Chapter 2

"What have I done?"

Emma leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. It was raining, and a part of her wished she could just run outside and let the rain wash away all her sorrows.

"The only thing you could," Ruby assured, stepping beside her. "You know you can stay here as long as you like. But I'm considered part of the demimonde, as you well know, and as much as Victor and I would like to help you, we can't actually keep Neal from spreading rumors."

"I know," Emma said softly, turning around to walk back to the settee in the middle of the room. Suddenly she felt chilled down to her bones, and watching the rain seemed to pull her deeper into a gloomy mood, but she forced herself to smile at her friend when Ruby sat down opposite of her. "You two are doing more than enough."

"So … how is he in person?" Ruby leaned back, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Tell me every little detail."

"Rude. Obnoxious." A picture of the duke standing with crossed arms and ankles before her flitted through her brain, and she sighed softly. "A rogue through and through."

"And?"

"Very handsome, and he knows it."

"But do you think he will agree? Do you think he will marry you?"

"I don't know, Ruby," Emma replied, tilting her head to stare out of the window again. "I really don't know."

Her best friend left her shortly after, called away on an urgent matter concerning the menu the cook wanted to present this evening, and Emma relaxed into the settee.

She was currently staying at Ruby's house, so that she didn't have to face Neal. Henry loved it here, having way more freedom in Ruby's household than he had at the mansion that now belonged to him. The staff was less stuffy, and everyone was doting on him. Emma was grateful that he was getting distracted; he might be young but he still missed Richard, the man he thought had been his father. Richard didn't have much contact with Henry, but a few times he actually took Henry with him when he went out, and Henry always came back with bright eyes, and a ton of new stories to tell her.

It might be the best for Henry that he was in another house now, and Emma had told the household she was visiting a friend, but it wouldn't keep Neal away forever. Right now he wasn't even in London, he'd been called away the morning after he'd forced himself on her. But she tried not to think about that night, tried to keep it in the dark recesses of her mind. Letting it come out would make it impossible to go through with her plan to marry the duke.

She hadn't told Ruby everything, just that Neal wanted to start rumors, not about what happened the last time she saw him. Ruby and Victor would try to take actions, would try to find a way to bring her justice, but they were too way down the social ladder to actually do any harm to him, and she didn't want her friends to end up in prison because Victor called him out.

It was better if her friends didn't know, at least until she got a response from the duke. If he dismissed her offer, she might have to tell them nonetheless, to keep Neal away from doing her or Henry bodily harm.

She walked back to the window, staring out in the rain, her stomach clenching as she contemplated what her future might hold for her. Emma was well aware that Killian Jones might turn out to be not better than Neal, but she was willing to face the devil she didn't know, before staying with the devil she did know.

"You look terrible, Jones."

Hearing his friend's voice made Killian's lips pull up into a grin. The only one who called him Jones was his former partner in crime at sea, so to speak. Robin of Locksley, Baron Backhurst. And he was also the only one who could just waltz into his house without being announced.

"And you look quite dashing, Locksley," Killian replied, taking his cup of coffee to the next chair and sitting down, eyeing his friend over the rim of the cup. "Did Lady Mills finally say yes to your proposal?"

"No," Robin told him, slumping into the seat opposite of him, letting out a theatrical sigh. "The lady is still very reluctant to relent to my courtship."

"At least you're the one proposing," Killian muttered under his breath, remembering last night in vivid details.

"What was that, Jones?"

"Nothing."

"No, it's clearly not nothing," Robin insisted, leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees, ready to hear the story. "What is it?"

Killian knew his friend wouldn't stop pestering him until he told him everything, so taking evading measures was pointless. "I received a proposal last night."

"A proposal? As in a marriage proposal?" Robin's eyes grew wide for a moment, and then his mouth tilted up into a grin, and he chuckled softly as he walked towards the tray with coffee to pour himself a cup. "That's new."

"You take the words out of my mouth."

"And who was the exceptional female who invaded your home to propose marriage?"

"You should have taken up a career in Covent Garden. Your speech is more suited for the theatre."

"Who?" Robin asked again, sitting back down opposite of Killian.

"Lady Manton," Killian told him. "Do you know her?"

"Only by name. You know I'm not much about in society these days."

Since you decided to spend more time with the son your first wife has born you, Killian thought. Killian looked at his friend, at the lines his past sorrows had etched into Robin's face. Maybe their friendship was so deep, because they both knew what it felt like to lose people they loved, and how hard it could sometimes be to go on with their lives without them.

"And you're considering it," Robin continued, his eyes watching him warily.

"I'm tired of this life, Robin. Tired of pretending to be someone I'm not."

Killian rarely used his friend's given name, the only times he'd called him that where the times on sea when being the captain had been weighting down on him too much. Those times when he'd either drowned himself in alcohol and whores, or stayed in his cabin with a bottle of rum. Robin had found him once in his cabin, and somehow over sharing the bottle of rum they'd started to talk. It had been that night that really sealed their friendship.

"I know, Killian."

And Robin did know. He was probably the only one who knew that the scoundrel persona Killian was living was only a facade, a mask he put on to be able to live a life he didn't want to live. But Robin also knew that Killian was doomed to this life now. He had to oblige his duties, he couldn't walk away and leave everything in shambles. A lot of people were depending on him now, and no matter how much he loathed it, he wouldn't shirk his obligations.

"Do you still have your connections?" Killian asked, after staring into space for quite some time. He desperately wished for a glass of brandy, but he never drank before three o'clock in the afternoon.

"You want to find out more about her?"

"Yes." He pushed himself up from the chair, too restless to sit still. "I need to know of her past, and while you are at it, make sure to take a look at the late Earl's illegitimate son."

"So you really want to marry her?"

"You and I both know that I need an heir, if I don't wish that the dukedom goes to my imbecile cousin," Killian replied, walking towards the window to stare out into the rain. "And I guess she is as good as any other woman."

"No, that's not it. There is something more."

"Stop poking around, Locksley." Killian sighed inwardly, not in the mood to argue about it now. "It's none of your business."

"Ahhh, I see."

"What?" Killian snapped as he whirled around to face his friend, not liking the tone of his voice.

"She might become one of your projects."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You do." Robin said firmly, and of course Killian did know what Robin was talking about. His friend knew him too well, that was the problem. But fortunately he decided to let him off the hook for the day. "I'm not gonna pry more. But please be careful. Not all damsels in distress are really in distress. A few are conniving bitches. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing?"

"That's why I'm asking for your help. Find out what you can about her."

Killian received a letter from Robin only three days later with all the details his friend could find on such a short notice. Her full name was Emma Swan, Lady Manton. She had a five-year old son, and was two-and-twenty of age.

Reading her name conjured up a picture of her in his mind. Green eyes looking at him with determination, and a hint of despair. She might have worn a coat which obscured most of her figure, but the grace of her neck and hands had suggested that she might be magnificent to look at. Killian was scoundrel enough to admit that the wish to take the bonnet from her head and pull out all the pins to let her long blonde hair unravel down her back had crossed his mind. He groaned as his mind came up with more lewd pictures – how her breasts would pop out of her dress when he pulled it down, her rosy peaks greeting his hungry mouth; how slippery wet she might be when he let his fingers slip between her legs; which sounds she would make when he brought her to climax.

But every lewd thought vanished out of his brain when he resumed reading the letter. Emma hadn't have an easy life so far. Losing her parents very young, living with relatives who only tolerated her, foisting her off to a much older man as soon as possible. Calculating it in his head he realized that Emma had only been sixteen when she conceived Henry, and sudden anger welled up in him. Killian knew that Emma wasn't the exception, that it happened often enough that women of such young age were married to way older men, especially when those men needed an heir, and apparently, in Emma's case, it went even so far that Emma had to sleep with the Earl's illegitimate son to produce the wanted heir.

Robin's contact didn't find out much about Neal, other than he was the illegitimate son of the late Earl, and that he was four-and-twenty of age. Richard Gold had been in Ireland at the time Neal was conceived, and it would take greater efforts to find out more about him.

Killian didn't need to know more though, the information he received good enough to reach a decision. He folded the letter, letting it drop on his desk, and his hand automatically reached for the glass of scotch, the alcohol burning down his throat when he leaned back in his chair.

Apparently Emma was what you could call a damsel in distress, but he'd also seen the courage in her eyes. She'd seen a way out of her misery, and took action. She didn't wait for a knight in shining armor to come to her rescue. She thought out the knight in shining armor herself. She proposed marriage to him, and Killian knew as he looked at the letter that she might not be a damsel in distress, but he was willing to be her knight in shining armor nonetheless.

Emma's hands were shaking when she opened the letter she'd received from the duke. The letter had arrived with a footman she didn't know, and upon asking the footman told her that his master ordered him to give this letter to the lady only, and no one else. Asking the footman to wait a few minutes in case she needed him to take back her answer, she rushed into the salon where she found Ruby.

The message was short and to the point. The duke was accepting her offer, and would send his solicitor to her tomorrow morning with the marriage contract.

Emma told Ruby to write a short answer to tell the duke that she wasn't at the Earl's mansion right now, and to give him the address where the solicitor could find her. Evading all of her friend's questions, she opted to go for a walk, only coming back to the house in the afternoon, the fresh air not helping to ease her frazzled mind.

Emma hardly slept that night, worries keeping her up. Worries that the solicitor might not show up, that the duke might change his mind over night, that marrying him was a mistake. Her mind didn't stop spinning, and dark circles had formed under her eyes when she looked at her reflection in the morning.

She only picked at her breakfast, her hands perspiring, her heart galloping in her chest as she waited for the solicitor to arrive. When he was announced an hour later, she stood up so quickly that dark spots appeared in front of her eyes and she almost crashed face first into the remnants of their breakfast. It took her a few minutes to convince Ruby that she was alright, and more than capable to receive the solicitor, but in the end her friend let her go to greet him. He was a short man with a bald head, impeccable clothed, and a monocle hanging on a chain around his neck; a man who came straight to the point the moment she joined him.

"You might want to go over it with your solicitor, Lady Manton," he told her as he handed the contract to her. "But everything should be like His Grace and Your Ladyship agreed on."

"Thank you, Mr. Grayson. I will get the contract back to His Grace as soon as possible."

It wasn't as if she really felt the need to let her own solicitor look over the contract, it was just that she wanted to read it first, or more accurately let it be read to her. There were only a few people who knew that she was practically illiterate. She could read short messages, like the missive the duke had sent her yesterday, but long texts were always leaving her distraught, the letters starting to dance in front of her eyes when she concentrated too much on them.

Emma would let Ruby read it to her; just to be safe. If everything was as they agreed on, she would put her signature under it – something she was always struggling with, because writing down her name was the only words she could put down on paper with great effort – and the duke would receive a message that she was willing to marry him in a fortnight, and then she had to tell Henry that they were about to move to a new home.

Killian was pausing in front of the room, straightening his shoulders. He definitely didn't look forward to this visit, and the notion that he dreaded to walk in almost elicited a chuckle out of him. Shouldn't a man be happy about entering his mistress' room?

Shaking his head, he reached for the knob and walked in, shedding his coat, hat and cravat in the boudoir, opening the first buttons of his shirt as he stepped into the adjacent room.

Milah greeted him with a seductive smile, immediately walking towards him, only clad in a dressing gown that revealed more than it hid. She was still a beautiful woman, even if she was closer to forty than thirty.

"I haven't seen you in a while, Killian," she purred as she stepped in front of him, letting her nails trail along the open V of his shirt.

"I was busy, Milah," he replied curtly, changing his tone instantly when she looked up at him with a pout on her face. "But I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," she replied in a husky voice, her fingers skimming lower until she could rub the palm of her hand over his already hardening cock.

"But before we begin I have to tell you something."

"You do?"

"I wanted you to hear it from me, and not the gossip mill," Killian began, watching her carefully. He was dreading her reaction, to be honest. She was a very temperamental person after all, but he hoped the reaction would be less violent if he was the one telling her about it. "I will marry in a fortnight, and I agreed not to visit my mistress until my wife has conceived a child."

He had expected a burst of outrage, probably being hit by her fists, but not that Milah would burst into laughter.

"Great jest, Killian. You almost convinced me it's true."

"It is true, Milah," he told her, cringing inwardly as her eyes turned from seductive to sharp in a blink of an eye.

"Who is she?" she asked harshly.

"Doesn't really matter," Killian said, slipping his hand under her dressing gown to squeeze her ass. "I intend to stay true to my word. So this will be the last time I come to visit you for quite some time."

"Then we should make it worth your while, shouldn't we?"

Her dressing gown hit the ground a moment later, and she leaned forward, intent on kissing him. But he wasn't in the mood for much foreplay today. He grasped her shoulders, putting pressure on them, and her mouth curled up into a wicked smile as she immediately caught on to what he wished from her. She went down on her knees, opening his breeches and drawers and pulling them down his legs, closing her mouth instantly around his length. She was good at it, otherwise he wouldn't have taken her as his mistress, and she brought him to climax very fast, considering that his mind was not really here in this room.

Killian let out a guttural groan as he spilled his release down her throat, keeping his grip on her hair until he emptied himself completely before he let her stand up again. She was smiling at him as she lifted her hand to wipe away a smear of his seed from the corner of her mouth, before she strolled to the bed and laid down on the mattress, splaying her legs invitingly.

He had intended to visit her to have a last good fuck with her, but now he didn't feel up to it anymore. But he never left a woman unsatisfied, so he joined her on the bed and slipped his good hand between her legs, watching her slightly detached as he worked two of his fingers in and out of her, rubbing her sensitive nub until she bowed up from the mattress, and her inner walls clenched around his fingers.

Killian pushed away from her as soon as possible, and Milah didn't say a word, knowing him too well to argue why he was already leaving. He cleaned his fingers on the handkerchief she was giving him, before he fastened his drawers and breeches again. He let his lips brush over her cheek when he said goodbye, and he noticed the smile flickering over her lips, and the victorious glint in her eyes. She didn't believe he could stay away from her for long. But when Killian walked out into the night, pulling his hat deeper down over his brows and his coat closer around his body to ward of the chill of the autumn night, he knew that he wouldn't come here for a while.

He was about to get married in a fortnight, and even if he was a rogue - or supposed to be one – he were still trying not to lose all his honor. He would stand to his word. No visits to his mistress as long as he was sharing Emma's bed.