“Is it true?” Beatrice asked. “Do you love her?”
He nodded grudgingly, though his eyes were filled with anything but the affection they might have shown at the thought of his heart’s desire. Instead, he looked incredibly worried. “Yes, I do. In fact, I have for some time.”
“Well, what are you still doing standing about here then? Be off, this instant!”
At Beatrice’s demanding tone of voice, he did reward her with a sheepish grin, then gave her a curt nod as he strode out of the door with Jonathan on his heels.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“What a pleasure it is to see you again, Emily,” Edward said as he took the seat across from her. “And you’re looking just as lovely as I remember you—I knew I’d made a wise decision when I offered for you.” He lit a cigar, sucked on it a bit, and then twirled it between his fingers as he watched the smoke rise. He was older than Emily remembered, and not as lean as he’d once been. His hairline had begun to recede, just as his father’s had. She knew he’d only recently turned thirty, yet he appeared to be well over forty. He sucked on his lips, then smacked them together before taking another puff of his cigar. “As I recall it, you weren’t too pleased with my advances in the past, Emily. Whatever caused you to change your mind?”
Emily’s face was cast in stone as she looked across at the man that she’d despised for so long. She and her sisters had never been anything but kind to him, but even so, he’d taken everything from them at the first opportunity. “Let’s just say that things didn’t work out the way I thought they would.”
He nodded thoughtfully at that. “Well, it’s no matter now—water under the bridge, so to speak. The important thing is that you’re here, and I take it, quite willingly?” he smirked.
Emily shuddered at the thought of what he was implying. “I’m merely doing my duty,” she said in a dry voice that lacked emotion.
“Hmmm . . . I hope you understand what that entails,” he said, allowing his eyes to roam over her before settling on the rise of her br**sts. Emily had to grip the arms of the chair she was sitting in to stop herself from running away as fast as her feet could carry her. Instead, she watched in apprehension as Edward put down his cigar and got up. “You must understand,” he told her with a smirk. “That I am first and foremost a businessman. And like any businessman, I have every intention of sampling the merchandise before I commit myself to anything.”
Her eyes flittered instinctively toward the door as he closed the distance between them. He moved around her chair until she felt him standing directly behind her, the sound of his breath alarmingly loud in her ears. She tensed immediately when she felt his hands upon her shoulders, and she gasped anxiously when he took the liberty of letting one of those hands slide down her chest until she felt him squeezing her breast in a rough, demanding fashion that chilled her to the bone.
“Please don’t,” she begged him as she tried to wriggle herself free from his grip. It was of no use. He held her down as he fumbled with her bodice, pulling on it until one of her br**sts popped free.
“That’s more like it,” he muttered as he tugged on her nipple.
“Release me at once,” she yelled, the tears stinging behind her eyes.
He leered at her menacingly, knowing full well the power that he held over her. “You came to me, remember? Did you really think that I’d make you my wife without having a little taste of what you have to offer? I’ve no desire to take on another man’s discards, if you know what I mean. So, how about you make quick work of that dress of yours instead of just sitting there quivering about it? I promise you, it’ll be quick. . . . Besides, you can’t possibly be so daft as to think that you can marry me and deny me the carnal pleasures that will soon become rightfully mine.”
Emily sat as if glued to the chair, tears streaming down her cheeks. She watched as Edward strolled back around to face her. Taking her by the chin, he turned her head toward him. “Now take off your damn clothes,” he yelled.
With trembling fingers, she began undoing the buttons of her dress. Never in her life had she felt so humiliated, so wronged, so filthy as she did now. But what choice did she have? If she didn’t marry him, she and her sisters would be destitute. They had nobody else to turn to, and they’d all failed miserably in their attempts at finding husbands.
It wasn’t meant to be, however, and now Emily felt duty-bound to save her sisters from a life of poverty—she felt responsible for what would happen to them if she didn’t marry Edward. But more than guilt, it was pain that drove her to what she would have considered unthinkable that very same morning. She never thought she would hurt more than when Adrian had told her he intended to marry Kate, but she was wrong.
Francis had charmed her. He’d made her heart go pitter-patter, for heaven’s sake. He’d made her fall in love with him—and she’d been all too willing to let him. It was quite clear to her now that her feelings hadn’t been reciprocated. What kind of man asked a woman to marry him, showering her with tender words and kisses, whilst keeping his mistress waiting on the side? A man like Francis, apparently.
Yet here she was now, ready to throw her life away by marrying Edward. Well, a sacrifice had to be made if they didn’t want to end up without a roof over their heads. By marrying Edward, her sisters would still have a chance at happy marriages to suitable gentlemen. At least that was some consolation, small as it seemed at that very moment.
Slipping her dress from her shoulders, it fell in a puddle at her feet so that she stood, trembling in her chemise, corset, and petticoat, her arms hugging her chest. Edward’s lips curled into a nasty grimace of lust as he now stood watching her. It was nothing like the way in which Francis had looked at her. Francis’s eyes had been warm and . . . oh God! Had she made a terrible mistake? By comparison, Francis had looked as though he loved her . . . but that was impossible . . . wasn’t it? She couldn’t think straight. Her mind was such a muddle of conflicting thoughts and emotions that she knew not what to do. But she knew what she now faced: a cold, hard stare that told her that Edward planned on being anything but gentle with her.
She shrank away from him as a terrible fear descended upon her, but he reached out and pulled her toward him so roughly that she stumbled against him. “Having second thoughts?” he sneered vehemently. “Am I suddenly not good enough for you after all?”
“No . . . no, it’s not that . . . it’s . . .”
“You and your sisters never liked me. I always knew I didn’t belong—you made me feel so unwanted, Emily.”
“That’s not true,” she riled. “We treated you no different than we treated each other. We never thought of you as anything other than our cousin—surely you must realize that.”
“Oh, I beg to differ, Emily. I know how I felt growing up. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your favorite game after all this time. ‘Let’s play hide and seek, Edward,’ you’d tell me. ‘It’s your turn to count.’ And there I’d be, searching for you all over the house, only to find that you’d run off to the lake in hopes of being rid of me. What a triumph it has been to take all that was once yours and make it mine—after your parents died. And to think that you’re now willing to marry me and to give me your virtue to boot. Don’t think for one minute that I’ll let you change your mind, cousin.”
Burying his head against her neck, he clasped his hands over her buttocks, squeezing them as she writhed beneath his touch. Leaning back, he slapped her hard across her face. “Be still, you little chit,” he snarled, his words a clear warning of what he had in store for her if she continued to fight him.
“No, Edward, please stop,” she cried, looking desperately for a means to escape the wretched situation. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Tears were springing from her eyes in heavy sobs as he ripped apart the hooks on the front of her corset.
“What the blazes is going on here?” an angry voice bellowed with such rage that it seemed as if the whole room shook.
Emily gasped as her eyes darted toward the door to find a furious Francis pushing aside a befuddled butler as he barged into the room. She just managed to spot Jonathan entering behind him, shutting the door firmly to keep out the curious stares of the servants.
“Who the hell do you think you are, intruding like this?” Edward asked with a small degree of uncertainty. He wasn’t an idiot, so he knew he would be outnumbered if it came to blows between them.
“I’m Lord Dunhurst, Emily’s fiancé, and this gentleman over here is a good friend of mine, Mr. Rosedale.” His dark eyes were stormy as they fixed Edward with a deadpan expression.
“Is this a joke?” Edward asked, his nervousness beginning to show. He had no desire to have a duel, least of all with a man who looked like he was ready to rip him to shreds with his bare fists. “Emily, are you engaged to this man?”
Emily stared at Francis. She could still feel Edward’s hands clenched around her waist.
Though she longed for him to release her, she felt as if she might be leaving one hell in exchange for another—Francis looked far from forgiving at this point. Truth be told, he looked mad as hell. In fact, she was probably in for a very long coach ride if she decided to leave with him. And then, of course, there was still the small matter of his mistress, which of course, from Emily’s point of view, was no small matter at all. She had no wish to share Francis with another woman. Yet, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to stomach Edward for one moment longer . . . at least where Francis was concerned, they had been able to get along. It suddenly seemed as if the choice was obvious. “I’m afraid so,” she sighed.
“Well, there you have it then,” Francis said. “And isn’t it true, Jonathan, that she is then rightfully mine, even if she did happen to run off, straight into this man’s arms?” His eyes held Emily’s as his words tormented her. It was very clear that she wouldn’t get off lightly.
“Well, it is true that you had the first arrangement, so unless this gentleman would like to contest it . . .” Jonathan said in a bold tone that had a highly official ring to it.
“Would you?” Francis asked Edward as his eyes shifted to meet his.
For a fleeting moment, Emily feared that Edward might say yes and that the next step would be the choosing of weapons and seconds. No sooner had the thought entered her mind, however, than she found herself shoved aside, physically discarded. She watched with a growing sense of relief as Edward straightened his back and headed for the door. “I trust you’ll see yourselves out, gentlemen,” he told them in a gruff voice. “After all, you do know the way.” And then he was gone without bothering to wait for a response.
Emily stood perfectly still, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, as she stared at both Francis and Jonathan in turn. Her arms were clasped about her, trying to hold together her corset in a small attempt at some modesty. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes huge with fear, and her cheeks pink from crying. In short, she looked a fright.