Mary Brendan - The Silver Squire

After a silent moment when Emma simply stared hatefully at the tempting savoury repast as though wishing it all to be stringy, salty bacon and carrots boiled to a mash, she picked up her knife and fork.

They ate in silence yet Emma refused to meekly avoid his eyes. From time to time, she forced proud topaz eyes to meet steady silver, desperate to match his mild, expressionless demeanour. But she knew it was impossible. Every time he pushed bread her way or refilled her glass with sweet wine she tensed, wanting to throw it back at him. And he knew it, too, she realised as her eyes again rose valiantly and swept past dark, sardonic features on the way to glare at the fire.

When she was full and simply shook her head at him as he offered her more, he finally said, with absolute calm and reason, ‘I think that it would be wise for your family to know of your whereabouts.’

‘Leave us all be,’ Emma responded with quiet civility, sensing an unspoken truce between them that she was willing to momentarily honour. ‘You will cause us more grief by interfering. No one will thank you for broadcasting this matter, least of all my parents.’

There was a new, narrow-eyed intensity to his gaze. ‘Have you been sent away? Banished from London?’

Emma averted her face, feeling it heat in indignation on comprehending his obtuse meaning. So he classed her morals as no better than those of the women he consorted with, did he? But his base imaginings might just serve her purpose, she realised, her refreshed mind back to investigating devious tactics.

Yes; why not comply? It would be sure to disgust and alienate such a hypocritical degenerate. If there was an infallible way to rid oneself of a gentleman’s presence, it must be the hint of an approaching, illegitimate birth. Speculation as to the child’s paternity was sure to be bandied about.

‘It is a very delicate matter, sir, for a lady in my position…’ Emma whispered. And at least I am a lady! she would have loved to raucously screech at him, but resisted and demurely lowered her face. ‘And I do not wish to say more. I’m sure you understand…’ she timidly concluded, pressing her lips tight to conceal a small, satisfied smile.

‘But I wish you to say more for I do not understand,’ he rejected with silky steel. ‘Have your parents sent you away to avoid a scandal?’

She remained diffidently quiet yet was aware of his absolute stillness, his absolute attention. When the silence between them dragged interminably some of her smug confidence evaporated and her stomach’s mellow satiety began to curdle.

‘Are you with child?’

‘I beg you will not press me on the matter, sir,’ she pleaded shrilly, agitatedly, swivelling sideways on her chair. He hadn’t leapt up and excused himself as she’d expected; moreover, he seemed content to simply sit and singe the top of her head with a quicksilver stare.

‘What of your lover? Where is he?’ he asked quite levelly, yet on shoving himself back from the table the chair almost tipped over.

She was aware of her body receiving a disturbingly thorough assessment. No doubt he did know of such things, she realised acidly. She’d seen him at the Fallow Buck with a child. Whether it was born of his wife or his mistress was anyone’s guess. As Victoria had never mentioned Dickie—as she affectionately termed him—marrying, the child, she presumed, must be the offspring from some base union.

She and Victoria exchanged letters quite often. Via one of those, Emma had learned that this man had moved abroad a year or more ago to oversee his foreign estates. Such a shame he ever brought himself back! she viciously thought, squirming beneath his unrelenting observation.

‘Is he married already or refusing to support you?’

‘Please, do not ask for I…I really cannot say…’

Well, how lucky can you get? Richard sourly mused. You wanted her and now it looks as though not only can you have her but another man’s bastard, too. For God’s sake, leave now! he urged himself. You’ve done your best. You’ve fed her…offered to help. She doesn’t want your aid. She’s never liked you. Even at your mannerly best, she never liked you, he mocked himself, recalling how attentively civil he’d been to her three years previously in London when he and David Hardinge had been the bane of polite society. And there, of course, lay a prime reason why he was loath to abandon her: he owed it to the best friend he had ever had to protect her, for David’s wife, Victoria, cherished this woman as a very dear friend.

In fact, he was quite surprised that she hadn’t fled into Hertfordshire to seek support from Victoria rather than head this way where she seemed friendless and alone…unless…He twisted on his heel. Of course, you fool, he silently berated himself. If she’s headed this way, that’s because her lover lives locally. ‘How long have you been in Bath?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Five days,’ Emma answered honestly, yet looked warily at him.

So she’d been here five days and was starving and seeking employment, which meant that the bastard had no intention of taking on his responsibility. If he was already married the least he could do was settle her in her own establishment somewhere as his mistress.

Oh, no! Don’t you dare give it a minute’s pause! he inwardly raged. A pregnant mistress? In three months’ time when her belly’s swollen you’ll be visiting Yvette and counting the cost of it all. A mistress with a child? You don’t even like children! You like your nephew well enough, an inner voice argued back. He likes you too. Stephen says you’re good with children. But they’re family…they share your blood. This flyblow could be sired by a criminal…drunk…gambler. Should suit pretty well, then, echoed back drily as he recalled his duelling, his long nights spent heavy-eyed at card tables and numerous drunken brawls in his misspent youth.

Besides—he swivelled on a heel to look at her—at some time she’s going to be this beautiful again…perhaps filled out a little too, he thought wryly as he discreetly surveyed delicately curving breasts and hips. ‘You need someone to care for you,’ he heard himself say. ‘Even if you manage to get employment, you’ll be put off as soon as your condition becomes apparent.’

Emma merely nodded, not knowing what else to do, for her stomach was in sickening cramps as she anticipated what would come next. But then, it had been niggling at the back of her mind since she’d stupidly threatened to cry rape to frighten him off. He’d looked at her from beneath his long, dusky lashes in a way he had three years ago…in a way he no doubt looked at all women who aroused his lust. And she knew she did that for some odd reason.

No other man had looked at her in that steady, intent way, as though the backs of his eyes were afire. Certainly not Matthew. Yet, even with so little experience of men, an innate sense warned her that throbbing, silent stare was a prelude to lechery. She slowly stood, quickly said, ‘Thank you for your concern but I have made my own plans…If you will excuse me…’

They seemed to be pacing towards the door at the same time, at the same speed yet he reached it first from further away. A solid dark fist was planted casually against it and slitted silver eyes gleamed down at her. ‘What plans?’ he asked idly.

‘Private plans,’ she returned sweetly.

‘Plans that include absconding from here as soon as I’m out of sight?’

‘I have nothing further to say, sir,’ she said with great dignity…yet alarmed, for he had a disturbing ability to read her mind. ‘I can only ask you not to cause my family further distress by…by mentioning this to anyone at all. My parents are quite ill with worry.’ And that was the truth, too, even if their anxiety stemmed from a different source entirely.