The Mister I Married (Romancing the Rogue #3)

Chapter Eight

To say Lady Keswick was pleased by the news of Emmy’s engagement would be an elephantine understatement.

Her mother had talked of nothing else these last three days, and even now, in their drawing room full of whist-playing women, she seemed unable to think of anything but the wedding.

“It is your play, Mother,” Emmy murmured, casting her an imploring, verging-on-desperate glance.

Unsurprisingly, the hint went ignored.

“We are planning an August wedding, you know,” Lady Keswick said to the table’s other two occupants, Hortense and Hettie Letrout, plump spinster sisters with glossy white hair and matching gowns of blue and brown twill. “It will be an intimate affair here at home with only family in attendance.”

“You must be positively thrilled, my lady,” Miss Hettie, the younger, sweeter sister, said from her seat across from the marchioness. “Both of your children, marrying one right after the other. How wonderful.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Lady Keswick beamed. “I am so close to being a grandmother, I can almost hear the little ones laughing and playing together.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Emmy stifled a groan, her gaze slipping longingly to her cards. Could they not return to the game, or at least talk of something else?

Anything else?

It wasn’t that she was unhappy with the betrothal, of course. She had no regrets.

She did, however, feel a bit anxious about being a wife, and the never-ending wedding talk did nothing to soothe her agitated nerves.

Unfortunately, her mother showed no signs of quitting anytime soon, nor did her audience seem to want her to. Indeed, the Letrout sisters looked set in for the summer.

“I did wonder if you would ever marry, Lady Emmaline,” Miss Letrout said, eyeing Emmy with blue eyes identical to her sister’s though far less kind. “This is your fourth Season, is it not?”

“No, ma’am,” Emmy said breezily. “It is my fifth.”

“Gracious me.” Thin penciled brows arched. “And yet, here you are, against all the odds, finally engaged to be married. How marvelous for you.”

Miraculous was what she really meant to say, the old busybody. Emmy gave the woman a wide, insincere smile.

She could stand up for herself, she supposed, and tell the woman it was her choice not to marry earlier, but it would only be a waste of breath and time.

Miss Letrout would never believe a woman would choose not to marry. After all, she hadn’t.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Whitcomb is a lovely man,” Lady Keswick said brightly. “Well worth the wait. Isn’t he, Emmy?”

Her mother’s gaze speared her from across the table, a not-so-subtle command to play nice.

Emmy nodded. “Indeed he is, Mother.”

“I haven’t met Mr. Whitcomb yet,” Miss Hettie said. “Is he very handsome?”

Emmy’s lips parted, the question catching her off guard. “I…he…”

“For pity’s sake, Hettie,” Miss Letrout said. “She is going to marry the man. What answer would she give but yes ?”

Miss Hettie waved her sister’s words away as if she’d done so a thousand times before.

“Well, I’m not marrying him, and I think he is very handsome,” Lady Keswick said.

Emmy leaned in close to Miss Hettie as if imparting a secret. “He has broad shoulders and striking hazel eyes.”

“Oh, my.” Miss Hettie nudged Emmy’s elbow with her own, her blue eyes sparkling. “Lucky girl.”

She was lucky, yes, but not because Alex was handsome. His looks had nothing to do with her desire to marry him.

Well, almost nothing.

No, she was lucky because he’d agreed to her terms. Not many men would, especially not those like him—young, wealthy, respectable. His handsomeness was merely an extra helping of clotted cream on an already smothered sponge cake.

“And will you retire with him to the country after the Season?” Miss Letrout asked, leaning forward so her generous bosom rested on the table.

Emmy nodded. “Yes. And I am looking forward to seeing what will be my new home.”

It was very nearly true, anyway.

“Are you?” Miss Letrout asked, her nose wrinkling dubiously. “Even with a recluse living there?”

“Hortense, really,” her sister hissed.

But Miss Letrout only shrugged, apparently unrepentant. “It is hardly a secret, is it? No one has seen the man since his wife ran off with his stable boy or steward or whatever he was.”

“It was one of his grooms, actually,” Emmy said. “And I am looking forward to meeting my betrothed’s father. I understand he has a delightfully ribald sense of humor and plays a mean game of snooker.”

She’d heard no such thing, of course, but Miss Letrout wasn’t to know that, and she’d wanted to wipe that knowing smirk off the annoying woman’s face.

Alex wasn’t her husband yet, but he was her friend, and so was Tess, and she couldn’t help feeling protective of the lot of them.

“Well, shall we resume our game?” Lady Keswick asked, apparently sensing Emmy’s thinning patience.

“Yes, let’s,” Miss Hettie said, picking up her cards. “It is your go, my lady.”

As play resumed, Emmy had trouble concentrating on the game, her mind filled with thoughts of her betrothed with the broad shoulders and striking hazel eyes.

Her betrothed who might not have been.

Alex might have said no, and his hesitation to accept her proposal had worried her, to say nothing of the blow to her confidence.

She could not fault him for it, though. He had good reason for being so cautious and she respected him for it. His dedication to his father was admirable, and she’d meant what she said to him that day in her drawing room. She had every intention of upholding her end of the bargain.

She hadn’t talked much with Alex these last few days since their betrothal was set, only one brief conversation last night at the Hendersons’ ball, and that was it. And as for time spent alone with her husband-to-be, there had been none, a fact which made her feel…what?

Irritated? Disappointed? Both?

Or something else entirely, perhaps. She was woefully out of her depths here.

They weren’t courting, precisely—they were already betrothed, after all, so it hardly seemed necessary—but she wouldn’t mind seeing more of her future husband and getting to know him better.

Truth be told, she was more than a little nervous about meeting Alex’s father, and moving into a new home in an unfamiliar village in an unfamiliar county filled with people she did not know.

Her life was going to change irrevocably in just a few short months, and it would be nice if her betrothed were around to prepare her and assure her all would be well.

She wouldn’t be averse to another kiss or two, either.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she laid down the queen of spades, paying only half a mind to the game.

She had liked kissing Alex, more than she would have predicted.

A lot more.

Even thinking back to it now, to his soft lips, the gentle grasp of his hand, the unexpected sweep of his tongue…

The memory sent butterflies swirling and swooping throughout her stomach, and yet it was a pleasant feeling.

Yes, she wanted to kiss him again. But did he feel the same? He must have found her performance acceptable or he wouldn’t have agreed to marry her, but, well, she wanted to rank better than acceptable.

She wanted him to want to kiss her again. Unfortunately, he seemed in no great hurry to do so.

She stifled a sigh, irritated with the turn of her thoughts.

Perhaps it was good she hadn’t seen much of him these last few days. That kiss had muddled her brain, and a bit of distance was probably precisely what she needed.

Shoving Alex and his kiss from her mind, Emmy focused on the game at hand, but her efforts came too late to do any good and the game ended with a victory for the Letrout sisters.

There was very little Emmy hated more than losing, but she did her best to be a good sport, concealing her competitive nature behind a congratulatory smile.

“Shall we play another game?” Lady Keswick asked as she collected the cards.

“Perhaps in a little while,” Emmy said as she pushed her chair back. “I think I’ll take a break and get myself something cool to drink.”

She excused herself and headed for the refreshments table, smiling as she approached and found Tess already there, evidently of the same mind.

“Are you enjoying yourself this evening?” Emmy asked, watching as Tess poured herself a glass of punch.

No answer came, though, not even a sound, and Tess’s head stayed bowed, as if she were deeply focused on the simple task.

“Tess?” Emmy touched her elbow, and the girl jumped, nearly dropping her glass into the punch bowl.

“Oh! Emmy. I am sorry, I was woolgathering, I’m afraid.” Her cheeks filled with color, and her eyes seemed almost…guilty? How odd.

“Are you unwell, Tess?” Emmy asked, passing a diligent eye over her friend’s countenance.

“No. I’m fine.” But her smile was a little too bright to be entirely believable.

“Are you certain?” Emmy pressed.

“I am,” Tess said with a nod before handing Emmy her untouched glass of punch and turning to the table to pour another. “By the way, I had no idea your mother’s card parties were in such high demand. One of the ladies at my table told me it’s been three years since her last invitation.”

“My mother is the consummate hostess,” Emmy said with a nod. “And she is quite famous for sparing no expense.”

“I’m almost ashamed to admit I don’t much care for cards,” Tess said, sliding Emmy a sidelong glance. “Please don’t tell Lady Keswick I said that.”

Emmy laughed. “Your shameful secret is safe with me.”

The two ladies carried their drinks across the room to the sofa, which had been pushed up against a wall to make room for the card tables, and sat down, sipping their punch in silence.

Emmy had wondered how Tess would react when she and Alex shared the news of their sudden engagement, and she had not been disappointed. Tess was thrilled with the match, and with gaining a new sister, and she’d made her delight known with a beaming smile and at least three dozen hugs. She’d seemed almost as excited as Lady Keswick, and Emmy hadn’t even thought that was possible.

“I understand Mr. Steffington took you out for a ride in his curricle this afternoon,” she said, glancing at Tess as she took a sip of punch.

Her nod was economical. “Yes, he did.”

Emmy waited a handful of seconds for her to elaborate, but when she didn’t, she prodded, “And how was it?”

“Fine.”

“Only fine?”

Tess hesitated, drumming her fingers on her knee. “He is…a sweet man.”

It was possibly the least enthusiastic compliment Emmy had ever heard.

“What about Mr. Crandall?” she asked, changing tacks. “How are things progressing with him?”

Tess lifted one shoulder. “Mr. Crandall is a sweet man, too, and I enjoy spending time with him, as well.”

Emmy cocked a brow. “But?”

“But nothing ,” Tess denied, stretching her lips into a smile that did not reach her eyes.

Emmy studied her, perplexed by her odd mood. She’d seemed fine last evening at Almack’s, although admittedly Emmy had not spent much time with her, so she might not have noticed if something was wrong.

Leaning forward a little, she lowered her voice so as not to be heard above the din of female voices and shuffling cards, and said, “Is something the matter, Tess? Are you unwell?”

Tess dropped her gaze to the glass of punch cradled in her hands and shook her head. “I’m fine. Truly. Now”—she pushed to her feet and offered a small smile—“shall we play another hand of whist?”

“Of course,” Emmy said. “I would be delighted.”

She followed after Tess, letting the matter drop for now, though she did not believe for a moment that her friend was as fine as she claimed. Despite her denials, something was troubling Tess, and whatever that something was, even playing whist was preferable to discussing it. And that was very telling, indeed.

Two days passed without incident, but Emmy’s concern for her friend still had not abated. Indeed, it had only grown.

Sitting at the small table in the sun-dappled patch of garden behind the Keswicks’ townhouse, Emmy pored over the newest edition of The Tattletale , searching for some piece of news that might help her help Tess.

Of course, finding the solution would be much simpler if she knew the problem.

She’d seen Tess again last night at the opera, and though she’d smiled and chatted as if everything was well, Emmy was not fooled. Something was still troubling her, and it had dimmed her sparkle.

“Let’s see here,” she murmured as she skimmed the final page of the gossip rag, tracking the words with an index finger.

Nothing . She sat back in her chair and pursed her lips. She’d hoped there might be some mention of a new arrival in Town, a handsome Hungarian prince, perhaps, or a dashing Spanish Count. Someone new and exciting who would sweep Tess off her feet. She clearly did not like any of the gentlemen she’d met so far—at least, not in a romantic way—and Emmy had hoped someone new might spark her interest.

Unfortunately, even if there was some merit to the idea, the paper held no such announcement, only the usual rubbish, which was interesting but unhelpful.

Frustration washed over her. She did not like seeing a friend unhappy, but she really couldn’t help if she didn’t know the problem. And Tess either didn’t want to tell her or wasn’t ready to.

A beleaguered sigh escaped her. She hated being in the dark almost as much as she hated seeing a friend in need.

“That was a big sigh.”

Emmy looked up to find Alex standing in the doorway, his hands in his trouser pockets, a quiet smile on his lips.

“Alex,” she said with surprise in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

He lifted a shoulder, the gesture endearingly bashful. “I thought my betrothed might enjoy a walk through the park today. Your mother and Tess are waiting for us in the drawing room.”

“Oh,” she said, rising to her feet. “Yes, of course. That would be lovely.”

She headed for the door then paused at the threshold and turned to face Alex. “Before we join the ladies, I would like to ask you something, if I may.”

He dipped his head, his hazel eyes expectant.

“It’s about Tess,” she said. “She’s seemed…out of sorts these last few days, and I was wondering…if she is unwell?”

He blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “Has something happened which might have made her unwell?”

Emmy shook her head. “I don’t know. Not that I am aware of. I was worried that she might have some issue with our betrothal, but whenever I ask her what’s troubling her, she assures me all is well.”

“What issue could she have with our betrothal?” Alex asked, confusion knitting his brow.

She shrugged. “The timing seemed conspicuous, that’s all. I’m sure that has nothing to do with it.”

Alex was silent for a moment, thinking. “I suppose she has been a little quiet the last day or two, but she’s made no mention of any problems to me.”

Emmy nodded, trying to find solace in his words. “Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps she is fine.”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that, but if Tess’s own brother didn’t think anything was wrong with her, how could Emmy be so certain there was? Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps she should let it go.

“You don’t have an issue with our betrothal, do you?”

Emmy blinked, her gaze flicking up to meet his. “No,” she said instantly. “Do you?”

He smiled. “No.”

“Well.” She nodded once. “Good.”

“Right. Good.”

They stood like that for a long moment, smiling at each other, and Emmy flashed back to their kiss the other day. Was there time for another before their walk? Perhaps just a little one?

She let her gaze fall to his mouth and imagined leaning in and pressing her palms to his chest, her lips to his lips. What would he do if she kissed him right here and now?

“We should be going, Emmy,” Alex said, his voice gruff. “Your mother is waiting.”

She cleared her throat, warmth suffusing her cheeks. “Right. Of course.”

Slipping past him, she entered the house and made her way to the drawing room, her skin prickling with awareness of the quiet man walking behind her. Would he have kissed her in the garden if her mother weren’t waiting for them?

Was he thinking about kissing her right now, as she was thinking of him?

God, she hoped so.

“There you are,” Lady Keswick said, rising from the sofa as Emmy entered the drawing room with Alex at her heels. “Miss Whitcomb and I were beginning to wonder what had detained you two.”

“Apologies,” Emmy said. “We were…discussing the weather.”

Saints be, her hesitation had made the remark sound like a double entendre .

Her cheeks flushed anew, but fortunately no one made a remark, though her mother’s brows had flicked up and Tess’s smile was decidedly sly.

“Shall we go, then?” Alex asked, his even voice soothing the uncomfortable moment.

The foursome filed from the room then paused in the entrance hall to don their outerwear before filing down the front steps and out onto the pavement below.

The skies were mostly sunny today, dotted with only a handful of wispy white clouds, but out in the open like this, the breeze was rather too gusty for Emmy’s liking, pushing at her skirts and mussing the wispy curls framing her cheeks.

Lady Keswick and Tess took the lead, strolling up Grosvenor Street toward the park. With a smile, Alex proffered his arm, and Emmy wrapped her fingers around his forearm, feeling unaccountably bashful. They walked like that in silence, but it was not a comfortable one. At least, not for her. She was much too aware of him—the faint scent of his spiced soap, the unhurried confidence in his walk, the solid strength of his forearm beneath her fingers.

And her lips still tingled from the temptation of another kiss.

She pressed them together, willing the weakness and all her silly thoughts away as she focused instead on the walk and her surroundings.

Despite the occasional gust of wind, it was a lovely day out, and their stroll along Hyde Park’s crowded pathways was peaceful and pleasant. Tess seemed to be enjoying herself, smiling and laughing as she chatted with Emmy’s mother, and before long, they were on their way back home.

“I didn’t have a chance to ask you last night,” Emmy said to Tess as they followed behind Lady Keswick and Alex. “Did you enjoy the performance?”

“Oh, yes,” Tess said. “I’ve never seen an Italian opera before and Madame Vestris was positively magnificent.” She glanced at Emmy, her sky blue bonnet ribbons fluttering beneath her chin. “Thank you again for inviting me.”

“You are most welcome,” Emmy said with a smile. “You’ll have to join us again soon.”

Tess nodded, though her own smile seemed stiff.

“Before we go to the theater again, though, I was thinking of hosting another gathering for you. A Venetian breakfast, perhaps?” She flicked an inquiring glance at Tess. “What do you think?”

Tess looked down at her boots as if fascinated by her steps on the pavement.

“I know you’ve been rather underwhelmed by your marital prospects thus far,” Emmy said slowly, sharing a nod of greeting with Mrs. Graves as she walked by. “But there are still several eligible young men you have yet to meet, so I thought we could compose a list and invite…”

She trailed off at the first sniffle.

“Tess?”

Misty brown eyes met hers.

“What’s wrong?” Emmy asked, keeping her voice low so as not to alarm Alex and her mother.

Tess sighed. “You’ve been so good to me, and I feel so guilty because I do not deserve it.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you do!”

“No,” Tess said, shaking her head vigorously. “I don’t.”

Emmy frowned. “I don’t understand. What is making you say that?”

But Tess only shook her head again, still reluctant to share what was weighing on her mind.

“We haven’t known each other very long,” Emmy said gently, “but we have become rather good friends, I think, and I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. However, if you do not wish to confide in me, I will understand.”

She wouldn’t like it, of course, but she would understand.

Tess pressed her lips together for a long moment, as if debating with herself, and then she drew in a deep breath and, on its release, blurted out, “I don’t like London. I want to go home. I miss Bristlewood, I miss my father and my dogs and my own bed.”

Emmy blinked in surprise but otherwise did not move, her brain working to decipher the information it had just been fed. “I thought you were enjoying your time here.”

“I was, at first, but—” She broke off, her brow knitting. “London isn’t what I thought it would be, and I do not think I belong here. I feel out of place, and the people are so superficial and insincere.” She flashed a sheepish smile. “Excluding you and your mother, of course.”

Emmy returned her smile, though her mind raced with questions. “Have you discussed this with your brother yet?”

Tess shook her head, her eyes dimming with worry. “I’m afraid he’ll be angry with me,” she said softly. “I begged him to take me to London and now I want to leave, and the Season isn’t even half over and I…” She sighed, the breeze rustling her auburn curls. “I’m afraid he’ll think me an ungrateful brat.”

“You know your brother would never think that of you,” Emmy assured her.

“No, I suppose not. Still, I do not wish to disappoint him. Or you.”

She looked at Emmy, her gaze tentative, guilty, and Emmy tipped her head to one side, perplexed. “Why would I be disappointed in you?”

Tess shrugged. “Because you’ve helped me so much during these last two weeks, and if I leave now without a husband, it will all have been for naught.”

“Nonsense. I’ve enjoyed helping you,” Emmy said, reaching out with a reassuring touch to her arm. “It’s given me the chance to be useful, and to get to know you better, and I will never regret that.”

Tess smiled. “Thank you, Emmy.”

“You realize, of course, that you must tell your brother how you feel,” she said quietly. “He would not want you to stay where you are unhappy.”

“You’re right. He wouldn’t.” Tess drew in a deep breath. “I’ll tell him tonight.”

Emmy gave her an approving smile then looked up at the sound of her mother’s voice.

“Is anything the matter, dears?” Lady Keswick asked, her gaze flicking back and forth between Tess and Emmy.

“No, nothing at all, Mother,” Emmy said, moments before they reached the steps to their townhouse. “We were only chatting about the wedding.”

Their little party entered the house and headed for the drawing room, and all the while Emmy’s mind whirled with everything she’d just learned and what it all might mean for her.

Alex was a kind man and a devoted brother. He wouldn’t have the heart to keep his sister here if she did not wish to stay, and Emmy was glad of that. She, too, wouldn’t want Tess to remain where she was not happy.

That being said, this news could complicate matters.

They were supposed to spend the rest of the Season in London, have the banns read in July then marry in August. This was the course of action they had agreed upon, but that was three days ago, before Tess’s surprise confession.

Emmy frowned, questions swarming her mind. It was a foregone conclusion that Alex would take his sister back to Berkshire, but would he escort her home then return to London straightaway, or would he wish to stay in Berkshire for good?

Would he ask her to go with them?

And if he did, what would her answer be?