Page 35 of To Tempt Lady (Victorian Outcasts #10)

thirty-three

Marcus tucked Jesse in bed. After Sir Paul’s visit and the dinner, Jesse had been so tired he’d fallen asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

Emma sat next to him. She’d kept smiling while Jesse had been awake and giving him reassuring words, but now dark shadows crossed her face and tears hung on the tips of her eyelashes.

Seeing her worried was like a blade twisting in his chest. She had hope for them, and he wished he could share it with her. But life had taught him different lessons.

“Jesse took a huge risk.” She lowered the flame of the oil lamp on the nightstand.

“I shouldn’t have talked to him about Sir Horace, but we’re used to sharing everything. Well, almost everything.” He exchanged a meaningful look with her.

“We should let him sleep.”

They left the room and quietly shut the door.

“As if I didn’t despise Sir Horace enough,” he said.

“At least he wasn’t aware of who Jesse was. Had he known Jesse was your friend, he would have been more cruel.”

“I’m going to see him.” He headed towards his room, anger seething in his veins.

“Who?” She followed him.

“Sir Horace.” He put his jacket on, but she touched his arm.

“Don’t go.”

“I don’t care if he mistreats me, but Jesse is another matter. If he wants to fight someone, he should fight me. He deserves to be punished.”

“He does, but barging into his house and confronting him won’t make the situation better. And Jesse would be in danger after because you would make his connection known.”

He worked his jaw. “Jesse is my charge. I promised him I would keep him safe.”

“What happened isn’t your fault. We shouldn’t have talked about Sir Horace in front of him. It’s remarkable that Jesse found Sir Horace’s address and broke into his house.”

“He must have found the address on my desk. It’s full of documents about Sir Horace. As for breaking into his house, Trevor was right. Jesse grew up in the rookery. He has many skills.”

“We’ll fight Sir Horace by dragging him to court and exposing him. If you confront him now, you might compromise all the work you did.”

He leant against the bedpost, releasing some of the tension with a long breath. “I hate this.”

“What?”

“Being useless, feeling powerless and having only to suffer the blow and wait. After the incident, I couldn’t help my father.

Then he was accused, and I couldn’t defend him.

When he died and they came to confiscate everything I owned, I had to stand aside and let them take away the furniture my mother had chosen, the house my parents had lived in, and even my clothes.

I had to bow my head and stay quiet. When I was starving and getting paid for tumbles presented itself, I bowed my head again and endured what I didn’t want to do.

And now, I can’t help Jesse. What kind of person can’t protect those he loves? ”

Emotion tightened his throat. He’d never talked about his discomfort with anyone, not even with himself. Surviving had been his only goal in the past years. Every compunction he might have had about doing certain things had to be squashed immediately and never to be thought about again.

But he was thinking about them now. And it felt as if he were covered in dirt, as if he’d been a coward, choosing not to fight for what he’d wanted.

“That’s not true.” She put a hand on his chest, and the shot of energy going through him made him feel powerful for a moment. “You’re working to protect Jesse and children like him.”

He put his hand over hers on instinct. “I was powerless when I wanted to court you. I knew I wasn’t enough for you…”

“That’s not true either.”

“I wasn’t enough for my father.” That hurt him intimately. “We were going through our most desperate moment, and instead of staying with me and helping me fight, he chose to leave me. My love wasn’t a motivation strong enough for him to stay.”

“He wasn’t himself.” Her voice thinned as if her throat were so tight she couldn’t speak. “He loved you very much, but he must have been ashamed of himself for what had happened. Don’t take his desperation for lack of love. That wouldn’t be fair.”

Something hollow ached within his chest. “Staying here, not having to worry about my next meal, made me think about my choices, and I’m not talking only about the ladies. I’m disgusted with myself.”

“Don’t.” She took his face. “How can you be disgusted with yourself when I love you?”

All the breath was flushed out of his lungs as if someone had punched him.

He searched her face for any signs she might be joking or regretting her words.

But her hazel eyes stayed on him, unwavering.

Her expression remained serious and determined.

Her touch showed only care. Yet he couldn’t believe it.

“Emma…” He couldn’t even speak.

“I love you, Marcus, because you’re kind, clever, and brave, and I don’t care what the rest of the world says, and I don’t want to lose you. And I hate that you don’t consider yourself good enough for me. Because you’re the best man I’ve ever met.”

He hugged her, holding her close to his chest. For years, he’d dreamt of hearing those words from her, and now that she’d told them, he didn’t know what to say. No, that wasn’t true.

“I love you, Emma. I’ve always loved you, even when we were apart.”

She squeezed him tightly. “You have to promise me you won’t give up hope. I understand what you’ve been through has discouraged you, but this is a new start for both of us.”

“I promise.”

“You must mean it.”

“I do.” He gathered her in his arms and laid her on his bed.

She snuggled closer to him and tucked the top of her head under his chin. “I want to be your wife.”

Happiness climbed up his throat and burst out with a funny noise halfway between a laugh and a sigh of relief.

“There’s nothing I want more than to be your husband, build a house for you, and live with you for the rest of my life.”

“It’s a wonderful plan.” Her voice came muffled as she pressed her face to his chest. “Just be quick. I don’t like waiting.”

He caressed her head and back. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Then I’m not virtuous.” Her eyes fluttered, and she drawled something with little meaning.

He held her as her body slackened against his.

She was wrong. She was the most virtuous person he’d ever met.

Untouched by the ugliness of life. A dark side of him envied her for that, but his heart ordered him to protect her exactly because she’d lived almost all her life sheltered—what she’d seen in the river would stay with her forever—and her uncommon kindness and disarming hope came from that, from the belief life could be fair.

And he was starting to believe that, too.

Emma woke up with a start before dawn. In Marcus’s bed. In his arms.

Perfect, if not for the worry of someone realising she hadn’t slept in her bed.

The flame-keeper would soon light the fireplace in her bedroom and might give the alarm at the empty bed, especially after Jesse’s disappearance.

“I have to go.” She disentangled from Marcus’s arms and the covers.

He groaned and stretched out his arms. “Good morning.”

She kissed him, searching for her slippers. She didn’t remember having removed them. “I must go.”

“Yes, yes.” He rubbed his face and sat up on the bed, looking handsome all ruffled and dishevelled.

She exhaled when she found her shoes. “I’ll see you soon.” She kissed him again, feeling his stubble against her skin. And the stubble deserved another kiss.

He chuckled, and the sound was so charming she gave him another kiss.

Soon, they were kissing each other sloppily and laughing for no reason.

“I must go.” She caressed his jaw.

“And I want to see Jesse.” Another kiss. “Sleeping with you was beautiful.”

“One day, we’ll do that every night.”

He didn’t lose his radiance as he usually did when she mentioned their future.

He blew her a kiss, opening the inner door to Jesse’s room. She wiggled her fingers and slid out of his bedroom.

His scent was all over her, and a sense of peace washed over her.

She turned around on her tiptoes to go to her room and gasped. Trevor, fully dressed in his riding habit, watched her, standing in the middle of the hallway.

She didn’t speak or move as if by remaining silent and still, he wouldn’t see her. But then again, there was nothing to say.

He pressed his lips hard and strode away. His heavy footfalls said everything he hadn’t. But it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t change her mind about Marcus.

After she changed into a fresh gown, she helped Marcus apply a numbing ointment to Jesse’s back. The angry red lashes had swollen, but they were less painful, or so Jesse kept saying.

A new peaceful atmosphere had settled between her and Marcus after last night’s conversation. She loved him and wanted him in her life, but above all, she wanted to make him understand how important he was to her.

His smile was serene when he met her gaze, but she wasn’t deluded. He wasn’t hopeful about their future. She was ready to leave her life behind to be with him. Trevor would understand with time. He would be grumpy at first, but then he would accept the fact she loved Marcus.

Jesse muffled a whimper with his pillow as Marcus finished applying the ointment.

“Is it better?” She wiped her hands on a cloth, smelling the lavender oil.

“Much better. I don’t feel anything.” Jesse smiled, but unshed tears welled in his eyes.

“Tell the truth.” Marcus buttoned Jesse’s shirt. “I don’t believe you don’t feel anything.”

Jesse lowered his gaze. “It stings a bit.”

“It has to be more than a bit,” she said. “Your back is swollen.”

“If I sleep on my belly, I barely notice it.” Jesse forced another smile.

“Tell the truth,” Marcus repeated. “We can’t help you if you pretend not to feel anything.”

Jesse’s smile vanished. “I’m sore and achy everywhere and tired of being sick. But don’t tell the earl I said that.”

Emma adjusted his shirt. “Why not?”

“I don’t want him to think I’m trouble.”

Speaking of the devil, Trevor poked his head inside. “May I come in?”