Page 2 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl (Marriage Mart Scandals #2)

Emmeline stared out of the window, watching the trees and bushes move past under a grey sky as the coach rolled fast down the road. The scenery was grey and oppressive, and she looked over at her mother instead, who sat opposite. Lady Radley smiled reassuringly.

“We shan’t travel too far today,” she commented, tucking a stray honey-brown curl back under her bonnet.

“Good,” Emmeline murmured in reply. She wished she could feel some excitement about the adventure. She was naturally high-spirited and loved travelling. But she could not find even a little excitement for the trip. All she could think about was Bath and the small townhouse they had ridden from earlier in the day. She shut her green eyes briefly, feeling a pain in her heart.

In many ways, she reminded herself as she watched the slate-blue sky and scrubby hills , it was already a blessing.

The house in Bath was small and cramped, and it reminded her and Mama altogether too much of Papa and his long illness. Papa, the Earl of Radley, had moved the family to Bath so that he could take the curative waters there, but whatever had caused his illness had long been established. He had passed away in Bath and Emmeline and her mother had stayed at the townhouse there for the remainder of the year, observing their mourning period far away from London.

They might have stayed in the tiny townhouse, but Uncle Henry had written, inviting them to London. It was a journey of over a hundred miles and it would take at least a week to complete. Emmeline looked out of the window, watching the wind-contoured trees, and tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. She glanced at her mother, who was watching the scenery with apparent contentment.

Seeing Mama’s relaxed posture made Emmeline feel a little better. Charlotte Ashmore was always her anchor, now more than ever. Emmeline studied that soft, familiar face and paused to glance at her own reflection, reflected dimly in the window of the coach. Her face was thin and angular compared to the viscountess’, with a long slender nose and slight chin. The most striking contrast to anyone in her immediate family, however, was her hair—Mama’s was honey-gold, and Papa’s had been brown. Emmeline’s, however, was vibrant red. In long strands that hung down to her waist, her hair was pale auburn and the feature she was most ambivalent about since it made it impossible to blend in.

She leaned back, her dark-coloured bonnet feeling uncomfortable on her head. She loosened the ribbons and let it fall back behind her shoulders, then took it off. Lady Radley was already drowsing, and even if she hadn’t been, she would hardly have objected to Emmeline taking off her bonnet. The viscountess had never been the sort to fuss about anything, and neither had the late viscount. Emmeline sniffed, her heart aching as she recalled their last conversation. It was only recently that she could bring herself to remember anything about Papa—for almost the whole year the grief had been too overwhelming.

“Stay as you are, my dear,” he had whispered to her, his hand tight on hers. “The world needs you as you are. Your brightness. Your keenness. Your strength.”

Emmeline swallowed through a tight throat. His words had given her considerable comfort. Ever since her debut, some years ago, she had shrunk herself into a smaller and smaller space, trying to talk less, to blend in more. Her outspokenness seemed to offend half of London, to say nothing of her bold ideas. She frightened the Ton with her quick thoughts and direct speech to the point that, after four Seasons, she was still without attachment. Her exposure to London society had only made her long to hide away who she really was.

She pushed the sorrowful thoughts away and thought instead of Cousin Amelia, who she would soon see.

Amelia was her best friend. They had spent endless hours together as children since Uncle Henry’s manor was only an hour’s ride from Ashmore, Papa’s country estate. She and Amelia had played and spent hours racing about the estate gardens together. They had learned to ride together, though Emmeline’s passion for riding had never abated, whereas Amelia had been too fearful to ride anything other than a stout Shetland. Emmeline had debuted the year before Amelia. Every Season they spent time together in London. It was the only good thing about the Season, she thought wryly.

“Would you care for some lemonade?” Lady Radley asked, interrupting her thoughts. “There’s plenty to last us until the inn.”

“No. Thank you, Mama,” Emmeline said warmly. “I am not thirsty. ”

“You can have some later, then. I insist on stopping for a few minutes for teatime before we reach the inn. Or we’ll be terribly hungry.”

Emmeline smiled fondly at her mother. “Oh, Mama,” she said gently. “You are a dear.”

“Not at all, dear daughter. Not at all.”

The coach rattled on, and Emmeline leaned back, feeling relaxed. The motion was restful, and her eyes closed, and she soon fell asleep.

***

The coach jolted and bumped its way ahead. They had ridden in the same manner for five days, stopping at inns for the night and leaving as early as they could. Emmeline should have been exhausted, but she was not—she sat alertly, gazing through the window, her stomach knotting with excitement. Soon they would be in London.

“I can barely wait,” Emmeline said brightly to her mother.

The viscountess smiled. “I will be pleased to see Henry too,” she agreed. Henry was Charlotte’s only sibling and the two were very fond of one another.

They were approaching the city—Emmeline knew it. It was far away still, but she knew the countryside so well and if she strained her eyes, she could see buildings rising from the green, leafy landscape and, as the coach turned the corner, she thought she could see the glittering Thames River winding its way through the valley.

Soon, they would be there.

The coachman had slowed, and Emmeline’s breath caught in her throat as she saw why. They were already nearing one of the city gates.

“We won’t be long,” Lady Radley promised Emmeline, as they rattled through the gate. They had decided to stop at their townhouse in Kensington to change their clothes. It would be terribly hard to visit the townhouse. She had never been there without Papa being with her. Memories of him were going to be everywhere.

The butler had been alerted by letter before they departed and he opened the door as soon as they knocked, a huge grin on his face.

“Lady Radley!” He greeted Charlotte fondly. “Lady Emmeline. Come inside, do! We did not expect you until tomorrow morning! The rooms have been prepared precisely as you instructed, my lady. ”

“Thank you,” Charlotte commented in a firm tone. Emmeline knew she was struggling with her emotions. Emmeline squeezed her hand, trying to offer her some comfort. Emmeline looked around as they entered, her heart aching. As it happened, her first thought was of Papa’s advice.

Be yourself, dear, he whispered in her mind. That is all you need.

His words were like a talisman against her own self-dislike. So often in this townhouse, she had the thought that she should become smaller and weaker, quieter, and less interesting. In short, more like the ladies in London who were vaunted by society as good noblewomen.

“We should go and change into some good gowns,” Lady Radley suggested.

“Yes,” Emmeline said softly. The faster they could get on their way, the better.

Once she was dressed in a green day gown, she went into the hallway. She grinned in delight to see her mother waiting for her, wearing a blue dress. The colour brought out the soft tone of her eyes and she looked beautiful.

“Mama!” Emmeline shrilled. “So good to see you.” After a year in their black mourning dresses, seeing her mother in a colourful gown was renewing and uplifting, like Springtime had come.

“You look lovely, my dear,” Charlotte said gently. “Come now. Let's go to the coach. Mr Hodgkins is waiting for us.”

They hurried to the coach and soon drew up outside Fairfax House. Emmeline gazed up at it, excitement filling her. The butler opened the door when they knocked, but Uncle Henry and Aunt Patricia were there already and then Emmeline was laughing, tears in her eyes as Amelia ran to embrace her.

“Amelia,” she murmured. “I’m so pleased to see you.”

“Emmi!” Amelia greeted her, using the name they had used when they were little. “So good to see you!” She hugged her tightly.

“So good to see you ,” Emmeline murmured, her eyes moist with tears. Her heart warmed in ways it had not for months.

She breathed in, smelling the familiar, spicy scent of her friend’s perfume.

Amelia stepped back and gazed at Emmeline. Emmeline frowned. There was a line between Amelia’s fine dark brows that suggested she was worried. She also looked paler. She gazed into her cousin’s deep brown eyes, but Amelia was already turning to go upstairs to the drawing room. She pushed her concern for Amelia away. If there was something troubling her cousin, she would surely tell her.

They went into the fine, warm drawing room upstairs. Mama was already chatting with Aunt and Uncle merrily. It was so good to hear her mother sounding so happy. For months Emmeline had not heard that bright, carefree tone in her voice.

“Tea, please!” Uncle Henry called to the butler, with firmness. “And plenty of cake. Our visitors must be starving.”

“Thank you, Henry,” Charlotte said warmly. “You will feed us so much that we shan’t be able to eat our dinner.”

“Nonsense!”

Emmeline watched the exchange between Uncle and Mama, enjoying their happiness. Uncle Henry looked like Charlotte Ashmore—he had her pale colouring, except that his eyes were blue where Charlotte’s were greyer. Aunt Patricia, sitting beside him, had dark curls and big dark eyes, and Amelia took after her. Amelia’s thick hair was the colour of rich chocolate, and her dark eyes were truly beautiful, framed with thick lashes. She had porcelain skin and was truly a beauty. She would have been the toast of the Ton, but she was extremely shy. At most Seasons that they had attended together, Amelia had sat out almost all the dances, too nervous even to say a word to a potential dance partner. It was unfair, since Amelia was a true society beauty, much prettier than she considered she was herself.

“Now,” Uncle murmured as he settled himself opposite Mama. “I want to hear about everything.”

Charlotte began telling him about their trip. Aunt Patricia listened intently, and Emmeline was content to watch, nodding occasionally in agreement. As she listened, she became aware of Amelia staring at her. The gaze seemed desperate. She was about to ask her what was bothering her, but Amelia spoke first.

“Papa?” Amelia answered, “If we may, could Emmeline and I retire to my chamber for a moment? I have a matter I wish to discuss with her.”

“Of course, Amelia,” he said, his gaze loving. “Please, feel free. And you needn’t rush to dinner, either—take as much time as you need. I’m sure you have a lot to discuss with each other after so many months.”

Emmeline nodded and smiled at Aunt Patricia, inclined her head to Mama and hurried with Amelia to her bedroom .

Amelia shut the door and waited for Emmeline to sit down on the chair by the bed.

“I’m to be married,” Amelia told Emmeline at once, her voice swift as she blurted it out.

“What?” Emmeline stared at her, a grin shining on her face. “What wonderful news! My!” She was about to ask who the fortunate man might be, but Amelia’s expression made her stop.

“It is terrible, Emmi” Amelia whispered. Her eyes were wide with fear, her mouth trembling. “I beseech you—I am in dire need of your aid.”

“Whatever is it?” Emmeline asked, a frown twisting her brows.

“It is the man I am to marry,” Amelia said at once. “He is a murderer, Emmeline! Pray help me.”