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Emma slammed the window shade down on the coach window and sat back against the cushions with a low growl. Lovely! she thought in irritation. The cursed man had her growling. The trip south had been nothing in comparison to their trip north to Winterhaven. Absolutely miserable. She fought back tears of frustration, refusing to shed another tear over that man.
Jefferson had rushed her out of bed the morning after their farce of a wedding, insisting she dress with all speed so they could be on their way. Their way where? Rochefort. That, in and of itself, was enough to send her into a panic. He was taking her home to meet the dowager countess, his mother, and from what she'd gleaned of the woman from Robert, this was the last person she'd ever want to meet.
She'd been in the coach for three days. Three bloody days! He hadn't even wanted to stop at the posting inns except to change horses and have a meal. A meal he wouldn't even share with her, much less a bed. He was avoiding her, she knew. Distancing himself from her and building his walls to keep her away from his heart. S
he was quickly losing her patience. She tried to be everything he wanted. She was polite and well mannered, soft spoken and genteel. Emma was everything a well brought-up young woman should be, everything her mother had wanted her to be, and she was miserable. Often, she would catch Jefferson staring at her like he didn't know who she was. She was disappearing and becoming someone she didn't know.
If this was marriage, she wanted no part of it. She wanted to be able to talk to her husband and share the day to day mundane with him. She wanted to know his touch, his thoughts, his worries, but Jefferson would share nothing with her. At least before their marriage, he would talk to her. Now he had shut himself off completely or else had given her short one-word responses to her questions. It was becoming intolerable, and her heart ached with loneliness. She missed him.
Emma lifted the shade once more and peered out at the darkening countryside. It would be full dark soon. Hopefully, they would be stopping soon to change the horses and grab a quick bite. For once, she was starving. Her hunger was no doubt being fueled by her intense anger. She let the shade drop back into place. Jefferson would be riding his horse either directly in front of the coach or bringing up the rear, preventing her from engaging him in conversation.
She was nearly asleep, having lamented silently for the better part of the day, when the coach slowed to a stop. Surprise made her mouth gape open when the coach door opened and Jefferson himself stood there, his hand reaching in to take hers.
"Don't look so bloody surprised, Emma," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Did you think you'd have to face the old harpy by yourself?"
Emma quirked a brow at him. "We're finally at your home?" she asked, choking back the panic 4 rising up to choke her. She placed her hand in his and let him help her from the coach, but she wouldn't release it as he tried to move away from her.
He frowned down at her and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, leading her forward to the open front door of the manor. Emma looked up at the grand structure which was to be her new home and smiled. It was made of gray stone and reached three stories into the sky with not a turret in sight. At least she would be living in an actual manor house and not a castle like her cousin. A bit of normalcy wouldn't be amiss, she thought with delight.
That was where the normalcy ended. As soon as Mr. Woodward, the Rochefort butler, opened the door to admit them, the shrieking began. Emma felt Jefferson stiffen, an expression of outward calm masking the anger she could feel brewing in him. She turned her gaze to the woman who had just entered the foyer, a twisted sneer on the dowager countess's face.
Edith Madden couldn't have been more than five foot two, thin of frame with streaks of gray in her light brown hair. She might have been a lovely woman at one time, but years of hate had ravaged her face, her clear hazel eyes narrowed with loathing. Emma couldn't understand how any woman could look upon Jefferson with such hate. He was one of the finest men she knew, definitely unworthy of such abhorrence.
Edith's eyes swung to Emma, raking her petite frame and finding her lacking. "Now you're bringing your trollops home?"
Jefferson sighed wearily and raked his hand through his hair. "Hello, Mother. Lovely to see you as always," he remarked dryly, displeasure evident in his cool grey gaze.
Edith pointed her finger at Emma. "She can't stay here, Jefferson," she said imperiously, looking down her long nose at her.
"You're wrong on that count, Mother. You forget so easily that this is my home," he drawled, knowing how she hated his use of that word. She would have preferred he curse at her rather than use that dreaded term. "May I present my wife, Lady Emma Madden," he paused dramatically for effect, "the new Countess of Rochefort."
Edith turned the full force of her fulminating glare on Emma. "So, you married the bastard, did you? Wonderful of you to take pity on him. Lord knows, no one else would have him." Her smile was full of venom. "Let him take you to London, m'dear. You're not welcome here in my home."
Emma's grip on Jefferson's arm was growing painful as her nails dug through his sleeve. He closed his eyes and swallowed painfully against the lump in his throat, waiting for Emma to turn on him. He could feel her trembling with anger.
Instead, she tugged at his arm, following the retreating form of his mother. "Milady," Emma began, her voice honey sweet. Jefferson groaned. He knew that tone all too well. "If you ever call my husband that name again, I will not be held responsible for the damage I do to your person."
"How dare you!" Edith shrieked.
Emma's smile never faltered. "Oh, Lady Madden, I really hate to be such an inconvenience, but you've left me no alternative. Since this is to be my new home, I'm going to have to ask you to find accommodations … elsewhere." Jefferson's eyes widened, incredulous. But Emma wasn't finished. "If we're to raise our children here, they won't be made to suffer your vindictiveness as Jefferson has."
"Jefferson, you aren't going to allow this, are you?" Edith asked, her hand going to her throat. She'd grown so used to taking out her anger on Jefferson over the years, she wasn't used to someone actually standing up to her. "I'm your mother. You can't put me out on the street."
Jefferson could feel the weight of his burdens lift from his shoulders. All because of this little slip of a girl he'd married. He smiled down at Emma and covered her hand with his. "Not to worry, Mother. I mean, how would that look? I'll arrange new living quarters for you in Bath."
"Bath?"
"Certainly, Mother. Somewhere far from us where you can't spew your bile any longer."
"I'll ruin you! There won't be a member of the ton who will give you the time of day, much less an invitation to the parties you're so wont to indulge in. No one will want to have anything to do with you once I'm done," she threatened, her face twisting in a vicious snarl of outrage.
Emma's eyes narrowed just the slightest bit as she arched a brow at the dowager. "You would really hurt him, slander his good name, for petty revenge? How miserable you must be with your own failures that you would take out your bitterness on an innocent child." She turned her eyes up to her husband's, his own eyes reflecting the pain she'd caused him for too many years to count. It only fueled the rage which simmered beneath her skin. "I'm assuming you began your viciousness when he was only a child. How dare you?" she asked, astonished anyone would blame an innocent for actions which had nothing to do with him.
"You know nothing of what I've suffered."
"What of his suffering? Did you never think of that, Lady Madden? Did you never think he would have loved you despite the fact you didn't bear him into this world?" Emma continued, slowly advancing on the woman. "You have heaped his father's sins upon his head instead of placing the blame and your hate on your husband. You've poured out all your loathing on him instead of questioning why your husband turned to another woman." She drew herself up to her full stature, her back ramrod straight as she looked down her nose at her mother-in-law. "I feel nothing but pity for you, but I will tell you this. If you try to hurt my husband, I will use every one of my resources to slowly destroy you. And don't for one moment think I can't."
Jefferson left her standing there and pulled Emma along behind him to his study. For once he didn't feel the need to drown himself with scotch. He wanted to celebrate. "Woodward, fetch a bottle of champagne for me, my good man." He was so happy he felt like whistling.
At least, he did before he closed the study door and noticed the tight set of Emma's features. She crossed her arms over her chest. She looked like she was physically trying to hold her anger inside herself. Her eyes were full of fire, but it wasn't desire making them glow like twin emeralds. Oh, no … she was furious.
"That was quite a display out there, rabbit," he praised, his voice husky with emotion as he grasped her upper arms and pulled her gently into his embrace. Emma smiled sweetly and kicked him in his shin. He released her immediately, howling in pain and grabbing for his injured leg.
Emma stood her ground, waiting for him to retaliate, the tight leash she had on her anger finally slipping free. "This, Jefferson! This is what you were so afraid of?"
"Yes!" he hissed, his own anger coming to the fore. "Yes, Emma, I'm the bastard son of John Madden. There, I said it. I should've known it would be the first words out of my mother's mouth upon our arrival. She'd want to make sure I never received another moment's peace."
A knock sounded on the door, giving Emma a moment to collect her thoughts. "Come in!" Jefferson barked. Woodward backed into the room carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne and two fine crystal flutes. He quirked a brow at Jefferson as he set the tray on the desk, but said nothing and left the newlyweds alone.
Emma rubbed her hand across her brow to relieve the tension building behind her eyes. She knew he was waiting for her to say something … anything. "I cannot believe this is what you were so worried about. I had my suspicions, but I didn't want to believe you could be so … bloody stupid!"
"What?" he asked, nearly slipping off the arm of the sofa in his surprise. He paused, realizing what she'd said, but not wanting to believe it. "Wait. Did you just call me stupid?"
"No, you ass. I called you bloody stupid," Emma hissed, her hands on her hips. He was surprised she wasn't wagging a finger under his nose.
"Why?"
"Don't you know me at all, Jefferson? Don't you know that I love you for the man you are? I don't care which side of the blanket you were born on. I don't care how much money or how many estates you own, and I don't care if you have a title. All I ever wanted was to be with you, to love you, and to have you love me in return."
"I do lo —"
Emma silenced him with a look. "Don't you dare say you love me, Jefferson Madden. Not now." A tear escaped the corner of her eye. "You should've trusted me. Why couldn't you have trusted me? You let that woman poison your mind until you felt you weren't worthy of love. Well, I hope you're happy." Emma gathered her cloak around her and strode to the study door.
"Where are you going?" he asked, his eyes widening. He couldn't let her walk out that door, out of his life.
"I'm going home to London, to Robbie and Belle," she stated, her hand on the door knob.
"You can't leave me, Emma. You're my wife."
"A wife you didn't want," she reminded him. "I gave you so many chances to follow your heart, to ask me to marry you and you let your fear of what your mother might do prevent you from finding happiness with me."
"Well, I want you now. I love you, Emma," he said softly, his heart in his eyes. Emma refused to look up into his face. She knew if she finally saw what she'd been yearning for, she wouldn't be able to walk out that door. She needed time to heal from his many rejections. He needed time to realize just how he felt about her. They had too many issues to work through just now for her to stay.
"I'm sorry, Jefferson, but it's too late."
Emma walked out the door and allowed a groom to hand her up into the coach which was being readied to return to London and Robert's townhouse. She wondered how long it would be before Jefferson followed and tried to talk her into returning to him. If he really loved her, it wouldn't be long. She let the dam of her tears free to course down her face, knowing how hard it was going to be to return to London without him. But he was going to have to pay the price for his stubbornness. He was going to have to woo her and court her and prove his love. She didn't want to think about the alternative.
*.*.*
Belle jerked awake with a start and carefully began scooting out from under Robert's arm. "Where d'you think yer going?" he mumbled sleepily. He glanced bleary-eyed at the clock on the mantel, squinting in the dim light of the fire. "It's three o'clock in the bloody morning."
"Let me up, Robbie," Belle demanded, trying to pry his arm from around her.
"You cannot be hungry, love. You just had a snack two hours ago."
"Emma."
Robert sat up in the big four poster bed and looked around. "What? Where?" He shook his head to clear the last remnants of sleep from it. "No, Belle, she's at Rochefort."
Belle rose unsteadily to her feet, thrusting her arms into the sleeves of her dressing robe. She leaned toward her husband and placed her hand to his cheek. "She's here, Robbie." She projected the pain she'd picked up from Emma right at Robert and he winced. "I'll be back soon. Go to sleep. There's no reason for both of us to lose sleep."
Robert snorted and fell back onto the mountain of pillows propped against the headboard. "Sleep. What the hell is that? Can't remember the last time I had a decent night's sleep what with all the trips to the kitchen and the back rubs and ..."
"Oh, hush!" Belle blew him a kiss as she flung the bedroom door open. "Sure you can remember, love. It was before you met me," she said with a wink and closed the door behind her. She crept down the hall and eased the door open to the bedroom Emma used when she stayed at the townhouse.
Emma was buried under the covers, a pillow pulled over her face to muffle her cries. Belle's own eyes were burning with unshed tears as Emma's heartache washed over her. She pulled the covers back and eased herself into the bed with her cousin, pulling Emma into her arms.
"Shh, darling. It's going to be alright," Belle crooned as she ran her fingers through Emma's hair. "It's alright, Em."
Emma cried all the harder. "No, it's not. It was awful, Belle," she sobbed.
"But I thought you loved him," Belle said softly. She couldn't have been wrong about the emotions she'd been reading from Emma and Jefferson while they'd been staying at the townhouse.
"I do love him. I love him so much, Belle, but I don't know if that's going to be enough."
Belle withdrew a lace handkerchief from the pocket of her dressing gown and dried Emma's tears. "Tell me what happened. And start from the beginning."
"At Sheffield?" Emma asked with dismay. They'd be here all night if she had to go back to the beginning.
"Sheffield?" Belle hissed. "This has been going on since the house party?"
"Not exactly."
"Everything, Emma. Don't leave out anything."
Emma sighed and stared up at the canopy above her, trying to gather her thoughts. "Remember the ball at Sheffield?" Belle nodded. "I was running from Lord Wendell and hid in Robbie's study under the desk. I was rather distraught, and Jefferson was there to protect me. He offered me comfort, the first time he'd ever held me in his arms." Belle's eyes widened. "Don't look at me like that. Nothing happened. Really, Belle, he didn't even kiss me that night."
"That night?" Belle asked, her brows shooting into her hairline. "When did he kiss you for the first time? Was it when Robbie and I caught you two in the kitchen?"
"Yes, but Jefferson ruined it. He said he was trying to teach me a lesson."
"What kind of lesson?" Belle asked, propping her head in her hand and turning so she could watch the play of emotions on Emma's face.
Emma rolled her eyes in disgust. "Jefferson insisted he wanted me to know what desire felt like so when I finally chose a husband I wouldn't settle for one who didn't make me feel the same passion I felt for him."
Belle rolled her own eyes and snorted. "You should've dumped your cup of cocoa in his lap." Emma met Belle's gaze and chuckled. "Then what happened? He was gone to Rochefort afterwards, right?"
"Yes, and then the tragedy with my parents occurred. It wasn't until after I came to stay here and Robert's awful scheme with my dowry that everything fell apart."
Belle groaned and rolled over onto her back, rubbing her very rounded belly. "It's all my fault."
"No, it's not," Emma insisted.
"It is, Emma. I knew how you and Jefferson felt about each other and I asked Robbie to put you forth on the marriage mart. I also asked him to plead with Jefferson to be your escort. I didn't think he'd be able to bear seeing you in another man's arms," Belle admitted guiltily.
"Thank you," Emma said, kissing her cousin affectionately on the tip of her nose.
Belle sat up and looked at her, a puzzled frown knitting her brow. "What? How could you thank me for —"
"Belle, you were right. He couldn't stand it." Emma lowered her eyes to her hands clasped in her lap. "Each night he escorted me to a ball or a party —"
"Robbie and I could've caught you at any time," Belle grinned knowingly. "And by then you had decided no other man would do."
"I fell in love with him. I would've happily given myself to him if only he had asked me to marry him," she sighed softly, remembering all the kisses, the touches, they had shared downstairs in the parlor. She'd never be able to have tea in the parlor again without thinking of Jefferson and the passion they'd shared.
Belle nodded in understanding. "His secret?"
"Yes," Emma agreed. "He was letting that bloody stupid secret of his keep him from proposing. That woman, his mother, has been harping at him for years, convincing him no one would ever love him if they knew he was a bastard."
"When did he tell you?"
"He didn't."
Belle winced. "But what happened in Northumberland at Winterhaven? I thought surely if you had time to spend alone together —"
Emma cut her off with a bitter laugh. "It probably would've worked if it had been any other man. Not Jefferson. He was furious when he found out I was going with him. One moment, he would be sweet and gentle and the next he was pushing me away. One moment, he acted like he wanted to ask me, the next he was closed up tight as a drum."
"He was waging an internal battle over what he wanted and what he didn't think he deserved. How awful," Belle said, rising from the bed to stand and ease the ache in her back.
"Are you alright, Belle?" Emma asked with concern lacing her voice. It shouldn't be much longer before Belle was ready to give birth. Now would not be a good time, in her opinion.
Belle waved a hand distractedly. "Finish the story, Emma."
"Well," Emma began, trying to remember. "Oh, we ended up at this little posting inn for the night which only had one bed. Goes to show you how stubborn the man is. We had to share that bed and he never touched me."
"What? If it had been Robbie, there's no way he would've had that much restraint with me. I must remember to commend Jefferson on his honor in future."
"Well, not entirely, but he wouldn't —" A lovely blush rose to stain Emma's cheeks pink. "You know."
Belle blushed as well, remembering all too well her own experiences with Robert. "Yes, well, um …"
"Um is good," Emma said, Jefferson's words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. Her blush grew deeper.
"Not even going to ask, darling."
"Think that's for the best, cousin."
Belle smiled, one corner of her mouth turning up in amusement. "What happened next?"
"We got caught in a snow storm. It was horribly cold. I don't ever remember being that cold. The road was blocked, and we had to go on from there on horseback, but Jefferson got us there in one piece. Of course, by then I was the color of an icicle," Emma explained, shivering at the memory.
"Let me guess the next part," Belle sat next to her cousin once again and took Emma's hands in hers. "He warmed you up and saved your life. Is that how Robbie found you in bed with him the next day?"
Emma nodded. "Do you know the fool man still didn't want to marry me? He wouldn't tell me why, but he was quite insistent. It wasn't until he found out about the betrothal contract my father signed, binding me to Lord Wendell, that he finally changed his mind."
Belle's heart was beginning to ache with sorrow for them. "And by then you didn't want to marry him any longer," she groaned, stating the obvious. "A woman can only have her heart crushed so many times before she fights to protect it."
"I gave him everything I possessed, Belle. He had my heart, my love, my body and he didn't want it." Tears were coursing down her face unchecked. "I just wanted him, not his title or wealth, just him."
Belle wrapped her arms around Emma and let her cry. "But you have him now, Emma. I know it wasn't the wedding you have always dreamed of, but he's yours now."
Emma pulled away from her and shook her head furiously. "No, I don't. That's the really sad part, Belle. Until I have his heart and his love, I don't truly have him. He took me home to Rochefort to meet his mother and to see my new home and I behaved horribly."
"You couldn't, Emma. You're —"
"You weren't there, Belle," Emma insisted. "The first thing out of that woman's mouth —" She had to stop and clench her teeth together as she fought for control of her voice. "She didn't waste any time proclaiming him a bastard. So, I didn't waste any time telling her if I was to make Rochefort my home and raise my children there, she was going to have to find another place to live."
"Jefferson went along with that?" Belle asked incredulously.
"I don't know. He said he was going to find her accommodations in Bath, but that was before I left. He might've changed his mind."
Belle dried Emma's tears and smiled sadly. "Why did you leave?"
Emma flopped back against the pillows and sighed wearily. "I was angry," she said simply. "I told him he was bloody stupid to think I would care one way or the other that he was born on the wrong side of the blanket. I told him I couldn't stand it that he hadn't trusted me."
"What did he say?"
"He told me he loved me. I told him the only reason he said it was to make me stay," Emma said in barely more than a whisper.
"But he does love you, Emma. He's always loved you," Belle insisted. "Jefferson's emotions have been bouncing all over this house just as much as yours have. I know because I've felt them. Are you really going to throw that away? Give up on all the happiness you can share?"
Emma snorted. "Of course not, silly."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Belle, I need his trust just as much as his love. It's his turn to woo me. I'm done with chasing him, so to speak. If he wants me to come home, he can work for it."
A slow smile spread across Belle's lips, lighting her entire face. "Oh, he's in so much trouble, isn't he?"
"Of course."
*.*.*
Robert groaned sleepily as Belle crawled back into the bed with him some time later. She nestled into his arms and pressed her face to his neck. "How's Emma?"
"Much better after our talk."
"Why is she here, may I ask?"
Belle yawned and ran her hand across his stomach, tucking it under his back. "Oh, not to worry, darling. I'm sure Jefferson will be here soon enough to take you into his confidence."
Robert cracked one eye open to peer down at his wife. "You're not going to tell me?"
"And spoil the surprise? Not a chance."
A/N: Well, he's got a deep hole to dig himself out of now, doesn't he? Next chapter, he finally gets his affairs in order and goes to reclaim what's his. The question is … will Emma let him?