Page 15 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
“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.
