Chapter 16
Vincent’s eyes landed on the cheerfully painted front door. He had seen it the night he’d stopped the footpad from assaulting her. He’d thought nothing of it that night; now, however, he felt off his feet.
Not once have I ever met the family of the lady I am about to marry. Damnation: I never meant to marry at all.
“You needn’t do this with me,” Emma whispered as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
He dropped his tone to one he knew she responded to. “Do not question my honor, pet.”
She tried to hide it, but he spotted her shiver. Good—she was not as unaffected as she claimed to be. Maybe confused, yes. Surely, it was hard to square up an old hatred with a new attraction.
During the time of their brief marriage, he was sure he could sway her away from her past grievance to truly see him. He needed her to see him for the man he was and not the bitter young man he used to be.
“Grandmama?” Emma called out. “Are you home?”
“In the kitchen, dear,” Agnes sang cheerfully. “Come in, come in. We have company too. Your cousin is here.”
Emma shot Vincent a confused look before they stepped into the kitchen; the scent of baking bread and vegetable stew hit him first, and he wondered when the last time he’d had such a homey meal. Emma, however, had her eyes fixed on the two men seated around the small round table.
“Cillian?” she asked, “I thought you’d left for Manchester.”
The redhead’s brows shot to his hairline while his eyes swept over Emma, and when Vincent looked over—the face looked vaguely familiar.
“Curious… raiment, dear cousin. I am sure I have never seen you in men’s clothing before.”
“Emma!” The older woman rounded the stove, her face aghast. “That certainly isn’t the dress you left here with—” Her eyes flashed to Vincent, “—and who is your guest?”
Vincent took over, “Vincent Arundel, at your service, my lady.”
While wiping her hands, the matron’s brows dipped. “Pardon me, but why does that name sound so familiar?”
“It should,” this time, Cillian put in, his eyes landing on Vincent as he stood. “Pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”
“What?” the younger lad gaped.
Agnes’ eyes darted from him to her granddaughter before she began to pale. “Y-you brought… oh dear—”
Lurching forward, Vincent caught the poor woman before she collapsed, just as the younger lad darted from his chair and dragged it forward. “Here, Grandmama. Please sit.”
Vincent helped her take a few steps to sink into the chair while Emma went to mind the pot before she rejoined them. The young lad—most likely Emma’s brother, James, they looked so much alike—followed his cousin and bowed.
“Your Grace,” James said.
“Please,” Vincent waved away. “No formalities here. Call me Vincent, I insist.”
“Very magnanimous of you, Vincent,” Cillian murmured, his eyes straying to Emma, and Vincent did not like the condescension in the man’s gaze. “But I think I speak for us all when I ask, how is it you come to be in my cousin’s humble home?”
“You see, I came through that door,” Vincent answered with equal condescension.
“And why are you wearing men’s clothing, dear?” Agnes asked.
Emma sighed and replied, “I’d gone on to the docks for the trip to the boating club in Sand’s End, and I slipped into the water. His Grace graciously rescued me, but to my dismay—”
“Someone saw you and misconstrued the situation,” Cillian finished.
Vincent slid an eye to him. “Precisely.”
“To cut a long story short, we are to wed,” Emma replied, her shoulders lolling.
“Emmy,” her brother gasped. “How can you be sad about marrying?”
“A duke, nonetheless,” Cillian cut in dryly. “Do you know how many ladies would sell their eyeteeth to be in your place?”
She glared at him. “I am aware. It does not mean the circumstance hasn’t veered me off my life’s path.”
“It will be splashed across every paper from here to Ireland, no doubt,” Cillian replied, then pantomimed removing his hat from his head with embellished curls. “My hat is off to you.”
Her grandmother shook her head, “What about the sweet Marquess, dear? The one who has sent so many heartwarming notes to you over the last few weeks. You were so excited when you got one. I dare say you were falling in love with the man just from those alone.”
Vincent had a cruel notion of finding every single note and burning them to ash.
The vicious stab of jealousy startled him as he was not one prone to such petty emotions.
Emma merely blushed, oddly. “I—I am going to have to speak with him about the sudden developments. I do not know how he will take it, but I hope well enough.”
Cillian’s eyes drifted from Emma to Vincent. “Why not let His Grace, er, pardon, force of habit. Why not let Vincent and I speak to him? I am sure he’ll take it better coming from us men.”
The condescending tone the cousin used on Emma rubbed Vincent the wrong way, but he bit back his pointed rebuttal.
“I’m not a ninny, Cillian,” Emma was bristling. “I can handle my affairs.”
Standing, Agnes shook her head as she went to the pot. “No one is doubting you, Emma. God knows, I have so much regard for you and how you’ve handled all the twists in the road so far, but in this case, mayhap allow the men to lead? Discretion is the better part of valor, do you not think?”
Her lips pursed as she stared at her cousin. “Why the sudden generosity, Cillian?”
“Can’t I help my cousin from the kindness of my heart?” Cillian asked with a shake of his head. “You are far too suspicious by half, Emma.”
“I need air…” Emma spun on her heels and left through a door behind the stove. Vincent, with an internal sigh, followed a few beats after. He found her on a seat under a tree near to a quaint little garden of herbs and vegetables.
I wonder if she tends to this herself.
He came closer. “May I join you?”
She nodded while staring into the middle distance. Sitting to her right, he murmured, “There is no love lost between you and your cousin, is there?”
A low snort left her. “And what was the first clue?”
He laughed. “Why do you not like him?”
She hunched into herself and scuffed her boot on the loose dirt. “There was a time when his family could have helped me and James—or at least James alone, but they turned him away. But that is neither here nor there anymore.
“I do not like him because he is one of those men who think women are only worth having a pretty face and being an ornament on a man’s arm,” Emma huffed out a breath. “He sees no use in women being learned or having an ambition, and that—that makes my skin itch.”
“I can hear the patriarchate in his voice,” Vincent muttered. “I’ve pummeled more pretentious prats for less.”
As his eyes met hers, he could feel a smile flicker at the corner of his lips. She blushed slightly and ducked her head demurely. A far different sort of awareness tore through him, but he ignored it.
Nodding to the vegetable patch, he asked, “Do you tend to these yourself?”
“Yes,” she replied, and the distraction calmed her eyes. “It is cathartic for me.”
“That was fencing for me,” Vincent replied, as he twisted his hand. “I haven’t touched a foil in years.”
“I’d never have taken you as an escrimeur,” Emma murmured the French word for fencer. “I thought men of your stature only practice boxing.”
“That savagery?” His derisive snort made her smile. “I don’t need an eloquent excuse to pummel someone.”
She quirked a brow, “Why would you need to give someone a facer?”
There were far too many reasons, though that portion of his life was probably best left sheltered for now.
“How much do you know about Parliament?” he asked instead, flatly.
“Not much.” Emma shielded her eyes from her loose, fluttering hair.
“Imagine a boxing match, only that the competitor’s fists are words and those words contain long, convoluted legal terms that leave loopholes for enemy lords to use to undermine each other and benefit themselves,” he explained. “The temptation to knock some sense into some lords is very strong.”
She shook her head, then she wilted into his side. “Aren’t you the least bit worried about the scandal brewing from today?”
“No,” Vincent shrugged. “But I know it may be terrifying for you, given your past circumstances, which is why I will try to insulate you from the heat of it. As I said, we’ll wed. But we can break it after ninety days.
“You’ll have the financial freedom to do whatever you want and marry whomever you desire—” He ground his teeth, “—even if it must be that cad Windham.”
Craning her head to him, she asked, “Why did you say it that way? If I miss my guess, you sound jealous.”
I am.
“I am not,” he lied. “I simply do not think he is the best one for you.”
Her left eye squinted. “I think you are.”
With deliberate audacity, he reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his knuckles grazing the delicate shell. Satisfaction flooded him when she trembled in response. “I have no reason to be.”
Her eyes widened a touch, and she reddened by the second. It was almost too easy seducing the impetuous little goddess.
“Ahem,” a rough cough had her jerking away from him, as she looked over her shoulder.
“James,” she sighed. “I thought you were Cillian.”
“I have a question for your friend,” James said without preamble. “And I would appreciate it if he answered me.”
Oh, Lord, no.
She spotted that all too familiar expression on James’ face and wanted to duck and hide; she could bet her last shilling that James was going to say something far too direct and blunt for polite company.
“Ask anything you like,” Vincent said calmly.
James looked him straight in the eye. “Was it you that night in the room with my sister?”
Vincent blanched, and Emma hastily mustered up her best fake laugh. “O-of course not! I was alone and stubbed my toe while reading—”
“Next question. Are you going to court Emmy like the men from her books?”
Aghast, Emma cut in again, “James, that’s a matter between Vincent and me—”
“No, it is not,” James interjected, cutting his gaze from her to him as he folded his arms across his chest. “I am not a child, Emmy, and as your older brother, it is my business to protect you, if need be. I must insist that you answer the question, Your Grace.”
Emma’s shock at her brother’s sudden protectiveness rocketed through her twice— but it really shouldn’t have. She had to remind herself that James’ mental state stopped him from becoming a scholar, but it did not stop him from being a loving, caring human being.
This was a side of James she hadn’t seen before, but his care for her warmed her heart twice over. Her eyes flicked over to Vincent in expectancy.
“I… appreciate your candor, James,” Vincent began. “However, I am unfamiliar with the novels your sister reads, and with the present circumstances, there is little leeway for an official courtship. I believe you know that social etiquette demands that we marry, and that is what we must do.
“If it means anything, I shall gladly give you my word and honor that she will be happy and safe with me while this scandal blows over,” Vincent finished, slipping a soft glance at Emma.
Silently, he was telling her that he did not want to explain the minutiae of their agreement. The gratefulness that rippled over her face made him know he’d made the right decision.
James’ brows knotted. “What do you mean while this scandal blows over?”
Reaching over, Vincent took Emma’s hand. “I want her to live with me for the time being.”
For the second time in a few moments, Emma’s jaw dropped.
“Live with you? When? Now?”
“No time like the present,” he shrugged while his thumb rubbed tender circles. “But if you would like to wait for a few days, I will accept your decision.”
Emma bit her lip. “I think it’s best if I stay here tonight. My grandmother and I need to speak for a while. I already know she is disappointed in me, and frankly, I need a moment for myself after the typhoon of the past day.”
Agnes stepped out. “Your Grace, Emma. Please come back inside. There is much to discuss.”
Emma shared a look with Vincent. His left brow lifted as if to say, do we have a choice? She shook her head, and with a snort, he stood and helped her up.
They headed inside, and Vincent had to duck under the low threshold. Emma found it oddly amusing to see him almost double into himself only to stand in her grandmother’s kitchen.
Emma’s eyes landed on Cillian as he sipped a cup of tea, as Agnes said, “May I offer you something to eat, Your Grace?”
“I appreciate the offer, but no,” Vincent replied. “I should be taking my leave.”
“About that…” Agnes said while wringing her hands. “I was speaking with Cillian here who knows more about these things than I do, and he advocated that Emma temporarily residing with His Grace before the marriage would be the best choice for all parties.”
Shifting, Emma cocked her head to Cillian. “Really? And how did you come to said conclusion, dear cousin?”