28. Chapter 28
Mother Nature could be fickle in December, teasing them with a few mild sunny days before turning cold and blustery again.
Andrew continued his campaign to coddle Emma with hot chocolate in the mornings and raspberry tarts at teatime.
They passed time playing cards with Jack and Vivian or reading in the library with the fire roaring to stave off the chill.
He had enjoyed having time off from his responsibilities, but yesterday he’d had a meeting with his land steward, which reminded him that there were always tasks in the upkeep of his duchy.
“Today I must attend to a few things in the village.” He addressed Emma across the breakfast table. “Would you like to come along? It’s a short carriage ride, and we could have lunch at the inn if you like.”
“That sounds diverting. I must admit I do have a bit of cabin fever.” Emma looked fresh and pretty this morning.
The color in her cheeks had returned, and she seemed to be moving her arm with less pain.
He still fussed over her stitches, much to her annoyance, but he wanted to make sure no infection appeared. She had been extremely lucky so far.
“Dress warmly. I don’t want you to catch a chill when your arm is still recovering.”
“Yes, Mother.” Emma smirked at him.
Muffled laughter came from behind the newspaper his brother had in front of his face.
Andrew ignored Jack. He turned to his sister-in-law. “Do you two want to join us?”
“No, you have fun. We can entertain ourselves,” Vivian replied.
Jack lowered the paper, and he gave her a smoldering look. “Indeed.” He took Vivian’s hand and kissed her fingers.
Emma blushed and sent Andrew a sidelong glance. He rolled his eyes, returning his focus to his eggs.
“If you will excuse me. I will just go change.” She set down her napkin. Andrew and his brother stood as she rose from her chair. “I can be ready in thirty minutes.”
An hour later, they were ensconced in the carriage. Andrew tucked a warm throw around Emma’s legs and a hot brick at her feet. He settled himself next to her, then tapped on the roof twice to let the driver know they were ready to go.
Andrew enjoyed the view from the carriage as they rode to the village.
Around Stoneleigh, the grassy fields stretched as far as the eye could see.
White fluffy sheep dotted the landscape, their bleating the only sound for miles.
Andrew let Emma drink in the scenery quietly for a while, content with his view of her lovely face.
As they crossed a bridge by the new mill not far from the village, he pointed it out.
“The village is not very large, but it has been growing steadily since I opened the mill two years ago. It has most all the basics which are needed for shopping and a few stores for frivolities. A bookshop, a dressmaker, a stationer, even a sweetshop if you care for a treat.”
“What do you make at the mill?” Emma asked.
Surprised at her interest, he replied, “We make tweed cloth from the sheep’s wool.
Lengths for tablecloths and napkins, also blankets and saddlecloths.
When I inherited the duchy, much of the land around here was sitting unused.
Having sheep was suggested to me, and building the mill provided jobs.
I have more than enough land to graze sheep and still have plenty for farming.
My father and his land steward were too stuck in their ways to make any positive changes.
It took me several years to pay off the mortgages and to invest in the improvements, which were sorely needed. ”
Emma turned her brandy-colored gaze to him. “You and I are not so different, you know. Of course, you have far larger responsibilities than I, but we have both been working to right our inheritance. To leave our families a better legacy than we received.”
Andrew leaned back and stared at her as the truth of her statement hit him.
He had accused her of being selfish, but really, she had only been thinking about her family.
Doing what was necessary to protect them.
He considered her profile as she gazed out the window of the carriage.
It was far past time someone protected her, thought of her future.
If only he could convince her to let him.
When they reached the village, Emma let Andrew tuck her hand into the crook of his arm as they meandered through the main street.
The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, and its rays warmed her face.
The tiny town had neat little shops with brightly colored doors and shutters.
The cobblestone sidewalks in front of the buildings were swept clean.
People in the village square stopped to doff their hats at the duke or call out a friendly hello.
Their curious looks made Emma self-conscious.
She tried to put some space between her and Andrew, but he held fast to her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
They stopped in at the general store. Andrew pointed out the lengths of wool fabric which were made at his mill.
As Emma wandered about the store, she observed him from under her lashes.
He spoke easily with the shop owner, asking after the business and how the man’s family fared.
It was the same all through town. Andrew knew everyone; he introduced Emma to local gentry and shopkeepers alike.
“Ahh…the sweetshop! Let’s go inside.”
“Andrew, sweetshops are for children.”
“True enough, I come here all the time with Grayson and Tyler. Mrs. Trenwick will be mad if I don’t stop in and say hello.”
He escorted her into a small store filled with heavenly scents.
The walls were whitewashed, the moldings painted a bright pink.
Three small round tables were covered in pastel-colored tablecloths.
A long marble countertop along one side held trays of delicious-looking sweets.
It was the most cheerful establishment she had ever entered.
An older lady stood behind the counter. Her equally cheerful expression had Emma guessing she must be the owner.
Mrs. Trenwick smiled widely as she rushed around the counter to wrap Andrew in a hug. He returned her embrace and bent to buss the lady’s cheek.
Emma shut her gaping mouth and smiled at the proprietress as they both turned to face her.
“Mrs. Trenwick, may I introduce you to Miss Emma Whittingham? She is a guest of ours at Stoneleigh.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Trenwick. Your store is lovely.”
“Thank you, Miss Whittingham. It is nice to meet you. You must excuse my exuberant welcome. I’ve known His Grace since he was a boy.
I worked as a cook up at the manor once upon a time.
I reserve the right to hug him whenever he visits me.
” She gave Andrew’s cheek an affectionate pat.
Where are young Master Grayson and Master Tyler? ”
“They are still in London. We are here briefly, just a fortnight. Miss Whittingham is recovering from an illness. Lady Vivian thought it would be a good idea to whisk her out here for some fresh country air to aid her progress.”
“I never did take to the city myself, a country girl I am.” Then she frowned.
“Jack and his wife are here, and they haven’t come to visit me?
You tell that boy I missed seeing his face these many years.
He’d better come over for a visit. Come along, pick out something yummy to eat while I put together a box for you to take back to London for the boys.
” She bustled through a door behind the counter and disappeared into the back.
“What is your fancy?” Andrew put a hand on her lower back to guide her down the counter, causing a warm tingle of awareness to spread at the base of her spine. Emma wanted to snuggle back against him and feel his arms wrap around her. She wished they weren’t in public.
She focused her attention on the delights in front of her. “Ooh, orange jellies. I love those. Look, chocolate-covered cherries.” Emma clapped her hands in delight. “What is your favorite, Your Grace?”
“Mine is the gingerbread, or anything with frosting.” Andrew reached out and, swiping some frosting off a small cake, dabbed it on Emma’s nose. She attempted to throw him a stern look but couldn’t hold back a giggle. The fool.
She retaliated with a finger full of the same frosting, running a smear across his cheek. “Now that’s a decided improvement. You looked far too handsome this morning.”
Andrew got a wicked look in his eye. He grabbed up a tart covered in powdered sugar, holding it aloft in his palm. “This means war, my lady.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Emma backed away from him.
He took a menacing step toward her, and she let out an embarrassing squeak.
She darted around one of the tables, putting it between them.
Emma couldn’t help but laugh out loud at how ridiculous he looked in his impeccable jacket and cravat while holding the tart high, powdered sugar drifting down onto his sleeve.
She looked over his shoulder and spotted Mrs. Trenwick emerging from the back. The woman’s eyes widened.
“Help, Mrs. Trenwick! The duke has gone quite mad!”
Andrew froze. She burst into fresh laughter at the horrified expression on his face at being caught by Mrs. Trenwick mid-strike. She put a hand over her mouth and collapsed into a nearby chair.
Andrew briefly closed his eyes. Then he straightened his shoulders, pivoting toward the counter. “Pardon me, Mrs. Trenwick, we were just discussing how much I adore your frosted cakes.” He bit into the tart and gave her a winning smile.
The lady just shook her head and returned his grin, then handed him a towel. “Well, if this doesn’t remind me of you as a boy. Always causing trouble, he was. Better wipe that off your face before you head out onto the street.”
“Thank you.” Andrew wiped at his cheek.
Finally managing to compose herself, Emma came over, and Andrew wiped the frosting off her nose as well. He looked so handsome when he laughed. She wanted to trace a finger along the dimple that formed when he smiled down at her.
She might like to make him smile like that every day. Perhaps she should take a chance and trust him. It seemed to come naturally to him to care for all that was his. His family, the land, and those who live on it. What would it be like to be his, not just for now, but for a lifetime?
Andrew raised one questioning eyebrow as she continued to gaze up at him, but she was not ready to share her thoughts just yet. She turned to the proprietress. “Mrs. Trenwick, may I have one of those chocolate-covered cherries, please?”
Later that afternoon, Emma sat in a comfy chair by the fire in her bedroom and opened a letter from her sister.
She feared Lucy would still be rather angry with her, so she sighed in relief when the letter was chatty and full of news about the children and how they missed her.
Lucy wrote about Lord Davenport. He had not yet formally asked her to marry him, but they had been talking about their future.
Then, in the last paragraph, Lucy wrote about an unsettling visit she’d had with Uncle Charles.
Apparently, he had been very angry about the necklace having been returned.
Lucy wrote that he grabbed her roughly, demanding to know where Emma was.
Lucy had told him he was no longer welcome at the house.
Emma set the letter down. Lucy had to banish Charles from the house? She had put her sister in a bad position with Charles, and she had let Charles down and not been able to explain to him what had happened. She bit her lower lip and contemplated what she could write to Charles.
Folding the pages, she set them back on the desk. Then she picked up a second letter. She grimaced as she recognized Charles’s writing. With no little trepidation, she opened the missive.
My dearest girl,
I was very upset to hear of your bungled attempt to acquire the item we discussed and your subsequent injury.
Your sister told me where to reach you. The truth of the matter is, you have left me with buyers looking to bid on a diamond necklace and no necklace to present.
You and I have had a successful partnership for several years, but now you have put me in a very difficult position.
So here is how we will proceed. I will allow you to continue your relationship with your duke, and in return, you will set up an opportunity for you to wear the dowager’s ruby necklace out to an event—the necklace that you once coveted.
Then we will coordinate a time for you to hand off the necklace to me and pretend you were robbed.
I will have a suitable replacement for the auction, and you may keep your duke. A good deal for both of us.
Now I don’t need to tell you how damaging a scandal would be for you if the magistrate was to be tipped off about a certain thief. Not to mention what an investigation would do for Lucy’s chances with her earl.
You need to return to the city immediately. Contact me to set up the time and place for our ruse.
Charles
Emma leaned forward in her chair, rocking back and forth.
She struggled to pull air into her lungs.
The threats Charles made were no jest. All pretense of the loving uncle had been stripped away by the words on the page.
He had her neatly trapped. She couldn’t run away; his well-placed insinuations could ruin Lucy’s chances for a respectable marriage.
But how could she stay and use her relationship with Andrew to steal from him? No, she could not!
She stood up to pace across the carpet in front of the fire, trembling so badly the paper in her hand shook. Think! Andrew’s comment from the other day came back to her. Charles needed her as much as she needed him. She stopped pacing as the truth of what she must do came to her.
When they returned to London, she must sever her relationship with Andrew. If they were not in contact, she couldn’t put Charles’ plan into action. She would just steal something else for Charles. There were other pieces which could be stolen for his precious auction.
Emma crumpled to her knees. Did she have it in her to do another job?
The prospect of stealing into a darkened house to search for the perfect item to acquire would once have excited her; now it made her stomach turn.
She rubbed her arm, feeling the stitches through the thin material of her blouse.
The phantom report of a gun echoed, and she remembered the burn of the bullet as it entered her flesh.
She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened. What was she going to do?