Lyn Stone - Marrying Mischief

She understood that Nicholas had her best interest at heart. At least in this matter. “I suppose you are leaving me no choice.”

“None, I regret to say. And I am also sorry to refuse your request to leave. But a mere two weeks of idleness should do you no harm.”

“Little do you know,” she muttered.

“What? What am I asking you to abandon that is so crucial? Tea with the local ladies? Walking out with some local dandy?”

Anger suffused her. She absolutely shook with it. “How dare you judge my days of no account, you stupid man! This enforced confinement will cost me my employment so that my father must work on in your employ for who knows how much longer!” She flung herself down upon the settee and dashed the heavy book to the floor. “And there is no suitor, thanks to you!”

He smiled, damn his eyes. “No suitor? I’m glad of it, but how did that come to be my fault? I heard that you had one and were about to wed.”

“Well, you were sadly misinformed.” She stuck out her chin and pinned him with a glare. “After you, sir, I was put off men altogether.” Let him find humor in that, she thought with an angry huff.

Her words effectively killed his smile. “This employment you mentioned,” he said, deliberately switching topics. “Is it something in the village? Dressmaking or the like? You plied a magic needle, as I recall.”

She ducked her head, wishing she had not brought up the matter at all. “Governess,” she muttered, then chastised herself for her hesitation. Why should she have any qualms about making him uncomfortable? He certainly hadn’t minded her discomfort in times past.

His expression grew sad. “Oh, Emily…”

Disappointed, was he? Because she would be trapped in that strata between well-born and servant and accepted by neither? She knew well what she could look forward to, and thought it small price to pay for what she would gain.

Her only goal in life at this point was to secure an income so that she could support her family. Father would not last much longer if he continued working so hard. And Josh should be at school instead of racketing around the world on a boat. Now her plans were dashed.

Emily raised her chin and elaborated. “I was to travel to London the day after tomorrow and assume my duties immediately. That was the condition of my employment. Now Lord Vintley will accept someone in my stead.”

“Vintley?” he asked with a dreadful frown. “That’s just as well, then. He used to visit the Worthings, where I met him and was not favorably impressed.”

Emily pinched her lips together. But they would not hold back the words. “Lord Worthing’s daughter recommended me. I am certain she will be greatly disappointed to hear I have lost the opportunity she afforded.”

“Dierdre,” he said with deadly calm.

“Just so. Your intended.”

“She is not my intended.”

“Your father thought differently. He told me that you had been betrothed to her for two years before you went away.”

“That is not true. A marriage with Dierdre was his wish for me, never my own.”

“So you say.” Emily regarded him closely to see whether she could detect a lie. Either his father had been lying through his teeth, or Nick was now. She was disposed to believe Nick, of course, but the knowledge of how he had dashed her trust once before made her cautious.

He propped his hips against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Since you never liked Dierdre, why, may I ask, would you even consider such employment if you thought it would please her?”

“Remuneration, my lord,” Emily answered readily. “And I did write and thank her for mentioning me. The salary is twice what I could expect anywhere else.” For two hundred pounds per year, Emily felt she could endure almost anything. Even Dierdre Worthing’s satisfaction.

It was an offer Emily could not afford to lose. The income from it would probably save her father’s life if he could retire before his heart gave out completely. And would definitely ensure that Josh received a proper education.

“Even if your father must give up the living here at Bournesea, Emily, you need not work,” Nicholas said kindly. Condescendingly, if she were honest in her appraisal. He might as well pat her on the head while he said it. “You have but to tell me what you need and I will gladly supply it. Surely you have always known you could come to me for anything.”

Emily pursed her lips and nodded, holding his gaze with her own. “Ah, I see. Add your monthly stipend to the rumors that circulated about our affair and we would have a full-blown public arrangement, is that what you wish? Well, I have worked hard to dispel those rumors, Lord Kendale, and I do not intend to resurrect or augment them in any way whatsoever. Do I make myself clear?”

“We had no affair!” he exclaimed, disturbed that she would even call it that. “This is preposterous. I am merely offering aid to a cherished friend and you know it!”

“A cherished friend you embraced and kissed upon the lips whilst standing in the midst of the village commons for all the world to see. I was very nearly ruined by that, I’ll have you know.”

Instantly, he seemed ill-at-ease. Emily wanted him to be. She wanted him on his knees begging her forgiveness. She wanted his arms around her, pleading for a chance to make things right. She wanted to scratch his eyes out.

“Emily, listen—”

Instead of affording him any chance to explain the inexplicable, she interrupted. “Is the chamber ready where you would have me stay?”

He sighed and shook his head. But the gesture obviously did not agree with his answer. “Yes, the room should be aired by now,” he admitted.

“Then, under the circumstances, I suppose manners force me to thank you for your hospitality,” Emily said.

“I am compelled by the same to assure you that you are quite welcome. Use the bellpull if you need anything. There are no maids about to dance attendance, but someone eventually will come to bring whatever is lacking.”

She swept past him as regally as she could manage and left the library. Whatever was lacking, he had said. That was just about everything she could think of, but certainly nothing a tug on a bellpull would provide.

Nick had known she was not married, of course. His subtle questioning of her brother Joshua aboard ship had relieved that worry before they had begun the voyage home.

The earl had written six years ago that Emily and the pockmarked postmaster were about to be wed. Nick had stayed drunk for an entire week, then vowed with all sincerity to forget the vicar’s daughter and her faithless ways.

His father had lied, of course. But Emily had not answered Nick’s subsequent letter wishing her well. Obviously she had wanted him to believe that she was settling into a marriage with Jeremy Oldfield.

Nick knew nothing good about the postmaster, who had been a self-righteous bore and a bully in their younger days. Those traits frequently grew worse with age and Nick had worried about Emily because of that. However, his relief in discovering she was unattached was now marred by what she had just declared about his ruining her chances for a happy life. He had never once considered that.

Perhaps she had overdramatized the case because his leaving had made her angry. Emily always had possessed a talent for exaggeration. That quality, too, might have increased with age.

As for aging, either Emily had changed or his memory was faulty and his dreams had ceased to do her justice. The years had enhanced rather than dimmed her beauty. Blond flyaway curls framed a lovely heart-shaped face that had grown even more exquisite without its girlish roundness.