Page 8 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl (Marriage Mart Scandals #2)

Andrew sat rigidly at the tea table. Emmeline was sitting beside him, and he could not help the fact that his gaze moved to her regularly, watching her as she talked and sipped her tea and interacted with the guests. She was so beautiful.

He let out a long, slow breath. When she walked into the chapel, he had stared at her in astonishment. She had been pretty when she burst into the study at Bradwood House—all red, fiery curls and those determined green eyes—but with the white dress and long, straight veil accenting her fine posture, she was nothing short of breathtaking.

“...and I chatted with Mr Stanhope at the Glenfield...Andrew?” Neville murmured.

“What?” Andrew demanded, a little gruffly. He had not been listening to Neville at all, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He’d been staring at Emmeline.

“I was just saying I was chatting with Stanhope. The fellow who suggested we invest in rope. Remember?” Neville asked patiently.

“I remember,” Andrew replied seriously.

He tried to focus as Neville continued, but in truth, he could not stop himself from gazing at Emmeline. Her sweet lips were damp from the tea, and his body heated with a longing that he had forgotten he could feel. She was beautiful, and he desired her too. He blushed as he recalled watching her alight from the coach, her tall, slender body swaying slightly as she walked.

He gazed at her intensely. She was talking with her cousin Amelia, and her expression was intense. It was the liveliest expression he had seen on her face all day. For most of the morning, she had seemed subdued and scared.

It is a lot to get used to , he reminded himself firmly. It’s as big a step for her as it is for me.

It was undoubtedly big for her, but she did not have the pain that he had to reckon with. She did not believe she was cursed, he was sure, and she did not have to fear hurting all those that she loved.

“Lord Rilendale?” Lord Bradwood inquired across the table.

“Yes?” Andrew blinked. Again, he had been lost in thoughts of her. He tried to focus on what Lord Bradwood was saying .

“Mayhap we should take a jaunt after tea, all of us? A turn about the grounds would be welcome after sitting so long.”

“Mayhap.” Andrew shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He did not favour the idea of walking with the guests around the garden—it was terribly overgrown, and he was embarrassed enough about it as it was, without having to reveal each overgrown, ill-kept part.

“Good. Grand,” Lord Bradwood murmured as if Andrew had replied in the affirmative.

Andrew looked down at his plate, feeling annoyed. It was bad enough that he had to suffer having the guests here at all, intruding on his silence and his worries. He should also not have to troop around the garden with them.

“Andrew, my dear?” It was Grandma, sitting just along the table from him. Andrew’s heart twisted. She had insisted on attending the wedding and the tea, though she was still not fully recovered. She had chosen a grey gown and widow’s cap, and she looked sweetly lovely. He smiled at her, his heart lifting. She was happy.

“Yes, Grandma?”

“Could you pass the buns, please?” she asked, gesturing to a tray near his lefthand side. The cook had worked overnight to prepare a suitable tea for them, and there were foods on the table that Andrew had not seen for a long time. The delicious-looking buns with their thick icing made his stomach grumble hungrily.

“Of course.”

He passed them to Grandma, wincing as he had to lean over to where Emmeline sat. His hand brushed her arm and he tensed, heat flooding his body.

“There,” he said swiftly, passing them to Grandma. She accepted them, chose one and then he had to put the tray back, an exercise which made him tense as he had to bend close to Emmeline again.

“Tea?” she asked him, leaning close.

“Beg your pardon?” he asked tensely.

“Would you care for tea?”

“Oh.” Andrew blinked. He could barely think. She was sitting so close and all he could think of was the sweet lavender scent of her hair and the kiss that still lingered in his mind. He had kissed her swiftly, but only because he had thought she would be afraid. He had longed to press his lips to hers and kiss her properly, and that would surely repel her. “Um. Yes. Please,” he added, feeling heat flood his cheeks.

He did not often blush visibly, and he was grateful.

“Of course,” she murmured and poured him a cup. He sat tensely, watching her gracefully tip the pot and put it on the table again.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. He could barely think. All he could think about was the frightened look in her eyes when she gazed at him.

She must be terrified of me.

He swallowed hard. The rumours had reached as far as the countryside, it seemed, and there was little he could do. Even denying them would simply add fuel to what she believed already.

He helped himself to a sandwich and noticed that Emmeline was watching him. Her gaze was intense, and he frowned. Was he supposed to do something? He’d been out of society for so long that he had forgotten some of the rules and customs.

“Do you need something?” he asked her briskly.

“No,” she said slowly.

“Oh.”

He looked down at his plate again. He did not know what to say. Neville was chatting away with Lady Bradwood and Lady Radley, and they were even laughing and seemingly enjoying the afternoon. He wished he had the slightest idea what to do or say. He looked up to see Neville watching him.

“Mayhap we should all go for a walk somewhere after tea,” Neville suggested. Andrew frowned.

“In the woods, perhaps,” he suggested, glad for the idea. Nobody could condemn him for the state of the woods. Neville smiled.

“Capital!” he declared.

Andrew looked down at his plate, feeling awkward. Neville was so relaxed in the company of others. He wished he could be like that sometimes, even though sometimes he knew that he’d just feel strange being as sociable as Neville. It was not his character.

The guests seemed to sense that he wished to move because tea gradually found its way to a conclusion. Lord Bradwood pushed back his chair and stood.

“Grand. Shall we head out to the woods?”

Andrew nodded and stood, waiting for the ladies to exit the drawing room first. He watched Emmeline walk to the door. She had such a straight posture, her long, red hair arranged so beautifully in a way that complemented her slim, fine-boned features. He wished she might turn around and look at him, but she walked through the door and into the hallway.

Andrew stood back for Lord Bradwood to go out first. Then he and Neville walked out into the garden.

The path to the woods went across the lawns and Andrew strode to the front to lead the party. Emmeline was talking to Amelia, and he saw her gaze focus on him, but he was too shy to approach them. He walked on and soon found that he and Neville were quite far ahead of their guests.

“Good idea to take them somewhere else,” he commented to Neville.

“Seems to be good,” Neville commented lightly. He frowned at Andrew. “You ought to be talking to her.”

Andrew blinked at him. “That, Neville, is for my personal preference. I don’t recall asking you for etiquette.”

“It’s not etiquette, old chap,” Neville replied.

Andrew tensed. He knew Neville was just being helpful, but he did not appreciate his advice. “I can’t talk to her,” he said firmly. “She probably thinks I’m a murderer. She’s too scared to look at me.”

“You might want to tell her some of that,” Neville said lightly.

Andrew frowned. “I have already said what I think about discussing anything related to Grandfather’s death with her. And even if I had not, I don’t wish her to like me with any greater regard. You know that,” he added quietly. He had already explained that to Neville the previous day.

“You mean, because you think you bring death to those you love?”

“You might try not putting that so plainly,” Andrew murmured. Even hearing the words scared him.

Neville nodded. “Apologies, old chap.”

They walked on silently. Andrew found his thoughts straying to Neville’s comment. Yes, that was the only reason he did not want Emmeline to like him. But it was a sensible reason—he had seen too many times what happened to people who cared for him.

He turned as they walked up the path. He could hear a soft, low voice talking in a murmur and he saw Emmeline, talking with her cousin. A strand of her red hair was loose from its bun, and he fought the desire to go over and tuck it into her hairstyle, letting his fingers wander across the silk-soft skin of her cheek .

His hand made a fist as he warred with his longing. He could not risk having her close.

He glanced further along the path and saw Grandma at the back, walking slowly with Lady Radley and Lady Bradwood. His heart twisted with guilt. Grandma was in no fit state to go for a walk anywhere. She should return to the house.

“I need to take Grandma back to the house,” he told Neville. Neville’s eyes widened.

“You can’t just run off,” he reminded Andrew. Andrew stifled the urge to swear.

“Grandma needs to rest,” he said tightly. “The guests may return to the house as they desire.”

He turned and started to walk back to the house. In truth, he would have loved to walk back with Emmeline, mayhap show her the garden a little—the pieces that were still reasonably tidy—and show her the house. He was delighted about having her at his home, but to show it to her would, to some extent, require sharing his heart. And he could not.

As he walked towards the back of the group, he became aware that Emmeline was walking beside him. He drew in a breath, sensing the floral scent of her. It was dangerous, drawing him in like a siren’s call.

He looked at Grandma and focused on her, walking towards the garden where she was just reaching the path that led into the woods.

“Grandma,” he said gently, reaching out to rest a hand on her arm. “Let us go back to the house. You should not be walking so far yet. You still need to recoup your strength.”

“Oh, Grandson,” she demurred, smiling. She walked with him to the house, though, and let him help her walk up the stairs towards the drawing room.

“Grandma, you should rest,” he said gently as they reached the top of the steps. He knew that Emmeline had followed him indoors, and he could hear the other guests walking into the entranceway. He tensed. He longed to have some time alone with Emmeline, but her family would only return to London the following day.

“I think I will take some weight off my feet,” Grandma agreed. “If you could express my apologies to the guests?”

“At once.”

He watched her go down the hallway to her room, and then turned, going down to find the other guests. Emmeline followed him downstairs. She tripped on the staircase where the mat was scuffed and he shot out a hand, steadying her.

“Easy, there,” he said softly. “It’s rather worn.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Her gaze held his and he realised his fingers were gripping her slender arm firmly near the wrist. Her skin was like satin, so cool and soft. He let go at once, afraid of the powerful response that surged through him. He looked away.

“I must convey my grandmother’s apologies to our guests,” he said gently. “She needs to sleep.”

“Of course,” Emmeline agreed.

Andrew went swiftly downstairs and met the guests in the hallway. He cleared his throat.

“My grandmother regrets to inform you that she needs to rest before dinner. She has retired to her chambers for an hour or two.”

The guests murmured their concern for Grandma, and he tried to answer as best he could.

“Perhaps we should all retire and rest?” Lord Bradwood suggested. Andrew let out a sigh.

“A fine idea, my lord.”

The guests found their way to the quarters he had made ready for them. The guest quarters were not well-maintained, and the butler had decided to put the furniture from the two guest suites into another set of rooms near the library. Andrew was glad that they had managed to do so.

As he walked up the hallway to his own chamber, he became aware of Emmeline walking uncertainly by his side. Her big green eyes were wide with what he could only imagine was terror.

“You need have no fear of me,” he said awkwardly as they reached the door to his room. “I expect nothing of you. This is an arrangement of mutual convenience. I will retire to another chamber, and you may rest here without...expectations.” His face was hot, and he hoped no blush would show on his cheeks.

“Oh.” Emmeline gazed up at him and for a moment, he thought he saw something like disappointment in her eyes. Then she turned to the door. “I shall see you at dinner,” she said softly.

“Yes. You shall,” he agreed. He mumbled the words, too embarrassed to look up. He had never had to be so frank with anyone before and it was not easy. He bowed briefly in acknowledgement and because it was polite, and then hurried up the hallway to where his manservant had taken most of his belongings.

He opened the door, went in and sat down on the small, neat bed with relief. Here he was away from the guests, from demands and from having to be polite—and he was also far away from the tantalising scent and alluring looks of Emmeline and all the wonder and confoundment they brought.

He hoped he could sleep before dinner, but he knew that thoughts of her would plague him, and he would not be able to rest.