“That was unjust.” She heard Beatrice’s voice chastising Claire’s last remark, and she needn’t look up to know that Francis would be frowning. “Please apologize to your sister.”
“There’s really no need,” Emily said, raising her eyes to meet Claire’s. “You are a grown woman, and the decision about whom you marry is up to you. But if I may give you a small piece of advice, try to spend as much time with your fiancé as you can over the next three weeks. Get to know him well. I shall support your decision, whatever it may be.”
The look on Claire’s face was greatly apologetic. She looked as though she’d like nothing better than to retreat to the farthest corner of the universe. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it and it was badly done of me to say such a thing.”
“On a more positive note,” Beatrice chimed in. “You must no longer feel obliged to make any unnecessary sacrifices on our account, Emily.”
She was referring to Emily’s far too hasty decision to marry Edward, but the comment struck a chord nonetheless. Emily’s eyes darted across the room to where Francis sat, completely immobile, his gaze riveted upon her in expectation. As far as Beatrice was concerned, he was still courting her. How her sister had managed to say something so cruel and insensitive was beyond comprehension. Anger flashed like shards of glass behind her eyes as she straightened herself, fully intent on reassuring the man who had captured her heart that marrying him had by no means been a sacrifice.
Taking on a regal stance that seemed to dwarf the rest of those present, she said, “Make no mistake, dear sister, that when I marry, it shall be for love. I shall respect my husband beyond all others, and I shall be happier than I had ever hoped to be.”
The only one who showed a hint of a smile was Francis, and even then it was from behind his teacup. Beatrice looked positively stunned by Emily’s verbal attack. “Did I offend you in some way?” she asked.
“You cannot know how much,” Emily replied in a pained voice.
“Then I must apologize, for I had no idea.”
“When shall we have the pleasure of meeting this Camden fellow, Claire?” Jonathan spoke up, easing the tension.
“Tomorrow evening at the Marquess of Ailesbury’s ball,” Claire said, turning to Beatrice, who seemed preoccupied. “Is that not so? Bea?”
“Yes, of course.” Beatrice quickly composed herself, whatever had distracted her seemingly forgotten. “It’s the last ball of the season, it being the twelfth of August tomorrow.”
“Ah, the Glorious Twelfth,” Jonathan murmured. “The hunting season begins. I almost wish we could warn the red grouse against the wrath of Lord Barkley—you know he always throws away half of what he shoots.”
“We shall be sure to be on our best behavior,” Francis promised, honoring Claire with a playful smile.
“Even your aunt has promised to attend,” Beatrice added.
“Is that so?” Francis couldn’t help but smile at the idea. “How is she, by the way?”
“Very well, though she still insists on taking her meals upstairs.”
Francis nodded before heading toward the door. “Now, if you’ll please excuse me, there are a few letters that have arrived in my absence—I’d like to go over them right away.” He turned to Emily with a blank expression. “Would you please join me in the study? I’d like to have a word with you.”
Emily nodded. It was impossible for her to determine what was on his mind. Would he chastise her for her outburst?
From the corner of her eye, Emily saw Beatrice regard the two of them with increasing interest, surely wondering what Francis could possibly have to say to Emily that he couldn’t just as well say in front of everyone else. They would have to be careful or Beatrice was sure to discover something was afoot.
The door closed behind them and Francis immediately pulled Emily against him, smothering her mouth with his in a desperate kiss. Lips parted and waves of desire poured over them as their tongues mingled—hot, moist, and sensual. Gently easing her away from him, Francis took a step back, his breath heavy upon his lips. “If we don’t stop now, we’ll soon be sprawled out upon the floor,” he said as fire burned in his dark eyes.
Emily stared back at him. She knew that he was right. What shocked her was that she didn’t really care. Her need for him—to have him inside her and to revel in all the pleasure that he offered—was so great at that very moment that nothing else mattered.
He seemed to read her mind. “You know that we can’t,” he told her, attempting to feign a voice of reason that he did not feel. “We’re not even supposed to be married. But even if we were, I do believe your sisters would have a case of the vapors if they were to happen upon us in a tangled mess of partial undress.”
Emily burst out laughing, light dancing in her eyes as she clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle the sound. The image that he’d brought to life was too hilarious to be taken seriously. He must have agreed, for he soon joined her with a heartfelt grin. “We would in all likelihood be forced to send for the doctor to tend to them,” he continued, in a hope to impress upon her the seriousness of the situation, but it had quite the opposite effect—Emily only laughed harder.
“What a spectacle it would be,” she gasped between giggles. “Me with my skirts up about my waist, you with your trousers down around your ankles, and Beatrice and Claire in a dead faint upon the floor.” She bit her lip to stifle herself. “You’re right—it would probably be more than my poor sisters could handle.”
He nodded convincingly—more for his own sake than for hers. “On a different note, I actually did have something that I wished to tell you.”
She smoothed her dress, then perched herself on the edge of the chair closest to her.
“I’m glad that you said what you did in there. I was worried for a moment that you might regret marrying me once you discovered that it had not been necessary in terms of securing your sisters’ future, now that Claire is to wed Lord Camden.”
“Beatrice won’t understand my outburst.” It was said with a hint of regret at the way in which she had treated her older sister. “But I said it for your benefit more than anyone else’s. I would rather hang myself than to have you believe that I regret becoming your wife.”
Reaching out, he gently brushed his hand against her cheek. “I should have told you what happened a long time ago,” he whispered. “To think of all the years we’ve wasted . . . but instead I pushed you away. I was jealous, I suppose.”
“Jealous?” She looked at him quizzically. “Of what?”
He gave her a sad smile. “It all seems so silly now . . . pitiful, really. To begin with . . .” He paused, eyeing her carefully. “I couldn’t bear to see you fawn over Adrian the way you did when I . . . it’s taken me years to acknowledge this, Emily, but the truth is that I’ve always loved you. And then . . . when Elisabeth died . . . I felt as though my world had gone to pieces. I envied you for being so happy. I despised Adrian for having captured your affection. . . . I hated the world for being so bloody unjust.” His words faded and his hand fell away.
She leaned forward to kiss him gently on his forehead. “I love you, too, Francis. I believe I’ve always loved you, but I was so blinded by Adrian’s charm and attention toward me that I turned my back on the one person who truly mattered to me. As it turned out, Adrian was a poor substitute, but one that I desperately needed. I felt abandoned when you shut me out, and I lost hope. I’m so sorry.”
Her revelation shocked both of them into momentary silence. Color rose to Emily’s cheeks. She hadn’t even realized how long she’d felt that way until just now when she’d actually said it out loud. A sense of longing flooded through her. How many years she’d wasted, pining over the wrong man and criticizing the right one. “I’m so sorry for the way in which I treated you—it was terribly wrong of me, and now that I know why you acted the way you did . . . I feel awful!”
“And so you should,” he teased her with a smile, but rather than laugh as he had hoped, her eyes glistened with the promise of tears.
“Dear, sweet Emily,” he told her as he crouched before her and pulled her head against his shoulder in a warm embrace. “Why do you torture yourself so? We were both at fault back then, but there’s no use in fretting about lost time now. Let’s just be grateful that we are finally together, in spite of everything.” He pulled back to look at her. His heart clenched at the sight of a wet patch staining her cheek. “I love you, sweetheart. Never in my life have I loved anybody more.”
And then she did give him that dazzling smile of hers that made his heart leap. He kissed the top of her head affectionately as he rose to his feet.
“I’m worried about Claire,” she said suddenly. “She’s rushing into a marriage that she needn’t rush into—you and I are already married, but I cannot tell her that. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m afraid that I must agree with your sisters on this matter,” Francis said, to Emily’s surprise. She had hoped that he would side with her . . . no, she had expected it, but she was glad of his honesty nonetheless. “The truth is that Claire will never find as good a match as Lord Camden. I never doubted that she and your sister would have suitors, but I expected them to be men without a title who had to work for a living. In spite of her name, Claire has no wealth to match that of an aristocrat. The fact that a man such as Lord Camden is more than willing to marry her truly is a blessing.”
“But if she does not love him?” Emily looked thoroughly perplexed, yet Francis thought the concern for her sister’s welfare made her even more stunning.
“You’re a romantic, Emily, and I commend you for it, but every now and again, it’s necessary to be a realist. Claire doesn’t seem to dislike her young lord or the prospect of marrying him. Have you seen the man, by the way? He’s strikingly handsome.”
It was true that Emily had not yet met the man her sister intended to marry. In fact, the only times she’d even heard the mention of his name had been at the Carroway ball and at Cunningham House—she still had to see him in person.
“You have to understand that what you and I have is rather unique,” Francis was saying. “In fact, it’s extremely rare. We’ve known each other since childhood. There’s a link between us that takes years for most newlywed couples to develop. Don’t discredit your sister’s union because you want her to have what you have—it’s unlikely that she will. But that doesn’t mean that they won’t love each other in the end.
“Lord Camden is a man of means. He will provide very well for her, showering her in everything that her heart desires, and from what Beatrice says, he’s already smitten with Claire. It is a start—I daresay a better one than many are given.” He paused for a moment before taking Emily’s hand in his. “If I may give you a piece of advice, don’t do anything to ruin Claire’s chances or to change her mind. You would be doing her a great disservice, and I doubt that she would thank you for it.”