CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Emilia’s head was pounding.

She woke to the sound of birdsong and a shaft of light across her pillow. The fire was crackling, the world outside a sea of white.

It was Christmas Day, and she felt wretched.

“Emilia?”

Charlotte was at her bedside in moments, gently placing a cool cloth over her forehead. Her gaze was all concern, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes—she looked as though she had not slept at all.

Emilia frowned at her, trying to fathom why she felt so terrible and why she was in her bed. She thought back to the night before and everything began to unravel in her mind. She remembered the Duke of Elderbridge stepping forward, the smug arrogance on his face as he claimed her in front of everyone.

She could only imagine what Adam had thought. He must believe she had deceived him all this time, that she had never intended for their proposal to be real. Yet again, he had been abandoned by a woman in his life. The thought that he might believe she had chosen a duke over an earl to elevate her status after the scandal flitted through her head.

She groaned.

“Are you in pain?” Charlotte took her hand, squeezing it gently as she watched her.

“What happened? Why am I here?” she asked, dreading the answer but desperate to know.

“You fainted and have not regained consciousness since. The physician has been and will return shortly with your draft.”

“I fainted?” Emilia asked in disbelief. “I have never fainted.”

“I think it understandable given the circumstances. I cannot believe the duke announced it in front of everyone. Is it true?”

Emilia winced as she nodded her head. “My father and mother called me into the drawing room just before the ceremony. They were so happy, Charlotte and I could not speak. I did not believe he would do it. Not yet. I thought… I thought…” she trailed off.

“Lord Bellebrook carried you here,” Charlotte said softly. “He wouldn’t allow anyone else near you; hejust lifted you up as though you weighed nothing at all.”

Emilia’s heart beat more rapidly at that knowledge, but she sighed, a heavy weight resting on her chest.

“He must despise me,” she lamented.

“I do not believe that is the case.”

“How could it not be? He must believe I lied all this time, that I was never intending to marry him. He has seen such loss in his life, and now I am only compounding it.”

She sat up, determined to go and find Adam and explain her side of the story, if nothing else, but a gentle hand pressed her back to the bed.

“My love, you must rest,” Charlotte said, standing again and repositioning the towel that had fallen against the pillow. “Nothing is certain, and Lord Bellebrook is a rational man. He will know what the duke is.”

“And what can he do? What can anyone do now?”

“Do not lose faith. You are stronger than this. You must regain your strength and face the world as we all must.” Emilia looked back up to Charlotte, startled by the vehemence in the other woman’s voice. “ You have not accepted the duke. Your parents may wish for the match, but they cannot force your hand.”

Emilia attempted a brave smile, and Charlotte seemed mollified, but she knew it was not so simple. It would break her mother’s heart if she refused now, and she could not see a path ahead of her where she would be able to live the life she had dreamed of.

This is a most dismal Christmas, indeed.

***

Everyone had gathered in the parlour room to wish each other joy.

But despite the brightness of the room and the merry garlands all around them, the company was a sombre group.

Adam had been touched by the obvious concern of so many. Lord and Lady Fairfax had asked if there was anything they could do and had summoned the family physician who lived close by to tend to Emilia.

Lord and Lady Pinkerton had been suggesting different tinctures that he might employ to alleviate Emilia’s symptoms.

Adam’s mind was stuck on one image in a cycle: Emilia's crumpled form. Her lovely face against the cold marble, her body limp in his arms.

He sipped his mulled wine, staring out of the window, trying to ensure that his face did not betray his inner turmoil. He wanted to be alone in his study in the silent company of books and wished he had never come to this damned house.

Just like that, the thought solidified in his mind. I must leave.

He knew that Elderbridge would be crowing about his betrothal as soon as Emilia was well again—or perhaps even sooner if he knew the duke as he believed he did. Adam gulped down the last of his wine and walked slowly from the room, not wishing to attract any unnecessary attention.

He found a footman in the hall and instructed him to prepare his carriage. Walking up the stairs to his room, he staunchly avoided looking at Emilia’s bedchamber door and made his way to this room.

Villiers looked startled as he entered. The man had been cleaning his shaving brushes and looked up in consternation as his master re-entered the room. He hastily put down his things and stood.

“My Lord, my apologies. What can I do for you?”

“Pack my things, Villiers, please. I will be leaving this morning.”

Adam knew it was damnably unfair to his faithful valet to make him travel on Christmas Day of all days, but he could not bear to remain for a moment longer.

Before he could instruct any further action, however, the door opened, and his aunt burst into the room. In the way of quiet authority she always had, she waved Villers back as the valet bowed to her. He retreated into a side room to pack Adam’s things, and Adam watched his aunt close the door, looking at him with an expression of stoic determination.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I am leaving. What does it look like?” Adam said with a clipped tone he knew would rile her instantly. His aunt scoffed loudly as he walked to his bedside, picked up his book, and began to pack the travelling case stored beneath the bed.

“You are running away, you mean?” his aunt asked, and Adam paused, glancing up at her. She was tense, her stare unmoving, distant, and fierce.

“I am leaving, ” he said with more anger than he had thought he possessed.

“It is Christmas, Adam,” she implored, her expression softening as he rummaged through the room. “This is a time for family. Please. Stay for the day. You do not know what has—”

“I was a fool to open my heart again. I know that now. I was mistaken about Lady Emilia, and I will pay the price for it.”

“Do you truly believe that girl knew what the duke would announce?”

“She accepted him, did she not?” Adam spat, the fury coming to the surface so fast he felt like hurling something through the window.

“You are being a fool,” his aunt returned, taking a step toward him. “You will honestly leave without speaking with her?”

“And what should I say? Everything is already settled.”

Augusta laid a gentle hand on his arm. “I do not believe she would treat you this way.”

“You do not know her,” Adam said, throwing her off and walking to the middle of the room, looking about helplessly for something to occupy him.

“But you do,” his aunt insisted, and Adam closed his eyes. “Do you believe this is how she would conduct herself?”

“It does not matter,” Adam said bitterly. “She has made her choice.”

He continued packing, his aunt a silent force by the bedside, but she said no more. Adam would not be reasoned withandwas determined to leave as soon as possible.

He would put Sternwood Manor and all the happiness he had felt within its walls behind him, and he would not look back.

***

Lionel walked through the ground-floor corridors in a daze. There was a strange stillness across the house, as though the very walls were holding their breaths. It was the strangest Christmas he had ever experienced, and his heart ached for his friend.

If he had not been certain that his actions would have broken his cousin even further Lionel would already have approached Lord Fairfax to ask for Charlotte’s hand in marriage.

Seeing her caring nature had only doubled his feelings for her. Knowing she had sat beside Emilia’s bed all night, he had been unable to sleep, wishing he could go to her and show her some comfort.

Lost in thought, he continued down a side corridor, but his pace slowed as voices drifted toward him through the air. There would have been nothing remarkable in that except that they were the only jovial voices he had heard all day.

Suddenly aware of a door ajar ahead of him, Lionel felt the need to silence his footsteps as he moved closer, instinctively knowing that he was overhearing something private that he should not have been privy to.

“It is true; I have long believed we could make a great alliance.”

That was the duke’s voice. Lionel moved closer to the crack in the door.

“The Bellebrook estate has been mismanaged for many years.” Lionel froze as he heard Frederick’s voice. “My cousin is weak. When his late wife passed, he had fits so strong he was bedridden for weeks. He will not be able to survive another blow, I am sure of it. It is only a matter of time before I am named as heir, and then the names of Elderbridge and Bellebrook will be synonymous with one another.”

Lionel peered around the door, noting that both men held cigars in their hands and glasses of whisky. They clinked their glasses together.

“I am grateful to you for pointing out their attachment,” the duke said. “I had intended to secure the marriage in the New Year, but knowing Bentley’s preferences allowed me to see clearly how I should act.”

“It would have been an imprudent match. Emilia is young and foolish; her head may have been turned by my cousin, but it will not stay so now. She will provide you with the heir you need and secure your line. That is what matters, your Grace, and I would not have wished to see the chance slip by you.”

“Indeed, I am in your debt.”

“I had not expected the lady to fall ill, however.” Was that a hint of regret in Frederick’s voice?

“She will survive. Women always like to make a show of things to have the required effect, but she will come to heel when I tell her. She knows her duty, as does her father. She’s a timid thing, I have always thought so, scared of her own shadow. My preference would always have been to align myself to an untainted family—the Sternwood name is hardly the exalted position I would wish for the Elderbridges, but my options are limited.”

Lionel clenched his fists, his breathing laboured as he considered what he had just heard. He thought of Adam’s ashen face the night before and the alarm and pain in Emilia’s as the announcement had been made. He was now certain that Emilia had known nothing of what had occurred—this was a deal between gentlemen just as he had suspected. Lord Sternwood would have agreed with thematch outsidehis daughter’s wishes.

Lionel was furious.

He had never felt so angry or so betrayed, and by Frederick of all people. Lionel knew the chequered history that Adam had with the man. Frederick had always considered himself the victim in everything, believing that Adam should have given him moreof his fortune when his father died. As it was, Adam had gifted Frederick with almost five thousand pounds only two years before, and the man had frittered it all away in gambling hells all over London.

Lionel moved closer to the door, considering bursting into the room and accusing them in the midst of their heartless celebrations. But he stopped himself, taking a gentle step back. This is not my fight.

He had to find Adam.

As silently as he could, he turned back the way he had come and walked swiftly to the main part of the house, leaping up the stairs two at a time in his search for his cousin.

He burst through the door of Adam’s room to find Villiers carrying a trunk as though to head down to the carriage. Adam, dejected and pale, stood behind him with a black bag in one hand. He frowned at Lionel as he entered, concern flitting over his face.

“Is it Emilia?” he asked, moving to place the bag on the floor. Lionel’s hope surged; if his cousin was still concerned for her well-being, he had not allowed his disappointment to eclipse everything else just yet.

“Villiers, could you give us a moment?” Lionel asked respectfully. The faithful man lowered the trunk and left the room, closing the door with a smart click.

“What is it, Lionel?” Adam asked, his voice weary.

“There are games a foot, just as I thought.” Lionel stepped forward, fixing Adam with a long stare. “Frederick is behind this.”

Adam scoffed. “Of what are you speaking? He has forced the duke to propose, is that it?”

“He warned him.” Adam’s cynical smile died on his lips. “He must have discovered that you were betrothed to Lady Emilia in secret and told the duke so that he would propose before you had the chance to make it official.”

Adam stilled. “How do you know this?”

“I just heard them congratulating one another. Frederick spoke of you in terms so abhorrent I can hardly believe the man is of sound mind. He appears to believe that one more disappointment will have you withering away and leaving the estate to him as he has always wanted. At which point it appears he will align himself with the duke. Much good may it do him when he would have squandered your father’s fortune in months.”

Adam took an urgent step forward. “You are sure of this?”

“I heard the duke thanking Frederick for informing him of your intentions. Frederick must have overheard some of your conversations with Emiliaor learned it some other way, but the reason for the hasty betrothal was to ensure you could not be aligned with her. It is all a plot by Frederick to get your title and align himself with a powerful man. The only thing the duke wants from this marriage is a male heir, he said that he would ‘bring Emilia Sterling to heel’.”

At those words, Adam’s expression changed, and for the first time in three years, Lionel saw the man who had been lost to him.

The grim determination on Adam’s face was all-consuming, and he marched from the room, nodding his head at Lionel for him to follow.