Page 7 of If I Loved You
Zach Benedict seethed the entire ride home to his estate in Cheltenham, which he had made his permanent residence upon his sire’s death, giving up his bachelor pad in Mayfair for now. No doubt the chit had gotten under his skin, but he didn’t know if he were angrier at her refusal of the allowance and her dislike of him, or because she was reasonably off-limits because she had been his father’s mistress. Yet one thing he did know, the very picture of Miss Emma Ainsley, in all her proud glory as she’d effectively kicked him out, would stay with him for a very long time. There had been rare occasions in his life when he did envy his father, despite the fact that he loved him truly, but of a certainty this was one of them.
Chapter Four
EMMA SAT UPON THE GRASSat a safe distance from the King’s Arms Inn, Bethany cradled in her lap, and stared with something akin to horror at the smoldering frame of her home, or what remained of it since the fire had decimated the entire place only last night. Her throat was raw and dry from crying, her cheeks and hands sooty from her initial attempts to douse the fire which had begun innocently enough in the kitchens as a small grease fire within the hearth. Sadly, she glanced sideways at Mama Smythe, who felt herself responsible for this misfortune, as it was she who’d set the bacon too close to the flame, the pan filled with perhaps too much of the fatty meat. Mama Smythe, too, sat in the grass near to the stables, her cheeks stained as well with tears and ash, crying still while her husband tried to soothe her.
But there was little any might say to the Smythes or Alice or Emma or Langdon, the stable hand. Their home was gone, their very livelihood burned to the ground so that only the back stairs and one front wall of the establishment remained standing. In fact, though the fire had burned itself out, assisted by a light drizzle which had begun near dawn, the rubble still did smoke and smolder.
The few patrons of the establishment had since removed themselves, the taproom’s local customers gone to their nearby beds, thinking the incident unfortunate but happy they’d not been harmed; and those who’d taken rooms had fetched their carriages and teams and put themselves back upon the road, likely searching for the next posting inn to accommodate them. Thisleft only the six residents of the King’s Arms Inn sitting miserably in the yard.
Emma once again tucked Bethany’s curious head into the crook of her neck, trying in vain to keep the child from becoming too damp from the continued drizzle. While she was infinitely thankful that she’d had no difficulty removing Bethany from the quickly burning building, she was faced now with a new predicament, as everything in the world she possessed had gone up in smoke with the entire inn; they had, literally, nothing but the clothes on their backs and Bethany’s precious doll from Michael.
In the next few minutes, while the Smythes and their employees remained dazed and disoriented, the annoying drizzle became a serious rain and Mr. Smythe suggested gruffly in a hoarse voice that they at least move themselves into the relatively dry stables. They stood as a group, Emma hoisting up Bethany, Mr. Smythe lifting a sobbing-anew Mama Smythe to her feet, while Langdon trudged off with slumped shoulders and Alice spared one last unhappy glance at the King’s Arms. They slopped through the increasing mud of the yard toward the stables just as the sound of an approaching carriage came to them. As one unit, they stopped to stare at the coming shiny carriage, thinking it a hopeful traveler, one whom they’d likely direct to the Feathers Tavern of Lambeth. When it drew up sharply and very near to them, however, and the door opened before the driver might have been of assistance, the carriage revealed a person not unknown to a few of the residents of the former Kings Arms Inn.
Emma inhaled quickly, her surprise great as the new Lord Lindsey stepped hastily from the vehicle, his very gray eyes instantly upon her. He covered the short distance between themin only a few long strides, seemingly unconcerned with the others present. A large and firm hand found her upper arm. “You are unharmed?” he asked in his deep voice, it being unnecessary to inquire of what had transpired, as the still-smoldering remnants told the story. His piercing gaze raked over both Emma and Bethany.
Emma could only nod, stunned at his presence, having thought when he’d left the inn more than a fortnight ago that she’d not see him ever again. Whatever was he doing here? She wondered. She’d made her position, at that time, perfectly clear.
He lifted his eyes from hers, though his hand remained lightly upon her arm, and found the frowning gaze of Mr. Smythe. “Was anyone injured?” At the proprietor’s negative response, Lord Lindsey returned his steely gaze to Emma. “Come on, then,” he said, and it was apparent that he’d learned much from his sire and expected automatic compliance—despite Emma’s previous refusal of him and his rudely put overture.
Emma did not move, shaking her head in confusion. His hand fell from her arm, the warmth it had brought absent then as well. “Come where?” she wanted to know.
He frowned, as if this should be obvious. “I shall take you to Benedict House.”
“Why?” Her own frown mirrored his. Why did he behave, as he had previously, as if he were now accountable for her? She knew him not at all, aside from the few snippets she heard from his gentle father, yet he acted as if he’d some right to a say in her life.
“Why?” He repeated, his tone echoing the one he’d employed at their first meeting. “Because you’ve nowhere to go,” he said, as if he spoke to a simpleton, indicating with a pointinghand the ruins of her home. “Because you haven’t monies, I imagine; because I suspect this man hasn’t a plan for you.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder to rudely identify Mr. Smythe as ‘this man’. “And because it is raining.” He was nearly yelling now, his voice carrying unfavorably over these witnesses.
Raining it might be—Emma felt the chill of the dampness to her core, was aware that her hair was plastered horribly to her forehead, and that her gown clung with growing discomfort to her cold body—but she’d be damned before she accepted the questionable hospitality of this man.
Sheer outrage at his high-handedness made Emma bristle. Shifting a watchful Bethany to her free hip, she leveled this man with her meanest glare. “I’ve informed you already, my lord,” she started, “I am under no obligation to you and likewise, you are not to me. This was my home and these people are my family. So here I will stay.” Having pronounced this, she marched regally to the stables, exhaling nervously, knowing many eyes were upon her at this unprecedented outburst, but feeling the heat of only one particular gaze. She continued stalking away, thankful when she detected movement behind her, assuming her housemates had begun to follow. Just as she reached the stables and lifted her hand to pull open the sliding door that had been closed last night, a hand clamped down bruisingly over her arm once again. She was whirled around, and abruptly tightened her hold on Bethany as she crashed into Lord Lindsey’s chest.
“You little fool!” He growled. “Haven’t you the sense God gave a goat to know when to swallow your pride and accept charity?”
A swift thought raced through her mind just then—this man likely wouldn’t know a gentle tone or kind word if he weresmacked upside the head with it. He was absolutely nothing like his dear father.
Emma opened her mouth to protest his callousness once again but Mama Smythe’s voice came to her before she could speak.
“Girl, you ought to go with him,” her friend said sadly, much to her chagrin.
The innkeeper’s husband added, his voice without emotion, “I haven’t a plan for us—for me and the missus—let alone do I know how to help you and Alice and Langdon.”
Emma turned to stare with a gaping mouth at Mr. Smythe before swinging her eyes back to the missus. “Go on, girl. For Bethany, you must.”
A quick glance at Alice proved that she was filled only with her usual steaming animosity towards Emma and Langdon’s visage, as ever, was unreadable.
“I’ll not stand in the rain all day while you determine that you haven’t any options,” Lord Lindsey informed her, and Emma wondered if he’d ever exercised a tone that was not curt or arrogant. She pinned him with a fleeting hot glare, her anger increased when she realized that he seemed, unlike the rest of them, untouched by the rain. His perfectly tailored clothes appeared to wilt not at all; his black as night hair chose not to hold any moisture and thus the thick locks only curled a bit more, but otherwise seemed unaffected; and even his shiny Hessian boots, Emma saw, were troubled not at all by the mud puddling in the yard.
“Go now, love,” Mama Smythe persisted with a small sob when Emma looked as if she’d refuse yet again.
More tears came now as Emma recognized that indeed she hadn’t any other choice. She had Bethany to think of—she couldn’t very well house the child in the stables indefinitely. With a wave of fresh tears, she strode to the Smythe and hugged them fiercely. She couldn’t speak, broken as she was now at the thought of leaving the only home and family she’d known for the past nine years. Mama Smythe took up Bethany in her arms, crying more raggedly at the thought of losing the child, and squeezed the baby tightly, cooing fretfully to her.
Alice surprised Emma then by offering her own embrace, and more so when she whispered in her ear, “He’ll take good care o’ you. Just don’t allow him liberties.” With this cryptic warning, Alice removed herself and walked to the stables.
Young Langdon stepped forward to say his goodbye, extending his hand shyly. But Emma had ever retained a soft spot for the stuttering lad and drew him into an embrace that he finally melted into. “Take care of yourself, Langdon,” she cried to him.
“I-I-I will, Miss Emma.” And the lad blushed furiously and stepped back just as Mama Smythe returned Bethany to Emma.
She faced the Smythes again. “But you’ll send for me when you...have figured out what might be done, where we might go? We’ll all be together again?”
