The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks) Read online

  Drat and double drat! Now all could be lost. She should have used her brains instead of her anger.

  Ever since that day Roderick caught her merely conversing with his cronies in Hyde Park, all her brothers seemed to have acknowledged that she was no longer the innocent child they remembered and treated her accordingly.

  As if realizing the full force of his angry outburst, Marcus moved around the table and gently tipped Emily's chin with his finger. "Come now, dearest, we have no wish to attack you, but do not believe us addlepated nincompoops. Any man would do anything for the coin attached to you and your name."

  Emily was about to open her mouth when her mother, the Duchess of Elbourne, sashayed into the room. She was draped in a gown of blue silk and lace, holding her snow-white cat, Egypt, close to her breast as she peered over her spectacles. "Forgive me children, so very sorry to be late. Cannot believe I read through dinner. My new Radcliffe novel, you know."

  With a frown, the lady floated across the rug toward Marcus, tapping him on the shoulder. "But indeed, my absence does not suggest you may use that nincompoop language at the dinner table, young man."

  "Mother," Clayton said, hiding his smile. "Em has one of the richest dowries in the country and is a beauty besides. Her good looks have caught the attention of every rake we know."

  Emily burned with rage. So that was it. Their friends were vying for her hand. "That is ridiculous. I can handle any rakes that come my way. You cannot—"

  "Em, please do not interrupt. Not ladylike at all." Clayton sent her a warning glance and continued to speak to his mother. "See here, if we dare let Em choose her own husband, Elbourne Hall will be infested with every pest known to mankind. By the by, get a good look at that Fennington fellow? Looked worse than Stephen here."

  Stephen snorted in response. "I say!"

  Ignoring the sibling rivalry, Emily paced beside the table. "I am not a stupid girl, making stupid decisions. I am a woman of sound mind and body with every intention of leading my own life. I know you want the best for me, but I ask every one of you to trust me in this." One man had destroyed her girlhood dreams, and no man ever again would determine her destiny.

  The duchess frowned as she stroked her cat. "Though Emily is beautiful, it takes no great talent to realize her dowry alone will fetch a grand husband. And he must be grand. I won't have my grandchildren running around like little peasants."

  At the mention of grandchildren, Emily froze. "Mama."

  Stephen came around the table, patting Emily's hand. "Now, now. We can work all of this out to everyone's satisfaction." He set his gaze on Roderick and grimaced. "Why be so hard on the poor girl. It's not as if she has fleas. Even females have the right to make some decisions."

  "Fleas?" The duchess narrowed her eyes on her son.

  "I don't mean she has fleas, Mother," Stephen said.

  "You have no inkling to what I want," Emily said, tears clogging her throat. She was no longer able to fight the four of them, five along with her mother. "I beg you to excuse me," she said tartly. "My head is beginning to pound." She departed from the room before anyone could say another word.

  "Whatever is the matter with the child?" the duchess asked, concerned.

  "By Jove," Clayton replied as Emily's slippers slapped up the stairs. "Do we dare believe that our sweet little Em had some affection for that Fennington fellow?"

  Roderick frowned, clasping a fist about his napkin. "The devil. We need to find a suitable husband for her as soon as possible. If Fennington were the least bit decent, I would consider him, but the man's a scoundrel. Women, drinking, and gambling are the only things in life he knows."

  The duchess pressed her lips together and stared at Emily's full plate of food. "Should we call the doctor?"

  Roderick glanced toward the open door. "No."

  The duchess rested her purring cat across her shoulder, imparting a regal glare upon her sons. "Then I implore you to look for the minimum of an earl. This talk of marriage gives me a wretched headache. Your father would have known what to do. Daniel always had a way with Emily.

  "Then again, Daniel doted on Emily as if she were his only child. He would have granted her anything her heart desired, including that despicable Fennington. Oh, this entire matter vexes me to no end. I cannot eat a thing now. I must have a cloth put to my head." Frowning, the duchess swished past the door in a flourish of blue and white, her sons staring helplessly at one another and sinking back into their seats.

  Stephen combed a hand through his unruly dark hair. "Roderick's correct. We must make our lists for a reasonable match as soon as possible. This entire situation is maddening."

  "Maddening is the way Em has been acting." Roderick stared at his sister's empty chair. "We need a reasonable man. Someone who will not travel the world at a moment's notice. A man with our political views, a man who sees that she stays away from those daft female notions of independence."

  "Speaking of reasonable," Stephen added speculatively, "believe Jared returned from India. Now, there's a decent chap."

  "Brother died in that carriage accident a while ago," Clayton added, frowning.

  Roderick shook his head. "Not Jared. Man's too much like us. Not even his late wife could make him stay in one place."

  "Blasted shame about his brother," Stephen added. "Saw Edmond last year at Brighton." He shook his head. "But I have heard gentlemen do settle down a bit after having a wife. Might work, you know. Maybe Jared and Em—"

  "Never," Roderick said, interrupting with a steely edge to his voice. "Jared Ashton is not on the list. We need to find Em an agreeable fellow, not shackle her with a man like us."

  Stephen made a fist. "Hell's bells, Roderick. Why not Jared? He may be a bit like the rest of us, but what man worth his weight in salt does not have a bit of a rake in him? Jared could be the answer to our prayers. Did Emily not meet him years ago? Believe she fancied him then. Could be perfect."

  "Father was not impressed," Clayton cut in. "Em liked any gentleman who paid her attention. But Father wanted a title for Em, and nothing short of that would do, especially not Mr. Jared Ashton, the second son of an earl. Took the wind right of out of Em's sails. Good thing Jared had no interest in her then."

  "Yes, but some of those men in Town did have an interest," Marcus added thoughtfully. "The girl almost had me fighting in her corner with that Queen of Sheba act, not to mention those ebony locks and violet eyes. Strong willed, she is. Needs a firm hand. Sooner we find her a husband, the better."

  The sound of pensive sighs filled the room.

  "Needs to be sent away," Roderick said. "Agatha Appleby's is a good place for her until we decide on a suitor."

  Clayton pursed his lips. "But ain't Agatha Jared's aunt?"

  Roderick nodded. "If we keep Em here, no telling what type of guttersnipes will be waiting for her in the bushes, ready to drag her off to Gretna Green. And with her independent streak, I don't want to leave that possibility open. More I think about it, the more I believe Agatha's the best place for her. In fact, Jared owes me a favor. He's staying there now. I'll see to it that the man keeps an eye on our sister and shoos off any would-be suitors. Won't like it above half, but he'll do it."

  Clayton frowned, rubbing a finger thoughtfully against his chin. "Hear tell, man's searching for a wife. Won't like settling with an old maid and Em for the Season. As the new Earl of Stonebridge he has estates to tend, tenants to visit . . ."

  "Estates?" Marcus put in. "Man has a steward for that. Besides, last I heard he was on White's books, and odds are favored toward a Miss Susan Wimble for a wife. Engagement almost carved in stone." Marcus snickered over his wineglass. "No pun intended. Also hear he is without funds."

  Roderick drummed the table with his fingers. "Ah, Miss Susan Wimble. From personal experience she is not the sort—" He stammered, cutting himself off. The brothers stared back in awe, as if indeed this was a new revelation.

  Roderick shook his head. "Never mind. Yet I must say that
Jared's wealth is not in question at all. But enough about him. We have Em to worry about and must make our way to London. Each of you can bring your list of suitors to me, and I will make the final choice. In the meantime, I will contact Jared about watching Em. Never fear, he will keep scoundrels like Fennington at bay." A small laugh escaped him. "Of course, one of you could stay and watch her if you object."

  All faces turned pale at the thought of guard dog duty over their stubborn sister.

  "Quite so," Roderick said with an amused snort. "Not an agreeable post for a sibling. Besides, we will need everyone's effort to search for a husband before the Season is out."

  "What about Em's say in this?" Stephen asked.

  Roderick rose. "In the end, she will be thankful. We must find her a husband before some rapscallion marries her for her money and ruins her life."

  Stephen crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me, your mighty dukeness, how do we know our guarding earl will not go after her for himself? I, for one, would not trust any man between the age of fifteen and seventy-five."

  "Believe me," Roderick said, "Jared may be a rake, but he will have no interest in Em. She is by far too independent for his taste. The man favors submissiveness in a woman. His late wife was evidence of that. Heard she bowed to his every whim."

  Stephen frowned. "The devil, Roderick! Tastes change. I daresay, one look at our Emily can turn the tables on any man."

  Clayton grimaced. "For once, Stephen has a point here."

  "Don't like to agree with baby brother," Marcus said in a disturbed voice, "but can't be too careful. Can you believe Wendly and Fisk have been asking about Em? Good cardplayers, but blast, don't want them coming anywhere near our sister."

  Roderick stiffened at the mention of the two well-known rogues. "If those peabrains come within a foot of Em—"

  Marcus laughed. "Told 'em so myself. But back to our devoted earl who owes you a favor. His wife may not have been as meek as you say. Mayhap she was just like Em."

  "No need to worry," Roderick said, smiling. "Jared and I have a similar understanding of women. Though I love Em with all my heart, independence is not a quality either of us would wish for in a wife. Believe me, the man would never consider to look upon Emily as anything more than a sister."

  "And pray, why is that?" Stephen asked skeptically.

  "Because, gentlemen," Roderick grabbed the port on the nearby sideboard, tilted a good amount of the liquid into his glass, and gave his brothers a swift salute, "I would kill him."

  Chapter Two

  Would he never have any peace? Jared James William Ashton, the sixth Earl of Stonebridge, sat in the small library of Hemmingly Hall, perusing the missive he had been sent by the Duke of Elbourne only two days ago. Jared's vow to distance himself from Lady Emily had died a quick, agonizing death the minute he had broken through the duke's wax seal.

  Muttering an oath, Jared reached for his glass perched upon the massive desk holding stacks of papers pertaining to his recently inherited estates. It was but ten o'clock in the morning, and the aged bottle of brandy that he had confiscated the previous evening from his aunt's cellars was three-quarters gone. The best his employer had, good French brandy, Agatha's new butler Filmore had proclaimed as the elderly man escorted Jared to the cellar.

  Jared took a sip of the amber liquid and held the drink up to the dusty light streaming through the fourteen-foot-high windowpanes. Zeus. It was excellent. French brandy, most likely smuggled in from Dover. How the devil his aunt had obtained an entire box of the sacred liquor was beyond him.

  He leaned his head back against the cushions of his chair and closed his eyes, his lips hinting at a smile as he thought about smuggled goods and Aunt Agatha. Ridiculous thought.

  The lady had no secrets from him, even after all these years. Though he adored her, she was a woman with a glib tongue, a fact he never forgot, and smuggling at Hemmingly was the type of information he would have eventually intercepted with his clandestine activities on the Continent the past few years.

  A crisp spring wind howled past the windows of the mansion, pulling Jared back to the problem at hand. He dropped a narrow gaze to his desk, his fingers curling tightly about the duke's letter. With a feeling of foreboding, he threw the cream-colored paper into the glowing fire behind him and sighed.

  There was no question about acquiescing to Roderick’s wretched request, even though the duke had no idea of Jared's past with his lovely sister. But Jared owed the man his life, and honor demanded that he assist the duke in this infernal plan to find Emily a suitor.

  It seemed absurd really. Jared knew he would be the last man in England the lady would ever want to see again. Moreover, the blasted request had come at the worst time. He had his daughter Gabrielle to think about now, not to mention his ward, Miss Jane Greenwell, his very reason for returning to Hemmingly.

  But to make matters worse, no one in England knew he had a daughter, and until Jared's life was deemed safe from a certain Bonaparte agent, no one would discover his secret about Gabrielle until his affairs were in order.

  A muffled grunt sounded from the corner of the hearth, turning Jared's head.

  "What the devil are you whining about now, Nigel?"

  Jared's massive dog and companion of the past two years lifted its huge brown eyes and let out a dismal howl as it peered at the duke's now ashen-edged paper curling into flames.

  "Sorry, old boy, seems we are to be sent on another mission, and this one may be the hardest one yet."

  Nigel lifted up onto his mammoth paws and gazed at the brandy bottle resting on the desk. Another bark.

  Jared's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "Ain't no use for it, boy. Your brandy days are over. Don't need you sick on me like you were in France. Later we'll sneak into the kitchen and confiscate one of the beefsteaks Cook was saving for dinner. What say you to that?"

  Nigel hung out his large pink tongue and wagged his tail.

  Jared laughed and raised his glass to his dog. "Here's to your beefsteak with all the trimmings and to a suitable husband for Lady Emily." Another bark.

  Jared swallowed the remainder of his brandy and turned a grim face toward the hearth. Memories of the old duke's rejection still burned in his brain as if it were yesterday.

  Do not say one word to her, my boy. Dare to push this any further and I will see Emily married to Lord Whitefield faster than Prinny can spend ten thousand pounds.

  Jared tightened his hold on his glass. Whitefield had been at least seventy if a day.

  Although the duke's threat had never been carried out, another one had taken its place, that of blackmailing Jared into another marriage and sending him away, so he could never have Emily. Ever. She had never known the truth.

  At the time of Jared's proposal, the duke's motive for revenge bordered on the ridiculous. But to Daniel Clearbrook, the late Duke of Elbourne, the reasons were nothing to laugh about. It seemed that long before Jared had been born, Daniel's heart had been broken when his offer for a certain woman had been adamantly rejected by her father.

  Jared set his glass on the desk, his lips thinning in anger as he dropped his gaze toward the ashes of Roderick’s letter. How ironic that the lady in question had been Jared's mother, Miss Elizabeth Garland.

  The late duke had told Jared the facts without blinking. The refusal had been based on a feud that had begun years ago when Daniel's father, then the Duke of Elbourne, and Elizabeth's father, George Garland, had fought a duel over a card game. Jared's grandfather had lost a finger in the scuffle, which had hurt his pride more than his flesh.

  Unaware of the duel, Daniel Clearbrook, a marquess at the time, and from what Jared could deduce, a man that was proud of his station in life, assumed the Garlands would welcome his marriage proposal with open arms. It seemed to Jared that Daniel had loved Elizabeth from afar and sought her hand the day after he had danced with her twice at Almack's. The refusal from Jared's grandfather was a blow to Daniel's pride. He would be a duke somed
ay, and no one refused a duke.

  Jared realized that Daniel had never forgotten the deep humiliation he'd felt that day, and when he became the Duke of Elbourne, he had used his power to the fullest.

  Nigel barked and Jared looked up, his lips slipping into a bitter smile. He had realized too late that his naïve offer for Emily's hand had twisted the knife deeper into the duke's heart, reminding the man of his past, of his loss, of his broken pride.

  Indeed, Daniel had sought his revenge well.

  But Jared was no longer the stupid boy who had fallen in love with the duke's only daughter. It had been a foolish dream. A mistake he would never make again. Love like he thought he had with Emily was an illusion. A folly of the younger set.

  He was a score and six now, a seasoned man of the world. A man with a duty toward his title, his daughter, his ward, and his country. In the past three years, he had seen more than most had seen in a lifetime. Lady Emily was only another duty to fulfill, and he must remember that no matter what the price.

  Outside the Elbourne mansion, heavy rain soon slowed to a mere drizzle, while inside a lone candle flickered beside Emily's bed as she thrust her fist against her pillow in frustration. What did she do to ever deserve this?

  The last few days she had suffered such a string of annoying speeches from her well-meaning but ninnyhammer brothers, concerning her duty to honor their choice of a husband, she thought she was going mad. But today, she realized they truly meant it.

  Jupiter and thunderation! Did they think she had wool for a brain? Did they think for one solitary minute that she would let a man dictate to her what her life should be? Did they truly think she would allow them to choose a husband for her? How foolish did they think she was?

  She gave the pillow another punch. She would travel to her great aunt's in Yorkshire before she let the unthinkable happen. If she must marry, she, and no one else, would choose her husband.