The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks) Read online

  Nigel stood in the corner and barked as the tone of their voices intensified.

  "Tell me the truth this time." Emily could not hide the tremor when she spoke. "I am your prisoner, am I not?"

  In one quick stride he was beside her, slipping a strong hand in hers. "Listen, Em. It's not like that at all. Your brothers have obligations—"

  "Obligations?" She jerked back. "I am up to my eyeballs with that word. Do not deceive me a second time. And you have no right to call me, Em. I am Lady Emily to you."

  He grabbed her shoulders roughly. "You don't understand. I owed Roderick a favor—"

  "So, now I am a favor?"

  She turned quickly and tripped on the rug, stumbling backward, but not before a strong hand whipped around her waist in a steel grip, holding her to him, pressing her back intimately against his chest. She closed her eyes, conscious of his warm breath against her neck.

  "Honor demanded I comply with your brother's wishes," he said in a husky whisper. "You have no understanding how difficult this is for me."

  "Difficult?" Tears clogged her throat. "Y-you are the one being difficult." She struggled for him to release her, bending at her waist, feeling herself being lifted off the floor, her legs dangling in midair.

  "Confound it, woman, be reasonable here."

  "What is the meaning of this?" Agatha's voice hit Emily like a blow to her stomach.

  "Emily," Jane screeched, standing at the door, staring at her guardian holding her friend like an opera dancer—after hours. "Are you . . . ill?"

  Emily felt Jared stiffen. He cleared his throat, placing Emily's feet safely on the rug beneath them. Emily straightened out her gown, her love for Jared dying off like the bloom of a dried flower. Dead and gone. She was nothing to him but a friend's sister. Owing a favor to Roderick because of his insufferable honor!

  "This can all be explained, Agatha," Jared replied with a half-smile. "This may appear ... well, the devil... this is all a silly misunderstanding."

  "Yes, a misunderstanding," Emily offered helplessly, avoiding Jared's impenetrable gaze.

  Agatha stood waiting at the door, her lips pressed together, one hand clenched at her side, the other hand stomping her black parasol against the floor as if it were a bayonet. "Indeed, Jared. I am waiting for an explanation."

  At that precise moment Nigel decided to slink past the agitated entourage and out the door. "Traitor," Jared murmured to his dog. Emily almost repeated the same word herself.

  "I am waiting," Agatha snapped.

  Jared splayed his hands, palms up in the air.

  "I was searching for my book," Emily broke in, "and silly me, I suddenly recalled that Lord Stonebridge had borrowed it. So, of course, I came into his chambers to search for it."

  "Of course." Agatha narrowed her eyes on Emily, then slowly shifted them toward Jared. "A young lady prancing into a gentleman's bedchambers is so very reasonable, I have no notion why I should ever have asked."

  Emily's eyes widened as she realized that Agatha was placing the entire blame on Jared—no Lord Stonebridge, he was no longer Jared to her.

  "Agatha, this is preposterous. You must see, had I known Lord Stonebridge was in here, I never would . . . well, I mean to say, he never . . . uh, we never . . ."

  "Never mind," the man beside her ground out. "Would you be so kind as to let me explain?"

  Raw pain flickered in Emily's heart. Whatever slender thread had been between them was broken forever.

  It took all of five minutes before the rest of the story came out and Jane was sent downstairs with Emily, who had snatched her book from the floor, stuffing it between the folds of her skirt. Agatha and Jared conveyed that they would be coming shortly. The foursome would then attend the fair in the village as planned.

  Jared paced the floor of his bedchambers taking in the scent of rose water and lavender that clung to his memory like the aftermath of a spring rain.

  Blast it to pieces! Emily was in his blood as much as she had been three years ago. He had been fond of Felicia, but Emily had been the light of his life. Yet he knew if she were ever told the truth, she would always hate him for not confronting her father, and in essence, he had to admit he hated himself as well. Emily deserved better. She deserved a man her brothers chose for her. She deserved the best.

  His mouth plunged into a deep, angry frown when he caught his aunt scowling at him. "Believe me, there was nothing to it."

  Agatha sighed. "I believe you."

  He blinked. "You do?"

  "Of course, I do."

  Agatha leaned against the window seat, resting her parasol on one of the beige pillows bunched in the corner. "Why would you want anything to do with Lady Emily? She is far too independent for any man of your caliber. Not that I do not have a great affection for the girl. I do. I do. But her independence is not an asset in a wife, is it, my boy?"

  Jared remained silent. For some reason, Emily's independence was an asset he found particularly attractive.

  Agatha fingered her gown. "La, you must know her brothers would never approve of you anyway."

  Jared's brows snapped together. To think that Emily's family would dare turn him down again. Not that he would ask them and not that he was afraid of Roderick. No indeed.

  Ignoring his aunt's jibes, he walked over to his chair where his waistcoat and jacket had been laid out. "And pray tell, why would Lady Emily's brothers never approve of me?"

  "You are a gambler, my boy. A drinker." Agatha paused as if reflecting over her choice of words and lowered her voice, "A man about town."

  Jared clenched his teeth, annoyed at the thought of Emily knowing about his past, and especially annoyed at the way Agatha was making him feel. He distinctly recalled Agatha's information about the Black Wolf and wondered what other secrets she knew about him, or his daughter. "Pray then, what knowledge have you about my life on the Continent the past few years, since you seem to know everything else about me?"

  A shadow of irritation flickered across Agatha's face, followed instantly by an innocent blink of her eyes. "My, did I say the Continent?"

  "No, however the meaning was quite clear."

  Agatha tilted her gaze out the window. "You do realize if Emily's brothers ever discovered that you had been found in a compromising position with her, you would be fed on a silver platter to that Little Corsican in St. Helena. But, of course, if you loved the lady, you would not care a fig about her brothers, would you?" She turned back to him. "Any lady, as a matter of fact."

  Jared gave his bottle green waistcoat a slight pull and strode across his bedchambers. He would not be coerced into one of Agatha's lengthy discussion about his love life. He fixed his neckcloth, stood by the door, then waited for her to depart. "Are you by chance avoiding my question?"

  Agatha turned and lifted her head. "I hear the young duke is a crack shot on the dueling field."

  Jared grimaced. Roderick was more than a crack shot. He was the most pigheaded, hot-tempered man Jared knew beside himself. And honor demanded that Jared keep his distance from Emily, attraction or not.

  "Crack shot indeed, Aunt. Let us make a day of it and forget about this little incident. What say you to that?"

  Forgetting would be impossible. It was hard enough for Jared to forget the sweetness of Emily's body when she was pressed beneath him. But the kiss had been heaven. She was no longer a seventeen-year-old girl.

  Agatha strode ahead of him. "I daresay, I will forget about the matter entirely. Depend upon it."

  Jared let out a small smile. Ah, she had no wish to see him killed by the duke. "Put away your worries, Aunt, I won't be meeting the duke on the dueling field. You can rest your little head about that."

  "Can I?" she said, glancing over her shoulder.

  The question simmered in Jared's mind all the way to the fair.

  A cool breeze brought the smell of cinnamon and butter to Emily's nostrils, and her stomach growled. The fair had drawn a huge crowd in the town square. Jugglers perform
ed their entertaining feats, and jesters had the gatherers roaring with laughter. Wagons filled with hay escorted groups of excited children on a thrilling trip back and forth to the Red Knight Inn. Food vendors with their heavenly scents of meat pies, scones, buns, and other delectables, filled the jammed alcoves surrounding the square.

  Emily had barely eaten anything all day, but she would be the last one to ask the earl for a turn toward the vendor's booth nearest them. Since Agatha and Jane had insisted she stay and watch the entertainment, she was determined to wait in silence until the two ladies returned with the famous meat pies Agatha so loved. But to Emily's displeasure, that particular food was located the farthest away from them, across the square.

  Staring straight ahead, Emily kept her gaze focused on the juggler tossing three red balls into the air, yet all her thoughts were on the man standing stiffly beside her. It was obvious he was not pleased after their encounter in his bedchambers, and neither was she. Dwelling on the compromising position brought an embarrassing heat to her cheeks, and that unforeseen kiss made her feel all too vulnerable to his charms.

  Sliding her gray cloak off her head, she let the cool breeze caress her face, hoping Jared would remain silent. She needed to sort her emotions, because she had no intention of letting the recent incident in his bedchambers scatter her wits like the balls bouncing in front of her.

  The raucous laughter of a group of young boys filled her ears, reminding her of her brothers when they had been drinking. Inwardly she smiled. Did all men turn into such ninnies when they had their spirits?

  At that moment she could not help but sense Jared's gaze on her. She glanced over her shoulder. His steely glare bore into hers, and she bit back a sharp retort. She would never have ventured into his chambers if that dog of his had any manners at all. Refusing to be drawn into an argument, she turned back to the juggler and forced herself to laugh and clap her hands along with the crowd, praying that Agatha would come along soon.

  Her eyes followed the shiny red ball flying high in the air, but like her heart, it came falling to the ground with a plop. If she ever heard another Wordsworth poem again, she would curl up and die. How could he have laughed at her book? Their book? She would prove to him that he meant nothing to her. She was immune to him. She was.

  "Agatha adores the meat pies," she said, staring ahead. "I hear Mr. Gimby comes all the way from London. His brother owns the Red Knight Inn, you know."

  Jared stepped closer to her, the energy between them crackling like the sparks from a blazing fire. "You should never have come into my bedchambers. Roderick would have my head." His sharp response was nothing at all what she had expected.

  She refused to flinch at the accusation in his tone. "Ah, then am I to believe honor is your main concern here?"

  He turned his head, his jaw stiff as his gaze followed a man swaying on a pair of stilts. "I attended school with all your brothers."

  As if that would explain everything? Emily stared blankly at the juggler, her heart erecting a wall of steel.

  "What exactly did Roderick do to make you promise to watch over me?" she asked. "Save your life?" It was meant as a sarcastic remark, but what she did not expect was the shocking answer.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, he did."

  She stiffened. "I see."

  "No, I don't think you do see at all. Today could have been disastrous. Blast it, Emily, if anyone but Agatha or Jane had appeared at the doorway . . ." He plowed a hand through his dark hair. "If your brothers ever suspected that you and I were seeing each other, now or even before—"

  The crowd started pressing in, cutting off his comments, pushing the two closer together. Jared was crushed up against her shoulder. Emily blinked back tears. He had never loved her. It was but a game to him. His touch was almost unbearable. He said something, but his voice was drowned out as the crowd boomed with applause and laughter when the juggler stood on his head, managing four balls in the air.

  When the laughter subsided, Emily tried to move away from him as she spoke. "What a horrid thought, my lord. To think that you might have been forced to marry poor little me?"

  He grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, his lips curling into a dangerous scowl. "Stop it, Em. I'm no longer the man you loved. We were children then."

  Emily flinched, pulling away. Her heart shook at the sound of his words. He was right. This was not the boy she had loved. In the short span of three years, he had become a man with a commanding presence that could thwart even the most powerful of men like her brothers.

  He had changed, but so had she.

  "I believe, my lord, that you are to guard me, and that is all. Do not flatter yourself that I was once in love with you. It was but a silly game we played, nothing more."

  With perfect timing, a short, pudgy man, holding a freshly baked bun, pushed between them. The sweet smell of butter made Emily recall that she had not eaten anything for hours.

  "I will not be forced into a marriage again," Jared growled, lowering his head to hers, almost touching her.

  "What are you saying?" Had he been forced to marry Felicia?

  "I mean exactly that, madam." His mouth thinned.

  Emily gasped in outrage, pulling her cloak over her face. How dare he think she planned being found in his chambers? She had loved him.

  Tears collected in her eyes, but she refused to let him see. She sniffed, trying to focus on the juggler passing three flaming torches back and forth to his partner, a painted lady dressed in a revealing outfit of purple and pink boa feathers. The crowd began to grow, laughing and pushing, and she was pressed from all sides. But even the grand sight of the festive woman did not uplift her mood.

  "We cannot marry, Em. We were never meant to be. This very minute your brothers are finding a suitable husband for you."

  She felt herself drain of color. A suitable husband indeed. Jared waited for her answer. But she said nothing. She could not face him. He would see her grief, and she could not bear to let him see the hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

  The crowd blurred before her.

  "Emily. You must see why this is best."

  The tender sound of her name on his lips squeezed her heart, but she could say nothing. Two boys pushed her aside, battling for space to view the boa feathers and the lady who wore them. A foul-smelling woman immediately followed, elbowing her way forward, separating Emily from Jared even more.

  Whether Jared was about to apologize or not, Emily did not care. Not anymore. She hated him for what he had done to her. Hated him for agreeing with her brothers' plans. Hated him for making her feel again and throwing it back in her face.

  "Blast," he said harshly, "this is a becoming an unruly mob. Stay close to me or you might be trampled to death."

  Emily ignored his plea as the crowd began to roar with glee when the woman dropped the boa. From the corner of her eye she saw Jared reach out for her, but she shrugged away. A rude man who smelled of manure stepped between them.

  Jared cursed, pushing the man aside. She found herself jostled back and forth like a small fish in the ocean. People stepped on her toes and pulled at her cloak, shoving her aside so they could obtain a better view. Strands of hair fell across her face, and she barely heard Jared shouting as he pushed through the frenzied crowd.

  But she was numb. Too numb to care anymore. There was a dreadful squeezing inside her chest, and she found it hard to breathe. He did not love her. He had never loved her.

  "Emily! Confound it . . . Emily!"

  She wanted to call to him, but every fiber in her being warned against it. He would see her heart exposed like that of a wounded puppy. How droll for him to be her protector until her brothers found a suitable husband. She decided to ride to London immediately, relieving herself of his presence.

  "Emily," he shouted again, but she let the crowd push her farther and farther away. Her cloak was pulled to and fro, and she drifted like a boat without a sail in the sea of people.

  More flaming tor
ches seemed to be added to the juggling partners. The flames whooshed through the air with fiery streaks of red, snapping small sparks into the crowd.

  "Add another torch!" someone cried.

  "Light the purple boa!"

  The clamor of the people hammered into Emily's ears. A hard shove sent her flying into another man. Her head snapped back, and she thought she saw Jared coming toward her. Suddenly, awakened to the danger surrounding her, she fell to the ground in pain, trying to fend off the people above her. Before she could shout for help, there was a sharp jab to her stomach.

  And then it happened. The most frightening word she would ever hear in an already maddened crowd. "Fire!"

  Chapter Six

  Miss Agatha Appleby's pink-and-white-striped bonnet bobbed up and down as she took a seat on a small barrel of ale located inside one of the vendors' tents. She unbuttoned her matching cloak, grabbed the mug beside her, and bent down, siphoning a bit of the brew to replace what she had already drunk.

  "I daresay, Jane"—she picked up a steaming meat pie with her free hand and took a bite—"is this not the most delightful pie you have ever had?"

  Garbed in a black velvet cloak, Jane leaned against a tent pole, her lips twisting into a pleased smile. "You say those exact words about every meat pie, Aunt Agatha. I recall when my parents brought me to my last fair. I will never forget the sweet scent of hot cross buns."

  A sad look crossed her face, and she shook her head. "Speaking of food, Emily must be famished."

  "Fustian, child. The girl is fine." Agatha took another bite of her meat pie. "Believe me, those two children need to work out their differences."

  Jane pushed off the pole and laughed. "I would not call Cousin Jared a child."

  Agatha slowly raised her head, her eyebrows lifting suggestively. "And neither is our Emily, dear."

  Jane's eyes went wide. "You are not implying that Emily and my guardian are engaged?"

  "Engaged, no. Smitten, yes."

  "You think there was something to that incident today."