Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

" G ood day, Miss Thompson."

Emily jumped at the voice that had haunted her thoughts and dreams for several days, ever since their shared meal. Why couldn't Jacob just disappear and let things return to how they were? She scooped her package of art supplies off the counter of the mercantile shop and slid it into her satchel.

He lay a toy sailboat on the countertop and pressed a few coins into the clerk's palm.

A snappy comment about his childishness popped into her mind, but she bit her tongue. The last thing she needed was to engage the rogue in conversation.

"Good day, my lord." She strode for the exit.

"Miss Thompson, wait."

She pretended not to hear and kept going until she was halfway through the door. The boat was for Christian. She was sure of it. What were his plans? Her stomach twisted into a hard knot. Did he plan to take Christian from them? Gritting her teeth, she marched back to confront him.

Jacob rushed through a farewell with the store clerk and turned, spotting her. The tension seemed to melt from his frame as he tucked the boat under his arm. The barest hint of a smile curved one side of his mouth, but it disappeared when she grabbed his elbow and pushed him behind a tall display of bolts of material.

"For such a petite frame, you're strong."

She released his arm and leveled him with a glare, jabbing a finger at the toy boat. "That's for Christian, isn't it?"

"It's for me, actually."

She narrowed her eyes. Do not lie to me.

He raised his hands in a mock surrender. "I thought Christian and I might race. See whose is the fastest."

"You may buy him toys and the like, but you can't buy his love." She lowered her voice and stepped closer. "You may be his father, but we're the ones who've raised him and shown him love all these years. I will not let you take him away." She rose onto her toes. "That is what you plan to do, isn't it?"

"I don't know what I plan to do." He grasped her elbows. "Your father told me to pray about it."

"Unhand me." She yanked her arms away. "Papa said that?"

The store clerk leaned around a shelf filled with spools of yarn into her line of vision.

Emily smiled and nodded at him. "Lovely weather we're having today, Mr. Marcum."

He frowned. "It's a bit chilly for my taste, and a tad overcast."

A rumble of nervous laughter passed through her lips. "At least spring is on its way."

"So it is." The clerk continued to eye them suspiciously.

Jacob guided her toward the door. "Perhaps we should take in the air."

She grumbled but allowed him to lead her outside.

Rows of quaint shops lined the cobbled road. Colorful sign boards hung above display windows.

He gripped her elbow and led her around the few people peeking in the paned glass or inspecting the displays of fruit and vegetable baskets outside the grocer. Mrs. Hayes, who'd stopped to purchase some items for this week's suppers, put down an onion and shifted into a chaperone role, following a few steps behind.

Emily was aware of every eye that fell upon them. Tongues would wag. Determined to gain an answer, she whispered, "What did God tell you when you prayed?"

Jacob tipped his hat to the fruit vendor. "I believe He suggested I get to know Christian better and allow him to get to know me better. Hence, the toy boat."

"Oh." Emily fumed. How was she supposed to dispute that?

He paused at a small alcove next to the porch of the local inn. "Look, Emily?—"

"Miss Thompson." She raised her chin.

"I beg your pardon." His nostrils flared. "Miss Thompson, I have much to discuss with you. I merely need to explain."

"Fine." She crossed her arms. "Explain."

"It may take more than a few minutes." He glanced over his shoulder, and his eyes widened. He turned back and locked eyes with her, pleading for understanding.

The inn's front door opened, and out strolled a woman dressed in an elegant peach-colored cambric robe with an arched collar trimmed with lace. Her bonnet, the same color as her pelisse, sported a curled ostrich feather. She caught sight of him. "Lord Warren?"

He stiffened.

"How wonderful to see you. I was so disappointed when you didn't call yesterday."

"Lady Benton." He flashed a half smile, a weak version of his natural charm. "How good that we've crossed paths once again."

She stepped out of the inn and onto the porch, her half boots of peach-colored velvet peeking from beneath her full skirt. In her light-blue kid gloves, she dragged two of her long fingers along the railing. Her gaze roved over Emily, her lip curling. "I see you're getting a taste of country life."

The crease between Jacob's brow deepened. "Lady Benton, allow me to introduce Miss Thompson."

Lady Benton's forehead furrowed. "Truly? The vicar's daughter?" She harrumphed. "Miss Dorsham has been keeping me abreast of the goings on in this small town." She turned to Emily. "Or are you the vicar's sister?" She patted the underside of her hair.

"It's both." Emily curtsied but searched for any justification to excuse herself. A taste of the country life. Her cheeks burned. "My father is the vicar, and my eldest brother shall someday take over the parsonage."

"Small towns are such a bore." Lady Benton sighed.

Two other women exited the inn, fluttering their fans. Their chatter quieted.

Phoebe, dressed in a pale pink muslin walking gown with long sleeves and antique cuffs, stood partially behind Lady Benton. She adjusted the French tippet of a leopard silk shag hanging about her shoulders.

"If I recall correctly"—Lady Benton stepped aside—"you're both acquainted with Miss Dorsham."

Phoebe glanced up at her name, her eyes widened at Jacob. She smiled at him, then shot Emily a look that conveyed, What are you doing with the man I've set my cap for? "Emily, were you looking for me?"

"I was at Mr. Marcum's store purchasing supplies when I ran into Lord Warren." Emily pressed her mouth closed. She'd done nothing wrong and shouldn't feel the need to explain herself.

Lady Benton's other acquaintance stepped around Phoebe, her pale silk gown swishing over lace-trimmed petticoats. Sarah. The Duchess of Charlton. Christian's birth mother.

Emily's mouth dropped open, but she quickly snapped it shut.

The duchess placed her gloved hand on the rail and eyed Jacob.

Speaking to Jacob, Lady Benton gestured to Lady Charlton. "You remember my dear friend, her grace, Lady Sarah Winsted, Duchess of Charlton?"

"Indeed." Jacob bowed, color leaching from his face. "Good to see you again, your grace ."

Did she hear a twinge of sarcasm lacing his address?

A twitch at the corners of her lips was the only acknowledgment he received.

Emily was outright ignored.

Lady Benton's eyes sparkled as though stimulated by the exchange. "Would you care to join us for a morning cup of chocolate at the bakery on the corner?"

"Seeing as it's two in the afternoon"—his tone was dry—"I must pass on your offer."

Lady Benton shrugged one shoulder, giving him a seductive smile that soured Emily's stomach. "I'd planned to return to London after the Simmons soirée tomorrow evening to prepare for the Season, but I may change my mind." She turned her attention to Emily. "Be a dear and pray for safe travel. Nowadays, the country roads are as dangerous as London's rookeries."

Jacob perked up. "Another robbery?"

"Indeed." Lady Benton fanned her face as though she might swoon. "Two highwaymen accosted Lord and Lady Copeland. Lightened him of his purse and her of a fabulous emerald set I adored."

Jacob gripped the lapels of his jacket. "You note what jewelry everyone wears?"

"Of course. Every woman does." Lady Benton tapped her index finger to her lip. "I didn't see you at the party."

"I was there."

Phoebe's shoulders straightened as she eyed Jacob as if he'd personally insulted her.

"I lingered with the gents," he said, "smoking cheroots and talking politics."

Phoebe pursed her lips, obviously disappointed, while Lady Charlton tugged at the end of her lace cuff as if bored.

Lady Benton rested a gloved hand on his upper arm. "I do hope you visit before I go. I've informed the staff to put their best bottle of brandy aside for me."

"I'm afraid I have plans, but I'm certain others will partake of the spirit with you."

The woman's mouth thinned into a white line. "I see." Her assessing gaze landed on Emily. "Well, when you grow tired of the country, and I daresay you soon shall, you may always visit my London townhome."

"The country air suits me." Jacob stood taller.

Phoebe's eyes sparked.

"So be it." Lady Benton turned, and the three ladies strolled toward the bakery.

Phoebe glanced at them over her shoulder twice before entering the establishment.

Emily narrowed her eyes on Jacob. "An invitation to her townhome?"

" I can explain." Jacob reached to cup Emily's elbow, but she stepped back.

"I may be green, but I'm not an imbecile." Emily planted her fists on her hips. "She's the one you dueled over."

Behind her, Mrs. Hayes gasped.

Jacob cringed. He'd forgotten about her housekeeper-turned-chaperone. How much had she overheard? "Due to a misunderstanding."

Emily spun to leave, but he grabbed her arm.

"Please." When he was a child, he used to hope, pray, sometimes even beg for his mother to take his side. That small boy did the same with Emily now.

Like Mother, Emily turned away.

"Let me explain."

"I must get back." She peered at him with renewed resolve. "Mrs. Hayes has supper to prepare, and I'm to help."

Jacob turned his pleading gaze on her part-time chaperone.

Mrs. Hayes twisted the fold of her skirt around her finger as if weighing the proper thing with her hope for young love. "There is plenty of time. Supper is an easy fix tonight."

Emily exhaled an exasperated breath and leveled Jacob with a glare. "Fine, but you will be hard pressed to change my mind."

"Challenge accepted." He couldn't fight back a triumphant grin. "We can talk as I escort you home."

He guided her down the main road, maneuvering around shoppers. His pace increased, and he searched for a secluded spot. He needed to speak to her alone—just for a few minutes—to get her to understand. He had wanted to amend his wrongs with Sarah back then, and now he was determined to set things right with Christian. Emily glanced back, and he did the same.

Mrs. Hayes was struggling to keep up.

Emily squeezed his arm. "Please slow down."

"I need to speak with you in private. It will only take a minute."

"I'm uncertain that's wise."

"It's the only way I can decide about my actions regarding Christian." He increased the pressure on her lower back and hurried to cross the street before a carriage rolled past.

She tried to pull away, but his hand snaked farther around her waist and tightened, drawing her closer to his side.

"I shall scream."

His steps didn't falter. She was bluffing. "You won't do that."

"I shall."

"You will create unwanted attention. People will talk." His voice softened. "Please, Miss Thompson. I will explain about what happened with Christian's mother."

Her resistance lessened, and she allowed him to lead her off the main road and onto a quieter street. The clapping of his boots on the cobblestones was the only sound until he pulled her into an alcove behind a flower shop.

She crossed her arms. "You have two minutes, so talk fast."

"You already know Christian is my son." Jacob stared into her eyes. "I was Johnny Raw, an inexperienced youth, not even out of university when I met Sarah—now the Duchess of Charlton. Her family inherited land near our country house and moved there for the fresh air in the summer. I was home on holiday. We both had demanding, aggressive fathers. We shared confidences and consoled one another. I thought I loved her."

As he relayed the tale of his unrequited love, Emily's expressions wavered between anger at his poor choices and heartbreak over the rejection he faced and the time lost with his son.

"I came to understand that what I thought was love was infatuation, but I was bitter. She refused to tell me where our son was. I set out to hurt Sarah the way she hurt me, so I attended parties and wore women on my arm like flashy jewels. Sarah saw, but so did the rest of the ton. I was branded a libertine, and the fast set flocked to me."

She shook her head. "You tried to fix a breakdown of virtue with another failure of virtue?"

"The consequences of a blackened reputation was a hard-earned lesson. My spite for Sarah dulled as my heart hardened. Nothing mattered to me. London's social scene bored me. It lacked meaning. I came to believe that there had to be more to life than parading in fancy attire to impress others. Yet frivolity was the aspiration of everyone around me. I grew dissatisfied and restless and started seeking thrills and entertainment—anything to get my heart to beat again."

The Home Office had noted his rogue ways and recruited him to woo the daughters of foreign political figures and wives of diplomats to extract information, but he couldn't admit as much to Emily. His explanations were flimsy because he couldn't explain that, at the time, he'd been on assignment to gather intelligence on Lord Benton. "A month ago, I was asked to join a night of drinking and card playing at Lady Benton's townhome, not realizing Lord Benton was out of town. Wine flowed, and Lady Benton offered her husband's bootlegged French brandy. I've never been much for spirits, but the others drank heavily, including Lady Benton, who became quite foxed.

"Looking back, I should have let the servants deal with her, but because of the honor instilled in me, I couldn't leave her lying on the floor next to her vomit. I scooped her up and carried her to her chamber, intending to let her sleep off the ill effects." Jacob swallowed hard through the tightness in his throat. "Lord Benton arrived shortly after I deposited her in her bed."

Emily gasped.

"I'm still paying the penance for my rakish behavior. My reputation followed me here—along with Lady Benton." A cynical smile twisted his lips. "This was supposed to be my clean slate, an opportunity to start fresh and be a good role model to my son, but one's sins have a way of catching up with him."

E mily bit her tongue. The Jacob she'd known since he arrived was a good role model for Christian. He was kind and cared for people. He gave of himself regardless of the consequences. But she dared not say her thoughts lest he decide he would make a good father and take Christian back to London with him.

"My brother Robert believes I have little regard for my life." He sighed. "Maybe he was right, but I've changed. The people of Sylvanwood have shown me what it's like to be content. They help each other and care about one another. I want to be part of that love because I care about Christian." He wrapped her hand in his. "And I care about you."

Emily's breath caught, her stomach somersaulting as if she rolled down a steep hill.

Why does he care about me?

Phoebe had the figure, the classic blond hair, and she came from good stock. She dressed fashionably and offered a substantial dowry. She was the one who'd set her cap for Jacob and claimed to carry his child.

"But Phoebe?—"

"I have not now nor have I ever held any affection for Miss Dorsham. Her attentions are misdirected." Jacob's expression darkened. "Miss Dorsham is walking a dangerous path. I was hoping you might talk some sense into her before it's too late."

Wasn't it already too late?

"I discovered her having a clandestine meeting with Lord Copeland."

"He's married." Emily gasped. "Are you certain?"

The intensity of his gaze strengthened. "Quite."

Phoebe's shrill voice rang in her memory. You must finish my portrait early, for I'll be gone all next week. Mama and I have been invited to the Copeland house party. Emily remembered Phoebe's exuberant face after their return. The house party was lovely—a complete dream. I've returned no longer a girl but a woman.

Emily's throat constricted. Phoebe couldn't marry an already married man. Was that why she'd been aggressively flirting with Jacob? To pawn off another man's child as his?

"I fear her choices will ruin her." Jacob shook his head. "I'm concerned because she's your friend, and I want to protect you from the scandal she may bring upon herself."

Why did she promise Phoebe she'd keep her confidence? She must confront Phoebe, have her stop this foolishness, and have her confess the truth to Jacob. If Phoebe didn't, she would—promise or no promise.

He cleared his throat, and the blue of his eyes darkened to a deep cobalt. "I care for you. You have upstanding character, gentleness, and goodness." His light chuckle danced in the air between them. "And splendid wit." He stepped closer. "My past isn't pretty, but I feel I've shed an old skin, and it's no longer a part of me. My future seemed dull, but now it's bursting with life and possibilities." He held her hand in his warm grip. "May I court you?"

Emily bit her bottom lip. Her heart screamed its sentiments, but she remained frozen. In her heart, she knew Jacob wasn't the father of Phoebe's child. He'd made mistakes, but since he'd been in Sylvanwood, God had been showing him the error of his ways and he'd repented.

Nevertheless, courtship wasn't possible. They were not suitable for each other. His blackened reputation would only darken the stigma she already carried of being baseborn, stamped upon her by her birth mother. She wanted to pretend the rest of society didn't exist and enter his world as she would dream of stepping into one of her paintings, but both were impossible.

Yet he looked at her as though all things were possible, as if she were a sought-after prize—that he'd tear down any wall, seize any territory, and defend her from any attack. Of all people, he should understand that all it took was one drop of mud to taint a clean glass of water, and impossible to separate once added.

Her emotions warred within her, and her knees wobbled. He cupped her elbows to steady her.

A tendril escaped her bonnet and swung down, brushing her cheek.

"The day you rescued me, I knew you were someone special." He gently toyed with the strand. "And the more I've gotten to know you, the more I understand what an amazing woman you are. You are talented and loyal. You are beautiful and smart."

He tucked the lock behind her ear, then traced the line of her jaw. His charm drew her like a magnetic pull.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "And you understand my humor. That's a rare find."

He seemed to look into her very soul as he pulled her into an embrace. The heady scent of lemongrass wrapped around her like soft, enticing currents, drawing her toward him until her eyes drifted close. His warm breath mingled with hers. The heat of his hands coursed through the fabric of her sleeves.

She waited, ready to welcome the feel of his lips over hers.

Someone sniffed—and not Jacob.

Mrs. Hayes had caught up with them.

Emily tore away from Jacob and turned her back. "I knew you couldn't change." She covered her burning cheeks with her hands, horrified at her wanton longings. Was she doomed to behave like her birthmother? "And neither can I."

Jacob reached for her. "Forgive me. I got carried away. I'm a fool. I didn't mean to?—"

"Oh, there ye be." Mrs. Hayes rounded the corner. "I been looking all over fer ye. These ol' legs aren't as quick as you young'uns."

Emily dropped her hands and straightened.

Dear Lord, what did I almost do?