Never Marry a Stranger Page 17

Christopher groaned as he sat back down. “You’re falling for her.”

  “I haven’t slept with her,” he insisted.

  “But you want to,” Daniel said with a knowing smirk.

  “I’ve had her investigated.” He explained how he’d rescued her from drowning, and his belief in her desperation to survive. “I told her to come here for help. I just don’t yet know why she posed as my wife.”

  “And you haven’t discussed it with her,” Christopher said heavily. “You’ve let this farce go on for days trying to figure her out.”

  “But don’t you already have a wife?” Daniel asked slowly, his smile fading. “Your mother told us so last year.”

  “How did she—oh, now I remember,” Matthew said. “I sent a letter home about it. Good Lord, I set my family up for Emily’s charade.”

  “And the other wife?” Christopher prodded.

  “She’s dead.” Matthew was surprised that he sounded weary rather than angry. Perhaps if he’d questioned Rahema more, she wouldn’t have been so desperate, either. Had she been too frightened to confide in him—just like Emily?

  Christopher put a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry to hear about your wife.”

  “Which one?” Daniel asked softly.

  Matthew gave a quiet laugh.

  “So what is your plan?” Christopher asked. “What do you intend to do with her?”

  “I—” And then Matthew stopped. “I don’t really know.”

  “You’re going to reveal her, of course,” the duke continued.

  “And turn the whole family upside down? Open up another new Cabot scandal?”

  “You weren’t here for either of ours,” Daniel said dryly. “It’s your turn.”

  Ignoring Daniel, Christopher spoke in a measured voice. “But you don’t want to lose her.”

  Matthew shrugged.

  “You can’t just pretend to be married forever,” Christopher said sternly. “Lies always surface.”

  “I know. I want the truth from her, willingly. I think she might almost be there. She loves my parents and sisters.”

  Daniel narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”

  “I just do.”

  “Be very careful, Matthew,” Daniel continued. “She fooled our entire family; she fooled your parents, who were with her all the time. She is a very good actress.” But the moment must have been too sober for him, for he added, “But then Chris might give you some direction on that. His wife did a very good job fooling him. She pretended to be a house party guest, all while investigating him for her father’s newspaper.”

  Matthew smirked, glad for the change of subject. “Tell me about that, Chris. I’m glad to know I’m in good company where women are concerned.”

  Several hours later Matthew’s cousins were almost too drunk to make their way to their rooms. They shushed each other and tried not to laugh as they staggered down empty corridors. Daniel and Matthew had to practically hold Christopher until they saw him to the master chamber.

  Matthew wasn’t quite as inebriated. When he was alone, he remembered Emily’s concerns about Reggie. He went to find his friend, and to his surprise, Reggie was donning his overcoat, about to leave his room.

  Matthew stood in the door, holding the jamb so he wouldn’t sway. “Going somewhere?”

  Reggie grinned. “I bet you wish you could go with me, like the old days.”

  Strangely, he didn’t, but wouldn’t say so. He shut the door behind him. “I thought you should know that Emily came to me about finding you outside our bedroom door.”

  “Really?” Reggie said, pausing in the center of the room. “I would have thought our encounter worthy of secrecy.”

  “Me, too. But she’s suspicious, and obviously wants me to be suspicious—even if it makes her place here more perilous.”

  “Bold of her.”

  “Yes, we’ve known that from the beginning,” Matthew said dryly. “But…let me deal with her. You don’t need to bother yourself.” And in that moment he realized he was feeling protective toward Emily, which was truly strange. He had sworn to himself that he would never feel that way about another woman—especially one who was lying to him.

  Reggie’s lips quirked with amusement. “Trust me, I don’t wish to interfere.”

  “Busy, are you?” Matthew responded idly.

  “Very. Important meeting tonight.”

  “At midnight?”

  “Those are the most important kind.” Reggie touched the brim of his hat, moved around him and left the bedroom. Matthew followed, shutting the door, watching his friend walk briskly away. What was Reggie doing with himself late into the night? Surely a woman had to be involved.

  In his suite, Matthew swayed and caught the bedpost as he looked down at his own woman, his slumbering “wife.”

  “You’ve escaped me tonight, sweetheart,” he murmured, sober enough to know he wanted to remember the first time he bedded Emily. “But I won’t wait another night, I vow. And then you’ll tell me everything.”

  Chapter 17

  In the morning, Emily left a slumbering Matthew undisturbed. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of alcohol, but shook her head in amusement. She was glad he had his cousins.

  Tonight was the Madingley ball, where all the local gentry and nobility would gather to officially welcome Matthew home. But first she would teach her students. She was not going to imprison herself in the house, waiting for something else to happen. Stanwood had shown her that he could get to her anywhere—and she wanted the confrontation over with. She decided to drive the carriage into Comberton. Ever since she felt she was followed—even though it was only Matthew—she’d realized that she was too vulnerable on foot.

  The children gave her great joy. For the first time in years she had a purpose, building and guiding the little village school community. Even after a new schoolmaster was hired, she planned to remain involved.

  In the early afternoon she gathered her books together after the children had been dismissed. Walking across the entrance hall, she nodded absently at the innkeeper, and out of habit glanced into the taproom—

  And froze in place, the books clutched to her chest. Arthur Stanwood was sitting alone at a table, smiling at her, his teeth so white, his hair so black about his thin face.

  Her brain seemed unable to process anything but Run! Yet she knew she couldn’t. He wanted her to be afraid, to cower, to give in to him. He thrived on it. But she wasn’t that same vulnerable girl he’d used.

  He lifted a hand and calmly gestured for her.

  Keeping her expression cold, her back stiff, she walked toward him until only the table remained between them. He stood up, all politeness.

  “Hello, Emily.”

  The sound of his voice made her shudder. She took a deep breath and met his eyes, pale gray as ice.

  “Well, now aren’t you brave,” he said softly. “Do sit down, Emily.”

  She pulled out a chair and perched on the edge of it, the books still clutched to her chest. When she realized how frightened that made her seem, she deliberately set the books on the table, proud that her hands weren’t shaking.

  He sat back down opposite her. “I read about your husband,” he said, emphasizing the word.

  “So you said.”

  Lowering his voice, as if politely confidential, he continued, “What a happy coincidence that he is alive, for I seem to remember you only claimed to be his wife once he was dead.”

  “I am his wife,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He tsked softly. “I did my research on you, my girl. I know when he rescued you from drowning—and I know when his ship left. He didn’t marry you. And if he had—wouldn’t you have gone to the bosom of his family?”

  “I did.”

  “No, you tried desperately to support yourself. And I gave you decent employment, didn’t I?”

  She said nothing.

  “Didn’t I?” His voice took on a touch of menace.

  She nodded.


  “And all I wanted was a little kindness,” he said sadly.

  “But you want something else now.”

  “You have a secret, and you don’t want anyone to know.”

  “I do not have a secret. I’m married—otherwise my husband would have denied me on his return.”

  He regarded her intently, and his gaze almost felt like a violation when it settled on her mouth.

  “An excellent try, Emily, but I don’t believe you. I don’t know how you convinced him to let you stay—or perhaps it was what you did for him.”

  He grinned without restraint, and she knew that if anyone had been looking at him, they would have seen the kind of man he was, evil, conscienceless. But there was only one other couple in the taproom, and they were eating at a table behind him. She could hear the innkeeper talking with a customer in the entrance hall. They were all innocent people, and she would not involve them.

  “Or perhaps,” Stanwood continued with exaggerated thoughtfulness, “Captain Leland didn’t want to embarrass his family. Whatever the reason, I’m afraid you’ve made him vulnerable, my girl. And what a nice family he has.”

  “Leave his family alone—leave his friends and servants alone. I don’t know who you coerced into helping you invade the house, but I want it stopped.”

  “Coerced? Whatever are you talking about, Emily?”

  “Do not think you can make me believe you’re acting alone. You don’t have that kind of power.”

  He grinned. “I have enough power to stop you.”

  “Who’s helping you!”

  His smile vanished, and though he didn’t move a muscle, he suddenly seemed even more threatening. “Lower your voice. I will only tell you what you need to know.”

  Inhaling swiftly, she said, “Then stop trying to scare me and just tell me what you want.”

  He cocked his head. “I’m not certain what I want yet. I’ll make a decision soon. Perhaps I should attend the ball tonight, to make a more informed decision.”

  “They will not admit you without an invitation.”

  He gave her a withering stare, as if saddened that she underestimated him. He leaned toward her. “I’ll want money. Plenty of it.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Then start thinking of where you’ll find it.” He got to his feet. “What a lovely village you have here—and such sweet children you teach.”

  She blanched as if he’d told her which child he meant to target.

  “I shall see you soon, Emily.”

  And then he left the taproom. She didn’t bother to watch him go, only sat for a moment, trying to remember how to breathe evenly.

  It was obvious he did not mean to reveal her as an imposter, she thought, staring blankly at the hearth, where the coal grate gave off meager warmth. He only wanted money.

  But how much, and how was she supposed to get it? Steal it from Matthew and his family, who’d only been good to her? The thought made her sick. She could only wait for Stanwood to contact her again, and find some way to talk him out of it, to convince him that she was incapable of stealing without giving herself—and him—away.

  Hugging herself, she wanted to laugh at how foolish she’d once been to think she could outrun her past, to feel that she was safe with the Lelands.

  When Matthew entered the dressing room to prepare for the ball, Emily gave a cry, then put a hand against her wardrobe as she breathed rapidly.

  “I am sorry if I startled you,” he said in amusement.

  Her face seemed a bit too pale as she nodded.

  “Emily, is something wrong?”

  She smiled. “Nothing is wrong,” she said lightly. “We are only holding our first Society ball since I’ve been married to you. Why should I be nervous?”

  He grinned and walked toward her, staring at the assortment of gowns hung in her wardrobe. “Choosing what you’ll wear?”

  “It is not a difficult choice,” she answered. “I did not purchase that many ball gowns since coming out of mourning.”

  Her breathing gradually eased, but her color didn’t return. There were marks of strain visible by wrinkles between her eyes. He had not thought a ball would make fearless Emily nervous. Or perhaps she was worried about Reggie revealing her secrets. No, Matthew thought. He would never allow them to be revealed to others—he wanted her secrets all to himself.

  “What will you wear?” she asked.

  He blinked at her. “My evening clothes, of course.”

  She tilted her head. “Not your uniform?”

  He met her eyes then, understanding. “No. I won’t be going back to the army.”

  As a pretend wife, she should look happy, but instead she studied him too closely.

  “I didn’t realize you had made your decision,” she said.

  “My father is not getting any younger. I would like him to be able to concentrate on his research, while I handle our investments. Even Chris asked for my assistance with his vast holdings. And besides, why would I want to leave you?”

  For just a moment there was a bleakness in her gaze, but her smile wiped it away. Why was she revealing what she was usually so good at hiding?

  “Is your maid here?” he asked, glancing toward the open bathroom.

  Emily shook her head. “She’ll be here soon. She’s so good with styling hair that I lent her to Grace and Abigail.”

  He moved close, until her back was against the wardrobe, her head tilted toward him. He couldn’t resist cupping the slim length of her neck, rubbing his thumb along her jaw and cheek.

  She inhaled, her lashes fluttered. He loved how responsive she was to his slightest touch, the way she trembled as he continued to stroke her.

  He leaned down and kissed her temple, speaking against the soft tendrils of hair. “Tonight will be a special night, Emily.”

  She put a hand on his chest, and he didn’t know if she was steadying herself—or wanting to touch him. Just the thought of the latter made him hard.

  With his mouth lightly against her ear, he whispered, “Tonight I will be reintroduced to Society—and reintroduced to the intimacy of your bed.”

  He heard her faint moan, saw that her hand clutched the lapel of his coat. He nuzzled his face against hers, then kissed the shell of her ear, and behind it on her neck. She arched, letting him have his way.

  “Yes,” she suddenly whispered, her hand pulling him closer. “Yes.”

  Desire almost overpowered him. It was all he could do not to throw her onto their bed and tear her clothes off. But no, he didn’t want to be rushed, knowing he would be interrupted by family members or servants eager to see them at the ball. He wanted to enjoy every moment of his seduction of Emily, anticipating it, drawing it out, until both of them were mad with passion.

  He kissed her then, showing her with his lips and tongue how much he desired her. She answered him without hesitation, with a touch of desperation that aroused him even more. She entered his mouth with urgency, put her arms around his neck to clasp him hard against her. He pushed her back against the wardrobe, his hips seeking hers. They groaned into each other’s mouths—

  And didn’t hear the knock on the door.

  “Oh!” cried a feminine voice. “I will return later.”

  Matthew lifted his head, not looking at the little maid, Maria. “No, my wife needs you.” He stepped back, meeting Emily’s stunned gaze.

  Emily blushed, and he turned and went to the other bedroom, where the valet he seldom used had already laid out his evening clothes. Smart man, giving the women the dressing room on such an important evening.

  It would be important in so many ways.

  Chapter 18

  When Matthew entered the ballroom with Emily on his arm, he saw every pair of eyes turn toward them. Thousands of candles glowed above them in their globe lamps, artificial roses festooned every column, but none of it was as beautiful as Emily, so poised, so serene as she stood at his side.

  Her gown was a demure navy blue velvet. H
e imagined her intention on purchasing it had been to remain unnoticed. But she didn’t seem to realize that the dark color set off her pale skin, and made her champagne blond hair shine like a precious metal. The bodice was cut straight across, showing the fine bones of her shoulders and just the beginning swells of her breasts, making a man only think of seeing the rest. Her chin was lifted and a faint smile curved her sweet lips. But her face was still pale. Surely she knew all these people, so why should she be nervous?

  From the moment of their arrival they were surrounded by eager guests, who—briefly—deserted the receiving line in front of the duke. Emily never left his side, helping him by greeting people by name if he didn’t do so immediately. For at least an hour it was a blur of becoming reacquainted, of hugs and curtsies and bows, and over it all, well wishes for his renewed marriage to their “dear Emily.”

  He only wanted to call her “lover.” He met her gaze often and smiled knowingly, until he made her blush each time.

  They led the quadrille at the upper end of the ballroom, the place of honor. When he performed the steps perfectly, Emily beamed at him. Instead of pale, she now seemed quite animated, almost too excited. Was she anticipating the end of the evening as much as he was?

  But it was during the waltz where he tried to make her see that the two of them were all that mattered. Though they began the dance at the prescribed distance apart, he felt like he was falling into her eyes as they began to whirl around the ballroom. He liked the strength in her back as she moved, and the confidence of her hand in his. She was a true partner, not a decorative doll to be led about. Without realizing it, he pulled her closer through the turns, then allowed their thighs to brush. Though Emily blushed, she never stopped looking at him. When his thigh dipped between hers, her eyes became dreamy and her pink lips parted. He almost kissed her right in front of everyone.

  Only when the music ended did he realize that they’d become the center of attention. Most of the dancers had retreated to the edge of the floor. Now everyone applauded, and he bowed as Emily swept into a deep curtsy. His family was clustered together, and he saw many of them wiping their eyes. Then he looked down at Emily, so beautiful, so willing, and only let himself think of the coming night in her arms. He kissed her gloved hand and led her to the refreshment room that opened off the ballroom.