left.”

He swung away from her and walked to the window to stare outside. He turned back. “I beg you to listen to the whole of what I say.”

She gave an acquiescing nod.

“Will you sit?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

He bowed his head for a moment, then lifted his eyes to hers. “I panicked,” he said. “I ran from Kellworth because I had nearly killed you in the exact place I killed my brother, in nearly the same manner.” His gaze seemed to bore into her. “I know it defies understanding, Emma, but that is the reason. I had the notion you would die like Stephen, like my parents, if I stayed one more minute at your side.”

She felt the tug of sincerity in his little speech, so seductive. She swept it away with a ruthless vow to remain rational and leveled a skeptical glare at him. “You left me because you feared I would die?”

His gaze remained steady. “I knew you were not seriously injured. Mr. Price said so.”

She laughed dryly. “So you left because you knew I would
not
die?”

He glanced away, his lips stretched into a grim line. When he looked back, his eyes looked bleak. “I left because I panicked.”

She turned away, walking over to a small table and fiddling with a porcelain figure of an Arcadian maiden.

He continued to explain. “As soon as I arrived in London, I realized my folly. I dispatched a letter to you immediately, saying I would return. I planned to return to Kellworth today.”

“A letter I did not receive,” she scoffed. “Another missing letter.”

Her anger flared. Dare she believe anything this man told her? Each word strengthened the notion that all he told her, even the purported embezzlement, had been a lie.

She swung back to him. “Give me one reason I should believe any of this!”

He bowed his head. “I can think of no reason you should believe me, Emma.” His voice was so low, she could barely hear him, yet it plucked a chord inside her that threatened to unleash the very emotions she fought to control.

His eyes rose to pierce her again. “I have wronged you from the beginning, Emma. Married you and left you and told myself I was acting the gallant. I told myself I must go fight for my country and my king, when all I really wanted was to escape Kellworth. Then what did I do? Trapped you there and near starved you as well”—his eyes filled with what looked like remorse—“You are right. There is no reason you should believe me.”

In spite of her resolve, she was shaken, almost feeling his pain resonating inside her.

She shook her head. She simply must not allow herself to fall under his spell.

“I am pleased we agree on something.” Her voice came out churlish, but she hated the sound of it.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out some papers, handing them to her. “I was able to accomplish one useful task while here.”

She stared at the words “Bank of England.” The papers seemed to document a large sum of money in her name. She gasped at the amount and shot a glance at Spence.

“Part of our bargain.” He gave a wan smile. “Financial security for you.”

She stared back at the figures, not able to believe that there had ever been that much money in his fortune. What sort of man would give his wife such a sum? She shook her head. It was inconceivable. A wife’s money belonged to her husband, did it not? This might be all a hum, an effort to fool her again.

“One part of our bargain,” she repeated, giving him a hard look. “And what of the other part of our bargain?”

His eyes darkened and his expression filled her with memories of their lovemaking. “Let us return to Kellworth,” he said. “I will give you a child.”

She swung away, her heart pounding.
No! No!
she screamed inside. Could she bear filling Kellworth with more memories of him? Pretending at marital bliss? She had never dreamed he would return with her.

She shook her head. “If I allow you to take me back to Kellworth, how can I know you will not simply leave me there and run off to your pyramids or some such place?”

He looked stunned. “What else would you suggest?”

“We stay here,” she declared, surprising herself as much as she did him. “In London.”

She ignored the change in his countenance, to that soft expression she used to revel in across the pillows. “Emma, I could leave you in London, too, if I wished.”

She straightened. “But if you do leave me in London, there are other men who might be willing to bed me.” She glared at him. “I can find another man to father a child. I do not need you. Now that we have cohabited, the baby can be passed off as yours.”

He strode over to her and put his hand on her arms, but his voice was gentle. “You cannot mean this, Emma.”

Of course she did not. The mere thought of sharing with another man the intimacies she’d shared with him made bile rise in her throat.

He continued, speaking gently. “Perhaps you are with child now—”

She pulled away. “Then you would be free to leave, but I assure you I am not.” Her voice betrayed too much emotion. She spilled her words in a rush to disguise the trembling of her chin. “Stay in London until it is certain I am increasing. Then I do not care where you go. Go anywhere but Kellworth!”

His face lost all expression, but he still spoke quietly. “As you wish, Emma. My uncle offers to vacate the townhouse. I would desire to give him one or two days to settle himself elsewhere.”

She’d pushed her anger to the fore and felt a grim satisfaction that he had acceded to her wishes—what she thought were her wishes. “He can remain in the house. I do not intend to stay there long.”

He peered at her uncertainly. “Are you certain you wish him to stay there?”

“I do not care one way or the other.” Pretending to feel strong was almost making her believe she could do anything. “Let him do as
he
wishes.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or is it you who wish a delay? Perhaps so you can plan an escape?”

He shook his head and leveled a gaze at her that almost shook her newly won courage. “I’ll not leave you, Emma.”

“Then I will move in tomorrow.” She could not believe she was speaking this way.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed. “I will call for you at noon.”

“Very well.”

He bowed. “Until tomorrow, then.”

When he opened the drawing-room door and walked into the hall, Emma heard the voices of her mother and Lady Vellamy, and it occurred to her that they may have been trying to listen. She marched out to see what the ladies were doing.

“Oh, how delightful to see you,” her mother chirped to Spence. “We were hoping to catch you before you left.”

The older ladies had each grasped hold of his arms and were walking him to the door.

Lady Vellamy said, “We wanted to insist you come with us to the musicale this evening at Lady Bolton’s. Everyone will be there. We simply cannot allow our Emma to miss it.”

He looked over his shoulder and saw Emma watching. “Emma?” he said. “Do you wish me to escort you?”

She had no more wish to attend the musicale than she had the ball, but at least she would know he was not on some boat to the Americas or something. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Come with us to the musicale.”

After he left, her mother and Lady Vellamy skipped up to her, demanding all the details. At least that assured Emma they had not heard the true course of the conversation.

“I am to take up residence with him at the Kellworth townhouse tomorrow,” she said.

“Just think, at last you will be mistress of that grand townhouse,” her mother cried.

“I am more in the nature of a temporary guest,” Emma insisted. “I intend to return to Kellworth before long.”
As soon as I’ve conceived,
she added silently.

“Oh, but first you must wrap the earl around your little finger.” Her mother laughed. “And I will wager you will enjoy London’s delights. Why, the Season is almost over and the biggest event is passed. The wedding of Princess Charlotte to her Leopold!”

Emma was taken aback. “You were invited to those festivities?”

“How I wish!” Her mother sighed. “But there were many other lovely parties in her honor.”

“Enough chitchat,” broke in Lady Vellamy. “We must get busy and devise a wardrobe for you.”

“Oh yes,” agreed Emma’s mother. “Let us hurry and see what I have packed away that might do.”

That evening, Spence appeared at the Holgrove townhouse, as commanded. He was admitted and asked to wait in the hall, since the ladies were ready to depart. A minute later Emma appeared in a gown of a fabric so light it seemed to float around her. She carried the paisley shawl.

Lady Vellamy and Lady Holgrove were right behind her, but Spence could not take his eyes off Emma. He stepped forward to drape her shawl across her shoulders.

“My carriage is waiting,” Lady Vellamy said. “Let us not tarry.”

He played escort to all three ladies, freeing Lord Holgrove from the task. The musicale was the social event of the evening. Even his uncle and Reuben attended. The program included a piece by Cherubini for string quartet. Cherubini had come to London the year before to conduct his new symphony and had never left. Emma, declaring she had never heard his music before, listened with an expression of delight on her face.

The night was over too quickly for Spence. Before he left Emma at her mother’s door, he kissed her hand.

“Until tomorrow,” he murmured.

When he stepped back to the pavement, Lady Vellamy leaned out of her carriage door. “Shall my coachman drop you off somewhere, Lord Kellworth?”

The night was crisp and fine and he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. “Thank you, no, my lady. I will enjoy the walk.”

“Good night.” She waved as the coach pulled away.

He headed toward Bond Street, wondering if Emma would have that same expression of delight if he introduced her to the singing energy of the Spanish guitar, or the bagpipe-like drone of the French
vielle à roue.

But he reminded himself that there was much restitution to be done before he could propose even a minor adventure to her.

He neared Henrietta Street and heard a sound behind him. He halted, but the sound had gone away.

As he turned down Henrietta Street, he spied movement out of the corner of his eye. He whipped around, but the street was quiet and dark. He walked on, but now his soldier’s senses were on alert.

All of a sudden two ruffians jumped out from the shadows. One man grabbed him from behind, his hat went flying, and beefy arms held him like a vise. Spence tried to twist from the man’s grasp. The other man came at him, wielding a club. Spence elbowed his captor hard in the ribs and managed to wrest himself away right as the other man swung. The club struck his companion and sent him flying. Spence rushed the attacker, grabbing the arm holding the club and forcing it backward until the man screamed in pain. The club clattered to the pavement.

“Get the bugger!” shouted the other one, now rising to his feet.

They both charged, but Spence ducked and rolled to the ground, groping for the club. His fingers closed around it and he jumped to his feet, swinging as he advanced.

The two ruffians backed away.

“Be gone, if you know what is good for you,” shouted Spence.

“Let’s be out of here.” The one man pulled on his companion’s coat.

A door to a nearby house opened and someone called out, “What goes there?”

Spence dropped the club as the ruffians fled.

“Footpads,” Spence answered. “They are gone.”

“In this neighborhood?” The man stood in the doorway shaking his head. “I’ve never heard of such. Are you injured, sir?”

Spence dusted himself off and retrieved his hat. “No, I’m all in one piece. Good night, sir.” But his wound ached from the exertion. He realized how easy it must have been for Ruddock to wind up in the Thames.

He started back toward Bond Street, limping slightly.

Chapter
SEVENTEEN

E
mma’s trunk, packed with her mother’s castaway gowns, was sent to the Kellworth townhouse. Lady Vellamy and her mother had seen to everything she would need, including an experienced lady’s maid to attend her in her new home and prevent her from making any fashion faux pas.

Emma, her mother, and Lady Vellamy waited in the drawing room for Spence to arrive. The two ladies, full of advice, rattled on about how she ought to run the household, what invitations to accept, what sort of parties she might host.

“I do not think I shall be entertaining,” Emma said.