Chapter Six

Just as Emma was walking into dinner after a quick but heated conversation with her sister, Nick stepped into her path. No, not Nick . Mr. Forester. The dreaded rival who threatened her every happiness. The impostor . The man whose presence Tabitha had kept a secret. Though her sister had apologized for not warning her, Emma had been quick to voice her displeasure at being left in the dark. Now she was trapped. As tempted as she was to ignore him and continue onward, her feet remained glued into place by the intense look he gave her.

"Miss Mackenzie," he greeted, bowing his head slightly.

She gritted her teeth. Niceties required that she reply, but she had no desire to be polite. "Forester," she said as sharply as she could. "At what point did you intend to tell me you were determined to steal everything from me?" She felt so foolish for writing his presence off as coincidence earlier. Of course he was Mr. Forester! At least her first impression of him had been correct, though he had nearly changed her mind with his playfulness in the corridor.

He let out a single, humorless laugh. "Right about when I discovered who you really were. You could have said." Folding his arms, he stood a little taller—wasn't he already tall enough?—and shook his head. "I suppose there isn't any point in me trying to convince you to—"

"You won't convince me of anything, Mr. Forester." Emma tried to match his height, though even she, who was taller than most women, barely reached his nose. She had to look upward to meet his gaze, which made her feel like he was looking down on her. Still, she would do her best to stand her ground. "I know what you will say."

"Is that so?"

"You think you and I should marry and allow us both to get what we want." The thought made her shudder.

Mr. Forester must have seen that shudder because he narrowed his eyes. "I was going to say nothing of the sort."

She exhaled through her nose. "Good. The Mackenzie lands are my home, and I have every intention of keeping them that way. Now, if you will kindly get out of my way, we are needed in the dining room."

He allowed her space to pass and followed her in, but to her frustration the only two place settings left were directly across from each other. It seemed she would have to continue interacting with him, though she would have to put a good deal of energy into keeping herself from childishly kicking him beneath the table.

He would probably take a silly kick as a sign that she was not a true opponent.

Well , Emma thought to herself, he is most certainly wrong on that account . She generally worked hard to ensure everyone was happy and included, but now her future was at stake. She couldn't be friendly with this man any more than she could see herself marrying the likes of him, with all his arrogance and exaggeration.

She had no idea how she would win, but Emma Mackenzie would not back down from this sudden call to arms. Not until she had her independence in hand. She only had to stave off his impending wedding—to whomever it might be—for six weeks, and then she would be free.

Easy.

Except Nick Forester was not a man to be trifled with, something she realized the instant he sent her a charming smile over the first course.

"Miss Mackenzie," he said with absolute ease and indifference, "Miss Barton here thinks you are the solution to our little problem in the east wing."

Emma gripped her napkin tight in her lap, twisting it so hard that she feared the servants would never get the wrinkles out. "Is that so?" She could see Elias watching her from the seat beside Miss Barton, and she knew he would ask her about the incident the first moment he could. She was riled up enough that he was likely quite worried about her.

"Miss Barton, were you not just saying Miss Mackenzie was the perfect candidate?" Mr. Forester said. He practically shouted it, as Miss Barton was clear on the other end of the table, and it pulled all attention their way. Did the man have no idea how dinner etiquette worked?

Miss Barton seemed thrilled to be addressed by the man and sent a ridiculous smile his way. "Indeed, Mr. Forester."

"What is wrong with the east wing?" Tabitha asked, and her concern came out clear in her thin voice.

Emma twisted her napkin even tighter, imagining it to be Mr. Forester's cravat around his neck. "Mr. Forester thought he saw a ghost," she said before either he or Miss Barton could turn it into anything more. What, had he roped that poor girl into his schemes as well?

Alvaro chuckled at the head of the table. "A ghost? You do not believe in ghosts, Forester."

"But of course he does," Miss Barton argued with wide eyes. "He swore he saw the spirit of a cow not an hour ago."

Mr. Forester's face turned pink, but it was not nearly enough for Emma to feel satisfied. This battle had only just begun. "He also said he was attacked by a couple of miniature bandits but managed to strike fear into their hearts," she said matter-of-factly.

Mr. Forester narrowed his eyes at her and seemed to be gathering his own arms to truly begin sparring. "Are you calling me a liar, Miss Mackenzie?"

"I am certainly not saying you've spoken any truth since you arrived. Bandits in Tutbury? Ghosts of cows? Preposterous."

"But you saw the cow as well, Miss Mackenzie," Miss Barton offered. "You said you've seen it many times."

Elias ducked his head to hide the smile playing at his mouth. Several others, Emma noticed, did the same.

Emma was tempted to throw her spoon at the insufferable Miss Barton and only refrained because Tabitha looked near to the breaking point. This was not how her sister had hoped their dinner party would go, and Emma was letting her own personal feelings get in the way of what was supposed to be an enjoyable evening. No part of this feud was Tabitha's fault, nor did it affect any of the other guests, who couldn't seem to decide whether they should laugh or choose sides.

It was time to take the battle to the background, away from anyone else. At least that way Emma would have a little more control and would not have to endure the ever-so-slight smile that curled Mr. Forester's lips. Apparently he seemed to think he had won this round.

Taking a deep breath, Emma turned to Alvaro and swiftly changed the subject, ignoring Miss Barton's comment entirely. "Do you think it will rain this week, Lord Harstone?"

Conversations immediately picked up again, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief as Tabitha smiled.

Without meaning to, Emma met Mr. Forester's gaze and scowled at him when she realized he was perfectly unaffected, despite the fact that some of the party now thought he believed in ghosts. She had to remember that the man had spent the last three years deep in the heart of social London and would not be overcome by one little oddity. From what she had heard, he had plenty others, and the man likely was used to being whispered about.

Emma, however, was not.

Mr. Forester lifted his wine glass in a toast, and though he spoke too softly to be heard, Emma could read his words well enough: "To the victor."

To the victor indeed. Nick Forester would rue the day he thought Emma would give up so easily.

* * *

After supper some of the guests moved to the parlor to play cards or engage in small conversations while some chose to return home before it got too late. People in Tutbury did not exactly conform to the fashionable traditions of remaining out until late in the night. Grandfather was snoozing in the corner, and Tabitha and Alvaro sat deep in discussion with their neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall. With Elias playing whist with Miss Barton, Miss West, and a man named Mr. Leeds, that left Emma and Mr. Forester, unless she wanted to speak to Miss West's mother. That would be a bad idea. Mrs. West continuously obsessed over the notion that she was suffering from some sort of ailment, which changed weekly. Emma had been caught in too many overly personal discussions over the years and now felt as if she knew as much of Mrs. West's body as the woman herself did.

Unwilling to interact with Mr. Forester unless it was necessary, and uninterested in talking to the supposed invalid Mrs. West, Emma settled into a chair in the corner and picked up the book sitting there—not with the intent to read it, as she had neither the patience nor the desire to read about flora and fauna, but in the hopes of appearing fully occupied until she could return home.

Mr. Forester ignored her attempts, settling himself next to her on the sofa. "I did not take you for a plant enthusiast, Miss Mackenzie."

Emma gripped the book so tightly that her thumb pulled at one of the pages, tearing it at the top. She winced. She refused to look at him, knowing his smirk would only make her angrier. "You know nothing about me, Mr. Forester."

"Pray, which flowering shrub is your favorite?"

"Was there something you wanted?"

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. Emma hadn't realized just how close he had sat until his jacket sleeve brushed her arm as he leaned nearer. "You know exactly what I want."

Though keeping her eyes on the book had become quite the feat with Mr. Forester so near, Emma managed it. "I also know you have plenty of time to get it. Pray, do you have plans in December?"

He stiffened, the first sign of weakness. "He told you?"

She couldn't resist looking at his expression, pleased to see the fear in his eyes. "My grandfather has my best interests at heart. Of course he told me." Even if his methods were a bit questionable.

The muscles in Forester's jaw strained as he examined her. "So it truly is to be a war?" he growled. "You should know I have no intention of standing down, Miss Mackenzie. I will be master of the Mackenzie lands." Gone was the lighthearted man Emma had seen in the corridor upstairs; a true beast sat in his place.

If the brute could convince a woman to take his hand, she would be a poor soul regardless of the fortune that would come with him.

Slamming her book shut, Emma turned to face the man. "Mr. Forester, need I remind you that you have no claim to those lands beyond my grandfather's charity?"

He winced at the word charity .

Emma pushed forward. "Are you so heartless as to leave me with nothing? Mr. Mackenzie's flesh and blood? Mackenzie Manor is my home. Without it, I have nothing ."

"You have your dowry, don't you?" he snapped.

"My husband, should I ever find one worth consideration, will get my dowry."

His argument died on his tongue, which was a point in his favor. He had precious few of those. Clenching his jaw again, he turned his focus to the whist game on the other side of the room, where Miss Barton seemed to be trying to convince Elias to smile. "Miss Mackenzie," he said on a sigh. "I understand your situation. I really do. But I will not—cannot—step aside."

Emma hadn't expected anything otherwise. He could pretend to understand all he wanted, but as a man, he had freedom to take care of himself and do whatever caught his fancy. He would never know the struggle of being a woman subject to the whims of men.

"I do not think we need to continue discussing this topic," she said, no matter how much she wanted to shout at the awful man.

"We are in agreement."

"We most certainly are not. Otherwise, you would concede."

He groaned, rising to his feet and for once looking ruffled as he scrubbed a hand across his jaw. "Miss Mackenzie, please."

"I may not know your reasons for being so determined to take what is mine, Mr. Forester, but—"

"I thought we were no longer discussing the subject."

Her body tensing, Emma tried to ignore the way his eyes pierced hers with an intensity she'd never seen in anyone before. No matter how many lies surrounded him, there had to be some truth to the rumors about the man. From the little she knew about him, he was charming, friendly, and quick-thinking. He may not have saved lives every day like the rumors said, but perhaps he had become skilled at manipulating those around him to get what he wanted. The sharpness of his stare contained years of experience she would never have.

This battle would not be easily won.

She took a careful breath, wishing she had had some sort of military training. Alas, yet another reason women continued to be a step behind men.

"Mr. Forester," she began, "believe me when I say I will not easily give in."

"So you are saying I simply need to try harder. Noted."

"That isn't what I—"

He suddenly took hold of her hand, drawing a gasp out of her with his surprisingly gentle touch. He held it just long enough to plant a kiss against her knuckles, and then he returned her hand to her lap.

She hoped he didn't notice the tremble in her fingers.

"You have no idea what game you're playing," he murmured, speaking so softly that she leaned in. That intensity was still there, like a shadow had passed over his blue eyes. "You may think you're clever, Miss Mackenzie, but you are going to lose. A rose may have thorns, but they are never more than an inconvenience. Keep to looking beautiful; at least then you'll have done something worthwhile."

Though a flash of regret crossed the man's face, Emma refused to listen to any more of his nonsense. She leaped to her feet and hurried to Grandfather's side to gently shake him awake. "We should go home," she told him.

He grunted in response, but then his eyes landed on Mr. Forester, who still frowned as if Emma was being entirely unreasonable. "I see the two of you have spoken," Grandfather said with a chuckle.

"There is nothing humorous about this," she replied. "I wish you would have told me sooner that he would be here so I could have known to remain at home and avoid him." Although, now that she had met Mr. Forester, she had a better idea of what she was up against.

Surely no one would be daft enough to accept him when he was so unfeeling and selfish. He would be in Staffordshire for a few weeks at least, from what she gathered from Tabitha while the men had lingered over port, and all Emma had to do was provoke the man into showing his true colors every time he met a new lady. Not one of the women in Tutbury would be foolish enough to consider him if Emma had anything to say. What could he truly offer anyone? Charm? That would likely be his strongest asset, as he had plenty of it. His demonstration had given her that knowledge firsthand.

Mr. Forester had called her beautiful again, and she had felt his words to her core. She knew it was merely his most recent strike, but she still felt the whisper of his kiss on her fingers, as if his lips had left a searing brand behind.

She shuddered. No, no one would ever see anything admirable about the man, so no one would seek out his affection. No matter how charming he may be.

"Mr. Forester! You must come replace Mr. Drake."

No one except Miss Barton.

As she helped her grandfather to his feet, Emma watched carefully as Mr. Forester turned his attention to the young woman, hoping not to see any hint of attachment. He had literally run away from her that afternoon, but Miss Barton seemed of a persistent sort. She would likely be Emma's downfall if given the chance.

"What are you scheming now?" Elias asked her as he approached. "You know I don't like that look."

Emma waved him away. She would tell him about everything later, when Grandfather would not be able to overhear her plans. "Nothing at all. I simply wondered if you would be accompanying us home."

He frowned, as his family's home was just across the hedge from Mackenzie Manor. "You know I planned to."

"Wonderful."

"Good night, Grandfather," Tabitha said, kissing his cheek as they passed. "You'll come for tea tomorrow?"

Grandfather smiled as he accepted Elias's waiting arm. "Of course, dear. And thank you, Mr. Drake. You are too good to me."

Elias turned slightly red at the praise. "It is nothing, Mr. Mackenzie. I only wish to help where I can."

"We need to find you a spouse as well."

The heat in his face blossoming, Elias glanced back at the game of whist, as if wishing he had remained in the game rather than joined this conversation. "Eventually," he said, leaving it at that.

With Grandfather taken care of, Emma paused in the doorway and looked back at the card table as well. Three of the players were deep into the game, but one had his eyes locked on her.

It was a shame Mr. Forester was so handsome. His bright-blue eyes and striking jawline would only make it harder to keep him from finding a wife, and somewhere beneath his cold exterior was a wide smile that lit up his whole countenance. A smile like that, alongside his charm, could prove to be a valuable ally on his side of the war.

At the moment, he hardly wore an expression at all, and it brought a shiver to Emma's spine. She had a feeling she had only scratched the surface of this man, and she was afraid of what she might find if she dug deeper. And she would have to dig if she had any hope of securing her future.