Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
T he house was too quiet. Much too quiet for possessing three young ladies of various loudness. Potentially six since, in all likelihood, Emma’s three were scheming together with Samuel’s.
“I should go across the square,” Emma said from close behind him, her hands lightly fisted near his arm as if she wished to hold on to him there. But wouldn’t.
Samuel whipped an arm up, holding a finger to his lips. “Listen.”
“Nothing?” The voice rang out from the direction of Samuel’s study. “You have nothing to say?”
“Lottie,” Samuel said, and then he made for the study with long, strong strides, Emma trailing after him.
He found his eldest sister pacing the length of his study, six chairs lined up before her, Andromeda, Prudence, and the twins standing sentinel behind her, arms crossed, attention narrowed on the young women sitting in the six chairs—June, Gertrude, Felicity, Briar, Glenna, Diana. Six pale faces avoiding Lottie’s enraged gaze.
“I suppose I do not have to go across the square then,” Emma said, bumping into him from behind.
Everyone looked at them, and Emma’s sisters bounced to their feet, got one step toward her.
“Sit down,” she demanded. “Whatever Lady Noble is about to say to you, you deserve.”
Backing toward their chairs as one, they sat, lowering their heads.
Samuel leaned against the door frame. “I suppose you discovered their scheme.”
“We did,” Lottie said. “Oh, they hid it well, of course, eyes all wide and hands wringing when we arrived yesterday after Rowan and Thurston delivered your message. But when they kept whispering, and when they stuffed food in their pockets last night and this morning, I began to get suspicious. Prudence discovered Felicity in the attic half an hour ago, and after that, confessions spilled quickly.”
“You’re terrifying sometimes,” June grumbled.
“Remember that. These three”—Lottie gestured with her chin to Emma’s sisters—“showed up only a few minutes ago, mischief in mind, I’m sure, and their role in the entire charade became clear. But now you’re here, Lady Emma, I’ll leave them to you.”
The girls looked to Emma, hope hesitant in their eyes.
“Oh, I think you’re doing a most excellent job,” Emma said. “Please continue.”
Hope decimated.
“What are you going to do to us?” Felicity asked.
Everyone looked to Samuel.
And with Emma so close beside him, the day still rosy along his skin, he leaned toward forgiveness. No future existed for him and Emma unless she decided it did, and he understood the reasons why she held back, the reasons why she might never say yes. But he’d had two days with her, pretending to be her husband, watching her face as he strummed pleasure across her every nerve, playing cards, and commiserating. All that, what a true marriage should be—a friend, a partner, a lover. He might never have that, never have her.
But at least he’d had two days.
Behind him, Emma seemed indisposed toward forgiveness, though, one elegant red brow arched high, and her arms crossed over her perfect breasts. They did need to learn some lesson.
He sighed and took Lottie’s place before the shame-faced line. “Can any of you imagine what might have happened had your scheme gone awry?”
No answer. Only bowed heads.
“What if your little lie about Felicity had reached public ears? Her reputation ruined, though she’d never done a thing. And what of Lady Emma?” Good. He’d remembered to use her title. Their postures of defeat would turn victorious if he’d forgotten. “Her reputation could have been harmed as well. And even if it has not been, we will have to be careful the next week or so, listening for whispers.”
Diana peeked at him sideways, her cheeks red as a rose. “We’re quite sorry.” Her thick brogue held a plea that made Samuel want to fold.
“Sorrier than you can know,” June added, lifting her chin to look at him.
“You”—Samuel crossed his arms over his chest—“slipped a note into my pocket.”
“You’re welcome?” June’s smile was too forced, all teeth, no confidence.
“I think not.”
“Do you mean to say…” Felicity scooted to the edge of her chair and folded her hands in prayer like innocence in her lap as she lifted her gaze upward. “You and Lady Emma did not come to an understanding while traveling?” She blinked several times, her dark lashes pretending innocence.
“His Grace and I understand each other just as well now as we did before,” Emma said, stepping forward to stand next to Samuel.
They understood each other a sight better than before, actually, but now was not the time.
Felicity held her hands out. “But that is the point—you understand one another so well! And you enjoy one another. And… and I think you’re in love.”
“So do I!” Glenna exclaimed.
The younger girls shot to their feet with a chorus of “Me too.”
Samuel held up a hand, fighting back a grin, and they dropped back into their chairs, silent once more. If he looked at Emma, would she be bright red and fighting back a grin, too? Because damn it all, he did love her. And she might love him.
Both facts irrelevant.
“Lady Emma,” he said, “what do you think we should do?”
“I’m tempted to take my sisters right back to Edinburgh. If they think to send others to Scotland, they can go there themselves.”
The girls’ heads popped up, shaking, hands clutched in their laps.
“But we like it here!” Briar said.
“We like Aunt Georgie.” Diana’s tiny voice tore at Samuel’s heart a little.
“And we like Felicity and Gertrude and June!” Glenna bit her bottom lip, fingers clutching the edge of her chair.
Samuel scratched his chin. “Back to Scotland. Hm. I’m not sure it is necessary, nor even beneficial. Felicity still needs you, Lady Emma, to help her find a husband.”
Emma snorted. “She’s not shown herself ready to be a wife, not with such hijinks.”
“True.” But still… he would hate to watch Emma go. He could not have her, but to never see her again… sent cold chills through him. He might as well dig his own damn grave. “Yet that is why she needs your influence, Lady Emma. If she wishes to wed, she needs a model to look toward, and while her sisters offer excellent ones, she’s more likely to stick her tongue out at them.”
Felicity did just that. At him. Then at all their sisters lined up behind him.
Samuel rubbed his temple as he caught Emma’s gaze, telling her without words— do you see how hopeless it is?
She blushed prettily and arched a brow, clearly replying, hopeless for you perhaps .
She had the right of it, no doubt. “We need you, Lady Emma, so sending them away, sending you away, just will not do.”
Silence saturated the room, but who cared with Emma so lovely and so nearby and so clearly in his cursed brainbox. Embedded deep. Forever, no doubt. He should send everyone away, after all, right this moment, convince Emma to have one more tryst with him.
“Hell and chaos,” Andromeda whispered behind him, “they are correct, aren’t they? The girls.”
“It would appear so,” Prudence hissed.
“Our brother has fallen in love,” Lottie said much louder than her sisters.
“We told you!” said six other young ladies all at once. They bounced right out of their chairs, grinning and swarming Samuel and Emma, pushing them together, then toward the chairs, toppling them into the warm seats.
“Now you tell us,” Felicity said, “why you two must avoid one another as you do.”
Samuel moved to stand. Emma, too.
“No, no.” Lottie pointed at them. “Sit. I wish to hear the answer.”
Prudence, Andromeda, and the twins nodded, and all the others crossed their arms, staring, waiting, toes tapping.
Samuel looked to Emma for help. But she looked at him for the same. The only communication that rang between them a clear one— sisters . A plague .
He cleared his throat, straightened his travel-worn clothing as well as he could. “Everyone currently unmarried, please leave.”
“Noooooo,” Felicity groaned.
June glared.
Emma flicked a hand toward the door, and her sisters trudged toward it. Samuel’s sisters stomped toward it, disappearing into the hallway with final glares. June slammed the door behind them.
“Cheeky,” Emma said. “To pull such stunts, then be angry with us .”
“I expect nothing less from my three.” Samuel fell into the back of his chair and faced his sisters. “You all know well—”
“Wait!” Isabella flew for the door. “They could have their ears pressed against it.” She threw the door open but found the hallway empty and closed it again. “Go ahead then, Samuel.”
He scrubbed a palm down his face. “Marriage is not as easy as whether a man and woman like one another. You know that, all of you.”
“It seems that easy to me,” Andromeda said. She pulled a chair out of the line, so it faced Samuel and sat. “Once you release whatever is holding you back.”
“But perhaps we are all wrong”—Prudence, too, pulled a chair from the line and sat—“and they do not like one another well enough to marry.”
Samuel dropped his face into his hands. Imagine being the center of all this attention regarding a topic, the discussion of which felt like a blunt spoon attempting to scoop up his heart. “It is not that… It is the books.”
“Pardon?” Lottie said. “Could you repeat that? Couldn’t hear you with the hands in front of your mouth.”
Samuel dropped his arms to the side. “Our decisions and our reasons for making those decisions are not yours to know. You must merely accept them.” He stood and made for the door. “Are any of you as worried as I am that Felicity has thought about running off to Scotland? It was a farce this time, but next time…” He stomped into the hallway. “I’m not done speaking with her, and I’ll not be distracted.”
“They probably went into Mother’s sitting room,” Lottie said. “Quin and Tristan are there now.”
“Perfect,” Samuel grumbled. But he didn’t step across the hall to his mother’s sitting room. He went outside and into the garden, dropping to the grass just below King George I. How humiliating. He’d lost his heart, and everyone knew. Not a nightmare in itself except that the only lady who could find it would never pick it up.
And everyone would know that, too.
But he could survive. Because walking away from his outstretched heart was better for Emma and her family than picking it up and holding it close.
Five sets of eyes, the same shape if not precisely the same color, blinked at Emma. No escaping. Perhaps she could devise an excuse. She swallowed, flexed, then relaxed her hands.
“So,” Lady Noble said, dropping into a chair. “How was Scotland?”
“We did not get that far, thankfully.”
“Should we call for tea?” Andromeda asked. “I suspect this will be a long story.”
“There is no story.” Not one Emma would tell. “But yes, call for tea. I find I have questions for all of you.”
The sisters exchanged looks, then one of the twins rang for a servant. No further conversation was made until the steaming tea was set before them with a plate of biscuits as well.
Emma had a sip and a bite before she said, “Tell me about your book club.”
After a beat of stunned silence, one of the twins said, “Why does it feel like we are about to be lectured?”
“She has the air of a duchess,” the other twin said.
“And Samuel’s disapproving look about her,” Prudence added. “Perhaps it’s for the best they not marry. So much seriousness concentrated in one relationship cannot be a good thing.”
“If your brother is overly serious, it is because he has much to worry about. Clearly, considering this book club I’ve heard so much about.”
Andromeda grinned. “We’re usually the ones fighting for Samuel. How lovely to see someone else do it.”
“And,” Lady Noble added, “she’s quite good at doing the scolding, so that means Samuel will have to scold half as much as he currently does after they marry.”
“We’re not marrying,” Emma said.
“Oh, but he’ll have three more unmarried sisters,” one of the twins said. “So maybe there will be just as much scolding as usual.”
“We’re not marrying.” Emma looked for any of the sisters to support her, but they all seemed to have forgotten she was in the room.
“But,” the other twin said, “if there is more responsibility, there is someone to share it with. That’s lovely, isn’t it?”
The other women nodded.
Emma stood. “We are not marrying.”
Lady Noble sighed. “Sit back down, Lady Emma, and tell us why you’re worried about our book club.”
“He told her,” Andromeda said. “If he told her about the books, he must trust her. He’d never tell a soul.”
“And that is why I think they should marry.” Prudence scowled. “Why aren’t you? Is it because of the books?”
Answering might agitate these women, insult them even. “Oh, what a lovely painting.” Emma nodded at the massive family portrait over the fireplace. “I noted it the first day I met the duke here in his study. All of you were so young and—”
“Distractions,” Lottie said. “Answer please, Lady Emma.”
Why should she? She owed these women nothing. And she owed her sisters everything. And Samuel knew her reasons. Their two days together were done. Now to spend the rest of her life alone. She stood and pushed past them to stand right beneath the portrait. The young Samuel painted there was not yet a duke, and his shoulders had not yet become rigid with the weight of responsibility. That young man still had a father to learn from and a mother to adore and sisters to be friends with. Emma had enjoyed that once, too, had known the grief that came when she could no longer be her sisters’ friend but was forced to be their mother. A loss of girlhood, a loss of self. Samuel understood her reasons for sacrificing her happiness because he did the same, every day. For the women at Emma’s back.
“I would marry your brother if I were free to do so,” she admitted, still looking at the painting. “I cannot put my personal desires over my sisters’ futures and well-being.” She spun around, folding her hands together in front of her. “I admire your courage. And I have decided there is a benefit to the books you enjoy. Certainly, there is. But do not tell me there are no risks involved. How many times have you faced scandal?”
“And we have overcome it.” Lady Noble walked toward her, chin held high. “Each one of us in this room has had to face discovery, but we have also had to face the possibility of losing the affection and loyalty of the men we loved when they found out. If they had turned away, then they would not have deserved our love. But they have not. Will you be the first to retreat?”
“My sisters—”
“I have a brother-in-law, a young man who was only a boy when we met.” Mrs. Kingston twisted in her chair to wrap her hands around the arm. “And marrying me threatened my husband’s guardianship of him. But we survived, and the secret remained secret not merely because we love each other but because we’ve… created something of a wider family through our books, women who will fight for one another when necessary. We will fight for you, too. And your sisters. Why should you have to compromise? Why force yourself to choose? Love should be big enough to hold it all.”
Something inside Emma shattered. She grasped for it because it must be put back together, but the pieces were already disintegrating to ash, slipping through her fingers like sand. How long had it been since someone had fought for her? Not even Miss Dunn had believed her when Lord Parkington had attacked her. No one had. She’d been alone against the world, fighting to keep her reputation not for herself, but for her sisters.
“Do you think we do not care about our sisters?” Prudence asked. “We do, and we have worked hard to make sure they have happy futures. But I am not sure a happy future and spotless reputation are the same thing.”
“We were willing,” one of the twins said, “to let our secret out last year to keep Samuel from being forced into an unhappy marriage. Have you asked your sisters what they are willing to do for you?”
Emma made for the door. “I need fresh air.” She found her sisters across the hall. “It is time we return to Lady Macintosh. Come along.”
They said their goodbyes with long faces and followed her out of the house. She led them around the square garden instead of through it. Its center reminded her too much of moonlit kisses, and with something very much like her resolve having crumbled, she possessed no more defenses, was raw and vulnerable to those things her heart wanted most.
Halfway around the garden, she stopped, and her silent ducklings crashed into her with curious glances.
“I’ve lost my reputation,” she said.
“Not yet.” Glenna clung to her arm. “No one knows yet, and they might never know.”
“Not that. In Scotland. It’s one reason I dragged everyone to the country early after last Season, why I was so eager to get everyone out of Edinburgh.” She told them about Lord Parkington, about the cold backs at the assembly rooms.
“We know.” Diana rubbed a line into the dirt at her feet.
“Pardon?” The falling feeling that had been tumbling through Emma stopped, and she hit the ground hard.
“We all know,” Glenna said. “We have since last Season, but since you did not speak of it, neither did we.”
Emma tipped her face to the sky, blinking back tears. “I am so sorry. But I will not put your reputations at risk again. I swear to you.”
“We wish you would.” Briar sounded indignant.
So, Emma dropped her gaze to her sister, wiping a tear from her eye. “Pardon?”
“I do not wish to marry anyone who would turn his back on you for something you did not do.” Briar twisted her mouth to the side. “And if you are married, then Father cannot marry you off.”
“We thought being compromised with the duke,” Diana said, “whom you actually seem to like, might be better than letting Father choose your fate. Better for us, too.”
“If you’re married to Clearford,” Glenna added, “then we can stay in London with Aunt Georgie. Perhaps I can be her companion when she’s older. Since I will not wed.” She fussed with the edge of her pelisse.
Emma’s gaze wandered toward the garden, toward its very center where, through the trees and bushes, she saw a figure pacing. “There are things you do not know of. Reasons I should not marry him.”
“Murder?” Diana asked.
“No!”
“Bigamy?” Glenna said.
“No!”
“He drowns kittens in the Thames?” Briar held up an invisible bag of yowling kittens.
Heavens, they weren’t yowling. They weren’t there! “No! Nothing like that.” Simply books, unforgettable books.
“Then what?” Briar dropped her arm to her side, hypothetical kittens forgotten.
They stared at her the same way they always had since their mother’s death—needing her to guide them, protect them, teach them. Would she be able to do that if her father married her off, as he surely would do if her matchmaking could not secure the necessary funds?
“Emma.” Diana wrapped her arms around Emma’s waist. “We do not care what others think of you. But we wish you’d given us a chance to stand up for you, to stand with you against them.”
Glenna wrapped her arms around Emma’s neck. “We should not have tricked you into accompanying the duke north. But we’d rather face scandal than see you unhappy. You saved someone I loved once. I wish you would let me return the favor.”
Briar joined their hug, and in the place of the shattered thing, something else bloomed—strong and warm and full of light, and for the first time, when Emma peeked into her future, she did not see a life living for her father. She saw a handsome, perpetually harried duke, mornings and midnights tangled in his arms, babies and friends and twelve sisters, each happy as the last.
“Go home,” she said. “I need to think.”
They released her and made for the house, Briar grumbling, “Hopefully, she thinks about the duke’s arse.”
“Briar!” Glenna slapped her shoulder.
“I’ve seen her looking!”
The girls erupted into laughter, and Emma stepped into the garden.