Marrying the Major: Passion and peril in Regency London (Unsuitable Matches) Page 15

  Emma fled before she could hear any more.

  She found herself in Jamie's conservatory. How had she come there? She did not know. Only that she had been desperate to escape from the sound of Hugo's anger.

  She threaded her way through the lush greenery and sank down on to the stone bench. It was shaded, though uncomfortably humid. That was a blessing, she decided. No one would think to look for her here, on such a hot day. She would have time to gather her thoughts, to decide what to do.

  A drip of water fell on to her face from one of the huge leaves.

  Emma started to laugh. It might as well have been a bucketful, for it had brought her back to reality. She could not decide what to do, for Hugo had made all the decisions for her. It did not matter what she thought, or what she wished. Her husband did not see a need to consult her in any way. It seemed he did not even wish to talk to her.

  Emma bowed her head. She felt very close to despair. Why did it have to be like this?

  The leaf dripped again.

  Emma edged along the stone bench to avoid the next drip. The stone was cool under her hand. It reminded her of the seat in the garden at Epsom where this nightmare had begun. And it reminded her of the moment when she had understood that she loved Hugo Stratton.

  Did she still? Could she love a man who treated her so abominably?

  No.

  Yes.

  She did not know. Everything was so confused. In this very spot she had seen Hugo kissing Jamie. But she had been mistaken. On the other side of those plants, she had accused Hugo of the vilest conduct imaginable and he had lost his temper. His hard grey eyes had narrowed to furious slits. He had been about to strike her. But he had kissed her instead.

  That kiss was the cause of everything.

  Hugo was standing by the desk, drumming his fingers on the polished wood. Kit had not moved. He looked like a man about to face his execution.

  Hugo glanced towards the door. Emma must be long gone. What had he said to her? He could not remember, but he was sure it had been insulting. He had never known such black rage.

  He ran his free hand through his hair and stared distractedly at the wood beneath his fingers. This would not do. Hot words achieved nothing. He needed a cool head to deal with Kit. And then there was Emma.

  Hugo trod slowly across to the window. Thank goodness it was not open. It was bad enough that Emma had walked in on them, but if Richard and the others had heard, too?

  First things first. He forced his thoughts back to his impossible brother. Kit had been right to come to him. Courageous, too. He must have known that Hugo would be furiously angry but he had not flinched once.

  Kit's losses were enormous, a fortune, but it was not his fault, not totally. A more experienced man would have found a way to side-step Forster's malicious insinuations, but Kit, at twenty-two, could not have encountered many of Forster's stamp. Kit's magnificent figure and dashing ways made it too easy to forget how young he was.

  Kit had stayed, and played, to protect the family's good name.

  Hugo turned on his heel to face his brother. His mind was made up. Now that he had regained control of his temper, he could clearly see the way ahead.

  "You have been a fool, Kit," he said, without heat, "but I can understand why you acted so rashly. And, believe me, I am glad that you decided not to blow your brains out. Think of the mess it would have left for the servants."

  Kit started, looked searchingly at Hugo, and then laughed in relief. "Hugo—"

  "Don't think you'll get off scot-free, though, for you won't. I'll pay your debts, but there are conditions."

  Kit raised his head a fraction and narrowed his eyes.

  "First," Hugo continued implacably, "you will give me your solemn promise never again to play for more than you can afford to lose. Not even against Lady Luce." Hugo stopped, glaring sternly at his brother, but Kit met his challenge, and nodded briefly. "And second, you will take yourself off abroad for a year or two so that all this madness may be forgotten."

  This time, Kit's nod took a little longer to come. He had gained quite a following among the young bloods of London society. It was not surprising that he should be loath to relinquish his position there.

  "Go to Paris. Or, better still, Vienna. Make yourself useful. I've quite a few friends in both places who would be glad of another pair of hands."

  Kit grimaced.

  "I should tell you, I suppose," said Hugo, trying not to smile, "that there are, er, other attractions in Vienna, too. It's not as glittering as it was during the Congress, but I believe the social round is quite as hectic as London's."

  "I would go in any case, Hugo, and you know it," Kit said seriously. Then he grinned. "But you have just made my penance sound a great deal more attractive."

  They both laughed.

  Hugo went back to the desk. He must start to organise the money to pay Kit's debts. And it would have to be taken from Emma's dowry. Kit had been right about that. There was no time to do anything else before Lady Luce's deadline. Hugo drew a sheet of paper towards him and dipped his pen in the standish.

  "Hugo, what are we going to do about Forster? He's clearly determined to do you mischief now that he knows you're back in England."

  Hugo felt the black rage beginning to rise again. He forced himself to remain calm. "The man is a blackguard. And a coward. A great many men died because of him, Kit, and he didn't give a rap. This time, I shall find a way to stop him."

  "Careful, Hugo, he's got friends in high places."

  "So have I. Don't forget it was Wellington himself who gave me my majority. And he had the measure of Forster almost from the start. Sent him back to Horse Guards at the first opportunity. Knew he was bound to toady up to the Duke of York, but in London, at least, he couldn't be responsible for any more disastrous sallies like the one at Ciudad Rodrigo. I swore then that Forster would pay, one day, and I don't intend to break my oath. Langley and the others died because Forster sent us to take that impregnable ridge—"

  "Against your advice," interposed Kit.

  "Yes, against my advice. But that doesn't make me blameless, Kit. I was experienced enough to know that the attack was unnecessary. And that it would be a disaster. But I wasn't nearly wise enough to hide my contempt for Forster when I warned him not to issue the order. He was furious that a young whippersnapper like me should dare to question his judgement. Almost had an apoplexy on the spot. God, I wish he had. It would have saved all those lives. As it was, the attack went ahead, and more than a hundred good men died, needlessly. Only a handful of us came back. If I had been less concerned about showing Forster that I was the better soldier, I might have made him listen to me. As it was—"

  "As it was, it cost you your career. And, if it hadn't been for Wellington's intervention, it would have cost you your good name, too, once Forster started telling the world that you were a coward as well as insubordinate. He wanted you dishonoured, Hugo. I am sure he still does."

  "I didn't feel honourable after seeing all my friends die for nothing, knowing I could have stopped it."

  "But you can't know that," Kit protested. "Forster would never have heeded your advice, even if you'd offered it on your knees. It was his responsibility, not yours, Hugo. He accused you of cowardice to cover up his own incompetence. He's the coward, not you. He'd run a mile if his own life were in danger. I've a mind to call him out. I could easily find an excuse—"

  "No! For God's sake, haven't you caused enough trouble, you young hothead? Society already holds you convicted of seduction and gambling away the Stratton family fortune. Would you add murder to the list?"

  Kit grinned like a mischievous schoolboy. "I might miss, you know."

  Hugo snorted in disbelief. "If you did, it would be the first time." Hugo had been a first-class shot before his injury, but Kit was even better, and they both knew it. "Be serious, Kit. Think of the damage you might do—to the whole family—and try to rein in that impetuous spirit of yours."

&nb
sp; "No worse than yours, brother."

  "But I have learnt, since Rodrigo, to temper mine, lest it harm the innocent. You must learn to do the same. Look where it almost got you this time."

  "Oh, very well, but—"

  "Leave Forster to me, Kit. I will deal with him in my own way and in my own time. I believe I have the right."

  Kit looked mutinous for a moment, but then nodded.

  "And, in the meantime, you must pay your debts to Lady Luce and make ready to go on your travels. Come, sit down and have a glass of Madeira, while I compose a letter to my bankers. They will be surprised to learn that I am coming up to London, especially as I wrote to them only the other day about what I wanted them to do."

  Kit choked a little on his wine. But then, irrepressible as always, he favoured Hugo with a rueful grin that made him look handsomer than ever. Raising his glass in salute, he said, "Happy birthday, big brother."

  "Heaven help the ladies of Vienna," Hugo said under his breath.

  Hugo was at first surprised to find that Emma had not returned to Dickon's party in the garden, but then he recalled how brusquely he had expelled her from the bookroom. He had not given her a single word of explanation for Kit's arrival. And he had not listened to a single word she had to say.

  She would be furious. Again. And, this time, she had cause.

  He must find her before he left and try to explain. But what could he say?

  He made his way back into the guest wing and climbed the stairs to their suite. He could not race up the stairs two at a time, as he had when he was younger, but his self-imposed exercise programme was certainly working. Stairs were nothing like the ordeal they had been. He had been looking forward to the move to Lake Manor so that he could start to ride again, in secret. He did not want anyone to see him on a horse until he was sure he could control his mount. And stay on its back. Emma was a remarkably fine horsewoman, and she would have even more cause to despise him if she found he could not stay in the saddle. He would not dare to invite her to ride out with him until he was very, very sure.

  His own bedchamber was empty, of course, but it provided the best route to Emma's. If he went in from the corridor, the servants might well see how she received him. They always seemed to be hovering about the guest wing, watching. He had no desire to provide any more food for backstairs gossip.

  He hesitated at the door into Emma's room. Was it only a few hours since he had left her there, curled up on the other side of that great bed, as far a possible from her new husband? The very presence of that bed was going to make this interview even more difficult.

  But it had to be faced.

  He knocked sharply and opened the door, without waiting for an invitation.

  The chamber was empty.

  The shutters and the windows were open, as he had left them, but the bed had been made and the curtains drawn back. A heavy wrapper lay across the end of the bed. There was no sign of a nightgown.

  Hugo remembered the feel of it—thin, slippery, with long panels of lace at front and back. He wished he had seen how she looked in it, but he had been in too much of a hurry for that. He had needed to feel her naked skin against his own. Had he ripped it? It was possible. It had been such a fragile thing. Just like his wife.

  This would not do. Nothing could be changed, no matter how guilty he felt. They had to go forward from where they were. He could not apologise for last night—Emma would probably be mortified if he made the slightest reference to that hasty and brutal coupling—but he could certainly apologise for his behaviour in the library.

  After a moment's thought, his tactics were decided. It was easy enough to determine what not to say. He could not tell her about Forster. And he would not tell her about Kit's debts. He would simply tell her that he was going to London with Kit; that she was to go to Lake Manor alone. She would probably welcome the time away from him. So would he. While he was not with her, he would not be tempted to break his resolve to stay away from her bed. For that—if only she knew of it—she should be grateful.

  Glancing out of the window, Hugo saw that Richard and his guests had remained on the lawn. But Emma was missing. She must be in the house somewhere. Alone.

  Time was pressing, but Hugo began a methodical search of all the rooms where she might be found. All were empty. Where on earth had she got to? If she were outside, she would have returned to the party on the lawn. She must be in the house. But where?

  When the answer came to him, eventually, he groaned. She must be in Lady Hardinge's conservatory, the place where he had attacked her that first time. She had been bristling with outrage then, and she would be so again.

  He made his way back downstairs and along the corridor. He looked through the glass panel. There was no sign of her.

  He opened the door, not trying to conceal the noise of his arrival. The last thing he wanted was to creep up on her unawares. "Emma?" he said in a low voice. There was no response. Perhaps he had spoken too softly? "Emma?" he said again, his voice a little louder.

  There was a movement behind the cluster of exotic plants. They were pushed apart by a petite blonde figure in a pale muslin gown. Against the deep greens around her, Emma looked almost ethereally beautiful. Hugo caught his breath.

  She looked at him unwaveringly. Her eyes were as blue as the Spanish sky.

  "I am here, Major," she said.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  That was the last response Hugo had expected. What on earth was the matter with her? Why did she not use his given name? They were husband and wife.

  He stood staring at her motionless figure, trying to recall all their exchanges since she had become his wife. She had called him by name at the altar, repeating the words of the chaplain, but he could not remember a single instance when she had done so since they walked together down the aisle. In fact, he could not remember that she had called him anything at all.

  Until now.

  But that was about to change. Immediately.

  "For heaven's sake, Emma. You are my wife, not my lackey. My name is Hugo."

  She nodded coolly in the face of his hot words. "As you wish." She did not move.

  Hugo forced himself to remain where he was, to keep a distance between them. He moved only far enough to close the door behind him.

  "I have had to change my plans, Emma. As a result of urgent family business, I must go up to London with Kit. We leave immediately."

  Emma's face brightened. Was she so delighted to be rid of him?

  "I will join you at Lake Manor as soon as I can," Hugo said, trying not to look at her. "I should not be more than a few days behind you."

  "But I know no one at Lake Manor," she cried, "and nothing about the estate. You cannot expect me to go there alone." Before he could say a word in response, she went on, "Oh. I see. You are ashamed to have me appear in London, so hard on the heels of the scandal at Epsom. So your solution is to banish me."

  "Nothing of the sort," Hugo snapped. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

  Her expression gave him his answer. She was hurt; and she thought he was cruel.

  "Emma, I cannot take you to London because Kit and I—because Kit and I have business to attend to. And I have no house in London fit for you. I shall be sharing Kit's rooms while I am there."

  Emma sighed. It sounded like exasperation. The expression in her eyes had not softened. "My father has a London house. He would open it for us if we asked. My Aunt Augusta, too, is always delighted to welcome her family to her London home. And she left for London first thing this morning."

  Hugo waited for her to continue. She was surely about to ask if they might both stay with her aunt. But she said nothing more. In the silence, Hugo realised she was too proud to ask for favours that she feared would be denied. She looked at him, with hurt in her eyes.

  She thought he was ashamed of her. How could he be? She was everything he had ever dreamed of in a wife. A tiny inner voice reminded him that one quality was lacking—she did not love
him. He refused to heed it.

  "Emma, I promise you I had no thought of banishing you. I merely sought—" He shook his head in annoyance. Excuses would not do here. "I do not expect to be in London for more than a few days, but if you wish to accompany me—and if suitable accommodation is available with your aunt—I should be more than happy to have you there."

  Emma gave a curt little nod of agreement.

  "Then that is settled. Kit and I must drive on today as we planned, but you may follow us as soon as you wish. Will that content you?"

  "I will be ready to leave first thing in the morning," she said promptly. "May I ask…?" She sounded hesitant. And she was looking at the floor. "Forgive me, but may I ask about this urgent business? Does it concern me?"

  It was the first time she had ventured a question of any kind. Hugo wondered how much she might have heard. Nothing about Forster, surely? She had been long gone before the discussion turned to that blackguard. Kit, then? Possibly. What could he tell her? He could not betray his brother's follies. But neither could he lie to his wife. He had done her harm enough already.

  "Kit is going abroad for a time, Emma, and funds must be arranged before he goes. John is in Scotland, as you know, and so it falls to me, as the next brother, to see to matters."

  Emma blushed fierily. "A sudden departure, I collect?"

  Hugo winced. She thought it was because of her, because of the scandal. He was tying himself in knots, tighter and tighter. And his poor wife, whom he had treated cruelly since their wedding, was being humiliated in the process. She was beginning to look distraught.

  Hugo could not stand to see her so. In two strides he was beside her and had taken her in his arms. His resolutions could go hang. "Emma, it is not what you think. Trust me," he said in a low voice. He cupped his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him. "Kit's departure has nothing to do with what happened between you. Please believe that. I cannot tell you more without betraying a confidence. I only ask you to trust me." He gazed into her eyes for a long time, willing her to yield to him. "Will you do that?" he said at last.