Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Tags: Emma/Jefferson, Belle/Rumpelstiltskin, Killian Jones, Esmerelda, Original Characters, Smut, Pining, Angst, Spanking, More Smut, Stigma, Romance, Fluff, Regency AU, AU - Canon Divergence

Summary: Jefferson and Emma have their fair share of problems and can't decide whether they want to be friends or enemies. When she decides that only he will do as her husband, Jefferson is forced to do anything and everything to deter her so the secret he keeps won't destroy them both. But will it be enough? Part 2 of my Regency Rumbelle Verse.

A/N: This story picks up about six months after the end of Éclairs & Chocolate Kisses. Jefferson and Emma's tale needs to be told after all.

Secrets & Chocolate Cream

By:

CharlotteAshmore

I

The Earl of Rochefort stared down into the crackling fire with unseeing hooded grey eyes, a glass of his finest scotch forgotten in his hand where it rested against the arm of his chair. He sighed wearily, grateful for the solitude of his study. It wasn't often he was granted a moment of peace when he was in residence at Rochefort and he thought it best to savor the moment. He loved his ancestral home, at one time the halls having been filled with love and laughter, but that had been years ago, when his father had been alive.

Now it was cold and dismal and not at all welcoming … nothing like Sheffield or Robert Gold's townhouse in London. But then, the Duke of Sheffield was more of a brother to him than a mere friend. It was only natural he felt more comfortable with family … a family which was growing. Belle was seven months pregnant and she and Robbie couldn't be happier. He couldn't be happier.

He raked a hand through his hair and rested his head against the back of his chair. No, that wasn't quite true. He couldn't help the feelings of resentment he harbored towards his friends. They were so happy, so in love and Jefferson had to admit he was more than a little jealous. For the last several years, he'd wanted the same for himself, to find a woman he could love and have a family of his own. He hid those desires behind a mask of cool disdain for anything of a romantic nature. She would never allow him to find happiness … not without paying her price.

Eyes the most brilliant shade of emerald, sparkling with desire, danced across his mind's eye. Pale alabaster skin, golden curls and the softest lips he'd ever tasted tormented him. Emma … He groaned, the sound mingling with the crackling of the logs in the hearth. He couldn't ever remember wanting a woman as he did her. She challenged his wit, sparked his ire, and as long as he was being honest with himself, yes, she enflamed his desire to the point where he would wake in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, her name on his lips.

Emma … Yet his exquisite little blonde was not one for a short-lived dalliance. No, she would never settle for less than a ring on her finger and till death do us part. It was a tragedy he couldn't have her, but if it was one thing he would never be able to offer her, it was his name.

Ladies of quality did not marry men born on the wrong side of the blanket … no matter how wealthy or titled they may be. What woman would want to have children with a man of questionable birth? It didn't matter that there were only four people in all of England who knew the truth … Edith Madden, Robert and Abigail Gold and himself.

His mother - his birth mother - had died not long after she'd borne him, and his father had passed when Jefferson had been the tender age of thirteen. They wouldn't be telling anyone. He would never understand why the previous earl had agreed to an arranged marriage to a woman he could barely tolerate. And the feeling had been mutual. When Marshall Madden had found love with a gently bred woman and fallen in love, his happiness had been snatched away, leaving him only with Jefferson and a wife he couldn't stand. However, instead of hiding his son away, he'd brought him home and raised him practically alone with only the aid of the servants.

Jefferson tossed back the amber liquid in his glass and sighed. He'd never understood as a child why his mother didn't love him. She'd relished the agony on his face after Marshall had passed away and she was able to finally break her silence and tell him the truth. It had nearly destroyed him. Not so much that he was a bastard, but the promise Edith Madden made the day of the funeral. If was every fortunate enough to find happiness, she would rip it away by telling anyone who would listen the miserable circumstances of his birth.

Two months later he'd been shipped off to Eton where he'd met Robert. They'd been inseparable since they'd been roommates at that boarding school. Robert simply didn't care. He was a duke, and could do as he pleased. Robert hadn't even told Belle, and as an empath it was nearly impossible to keep anything from her. That was why he wouldn't give in to the dreaded state of matrimony. He refused to let the stigma of his birth, should the truth ever come out, make his wife hate him. He wouldn't suffer through a loveless marriage as his parents had.

How could he ever subject a woman to that? Especially the lovely Emma?

His brows drew together in a concerned frown over his closed eyes. Emma wasn't without her own misfortune. Not long after Belle and Robert had learned they were expecting their first child, tragedy had struck for Emma. She'd lost both of her parents to a tragic house fire, an overturned lamp in the parlor the cause of the blaze. By the time the fire had reached the upper floors where Daniel and Regina slept, the smoke had already taken their lives and those of four of their servants. If Emma hadn't been away at Sheffield visiting with Belle and the dowager, she would have been lost as well. He shuddered, the thought of his - no, not his, he scolded himself - the thought of Emma's vibrant flame snuffed out before she'd even begun to live. It was too horrible to contemplate.

Jefferson hadn't seen her since the memorial service. He'd convinced himself it was best to put as much distance between himself and temptation as possible. He'd gone so far as to remove himself from London and closet himself away on his estate in Northumberland which bordered Robert's own lands. But even the long six-month separation hadn't been enough to drive her from his thoughts.

Robert was less than pleased with Jefferson's withdrawal from London, missing his closest friend, as it were. But Robert and Belle, being Emma's closest relatives had taken the girl in and now she was firmly ensconced at the townhouse. It just wouldn't do for him to stay true to his habit of staying with the Golds with her in residence. And he didn't relish the idea of staying at his own house in the city. It would be like placing an entire plate of éclairs in front of the new duchess. He would much rather have returned to London for a quick visit had his estate manager not tracked him down with a desperate plea to return to Rochefort.

His teeth gnashed together as he thought of his mother. The countess had taken it upon herself to redecorate the entire manor, gouging a sizable chunk from the coffers. It wasn't so much the money, but rather the choice of décor with its loud garish colors. He felt as if he were going to go blind if he had to look at it another moment. Closing his eyes, Emma's lovely visage flitted across his mind. He'd stayed away long enough … tomorrow he'd return to London. She probably hadn't thought of him in months, it should be safe.

*.*.*

Jefferson removed his jacket and loosened his cravat as he walked down the long hall to Robert's study. It had been a horrible two weeks at Rochefort, and he needed a drink and his friend's companionship. Perhaps a stiff scotch and some light banter would help dispel the nasty taste in his mouth left by his mother's vile company. He caught a flash of a black lace hem and the delectable curve of a well-turned ankle disappear into the parlor and a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Teasing pretty little Emma Morrison had become his favorite form of entertainment before he'd exiled himself to Northumberland.

To put it simply, their relationship - if one could call it that - had gotten off to a rocky start. It had begun at Sheffield. Ah, the infamous house party which had gotten Robert bound in honorable matrimony in the first place, Jefferson thought with a grin. Robert had thought it would be so funny to pair them at dinner. Jefferson hadn't. The little twit had prattled endlessly until he'd been ready to crawl over the table and throttle Robert for such a cruel jest. Then she had come upon the duke in an inappropriate embrace with Belle and Jefferson had been forced to fetch her back and assure her silence. She was a brat! With the most kissable lips in London. Twice he'd had to rescue her from the lecherous advances of Lord Malcolm Wendell. Jefferson shuddered at the thought of that monster with his hands all over her.

After he'd come to her aid the second time, they'd actually had time to sit and talk. Too bad he'd ended up kissing her that night. If she hadn't been teasing him, sucking the whipped cream from her finger right off the top of her hot chocolate. It was her fault, of course. What man could've resisted after that? Jefferson groaned, just the thought of how she'd tasted, like chocolate and cream, making him hard and aching. She still hadn't been on speaking terms with him at her parent's memorial service and he hadn't had the heart to tease her then. But that had been months ago.

Jefferson pushed Emma from his mind and opened the door to Robert's study. He really needed a drink now. His gaze swung to his friend sitting on the sofa before the small hearth. He should've known Belle would be with him. Robert's very pregnant wife was perched on his lap feeding him chocolates from the box next to them.

"I thought you had banned chocolate from the house after you started gaining weight," Jefferson said drolly as he poured himself a glass of Robert's finest scotch whiskey.

A blush rose in the duke's face as he kissed the corner of Belle's mouth and set her gently on the sofa. "Yeah, well, Belle had a craving for chocolate covered raspberry creams. And she's been so uncomfortable of late, how could I deny her?"

Jefferson rolled his eyes at Belle in mock irritation and she stuck her tongue out at him. "You spoil her," he commented dryly, pouring a glass of scotch for Robert and handing it to him.

"Judging by the haggard look about your eyes, I take it things didn't go well at Rochefort?" Robert asked as he dropped into the chair behind his desk.

"That woman!" Jefferson railed. "She is the most disagreeable harpy imaginable. I'm surprised she didn't try to have me poisoned while I was there. And the money. Don't even get me started on how much of my money she's wasted redecorating. It's not even something I would want. It's horrible, garish and just all-around displeasing. It's going to cost double to put it back to rights."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you don't have to worry about money," Robert scoffed in a dry tone.

"Why do you hate your mother so much?" Belle asked, tilting her head to the side and regarding him closely as she popped another chocolate into her mouth.

Jefferson tossed his drink back and poured himself another. "We have a complicated relationship."

"So you were born on the wrong side of the blanket. Why should that matter?" Belle replaced the top on the box of chocolates. It was no fun when Robert wasn't sharing them with her. Jefferson startled her by spraying his scotch all over the Aubusson carpet.

"You told her!" Jefferson shouted, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and turning to glare at Robert.

"No."

"Sorry," Belle apologized, her face twisting into a puzzled frown.

"Belle, get the hell out of my bloody head," Jefferson hissed, glaring at her with icy grey eyes.

Belle apologized again. "I'm so sorry, Jeff. I haven't really had any control over my gift lately. The closer I comes to my time, the more uncontrollable it seems to be. Hormones?"

"Really, Jefferson. You let it bother you entirely too much," Robert said stiffly. "Those who love you don't care one whit what side of the blanket you come from."

"Yeah," Jefferson said in a low voice. Robert had never cared one way or the other. He'd always seen Jefferson as a kindred spirit, someone who could be a true friend to him without seeing his title. Jefferson couldn't care less about titles. He himself had one and wished he didn't. It was too much of a burden.

Jefferson was distracted from his brooding thoughts by a knock at the study door. He was further surprised to see it was Emma's lovely blonde head which poked around the door.

"Belle, the dowager is having tea in the parlor and was wondering if you would like to join us," Emma said, her eyes brightening as they landed on Jefferson. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Nonsense, Emma. Tell Abby I'll be along in a moment," Belle smiled, moving to Robert's side to brush her lips to his. "I will see you later, my love."

When the door closed behind her, Jefferson rounded on his friend, casually slouching back into the chair set before Robert's desk. "I was surprised to hear you were here in London. Still haven't convinced Abby to return to Sheffield?"

"Believe it or not, it was Belle's idea to remain in London for a while. She wants Emma to be surrounded by people who care about her. She doesn't have many friends she seems to tolerate, but the few she has are all here for the beginning of the season. Belle is also trying to keep her as distracted as possible to help keep her from sinking deeper into her depression," Robert said, toying with the quill lying on his desk.

"She's settling in well then?" Jefferson asked absently, trying to remain aloof so as not to alert his friend to his rabid interest.

"I have to say, I never thought I'd have taken in a ward, much less Emma Morrison. It was Belle's idea," he grinned sheepishly. "She can be rather convincing when the need arises."

Jefferson shook his head with a laugh. "You two are ridiculous."

Robert raised a brow and his smile widened. "You should get yourself a wife so you can be ridiculous, too." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his friend. "Marriage definitely has its perks."

"So, Emma's going to be a permanent fixture around here, huh?" At Robert's nod, he continued. "How is she coping with this tragedy?"

Robert shrugged his shoulders. "I can't really say. She spends most of her time with Belle and takes her meals in her room mostly. I don't see much of her. She was very close to her father, but we all know how difficult her life was with Regina."

"So, what are your plans concerning her?" Jefferson asked, surprised at how much Robert's answer meant to him. Why should he care what happened to Emma? He couldn't even say she was his friend. Could he? She definitely harbored no tender feelings for him that he was aware of.

"She's going to have to sit out the rest of the season for sure because of her mourning period. I thought about arranging a marriage for her so she didn't have to go through trying to find a husband on her own due to her circumstances, but Belle wouldn't hear of it. She said if Emma couldn't marry for love to a man of her own choosing then she didn't need to marry at all."

Robert rose from his desk, circling around the corner to make his way to the door. "Come say hello to Abby. Are you going to be staying with us or your own house? We'll be returning to Sheffield in a few days if you'd like to join us there as well," he offered, knowing there was no need.

"I don't know about Sheffield, but with Emma in residence, I think it would be best to stay at my townhouse," Jefferson replied, rising to follow Robert to the parlor.

"Jeff, you know you're welcome to stay with us."

"I know, Robbie. But I don't want anyone speculating and starting gossip about Emma with such a prime bachelor under the same roof. You know how the ton can be. Vicious lies, they'd be, too."

Robert looked at his friend curiously. "Hmm."

"Don't give me that look, Robbie. I don't want to have anything to do with that little girl," Jefferson warned. Perfect! Now I'm not only lying to myself, but Robbie, too.

Robert let the matter drop and entered the parlor to have tea with the ladies. He knew there was something Jefferson wasn't telling him, but he decided to be patient and wait. Jefferson never kept things from him for long.

*.*.*

Lady Emma Morrison looked up from her tea and blanched. She did not need to sit through afternoon tea with that irritating man, she thought silently. She didn't need to hear him call her 'little girl' or 'rabbit' or whatever disparaging name he had on the agenda for today.

Gulping her tea, she excused herself and passed through the French doors leading into the garden. Abigail Gold had a penchant for roses. She would love to see them in the spring. She didn't even know where she would be come spring. She shouldn't have come out here without a cloak, she thought, shivering. It was only a few days until Christmas and snow covered the ground. Her first Christmas without her father. Tears coursed silently down her ashen face. Maybe she could skirt the house and enter through the kitchen and then take the servant's stairs up to her room.

Emma stifled a scream of fright as Jefferson draped his jacket over her shoulders. "You shouldn't be out here without your cloak, milady," he said gently, removing the handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and drying her tears. "I was saddened to hear of your loss, Emma."

Jefferson's jacket was still warm with his body heat as Emma pulled it closer to her. It smelled of cigar smoke and scotch and Jefferson and she shivered, this one more from pleasure than from the cold. He pulled her into the warmth of his embrace and ran a soothing hand along her back … or at least what he intended to be soothing.

Emma tried to push away from him, but Jefferson held her fast. "It's alright, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion and she melted into his comforting embrace, crying in earnest, no longer able to fight the deluge building behind her closed lids.

What was is about this man which brought out both the best and worst in her? Why was Jefferson the one person she wanted comfort from? Belle and Robert had been with her through the worst of her grief and she was beginning to heal, but it was Jefferson she wanted comfort from, Jefferson's arms she wanted to feel around her. His warm chest she wanted to press her face to and cry out her suffering. Emma just stood there crying, holding onto him as if her very life depended on it until there were no more tears. The pain was still there, the pain of loss and abandonment, but she had at last found the solace she needed in his arms.

Jefferson lifted her face and dried her tears. "Feel better?" he asked gently, stroking a stray lock of hair from her brow. He cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her nose, offering her a sad smile. "Let's get you back inside and out of the cold."

Emma smiled weakly up into his warm grey eyes, the first she'd smiled in weeks. She stepped out of his embrace and took the hand he offered, letting him lead her to the kitchen entrance. He sat her on a stool at the long work counter next to the hearth and asked Mrs. Green to fix them each a cup of chocolate. Emma's smile vanished.

"What are you playing at, Jefferson?" she asked, her eyes narrowed on him. It hadn't been so long ago she'd sat on this same stool having an innocent cup of chocolate with him which had ended in a not so innocent kiss.

"I simply want to warm you, is all," he said innocently, a devilish sparkle in his pale grey eyes.

"Last time it ended with you teaching me a lesson," she replied, a blush rising in her cheeks. It had been a lesson in desire. He'd wanted her to know the emotion so if she was ever kissed again, she would know how it felt. He'd told her never to settle for a man she didn't desire … and she could feel it every time she was in his presence, desire for him and him alone. But desire wasn't enough to make a good match. It was a start, but not a basis upon which to build a life. She did want to marry and have a family of her own, but not with a rogue such as him. He would surely break her heart.

Jefferson took a sip of the chocolate Mrs. Green set before him and licked the cream from his lip, his eyes never leaving Emma's, wanting to see her reaction. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes darkened with desire. Yep, she still wanted him, he thought with a satisfied smile.

"No lessons, sweetheart. Just an innocent cup of chocolate with my friend."

"Since when are we friends," Emma scoffed. "You've never been anything but disdainful and condescending to me, Jefferson Madden. You never gave me a chance to be your friend."

Emma absently stuck her finger into the whipped cream floating atop her cup of chocolate and sucked it into her mouth. Jefferson groaned inwardly and felt his groin tighten with lust. He knew if he kissed her, she'd taste like chocolate and cream. He wanted to drag her onto his lap and suck the cream right from her tongue. Change the bloody subject, idiot! He scolded himself. Think of something else. Anything else. Just stop thinking of taking her upstairs and —

"Brat! I've been your friend since I rescued you at Sheffield from Wendell. Do you think I would've done that for just anyone?" he asked, rising from the stool to stand before the hearth. Maybe the heat of the fire would warm him and at the same time cool his passion.

"Well, you don't act like I'm your friend," she retorted, pursing her lips. "You are a very confusing man, Jefferson."

"Drink your chocolate."

He wasn't watching to see what she did. He couldn't bear the thought of all that blasted whipped cream, and the fire wasn't helping to distract him. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his buff breeches.

"About what?"

"Your parents," he said, his voice little more than a whisper.

Emma blanched. She hadn't wanted to talk about her parents with anyone, nor did she want anyone to know what she was feeling. Why did she feel she could confide in him? "What do you want to know?"

"Only what you want to tell me, rabbit," he murmured in an affectionate tone. "You don't have to talk about them if you don't wish to. I just know that it was somehow better when my father died and I had Robbie to talk to," he revealed.

"Really? Is that how you and Robert became friends? I know he lost his father around the same time, right?" she asked, moving to his side and placing a hand on his arm.

The muscles in Jefferson's forearm tightened at her light touch. "Yes, Robbie and I both lost our fathers before beginning school at Eton. Both of us had just inherited the weight of our titles, and I didn't give a damn about anything at the tender age of thirteen. Robbie took everything as his own personal mission at which he must succeed. Far too serious, he was," Jefferson said, remembering the trouble they'd gotten into at school. "He's a good friend, closer than if we'd been born brothers."

Emma sat on the hearth, letting the fire warm her. "I miss my father so much, Jefferson," she whispered, a tear escaping her eye. "But I feel so guilty all the time."

Jefferson sat next to her and enveloped her hand in both of his. "Why? You had nothing to do with what happened."

She raised her tear-bright eyes to his. "Because when I think of my mother, all I feel is the overwhelming sense of freedom. Free of her tantrums and her machinations and her matchmaking. I'm a horrible person," she cried. Jefferson wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I should be thinking of how much I loved her, how much I needed her in my life. But instead all I can think is that I'm finally free."

Jefferson held her, letting her cry as Mrs. Green went about her duties preparing dinner for the Gold family. He tightened his arms about her, and as he did, he felt her claw her way into his heart. Not much, but just enough to know he didn't want her to suffer this pain. He hadn't been lying; he did want to be her friend. He wanted to be her companion, her lover. Jefferson closed his eyes against the warmth spreading through him at that thought. And just as quickly, his mother's sneering face flashed across his mind's eye and he stiffened.

"W-What's wrong, Jefferson?" Emma asked, her head resting in the curve of his neck.

"Nothing, sweetheart," he said, rising to his feet. "Why don't you go on upstairs and prepare for dinner?"

Emma nodded and rose to her feet. "Thank you," she whispered, brushing her lips to his jaw.

"For what?"

"Listening and not judging me," she answered softly.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Emma. Everything happens for a reason, or so Belle is always saying. Maybe this was just the only way you could escape. Maybe this was your one chance to be free."

*.*.*

Emma pondered Jefferson's parting words as she descended the stairs to join the family for dinner. He said she shouldn't feel guilty about her feelings for her mother. Regina hadn't been mother of the year, that's for sure. She paused on the bottom step. Jefferson had said he was her friend. Did that mean no more lessons? No more disparaging remarks? No more kisses and chocolate in the kitchen? Is that what she really wanted?

Emma shook her head to banish such inappropriate thoughts and joined Belle and Robert as they left the parlor and made their way to the dining room.

"Emma, I'm so glad you decided to join us this evening," Belle said warmly, linking arm with hers. "You've been cooped up in your room too much of late. Feeling better?"

"A little," she murmured, allowing Robert to seat her at the table. Emma did a mental count and realized Jefferson was missing. "Where's Jefferson? I thought he would be joining us."

Belle shot Robert and I-told-you-so look and placed her napkin in her lap. Robert raised a brow at Belle, his crooked smile bringing a blush to Belle's cheeks. Emma frowned thoughtfully. Sometimes she wondered if they were having their own private conversation without saying a word.

"I believe he said something about having dinner at the club," Robert answered. "He's never in a sociable mood when he returns from Rochefort."

"Then why does he go?" she asked, hoping to gain a bit of insight where the earl was concerned.

"Because he doesn't trust anyone with the books. He'll go once a month to manage his accounts and then he'll return to London or to Sheffield. Always in a sour mood, I might add," Robert remarked as he cut into the roast beef on his plate.

"Emma, how would you like to go Christmas shopping with me tomorrow? I have a few last minute gifts I need to purchase," Belle said. "Robbie, stop scowling at me. It's only money."

"That doesn't mean there's an endless supply," he grumbled.

"Tightwad."

"I'm only teasing, darling," Robert winked. "We don't have to worry about going broke. I have quite the knack for investing."

Belle winced at the mention of going broke. She glanced up at Emma, but she didn't seem to have heard. "Emma? Emma?"

Robert reached over and laid a hand over Emma's. "Are you alright, m'dear? Belle asked you a question."

Emma started at Robert's innocent touch. She'd been so lost in thought she hadn't been paying much attention. "I'm sorry, Belle."

"Its fine, cousin. I asked if you wanted to go shopping."

Emma smiled tentatively, wondering if she could perhaps purchase something for Jefferson. He himself had said he was her friend, and since he would no doubt be spending the holiday with them here at the townhouse, she could give him a gift without him reading too much into it. Couldn't she?

"Yes, Belle, that would be nice. I might have one or two gifts to buy also."

"Wonderful. We'll leave after breakfast. I'm so happy you're going to join us, Emma. You need to get out and get some fresh air," Belle said as the dessert course was being served. "Robert, shame on you."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Emma, you'll have to excuse us." Belle took Robert's dessert and slid it onto her own plate, rising from the table with a hot look directed at her husband.

Emma watched Belle leave the dining room, Robert trailing casually behind her. "Abby? What is it about éclairs that send those two running?"

Abigail cleared her throat and blushed. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Emma."

A/N: Well, I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter, dearies. Robbie and Belle will be playing an integral part in this story, so fear not, there will be Rumbelle goodness as well as our Madswan. Thank you all so much for the response on Éclair's and Chocolate Kisses. I hope you equally enjoy this tale. I look forward to your comments, good or bad (o: