Chapter 24
No matter how many times Hart rode up to Woodcroft Priory, the same tangle of emotions waged war inside him. And today, once again, he struggled to suppress an urge to turn back.
There were too damned many memories.
His mother, bringing him here with Austell when he was barely five years old, tucking him into bed, and suddenly beginning to weep.
Darling, no matter what happens, this place will belong to you.
She had rushed from the room, leaving him alone in the dark, surrounded by strange shadows and sounds, to wonder why Mama was crying.
Hart narrowed his eyes and surveyed the sprawling brick manor house.
How many times over his lifetime had he witnessed her tears?
It seemed she always saved them for their visits, just the two of them, to the priory.
They have taken everything from you, but you’ll always have Woodcroft, she had whispered on her deathbed.
He’d wanted to shake his head. No. Bloody hell, no thank you! She’d found a way to leave him a portion of her own inheritance, and that he could use, but not this place with its ghosts and veil of sadness.
And now Emeline was here! Peachey’s letter seemed to be burning through his pocket. The sun was low over the River Alde as Hart rounded the drive, compelled by a force he didn’t understand to see the ruins where the new excavation must be in progress.
To his shock, he saw that the shallow trough that had existed in August was now a deep trench, with a much wider opening at one end. Just as Hart reined in and swung down from the saddle, an all too familiar face peeped above the edge of the pit.
His heart wrenched at the sight of her, smudged with dirt and utterly captivating. A tweed cap was pulled low over her hair, and for an instant Hart’s memory inhaled the fragrance of her gleaming locks, flowing over his pillow.
Emeline blinked, shaking her head, as if she doubted that he could be real. She glanced around, seemingly trapped, but Hart was at the edge of the trench and then he jumped easily down to stand before her.
“I thought,” she faltered, “I might never see you again.”
“I was trying to do the right thing for you,” he said roughly, pulling her into his arms.
Before he could cover her mouth with his, she came up on her toes to meet him halfway. Oh, God. She was ambrosia. Salty, dirty, so delicious he could barely stand it. Opening to his questing tongue, tasting him in return, pressing against him as if she could meld their bodies.
“Oh…I missed you so,” Emeline confessed when at last they broke the kiss.
All his long-honed instincts flared, warning him that this was very thin ice. He glanced away. “You are a bit mad, my sweet minx.”
She was watching him. “There is so much to tell you, to show you! Hart, we have discovered the burial chamber. I wanted to send word immediately, but Mrs. Peachey seemed to think that was not enough to bring you home.”
“Peachey never gives away her hand,” he said with a twisted smile. “She told you that because she had already summoned me with urgent news I could not ignore.”
Emeline took a step back toward the wall of earth. Her breasts pressed against the rough cotton of the shirt that tucked into her trousers. He took in her suspenders and sturdy mud-caked shoes. “I see you are a proper antiquarian, my dear.”
“I already had these clothes. Sometimes I wore them while at Lyme Regis, with Miss Anning.” Her chin went up in a way he recognized, her gaze fixed on his face. “What did Mrs. Peachey write to you that was so compelling?”
“She merely told me what I should have already suspected.” The words seemed jammed in his throat. “I have come to…do the right thing.”
“What can you mean?” Her violet eyes were wide, as if he was speaking a foreign language.
“Surely you can guess?” Hart coughed. “I mean to marry you.”
Devil take it, now she looked as if she was going to cry but not tears of joy. “Do the right thing…and marry me? For what reason?”
“Peachey has made me realize that there could be consequences to our—” He broke off. “Uh, interlude back in London, and of course she is right. If we are going to be…parents, then there is nothing for it.” Every awkward word sounded as if it was wrung from him by force.
Emeline seemed to grow paler as she took another step back, away from him. “My lord, to receive such a heartfelt proposal of marriage, in this romantic setting… It is the stuff of a girl’s dreams.”
She narrowed her eyes as she spoke, and he heard the slight razor’s edge beneath her words. “Emeline,” he coaxed.
“Oh, no, please, you have said quite enough!” Now she marched back up to him and poked one grimy finger into his chest. “Clearly you are suffering, but you must not fret about doing the right thing! Since our interlude, as you so tenderly call it, I have had my monthly flow, so your great sacrifice is no longer needed.”
Oddly enough, her words did not bring the surge of relief he might have expected. “Now see here! Do you mean to castigate me for coming back in what I believed was your hour of need?”
Emeline was trembling. “No, I castigate you because you are just like other men and I was a fool to hope otherwise! You took it upon yourself to decide what was best for me without any regard for my own wishes or feelings.” Her voice shook with fury.
“Furthermore, you are just like Papa, who secretly enlisted your help managing my life— because clearly I was incapable of making my own decisions!”
Good God. His heart seemed to stop beating. “You know about that.”
“Indeed.” Unshed tears shone in her eyes. “Now you may breathe easy, my lord, since there is no need for a forced wedding. You are truly free! Goodbye.”
Hart stared as she walked to the ladder, her back straight, and climbed out of the trench, leaving him to stand alone in the gathering darkness.
Emeline was pacing back and forth in her bedroom when a tentative knock sounded at the connecting door. A moment later, Louise peeked in.
“Hello! Sorry to push in, but I couldn’t wait to speak to you.” She came across the room and reached for Emeline’s cold hands. “Am I going mad, or did I see Hart outside on the lawn a few minutes ago? Someone who looked exactly like him was walking a horse toward the stables.”
“You aren’t going mad, but I think I may be,” Emeline said, her voice shaking. “Oh, Louise, we had the most hideous scene! He came down into the trench and announced that he had come back from Europe to do the right thing and marry me!”
“What!” After pulling Emeline over to sit beside her on the edge of the bed, Louise embraced her. “Is he saying this because he feels guilty for…taking your innocence?”
“Oh, no! It’s because Mrs. Peachey seems to have written to him and implied that I am with child!” She laughed a trifle hysterically. “You should have seen his face. One would think that he was being pressured to go into battle, facing torture and certain death.”
Louise looked thoughtful. “At least he didn’t ignore her letter. At least he came back.”
“Next you will say that he was doing the right thing!” She jumped to her feet and began to pace in front of her cousin.
“I take it that you refused his proposal?” Louise murmured cautiously.
“Of course I did, especially since he only offered it because he thought I was pregnant! Don’t you see, he is just like all the rest, telling me what is best for me without one moment’s consideration for what I want. Men like that are the very reason we have sworn to remain unmarried.”
“But, Emmie, you love him.”
“Yes.” She squeezed her eyes closed against the sting of tears. “That’s what makes my choice so clear. If I grasped at this proposal, knowing that he only asked out of a sense of guilty obligation, I would always suspect that Hart felt trapped and wished he were free again.”
Hart sat alone, brooding, at the long, scrubbed table in the kitchen while Peachey made the preparations for the household’s supper.
“You must eat, Lord Jasper.” She set a plate of roasted chicken, potatoes, and green beans in front of him. “You’ve had a long journey.”
“I’ll have brandy,” Hart said roughly. “Give this to William—or Monte!”
“My lord, I must insist.” She sent him one of the warning looks that had always worked when he was a boy. Next, she’d be cutting the chicken and trying to feed it to him.
He pushed the plate away. “I’ve seen Emeline. What made you think that she was with child?”
“Did I say that she was? I think not. Only that it was possible.”
“You know perfectly well that you implied it!” His voice rose. “In such a way that I assumed she must have told you!”
In spite of his outrage, the housekeeper remained maddeningly calm. “I wanted to bring you home to deal with the situation like the man I know you to be. When I considered the matter, it seemed that was the only thing I could write that would definitely achieve my goal.”
“I see. But it was a trick.” Hart wanted to add that he’d made an ass of himself that day with Emeline and now there was no repairing it.
“Not really. For all I knew, it was true. And if it had been true, you needed to come home.” She paused. “In any case, I didn’t think you would want to leave Lord Melford in charge on your estate.”
“Melford!” he flared, remembering the tender moment he had witnessed between Tobias and Emeline. “What the deuce is he doing here?”
Peachey was unruffled. “His lordship kindly offered to assist the two young women with the excavation.” She paused. “I can see that you suspect him of making overtures toward Miss Emeline, but I have seen no sign of that. Only friendship between the two of them.”
Hart snorted. “I suppose you advise me not to call him out.”
“Indeed, unless you wish to put the lady off completely.” Peachey nudged the plate closer again just as Monte came prancing into the kitchen. “Now eat your dinner, Lord Jasper, and I’ll order you a hot bath. You’ll need to be at your best in the days ahead.”