Page 4 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl (Marriage Mart Scandals #2)

“What on earth do you mean?” Emmeline said softly. “Amelia, dear...surely, you must be mistaken?”

Amelia shook her head stiffly. “No, Emmeline. No, it is true. The Ton all speak of it as common knowledge. The fellow killed to inherit his estate. Everyone knows, but somehow, he has never been brought to court to answer for it.” She swallowed hard, terror plain to see on her face.

Emmeline’s brow furrowed. “But, if everyone knows, then your father also knows,” she said slowly. It wasn’t possible that Amelia’s father could do such a thing. He loved his daughter—and only child—with fierce care, and he would never allow such a thing to happen.

“Papa will not heed my pleas,” Amelia whispered, tears soaking her pale face. “I beg of you, Emmeline. You have to help me.”

“I will talk to Uncle Henry at once,” Emmeline declared, a flush of anger rising in her cheeks. It was wicked of her uncle to make such a decision without asking Amelia first. And even if he was absolutely sure that the rumour was not true, he should prove it, so that Amelia’s mind was at ease. “Has your father any proof, then, if he’s so sure?” she asked, anger flickering through her like fire.

“He did not say,” Amelia whispered. “Please talk to him?”

“I certainly shall,” Emmeline said forcefully. “Right now, if you please,” she added, marching to the door. She was completely ready to confront Uncle Henry. Ever since they were little girls together, she had protected Amelia from every sort of danger. Amelia’s temperament was gentle and retiring, and Emmeline had many memories of arguing with parents and tutors on her behalf when they were younger. If Uncle Henry wouldn’t stop this madness, then she would step into the fire herself.

“Emmeline, wait!” Amelia said softly. Her dark eyes widened. “You can’t talk to him now. Lord Rilendale is on his way here.”

“Today?” Emmeline asked, feeling foolish, her voice high-pitched with surprise.

“Yes. We didn’t know you’d be here today. We thought you’d be here tomorrow,” Amelia explained quickly. “I’m sorry, Emmeline. I didn’t mean to trouble you,” she added, as Emmeline paced to the window. Emmeline turned around and took Amelia’s hands in her own, gazing into her eyes .

“No. No, dear. You don’t need to be upset. We will do something. It should be easy to convince Uncle Henry. And even easier after he’s met him. I’m sure the fellow is a horrid, cold killer. It’s not possible your father will not believe it.”

“Emmeline, you are right.” Amelia paused. “I do not know how to prepare,” she whispered.

“You mean, you don’t know what you should wear?” she asked. “Is he coming to dinner?” The idea was terrifying. How could Uncle Henry have a murder suspect in his house, sitting down at the table with them for a meal?

“No,” Amelia murmured. “Papa said afternoon tea. He’ll be here any moment,” Amelia added, her eyes round and wide.

“Well, I can barely believe he has allowed that. But since he did so, we have to choose something to wear.” Emmeline said, tilting her head and considering the gowns.

“I thought mayhap the green?” Amelia asked.

“It looks rather friendly,” Emmeline said with a frown. She looked at the gown, which was pale green muslin with a little pattern of dark green leaves. “I’m not sure you wish to appear friendly. Mayhap this one?” she suggested, selecting a white gown that was elegant but conveyed a certain aloofness.

“Yes. Yes! That is a grand idea. Fashionable, yet it maintains a certain reserve,” Amelia agreed, understanding at once. “Would you be so kind as to ring the bell?” she asked. Emmeline went to the bell pull.

Her maid appeared almost instantly; a friendly woman a little older than them both. Emmeline went to the door to go out, back to the drawing room. Amelia’s gaze met hers, her eyes wide and imploring.

“Should I stay?” Emmeline guessed.

“Please.”

Emmeline sat across the room while Amelia had her hair styled. She had chosen an elaborate chignon and Emmeline watched as her dark hair was drawn back into a bun, decorated with two or three little pearl-ended pins. Not too many—it was an afternoon party, and the pins were more suited to a ball. The effect was beautiful—distant and imposing, but lovely, nevertheless. The white pearls glittered, and her pale skin was pearlescent in the white gown. Her big, dark eyes were tragic with worry.

“I feel frightened,” Amelia admitted as they went through the door into the hallway .

“I’m sure,” Emmeline agreed. “There’s no need to be, though. We’re in the middle of the house with your parents and my Mama. We are quite safe,” she added, feeling her own stomach twist nauseatingly. She could not imagine how it would feel to face a murderer.

They walked down the hallway to the drawing room.

“Ah! There you are,” Aunt Patricia greeted them as they entered. “Amelia! You look lovely. I was just explaining to your aunt that we will have a visitor in a few minutes. I trust Amelia has explained to you, Emmeline, dear?”

“Yes. She has.” Emmeline’s voice was icy. She would have said something right then, but the butler appeared. Emmeline saw Amelia tense and her own heart raced faster.

“My lord, my ladies,” he began politely. “I apologise for the interruption. Your guest has arrived. Should I show him in?”

“Pray do,” Uncle Henry replied.

Amelia was gripping Emmeline’s hand tight. Emmeline glared at Uncle Henry, then looked away before Mama saw. The very air in the room seemed to stiffen and she looked up as a man walked in.

“Lord Rilendale, my lord. My ladies,” the butler announced.

A tall, dark-haired man strode into the room. Emmeline gazed at his stiff posture and his hard, flinty expression.

He was cold, the way frost is cold or marble. No human warmth seemed to emanate from his tall, icy form. His posture was erect, his back stiff and his body clearly muscled, though not bulky. His face was chiselled, his mouth a hard line. His eyes were what she focused on. They were wintry blue, a colour like ice or the sunshine in snow, and they fixed her with a stare that made her shiver. She could imagine that the worst rumours were true...there was no humanity there to be seen, only a frozen gaze that repelled her.

Emmeline looked away hastily, a tingle of fear creeping down her spine.

“Lord Rilendale. Welcome,” Uncle Henry greeted him, holding out a hand in welcome. “I’m delighted to meet you. I have heard much of your lordship from...”

“Lord Neville,” Andrew interrupted. He sounded angry. Emmeline tensed at the rude interruption.

“Yes. Yes, from him,” Uncle Henry agreed, smiling. Evidently, he chose to ignore the insulting rudeness. “He was kind enough to arrange this meeting, and I am grateful to you that you have honoured the arrangement. Please meet my wife, and my dear daughter, Amelia,” he added, gesturing to Aunt Patricia and Amelia. “Amelia, Patricia...this is his lordship, the Earl of Rilendale.”

Amelia’s hand tightened on Emmeline’s, and she tensed her spine, finding the courage to look straight into Lord Rilendale’s eyes. It was hard not to shiver. She tried not to shake and held his gaze angrily.

“My lady,” Andrew greeted, his eyes darting from herself to Amelia. He did not know which of them was Uncle Henry’s daughter.

“This is my daughter,” Uncle Henry explained before Emmeline could seize the opportunity to say something. “Her cousin, Lady Emmeline, is visiting. This is Emmeline,” he added, gesturing to her. “She is the daughter of my dear sister, the Viscountess of Radley” he added, gesturing to Charlotte Ashmore.

“Charmed,” Andrew said coldly. He bowed briefly to Emmeline and then to her mother. Emmeline glanced at her mother. She looked uncomfortable. Her grey eyes regarded Lord Rilendale suspiciously. Her angry, protective look lifted Emmeline’s spirits a little.

“So!” Uncle Henry said with some enthusiasm. “We will call for another teacup, eh?”

Emmeline stood protectively close to Amelia, who appeared on the verge of trembling.

“Thank you,” Andrew said in a wintry tone.

Emmeline went to the table with her, clinging to her hand. They both sat down at the tea table. Andrew sat opposite.

“It was fine weather today, was it not, Lord Rilendale?” Aunt Patricia asked him as he sat down.

“Very fine,” he said bluntly. He settled in the chair, his eyes moving swiftly around the room. Emmeline did not like the way he was surveying everyone. She tensed when his gaze moved to Amelia.

“Would you care for some sandwiches, my lord?” Uncle Henry asked, gesturing to the cake and sandwiches and other delicacies. Andrew shook his head.

“No. Thank you.”

“A fine time of year, is it not?” Uncle Henry asked.

“Mayhap,” he said with a shrug.

Emmeline studied him as he tried to exchange pleasantries with Uncle Henry. His manner was abrupt enough to be rude. His pale face was hard and expressionless, his mouth a firm line. He had the cruellest, coldest face she’d ever seen.

“It’s a good day for a walk. What do you think, Amelia?” Uncle Henry asked. She looked sideways at Amelia, who looked at the table. She began to stammer an answer but could not form the words.

“Would you care for a stroll?” their guest asked Amelia as if trying to prompt her to talk. Emmeline lifted her gaze to his.

“My cousin is indisposed,” Emmeline said firmly.

Amelia shot her a grateful look. Uncle Henry frowned.

“Amelia, dear. Are you unwell?” He sounded concerned.

“I...” Amelia tried to say.

Lady Radley was watching both her and Amelia with concern. She rested a hand on Uncle Henry’s arm as Emmeline watched.

“Perhaps this is all a little overwhelming, Henry,” Charlotte said gently. Emmeline looked gratefully at her.

“Mayhap it’s the heat,” Aunt Patricia suggested, diving in helpfully. “Perhaps we should go down to the garden?”

“I do not intend to stay long.” That was Lord Rildendale, answering coldly.

“Oh, but a brief turn in the garden...you surely have time for that!” Uncle Henry chided, grinning.

“I shall take a brief walk about the garden,” he agreed.

Emmeline walked with Amelia to the door. Mama and Aunt went first, which meant that Lord Rilendale and Uncle, waiting for the ladies to exit first, followed her and Amelia down the stairs. Emmeline fancied she could feel his gaze burning into her. She shivered.

“It’s rather cooler than inside,” Uncle Henry commented as they went out of the door to the small garden. They all trooped down the path towards the stone benches. There were two. Amelia and Emmeline sat down on one, Mama and Aunt on the other. The two men stood.

“And, do you enjoy travelling?” Aunt Patricia was asking Lord Rilendale when Emmeline brought her attention back to the conversation.

“I travel very little,” Andrew answered in that same chilly tone as usual.

“Oh, one must travel a bit!” Aunt Patricia continued, trying to be conversational. “The heat in London is unbearable—we shall doubtless go to the countryside before it gets too hot.”

“My estate is but a few miles from London,” Andrew answered tightly.

“Oh! Well, then. We will see each other quite often. ”

Amelia looked at Emmeline, her eyes wide with horror. Emmeline drew a breath. She could not believe how blind Uncle and Aunt were. She was about to blurt out what Amelia had told her, but her cousin looked warningly at her.

She leaned back, struggling to contain her anger at her aunt and uncle and the rude intruder.

She studied him, distracting herself and trying to plan what to do. Rude and unpleasant he certainly was. Is he a murderer, though? she asked herself.

After a second or two of gazing at his cold, handsome face, she had to conclude she was unsure. What did a murderer look like, after all?

“You must call on us again,” Uncle Henry was saying as she turned her gaze to him. Beside her, Amelia stiffened, and Emmeline shot Uncle Henry a shocked stare. He didn’t seem to notice, too busy being polite.

Andrew replied.

“I would, of course, gladly.”

Emmeline thought he sounded completely insincere. There was no gladness in any inch of him.

Lord Rilendale went back into the house with Uncle Henry, and they all followed indoors. It seemed that the earl had some urgent business to attend to, because he shook hands with Uncle, bowed to Aunt and Mama and then turned to Amelia and Emmeline.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said to Amelia coldly. He turned his pale gaze to Emmeline, and she shivered. Then he turned and walked out of the door.

Emmeline took Amelia’s hand in her own. Next to her, her cousin swayed, about to pass out.

“Come, cousin,” she said gently. “Let us go upstairs. Excuse me, Uncle. Excuse me, Aunt. Amelia is not well.”

“Would you like something sent up?” Aunt Patricia asked, instantly concerned. “Some tea, mayhap? Something to soothe a headache?” “No. Thank you,” Amelia said in a whisper.

Out of earshot and making their way to the staircase, Amelia leaned in closer to Emmeline.

“I cannot do it,” Amelia whispered. “I can barely speak a word to him.”

“I know,” Emmeline agreed. “Nor could I. He’s quite frightening.”

“I’m so scared, Emmeline,” Amelia said softly. “Please. Can you think of something? ”

Emmeline inclined her head. “I shall,” she assured.

She had to think of something, and soon. In a week, she and Mama would be at the country estate. Amelia was too dear and sweet to have to face such a wicked, cruel man as that. She needed a solution fast.