Page 12 of The Best Husband Money Can Buy

Chapter 5

Emma eyed a piece of toast doubtfully. “I don’t think I can eat. I’m too excited at the thought that today we’re actually going to Harley.”

Her husband picked up the toast and put it in her hand. “Eat,” he ordered. “You’ll make yourself ill if you set off on a long coach trip with an empty stomach.”

Pleased by his concern, she obediently spread honey on the toast and took a bite. It did taste good. Her gaze went around the attractive room. In the week of their hotel honeymoon, she’d grown fond of the place. Every morning their breakfast was served on a small table in a corner of the drawing room. Several newspapers arrived at the same time, and she and Anthony had fallen into the habit of sharing a leisurely meal, reading and discussing the news of the day.

Her husband had been surprised the first time she’d offered an opinion, but he’d adjusted very quickly. Now he seemed to enjoy their discussions as much as she did. Later in the day, after they had done the shopping and fittings necessary to her transformation, he would take her to see sights that she’d had no chance to visit when she was working.

Her gaze went to the doors that led to the two bedrooms. In that area, their honeymoon was sadly deficient. Anthony was always charming and considerate, but he’d made no attempts to bed his bride. Was he taking her desire to wait too seriously, or was he simply not very interested?

Granted, before their hasty wedding Emma had felt skittish about giving herself to a near-stranger, but time was rapidly curing her of that. The yearning she’d felt for Anthony when she was a girl had returned ten-fold. She loved every casual touch, even if he was only helping her from the carriage. She loved looking at him, studying the strong planes of his face, his easy, athletic movements. She delighted in small discoveries like the faint scar on his chin, and enjoyed the irrepressible tuft of hair on the back of his head that lived its own life, wild and free, no matter what Anthony did to try and tame it.

Her husband divided the last of the coffee—another taste they shared—between their cups. “Do you know, my worst fear when we married was that we wouldn’t have anything to say to each other,” he said thoughtfully. “But I’ve noticed no shortage of conversation.”

She gave him a smile of suspicious innocence. “That’s because you’re so extremely interesting that there is always something to discuss.”

“Flatterer,” he laughed, his gaze warm. “You have a wicked sense of humor.”

For a moment, she wondered if he was going to lean forward and kiss her. Apart from the briefest of pecks at their wedding ceremony, they hadn’t kissed at all.

After a suspended moment, he drained his coffee and got to his feet. “I’ll go order the carriage and summon porters for the baggage. We must be off soon if we wish to make Harley in one day.”

She nodded, suppressing her disappointment. Having asked for time to ease into the intimacy of marriage, she supposed she had no right to complain at receiving more than she’d bargained for.

* * *

They made good time, and arrived at Harley just as full dark was settling over the rolling hills. As they rattled up the long driveway, Emma peered out the carriage window. “Look, the Christmas candles are lit! I’d forgotten all about them.”

Anthony looked past her and saw a lattice of lights, one candle in every window of the massive building. There was enough moonlight to recognize the pale stone and graceful proportions of one of Britain’s grandest homes. It was a palace, really, almost as large as Blenheim or Castle Howard. “I’d half forgotten the candles, too. Yet now that I see them, they remind me of everything I’ve ever loved about Harley.”

“I’d given up believing that I’d ever return,” Emma said softly. “Now that I’m here, I’m frightened. I’ve lived in a different world for the last ten years. I don’t belong at Harley any more. I keep thinking that the dowager only invited me from courtesy, believing I would ever accept.”

The darkness made it easy for him to reach out and take her gloved hand. It was large and capable and well-formed, like the rest of Emma. “Even if that were true, which it isn’t, you would still be welcome here as my wife.” He stopped suddenly, struck by the irony of his words. “That was a silly statement, wasn’t it? I’m the one wondering if I’ll be thrown out bodily.”

Her hand tightened on his. “Of course not. It’s been nine years. You say that Brand and Cecilia have two children now. He probably barely remembers your fight.”

Anthony wished he believed that. But he didn’t.

Their carriage pulled up in front of wide, torch-lit steps. Instantly footmen emerged to take their baggage. With a steady stream of Vaughns arriving, the servants had their routine down to a fine art. While two footmen went for the baggage, another opened the carriage door and flipped down the folding step. Anthony climbed out first, then turned to assist Emma. She gave him a tremulous smile as she stepped down.

She looked so vulnerable that he wanted to take her in his arms and murmur comforting words in one elegant ear. In fact, he would like to take her in his arms anyhow. She had blossomed under the ministrations of Madam Chloe, the best hairdresser in London, and sundry jewelers, shoemakers, and others. Under his breath, he whispered, “You look every inch a Vaughn.”

Her smile widened and became more confident. Arm in arm, they climbed the steps. A footman opened the massive front door and bowed them in. No sooner had they entered the huge, three-story entry hall when a gaggle of children, aged between about six and twelve, ran shrieking through the far end of the space. By the time Anthony blinked, they’d come and gone.

Emma laughed as her gaze went to the fragrant greenery and bright ribbons that decorated the hall. “Lord, that brings back memories. Remember how exciting it was to arrive here see all the cousins for the first time in a year?”

“Vividly.” On his last visit, the cousin Anthony had longed for most had been Cecilia. Tonight he would see her again. The thought knotted his stomach.

Before Anthony could say more, a comfortable looking woman of middle years came forward to greet them. It was the Duchess of Warrington herself, Brand’s mother. “Anthony, how wonderful to see you again!” she said warmly. “And Emma, how splendid you look. It’s hard to believe you’re so grown up.”

She kissed Emma’s cheek, then turned and offered her hand to Anthony. As he bowed over it, she said with a twinkle, “The dowager and Cecilia and I have been taking turns receiving people since yesterday morning. I’m so glad that you two arrived on my shift. Having you both here again is quite the most exciting event this Christmas.”

Emma said quietly, “I can’t tell you how much it means to be at Harley again.”

Anthony added, “How is everyone? The duke, the dowager.” After the faintest of pauses, he added, “Brand. Cecilia. Your daughters.”

The duchess’s mouth twisted ruefully. “Brand is…stubborn. Cecilia and her boys are very well. Anne and her husband arrived earlier today, and you won’t even recognize my Sarah. She’s all grown and chafing to be presented.”

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