Page 6 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl (Marriage Mart Scandals #2)

Emmeline stared up at Uncle Henry and Lord Rilendale, who towered over her. She winced in dread. The look in his eyes was inscrutable, but he had stood up and come towards her and sweat ran down her back as she stood firm.

“Uncle, please,” she pleaded, gazing at Uncle Henry and trying to ignore the imposing man who stared down at her, his slim features arranged in a look of shock.

“Niece! What in Perdition’s name...?” Uncle Henry laid a hand on her shoulder, gentle and warm. “Emmeline. What on earth has transpired? Whatever do you mean by bursting in here?”

His blue eyes were wide with concern, his mouth turning down with worry. Emmeline took a deep breath. Perhaps he was going to listen after all.

“Uncle, you cannot do this. You cannot force Amelia to marry that...man.” She tried to ignore Andrew.

“Niece, that is a matter for me to decide,” Uncle said firmly. “Lord Rilendale has come especially to discuss the matter. Amelia is in need of this. And Lord Rilendale is in need of a wife.” He turned to Andrew, clearly about to implore him to attest to that.

“If he must marry, then let him take me,” Emmeline’s voice rang out, a chill settling over her as the words escaped.

They fell into silence. Emmeline flushed red.

“What are you saying?” Uncle Henry whispered, horror plain upon his face.

“Let him take me,” Emmeline repeated. Her stance was rigid and unyielding. Though fear trickled down her spine, she held her ground, fixing her gaze upon Andrew. “I am not so fearful as Amelia, and my dowry is twenty thousand,” she added, meeting his icy gaze unwaveringly.

She saw his eyes shut briefly, then open and focus more intensely. She shivered.

Amelia was right. She was almost sure of that.

“Niece, please,” Uncle Henry murmured. His expression was shocked and worried. “Pray, allow us a moment to speak in private. Excuse me, Lord Rilendale,” he added with evident shame. “I must see to my niece. ”

“Of course.” The voice could have been a wintry gust of air across the snow.

“Emmeline,” Uncle Henry said softly, as they hurried into the hallway. He shut the study door behind them and led her to the doorway of the anteroom across from it. “Please. You cannot understand this situation. I don’t know what you’re thinking. I am merely trying to help Amelia.”

Emmeline held his gaze. “Helping her? By binding her to a man so devoid of conscience that he murdered his own kin?”

“What?” Uncle Henry hissed. “Niece! What are you telling me?” He looked horrified.

He didn’t know, Emmeline thought, relief flooding her.

“I thought you had heard,” Emmeline said softly. “Lord Rilendale murdered his grandfather to inherit the earldom. The Ton all speak of it,” she added swiftly. She had confirmed that by asking Mama. Lady Radley had heard some rumour or other about Lord Rilendale while they were in Bath. Nothing in particular, other than that he was wicked. But that seemed enough confirmation. Emmeline had been so shocked that she had gone for a ride to try and recover. That was how she had happened to arrive just as Lord Rilendale’s coach drew up outside the house, and she had seen him follow Uncle Henry to his study. The shock of what Uncle Henry was doing had promoted her to do something rash. Now, she shivered, the shock wearing off, replaced with fear.

What have I done? she asked herself. She had promised herself in Amelia’s place to this wicked, murderous man who repelled her.

“He murdered him?” Uncle Henry prompted, bringing her back to the present. “His own grandfather?” He sounded horrified.

“That is what is said,” Emmeline replied, feeling a little unsure. She had no real proof.

“How was I not aware of this?” Uncle Henry whispered. The shock on his face made Emmeline slump with relief, all her tension draining. She sniffed, her eyes damp with tears.

“I do not know, Uncle. Perhaps because you are rarely in Bath or London, where such whispers begin,” she sobbed. “But I do know that Amelia is terrified. That’s why she’s not coming out of her room. She’s sick with fear. And... and...”

She could not speak, all the fear and shock of the past few days overwhelming her. She sniffed again, and suddenly Uncle’s warm arms drew her close, and she could feel his shoulder under her cheek, the leather-and-dust smell of him filling her nose. She took in a gulp of air, feeling comforted. Slowly, her tears subsided to hiccups.

“Shh, shh, dear Emmeline,” Uncle Henry murmured, his voice gentle. “It’s all well. Thank you. Thank you for telling me of this. I have been so focused on Amelia’s welfare and other matters that I failed to uncover something so grave,” he added. She stepped back, steadying herself.

“Thank you, Uncle Henry, for taking it in earnest,” she said with a sniff. “I was so afraid you’d be angry. That you’d think I was making it all up.”

“No. No,” Uncle Henry said gently, reaching into his pocket and handing her a handkerchief. “I am certain that whatever you do, you do it from love for Amelia. She and you have always been close. I know that you just wish to help,” he added. He gazed at her helplessly. “I cannot let you do this, though, niece. We should go to the City Watch and report this fellow as a murder suspect.”

“I’m sure they know,” Emmeline said with another big sniff. “But he’s an earl. Who would challenge him?”

“Preposterous!” Uncle Henry blustered.

Emmeline said nothing, just looked at him sadly. He took a deep breath.

“We must speak to Lord Rilendale at once,” he told her firmly. “We will tell him we have no desire to associate with him in any way. I shall require that he make his way from my property and never darken my door again. I will...” Uncle Henry stood tall, his chest forward. He was gentle by nature, like Mama; and it was impossible to imagine him confronting anyone. Emmeline did not want to imagine him confronting a cold-hearted man like Lord Rilendale.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Emmeline murmured gently. She had been searching for something to say, some way for Uncle Henry to manage without having to confront the fellow directly. But, as she drew a breath, the door to the study moved.

Emmeline gripped Uncle Henry’s shoulder as Andrew strode out. He stopped and turned to face them.

“I have considered your suggestion,” he told Emmeline, his icy gaze holding hers. “If your uncle is in accord, then I agree with you.”

“What?” Uncle Henry breathed. Emmeline’s head was spinning and she tightened her grip on Uncle .

“I said, should you be agreeable, I would be willing to do as Lady Emmeline required.” He turned to face Uncle, holding his gaze with the same cold look.

“I cannot allow it!” Uncle Henry began, putting himself protectively between Emmeline and Andrew. “I am Lady Emmeline’s uncle, and I declare that you will touch not one hair on her head—her or Amelia. I...” he stammered.

“You are her uncle,” Andrew said firmly. He interrupted Uncle Henry without shame. “I believe you are not her guardian?”

Emmeline, who had been bursting with love for Uncle Henry and his fearless care, tensed with renewed fear.

“Well...well...no. No, as it happens, I...” Uncle Henry tried.

“There. So, you cannot forbid anything,” Andrew said coldly. He turned that fearsome stare to Emmeline. Her heart thudded rapidly in her chest. She twisted her gown with her fingers, desperate not to pass out and too terrified to speak. “If your offer was made in earnest, then I challenge you to affirm it here and now,” Andrew said coldly. “If you truly meant that you are bold enough to wed me,” he added, his lip twisting down briefly in an expression that could have been dismay.

Emmeline stared at him. Her chin went up before she had thought about it. She would have refused, but he had challenged her, and she could not refuse a challenge.

“You admit one must be bold to wed you?” she demanded. Her gaze held his, her defiant anger outweighing her terror. “Have you no shame?”

“I admit it,” he said, and she tensed, seeing his gaze widen briefly, flaring with something that could almost have been amusement or appreciation. A shiver ran down her spine; though it was not fear. It was some strange frisson of feelings that she had never had before. “Are you so ready to pass judgment?”

She gaped at him. For a moment, she found his answer amusing. It was quick, and she liked quick, interesting conversations. But he was not a guest at an evening poetry reading. He was a murderer.

“So,” Andrew continued, not waiting for her to reply. “If we are in accord, then I will wish you well, Lord Bradwood. I will call on you again tomorrow, to discuss this matter with whosoever your guardian is,” Andrew added, looking at Emmeline. “And then we will discuss other matters, like when and who will attend. ”

“Yes,” she whispered. She gazed up at him in horror. She had done this. She had given her word. She had agreed to take Amelia’s place.

“Emmeline,” Uncle Henry said quietly. He was looking at her urgently, but Emmeline swayed on her feet and this time she really did think she would pass out because the room darkened and swayed and her head pounded viciously, making her stumble forward.

“Emmeline!” Uncle Henry shouted, grabbing her arm. Emmeline clung to him, and she heard him snarl at Lord Rilendale.

“Leave my house at once.”

Emmeline opened her mouth to protest. She did not want Uncle Henry to make an enemy. She was trying to say so, but she saw Lord Rilendale turn and walk to the top of the stairs.

“I shall return upon the morrow,” he said coldly.

Uncle Henry tensed. She settled her hand reassuringly on his arm.

“Please, Uncle,” she whispered, attempting to calm him. “Please. I need to sit down. I would like to go to the drawing room and sit by the fire.”

“Of course,” Henry said at once. He lifted her up, staggering down the hallway. She was not more than average height herself, but Uncle Henry was not tall. Guilt ached in her heart. He was kind and she had imposed on him.

“I am sorry, Uncle,” she murmured as he helped her settle on the chaise by the window.

“It’s all right,” Uncle Henry said softly. “You have done me a service. I simply do not know what I can do for my dear Amelia. I just wanted her to be safe in the future,” he added, and his expression turned concerned.

“It’s all right,” Emmeline said at once, an idea coming to her. “Trust me. I will help Amelia. By the end of the year, she will be living in a home of her own, happy and married to someone suitable.”

“What?” Uncle Henry breathed. “Emmeline, I cannot expect you to organise that.”

“I promise,” she told him, feeling her heart ache painfully. She had to try.