The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks) Read online

  "No, no, my dear," Agatha replied, shaking her head. "That was totally innocent. But what is not innocent is Emily's eyes when she watches my nephew walk into the room."

  Jane pursed her lips, surprised. "I was only making a jest about them before. He is—"

  "He is a man first, Jane," Agatha said. "A man with a heart that needs softening."

  "But Cousin Jared never seems to need anybody. Oh, I know he cares for me, but he is so much more reserved than the young man I knew when I was a child." Jane frowned as more people began to gather near the tent and the noisy display of the vendors grew louder.

  Agatha pointed to the other side of the street near the stables. "Come, Jane. Over there. There will be less noise."

  Jane grabbed the rest of the meat pies on the barrel and followed the older lady's lead across the graveled thoroughfare.

  "We will be heading to Town for the Season soon." Agatha's black parasol crunched against the stones as she walked. Jane stood as the elder lady took her seat on a small wooden bench outside the stables.

  "The duchess did say Emily could stay with us in London, did she not?" Jane asked.

  "No, not precisely, my dear. It is her brother whom we will have to ask. On that point, I am not certain if Emily will be allowed to go with us at all."

  Jane frowned, taking a seat beside Agatha. "And pray, why not? What reason would this brother of hers have to deny Emily the Season?"

  "Her brother, the duke, my dear, is a very powerful man, and it seems that our Emily is the catch of the Season with her inheritance and her dowry. Her brothers have grand plans to find her a respectable husband of the ton, and believe it or not, while they are in the process of this grand feat, I do believe your guardian has been appointed Emily's protector without the lady the wiser."

  "Her protector?" Jane shrieked, standing abruptly. "You mean to say her brothers have hired Cousin Jared to watch over Emily?" Jane suddenly laughed. "Goodness, Emily will be quite vexed when she uncovers the harebrained plot."

  "Quite so, Jane. Quite so." The crowd was becoming more boisterous by the second, and Agatha frowned. "I am having the London townhouse refurbished, so we will be staying elsewhere, I fear. I will have to rent a house."

  Jane folded her hands across her lap. "Emily's brothers must have many eligible friends for her to choose from, so perhaps it will be an interesting Season."

  "I fear you did not comprehend my meaning, dear. Emily will not be choosing her husband. Her brothers have that honor."

  "Her brothers?" Jane's face grew pale. "But they cannot do that. Emily should make the choice of her husband."

  "Nevertheless, it seems her brothers have decided to protect her from a host of greedy suitors by choosing for her. That is the sole reason she was allowed to come to Hemmingly. It seems her suitors have gone so far as to hunt her down at Elbourne Hall."

  Agatha looked suspiciously around. "And I tell you this, with the utmost confidence, Jane." She lowered her voice. "I have it straight from the duchess that one of Emily's suitors was found breaking into her bedchambers . . . through her window."

  Jane clapped her hands together and bubbled with laughter. "How very romantic."

  Agatha sighed. "Not when Emily's four brothers took the intruder by surprise and the gentleman in question fainted at the poor girl's feet."

  "No?" Jane gasped in horror.

  Agatha nodded. "Yes, indeed, my dear. So, I implore you not to bother that pretty mind of yours in defending poor Emily against her four brothers. They are powerful men, set and determined to find Emily a husband. Depend upon it, child, very few can undermine any plans those four gentlemen set out to do."

  Jane's chin lifted in defiance. "Goodness, you of all people should know that I am not afraid of four men. We must help Emily this Season. It is our Christian duty. I will die before I let her brothers assign her to prison the rest of her life."

  "Oh, Jane," Agatha sighed. "I fear it may be hopeless. You do not know the duke."

  "It is not hopeless. I believe with Emily's help, we can forge a great alliance." Jane continued talking, but Agatha was not listening. She immediately stood, her wary gaze falling on a black glossy carriage parked on the outskirts of the village.

  "What is it?" Jane asked, rising from her seat.

  "My word, this is most untimely. Most untimely, indeed." The carriage door opened and Agatha grabbed her parasol. "Who would have thought he would show up today of all days? He must have stopped at Hemmingly. No doubt he accompanied the duchess, and she is settling in at Hemmingly as we speak."

  Jane's eyes darted down the street, her eyes fixing on the black coach and four. "Who?"

  "Goodness, Jane. That is the Duke of Elbourne's crest. I believe its owner has come to call."

  Jane's eyes constricted into two slits of rage. "You mean the knave who is treating our dear Emily as if this were the Middle Ages and she were mere chattel?"

  "Hold your tongue, my girl."

  A tall, broad-shouldered gentleman, dressed in a well-fitted blue jacket, dark brown pantaloons, and a pair of freshly polished Hessians, strode in their direction.

  "That is no ordinary gentleman, Jane. He must not be agitated on Emily's behalf. There are other ways around situations such as these."

  Jane's lips thinned. "Indeed there are."

  Agatha welcomed the duke and made the introductions. "Miss Greenwell, His Grace, Lord Elbourne, Emily’s brother."

  Jane glanced up, put out her white-gloved hand, and gave the man a smile that would melt the most unyielding of kings.

  The handsome duke inclined his dark head, grinned, and took her hand, bringing it to within an inch of his lips. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Greenwell."

  Jane was not a vain lady, but she knew her blue eyes and dark lashes were some of her better features, and she batted her eyelids like butterfly wings, sending the duke's eyebrows arching with interest as she pulled her hand back to her side.

  "Delighted?" Jane gave him her sweetest, most innocent smile. "I fear I cannot say the same, Your Grace, since you are the odious barbarian who is to put our dear Emily into prison."

  The crowd swarmed around the town square. Cheers and curses filled the air as the juggler tossed the fire back and forth to his scantily clad partner.

  Jared looked at the back of Emily's head and swallowed hard, trying to manage a feeble excuse, anything to stop her from crying. He had acted in the most cowardly manner a gentleman could act. What reasoning had taken hold of his senses the past few minutes when he'd told her he had no wish to be coerced into a marriage with her? Did he believe making Emily hate him would change their past? He never deserved her, and proof of that was in the woman's tears that she so desperately tried to hide.

  A sudden uneasiness swept through him when he noticed the size of the unruly crowd crushing in on them. "Emily." His plea was for naught when she took a step to her left. "Emily! Confound it!" The blasted female was avoiding him.

  His heart began to pound as he shoved through the crowd, trying to keep her head in his line of sight. "Out of my way! Here now, move aside! Let me through!"

  But the more he pushed, the farther she fell from view. Alarm raced through him when he thought he saw her cloak torn from her person. Devil take it, some protector he was!

  "Emily!" He continued to call her name, but could no longer see her. He glanced at the circle of entertainment and grew more alarmed. Sparks flew into the crowd and struck near the haystacks at the sides of the street. Idiotic fools. Could they not see that the entire place would go up in smoke if any one of the torches were thrown the wrong way?

  "Em! Answer me!" The only answer he received made his stomach knot with fear.

  "Fire!" someone cried, and all hell broke loose.

  Roderick raised his right brow and glared at Jane. "Why, pray tell, would I want to put my sister in prison, madam?"

  Jane folded her arms across her velvet cloak and glared back. "You, Your Grace, are a monster."


  Agatha gave Jane a nervous smile and stood between her and the grim-faced duke. "My, my, Your Grace, I had no idea you were coming to visit today. Lady Emily is taking in the jugglers over there." She pointed her parasol in the direction of the riotous crowd beyond.

  Roderick shifted his interested gaze from Jane to the mob. He muttered an oath, his eyes simmering with anger. "Do not tell me that Emily is in that gathering of whooping men?"

  Agatha frowned as she took in the frenzied movement of the crowd. "I assure you, it was not like that minutes ago. Jared is with her."

  "She might have been better off with Fennington," he said, growling.

  "Now, now," Agatha called, scurrying behind him as he strode toward the melee. "I assure you, Emily is in good hands."

  Roderick stopped and turned on his heels, his jaw taut, his eyes black. "Good hands?"

  Agatha stared at the duke. "A poor choice of words perhaps."

  The mad roar of the panicking crowd stopped Roderick from saying any more. All three looked up to see the billowing smoke.

  "Fire!" Jane screamed.

  "Move!" Roderick grabbed both ladies by their elbows and quickly shoved them out of harm's way toward his carriage.

  "But Emily's in there somewhere," Jane said in horror as Roderick dragged her across the street. Gravel and dirt kicked up in their wake.

  "You have no need to worry about your sister," Agatha protested with a frown as she was lifted by the duke and placed inside his carriage. "I am certain Jared is with her. He would never leave her."

  "Certain is not good enough, Agatha," Roderick growled. "She may be killed in that hellish bedlam."

  "What about my carriage and my footmen?" Agatha asked, clearly shaken by the strange turn of events.

  "Leave them to me," he said quickly, and spun around to deposit Jane as well.

  But to his shock, Miss Jane Greenwell had disappeared. His keen gaze darted about the street, and he cursed. The harebrained female was hastily running back toward the frenzied crowd, her velvet cloak billowing like a flag to be burned.

  "Get back here, woman!"

  Jane glanced over her shoulder, her head lifted in haughty disdain. "Do not dictate to me, Your Grace. Pray, I will find Emily faster than you can give an order."

  Roderick's shoulders strained against his jacket as he started for her. In six quick strides he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back to his carriage. Ranting and raving, Jane let out a gasp of surprise when she was dislodged onto the floorboard of his carriage with a gigantic thud.

  "I beg your pardon!" she uttered, pushing herself back up on her elbows.

  Roderick glanced over her with an indolent eye. "You may beg my pardon another time, Miss Greenwell. Another time, indeed." He gave her no time to respond as he clapped the door closed and yelled to the driver, "Get a move on, man!"

  Jared's heart jumped out of his chest when he found her in a crumpled heap, lying against a carriage wheel in a small alleyway.

  "Emily," he murmured, sweeping her limp body into his arms.

  "Em, speak to me." He slid a gentle hand across her scratched face, pushing aside her matted hair.

  "Dear, sweet, Em." He rested his cheek against hers, his chest tightening with emotion. She moved slightly, and he lifted his gaze, surprised to find two violet eyes glaring at him. His cruel words instantly came back to him. I will not be forced into a marriage again.

  But was this not what he wanted? For her to hate him so he would feel free? A loathing distaste pierced him like a sword to his soul. No, he realized, he did not want this at all.

  "Em, don't look at me that way, I beg you."

  "Go away," she rasped, closing her eyes and turning her head. "Go . . . away."

  He rubbed the pad of his thumb across a single tear that fell from her dark lashes. Holding her like this, she seemed more beautiful to him than ever.

  He pulled her to a safer spot between the inn and the bookseller's. Squatting, he rested her slim body against his and took off his jacket for a blanket as he lay her on the ground, checking for broken bones.

  "Sorry, sweetheart, I have to do this." He could hear her light gasp as he brushed his fingers against her skin now dotted with ashes and soot. She closed her eyes, seemingly exhausted.

  Let her be all right. Please, God. Let her be all right.

  His heart raced as he touched her arms, her legs, slowly turning her over to check for any cuts. A surge of protectiveness flowed through his veins. Whatever had he been thinking when he censured her actions in his bedchambers? He had been delighted when he had held her beneath him. Yet tasting her lips again had almost sealed his fate. There was no skirting around the issue. He still loved this woman.

  He examined her gown and chemise that had been ripped, baring parts of her back. His hand paused when he touched a puckered scar beneath her shoulder blade. Words could not define the horror he felt when he instantly deduced the injury was inflicted by a pistol's ball.

  Hell's teeth! What had happened to her?

  Scurrying footsteps drew his attention. He glanced up, his eyes searching the alley, past the wisps of smoke curling in the air. A tall figure loomed before him like a phantom in black.

  Every fiber in Jared's being tensed. Before he could respond, a deep, reverberating voice cut through the hazy cloud, announcing the man's presence. "What the devil is going on here?"

  "Roderick?" Jared squinted, stepping forward with an unconscious Emily tight in his hold. He instantly felt the brunt of the duke's gaze and stood firm.

  "I believe you are holding something that belongs to me," Roderick announced harshly, striding toward him, cursing Jared that his sister had better be alive.

  Jared straightened. He would not give Emily up until they returned to Hemmingly, though he knew he had done her a great injustice, in more ways than one. However, he had already decided that she would be his, no matter what the cost.

  "Your sister's fainted. She was caught up in the crowd. Believe she inhaled some smoke. A few hours and she should be much better."

  Roderick's black eyes flashed with anger. "Confound it, where were you while this was going on?"

  "We were separated by the crowd." And by my foolishness.

  The chill in Roderick's glare turned icy with contempt.

  Jared was glad of the shadows that hid his face. His guilt was like an iron clamp around his chest. He had failed Emily again.

  The duchess plumped a pillow behind Emily's head and offered her daughter a spoonful of broth.

  "Come now, dearest," the lady said, sniffing and dabbing a white handkerchief to her eyes. "Take some broth, Emily, dear. Agatha had it made especially for you. I cannot bear to have you in pain. Dear me, if Roderick and I had not come to visit, goodness knows what might have become of you."

  Emily accommodated her mother and took a few spoonfuls of the warm liquid. She felt the heat of the beef broth starting to soothe her tense nerves. She was breathing much better now, and she closed her eyes, not wanting to think about the horrible afternoon or Jared's tender gaze when he had held her.

  Swooning had been her only choice, or she would have fallen under his spell again. In the carriage ride home, exhausted from the ordeal, she had fallen asleep and she had only awaken a few minutes ago. Maybe it had been shock, too, for she could not remember being brought into her chambers.

  "A little more, my dear," the duchess coaxed.

  In between spoonfuls Emily glanced down, fingering her white nightgown. Her hand suddenly halted on the delicately trimmed lace beneath her breast. A cold panic swept through her. Who had changed her clothes? Had someone seen her back?

  The smell of smoke still remained in her hair, and ashes from the fairgrounds still sat in the creases of her fingers. Obviously, someone had tried to wipe her down.

  "You must eat, my dear." The duchess sniffed. "When Lord Stonebridge carried you in here, I thought you were dead."

  " Tis only a few bruises, Mama." Bruises in my heart
that you cannot see. Bruises that will never heal.

  "A few bruises?" Her mother let out a long wail as she touched Emily's cheek. "Oh, my poor, dear child. I should have never left you alone."

  A tremor touched Emily's lips and she tried to smile. "Truly, I will not die on you, Mama."

  Her mother slid a slender finger along the black-and-blue blotch that began to appear on Emily's cheek. "You won't be out of my sight any longer. I will take full responsibility for you from now on."

  Emily blinked in surprise. Was this her mother speaking? The mother who avoided any deep connection with her offspring for three long years after the duke's untimely death.

  "I will have a warm bath sent up as soon as possible, dearest. I wanted to make certain you could move before you had a full bath. Agatha and her maid wiped as much grime off of you as possible. I believe you will be fine. No broken bones."

  Emily sighed in relief. Agatha was the only other person who knew of her back wound. For it had been Agatha who nursed her on this very bed and tended to her injury. It had been Agatha who held her when she cried out in pain because the lesion had become swollen and pus-filled. It had been Agatha who dried her tears and coddled her like a newborn babe until she was completely healed.

  "You may change into a fresh nightgown after you have bathed, my dear." The duchess stood up, smoothing her hands along her dove gray traveling gown, avoiding Emily's eyes. "I know this has been hard for you since your father passed on. But I never was good about his death, you see." Her breath hitched. "When he was dying, all he wanted was to see you, and you were not home at the time."

  Emily felt the broth slide coldly down her throat. Had her mother been jealous?

  Emily knew her parents had entered into a marriage of convenience, but there was no doubt the duchess had loved the duke. However, Emily's father was fond of her mother, but beyond that . . .

  "You see, you were my favorite, too," the duchess went on. Watery eyes shifted back toward her daughter. "I wanted a little girl that I could talk to, shop with, go to balls with." The duchess shrugged. "But you seemed to prefer your father, and he you."