Scandal (18 page)

It would be utterly unbearable to look at Simon every day and know that he felt nothing important for her. Even more unthinkable to have him come to her at night and, as her father had so crudely stated, rut on her like a stallion covering a mare.

The tears spilled through her lashes at that last thought. She had to get away immediately. Emily rushed into her bedchamber and began choosing the items of clothing she would take with her when she fled St. Clair Hall.

Chapter 9

Simon glanced again at the tall clock in the library as he paced back and forth in front of it. It was nearly six and Emily had still not come downstairs to join him for a glass of sherry before dinner.

He was beginning to realize that he had probably crushed her completely that morning. She was such a romantical little creature, completely addicted to happy endings.

Simon rarely lost his temper. He prided himself on controlling it as well as he controlled his other passions. But something had snapped inside when he had arrived home from his morning ride to discover that his new bride was already meeting Broderick Faringdon in a secretive fashion.

That news, coming as it did on top of the mixed emotions Simon had about his wedding night, had been more than enough to light the flames of rage.

Simon examined the golden sherry in his glass and recalled how Broderick Faringdon had boldly tried to talk Emily into secretly continuing to manage his business affairs.

The bastard. Did he really believe he could get away with such tricks? Simon wondered. Of course, he did. Faringdons were a sneaky, conniving lot who would try anything they thought they could get away with undetected. But their financial genius of a daughter belonged to him now and Simon knew how to protect what was his.

He had enjoyed informing Faringdon at the wedding that he had no intention of allowing Emily to continue making investments for her father and brothers. It had been extremely satisfying to see the expression on his old enemy's face when he had yanked back the lure he had dangled in front of Faringdon for the past few weeks.

Typical of Broderick Faringdon to come nosing around the very next day after losing his valuable daughter to see what could be salvaged from the disaster.

Simon sighed. And typical of Emily not to have realized that her new husband intended to make his vengeance complete.

She'd actually had the nerve to tell him he should let go of the past and work on forging a pure, romantic, transcendental union with her.

The unfortunate part, Simon realized ruefully, was that she genuinely believed all that nonsense about love on a higher plane. She had badly needed a dose of reality and he had finally lost his temper and administered it.

Still, it had been unkind of him to demolish her sweet, romantical notions in such a heartless fashion. On the other hand, he assured himself now, there had not been much choice. After seeing Faringdon with her, Simon had been forced to make Emily's situation crystal clear to her.

She was no longer a Faringdon. She was his wife now and she had to know what that meant. It had precious little to do with the romantic wonders of the metaphysical plane. It had everything to do with giving her complete and unswerving loyalty to her husband. Simon saw no reason he should not be able to command the same degree of loyalty from Emily as he did from every member of his staff.

He glanced irritably at the clock again. Then he pulled the velvet bell rope.

Duckett appeared almost instantly, his expression graver than usual. "Yes, my lord?"

"Send someone upstairs to see what is detaining Lady Blade."

"Immediately, my lord." Duckett retreated and closed the library door.

Simon watched the clock as time ticked slowly past. He wondered if Emily was going to be one of those annoying females who collapsed in tears and took to their beds with their vinaigrette whenever a man showed them the edge of his temper. If so, she would soon learn he did not intend to allow such excessive displays of feminine sensibilities.

The library door opened. Duckett stood there looking as though he were about to announce a death in the family.

"Well, Duckett?"

"Sir, I regret to report that madam is not here."

Simon scowled and glanced out the window. "Is she fooling about in the gardens at this hour?"

"No, my lord." Duckett coughed tentatively. "My lord, this is rather difficult to explain. Apparently madam ordered the carriage this afternoon after you left to visit Lord Gillingham. I am told she went to see the Inglebright sisters. She sent Robby back with the carriage saying she would walk home but she has yet to return."

"Good God. What does she think she's doing discussing that silly romantic poetry with her friends today? This is her honeymoon."

"Yes, my lord."

Simon swore. "Send someone around to Rose Cottage and fetch her ladyship home."

Duckett coughed behind his hand again. "Sir, I fear there is more. Robby says that madam wore a carriage gown and took two rather large items of luggage with her."

Simon went cold. "What the devil are you trying to say, Duckett?"

"I believe, sir, that you may wish to interview her maid, Lizzie," Duckett said bluntly.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"The girl is crying in her room and she apparently has a note she has been requested to give directly to you."

Simon did not need any special mental powers to guess that he was about to discover his bride of barely twenty-four hours had run off. "Get the maid in here at once, Duckett. And send around to the stables for Lap Seng. I shall want to leave within fifteen minutes."

"Yes, my lord. May I say, sir, that staff is extremely worried about madam's safety." The unspoken accusation hung in the air. It was obvious the new master of St. Clair Hall was being blamed for bruising madam's delicate sensibilities and causing her to run off.

"Thank you, Duckett. I shall inform her of that fact at the earliest opportunity."

Madam, Simon thought grimly as Duckett closed the door, had better prepare herself to have more than her delicate sensibilities bruised when her husband catches up with her.

How dare she leave like this? She belonged to him now. It was she who had made the marriage bargain. She could bloody well abide by it.

Emily stood in the middle of the tiny inn bedchamber, her pitiful collection of belongings at her feet, and nearly broke into tears all over again. She was exhausted, she was hungry, and she had never felt so lost and alone in her life.

Now she was going to be obliged to spend the night in this dingy little chamber that looked as if it had not been properly cleaned or aired in years. She was certain she could smell the acrid scent of masculine body odor emanating from the yellowed bed linens.

Emily had never traveled by stage before. She had been amazed at the discomfort involved. She had been squashed between a massively built gentleman who had snored the entire trip and a pimply-faced youth who had kept leering at her. Twice she had been forced to use her reticule to push his hand off her knee.

The only consolation was in knowing she would be in London the next day. Her father and brothers would no doubt be surprised to see her but Emily was certain they would welcome her with open arms. She was not looking forward to being told she had made a fool of herself, of course, but there was no help for it. She should have listened to her family rather than her foolish, romantic heart.

Emily leaned down and hoisted one of the heavy bags onto the bed. First things first. She was exceedingly hungry and she knew she must keep up her strength. Emily set about preparing herself for dinner in the inn's public dining room.

A few minutes later she went hesitantly downstairs, fully aware that ladies never traveled alone unless they were extremely poor. She was inviting trouble by appearing in the dining room without an escort or a maid. But there was no help for it. She could not bear to stay another minute in the wretched little bedchamber. Perhaps she would be invited to join another party of travelers, one that included ladies. She was, after all, a countess now.

The first person Emily saw when she glanced into the dining room was exactly what she was looking for, an attractive, well-dressed young woman of obviously good background. Emily heaved a sigh of relief. She would introduce herself, explain she was also alone, and ask to share the young lady's table. Everything would be fine.

The young woman was sitting alone by the fire in the small, uncrowded dining room. Emily approached cautiously and saw with a shock that the lady had a suspicious redness about the eyes which indicated a recent spate of crying. Her elegantly gloved hands were clenched tightly in the lap of her expensive traveling gown. Obviously there was more than one heartbroken female in the vicinity tonight.

"I beg your pardon, miss," Emily said hesitantly. "I see you are all alone and I wondered if perhaps you would care to share a table. My name is Emily Faringdon…" she paused and then added scrupulously, "Traherne." She did not feel it was necessary to inform the woman of her recently acquired title. She had only been a countess for a mere day and the truth was Emily did not feel like one at all.

The pretty young blonde, who could not have been much above nineteen, looked up with a start. Then a relief as great as Emily's own shone in her damp hazel eyes.

"Please join me, Miss Faringdon-Traherne," she begged. "I would be ever so grateful." She looked frantically about the empty dining room and then added in a very low voice, "My name is Celeste Hamilton."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hamilton. Are you traveling to London?" Emily sat down across from her new friend.

"London? Dear God, no," Celeste burst out in a heartfelt wail. She began crying and quickly reached into her reticule for an already crumpled hankie. "I only wish that were the case. Oh, Miss Faringdon-Traherne, I am so miserable. I have made a terrible mistake. I fear I am bound for Gretna Green."

Emily was amazed. "You are running away to be married?"

"Yes." Celeste sniffed into the hankie.

"But you are all alone, Miss Hamilton. I do not understand. Where is your husband-to-be?"

"Seeing to the carriage and horses. There was an accident and a wheel came off. He will be back any minute. To tell you the truth, I was very glad when the accident occurred. I had begun to realize I had made a grave error in judgment. I saw the accident as a way to escape the situation."

Emily frowned. "But it did not work out that way?"

Celeste blew her nose daintily into the hankie and shook her head. "Nevil says we will continue on as soon as the wheel is fixed but we will not reach the border until tomorrow. I will be forced to marry him, come what may, as my reputation will be in ruins. What can I do? I realize now that I really do not love him." She sighed deeply. "To be perfectly truthful, I do not even like him very much anymore. He is not the man I thought him to be. But I will be tied to him for the rest of my life. And my parents will be so hurt. Oh, Miss Faringdon-Traherne, I would rather die than face what lies ahead of me."

"My dear Miss Hamilton. You have my deepest sympathy." Emily reached across the table and patted Celeste's hand. "I know exactly what you are going through. I understand everything, including the great tragedy of marrying the wrong man. But there is no need to worry. You are fated to be more fortunate than I."

Celeste looked at her with a distraught expression. "What do you mean?"

Emily smiled reassuringly. "Is it not obvious? I am here. You shall stay with me tonight and in the morning we shall travel on to London together. Your parents will no doubt be quite angry with you but your reputation will survive intact because it will be common knowledge that you had a woman companion with you overnight." She leaned forward and added conspiratorially, "I am actually a countess, you know. The Countess of Blade, which might be extremely useful under the circumstances. I shall be able to lend all sorts of countenance to this situation."

Celeste gazed at her with startled wonder in her eyes. "It was rumored he had married. You are truly the Countess of Blade?"

Emily nodded gloomily. "I was married only yesterday but the damage has been done."

"Dear heaven. I have never been introduced to Blade but I have heard my father speak of your husband. Blade is reputed to be very mysterious. I distinctly recall Papa telling Mama once that the earl was an extremely dangerous man to cross." Celeste confided softly, "Blade spent years in the East Indies and picked up strange notions, they say."

"Who says that?"

"The young ladies on the marriage mart, of course. They are all quite terrified of him. Especially Lucinda Canonbury, Lord Canonbury's granddaughter. She actually had the vapors once when Blade walked into a ballroom where she happened to be in the crowd. Fainted dead away, I am told. I suppose she thought he might ask her to dance."

Emily wrinkled her nose. "How silly. Blade would never dance with a female who was prone to the vapors."

"Lucinda Canonbury is not the only one who fears him," Celeste said. "Several young ladies have been known to admit that they were terrified Blade would make an offer for them and that their parents would be unable to refuse it. Apparently Blade can be extremely intimidating. There will be great relief all around on the marriage mart when it is confirmed he is safely wed."

"Hah! Any relief expressed will be no more than sour grapes," Emily declared stoutly, not stopping to wonder why she felt obliged to defend the earl. "I'll wager all the young ladies were quite fascinated with him and will be secretly disappointed to hear he has married. In any event, please do not call me Lady Blade. I do not really feel like a countess. Call me Emily."