Page 50 of Not Just Any Earl
He didn’t realize he’d raised his voice until Lady Fosberry rose from the settee and closed the door of her private parlor with a quiet click. “Yes, I’m afraid so, my lord. I tried every argument I could think of to dissuade her, but Emmeline can be terribly stubborn, despite her delicate appearance.”
Johnathan had no trouble believing that. “But where the dev—that is, where has she gone?”
“Back to Buckinghamshire, to Hambleden Manor, very early this morning, and against my wishes.”
What, another defection? First Cross, and now this?
“Emmeline Templeton has an unfortunate habit of running away.” Johnathan didn’t intend to let her evade him that easily, however. Hambleden was only forty or so miles from London, and he’d go a great deal farther than that to have her back.
“I don’t mind telling you, my lord, I had little hope of persuading her to come to London in the first place, but once she was here, I thought perhaps…” Lady Fosberry trailed off with a sigh. “Well, it hasn’t worked out as I’d hoped it would.”
“What had you hoped for?”
“Why, a marriage for Emmeline or Juliet, of course, or for both of them, if the thing could be managed. Their father, bless him, wasn’t able to do much for them, and they’re in rather tightened circumstances.”
“How tight?” Johnathan asked grimly.
Lady Fosberry hesitated, then let out another sigh. “Tight enough their younger sister Helena has taken a governess position with the Marquess of Hawke. She left only days before Juliet and Emmeline agreed to come with me to London. I fear they’ll lose Hambleden Manor next.”
Johnathan had suspected the Templetons were in dire circumstances from the few things Emmeline had said about Hambleden Manor, but her younger sister, forced out to work? She’d never said a word about that.
He thought about the way Emmeline’s face had lit up when she’d described her home to him, the affection in her voice when she spoke of her sisters, and a pang of regret pieced his chest for her.
I should never have let her slip away from me so easily last night—
“I’d buy the house for them myself, if they’d let me, but those girls are dreadfully proud, just as their father was.” Despite the impatience in her voice, a fond smile drifted over Lady Fosberry’s lips. “Too proud for their own good.”
Johnathan nodded, but he was thinking of Emmeline, alone in Lady Fosberry’s carriage on her way back to Buckinghamshire. He could feel her sadness lacerating his own heart, as if her despair was his as much as her own, and he couldn’t bear it.
He had to fetch her, and the thing must be done at once—he was finished being gentlemanly about it. He wanted his lady, and he wanted her now. “I’m going to marry Emmeline, Lady Fosberry,” he announced, without preamble.
“Well then, my lord, it seems we both want the same thing. The only remaining question is, how are we meant to go about getting it?”
Johnathan blinked. “Well, I thought I might go to Buckinghamshire, and ask her.”
It seemed a perfectly logical next step to him, but Lady Fosberry shook her head. “You did ask her, my lord, and she refused you. She didn’t say so, but I’m certain she left with the hope that once she’d gone, you’d forget her and marry Juliet.”
“Forget her?” Johnathan stared at Lady Fosberry in amazement. “How could I ever forget her? And there’s no question of my marrying Juliet. Juliet Templeton doesn’t love me, and I imagine my being in love with her sister is rather a stumbling block for her.”
Johnathan considered mentioning his suspicions about Cross’s affection for Juliet, but decided against it. That wasn’t his declaration to make.
“Oh, I’m well aware you’re in love with Emmeline, my lord.” Lady Fosberry’s eyes were twinkling. “You gentlemen are a great deal less mysterious than you think you are. The trouble is the ton.”
Johnathan huffed out a breath. If he never heard another word about the ton, it would still be too soon. “I don’t give a damn what the ton thinks. If I did, I would have married Lady Christine Dingley.”
“To be fair, my lord, you haven’t had any reason to worry about the ton. You’re the Earl of Melrose, so they’ll forgive you anything, but they aren’t quite so forgiving of others. It’s been several years since Alice Templeton ran off to the Continent with Lord Bromley, and the ton hasn’t let her daughters forget it for a single instant.”
Of course. Of course, Lady Fosberry was right.
How could he not have seen it? It was all very well for him to defy them, but a lady who’d been as mercilessly attacked by the ton as Emmeline Templeton had would dread another scandal above all else.
“But Emmeline must realize that once she becomes the Countess of Melrose, the title will protect her family from the worst of the scandal? There will still be murmurs, but a marriage will quickly silence the wagging tongues. There’s no need for her to worry about the ton.”
“She doesn’t worry for herself, my lord, but for her sister, and for good reason. A marriage between you and Juliet would silence the wagging tongues, certainly, but a marriage between you and Emmeline—the sister of the lady all of London believes to be the Lady in Lavender? That will make it a good deal worse, at least until the ton grows bored of it, or the truth comes out.”
Johnathan considered this, then gave a reluctant nod. “I understand her worry, but how can she even think of tossing aside her own happiness over a dislike of gossip?”
Because there was nothing less than her happiness at stake. For all that Emmeline had run away from him, fleeing London at the break of dawn, he knew she was as madly in love with him as he was with her.
