child when he said, "I will take my chances, slight though they be. You are a prize worth winning despite a little danger, my dear."
Emily wanted to toss her spoon at the dratted man. "I cannot bear the thought that you might be injured on my account. If this . . . this curse is mine to bear, then I must do so alone."
Irritation erased the indulgent smile on his lips. "Emily, I do not wish to discuss this matter again. I am not a superstitious man, and I do not wish for my wife to harbor fanciful imaginings either."
"But — "
"Emily!" Her mother's voice was stern as she entered the room and overheard the direction of the conversation. "Have I not taught you to listen to your husband in all matters?"
"Of course," Emily said politely. "But he is not yet my husband, Mother."
Her mother's lips pressed tight together. "He will be, in less time than you seem to realize." She waved a hand toward the tea tray. "Pour for me, please." Emily poured without protest. She would simply have to try again. She could not fight against both the marquess and her mother at once. With her teacup poised lightly in her hand, and a false smile set firmly upon her lips, the countess set out to convince the marquess that Emily's worries were just the mark of a high strung young woman who could be easily reined in by the proper husband.
As Emily, gritting her teeth, rose and poured a second cup of tea for her mother, she could not help a quick glance at the doorway. If she ran quickly enough, would she be able to escape? Even as she had the thought, she realized the futility of running away. The dogs had been called out. Granbury would consider it only a new challenge to win, and Valentine would be trapped up in her bedroom without anyone to rescue him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Valentine lay cramped and uncomfortable as the chambermaids tidied up the mess left from Emily's tumultuous morning toilette. Giggles were clearly audible once or twice as one or the other held up a garment to herself and took a sweeping circle around the room. Though they were for the most part quiet and efficient — a feather duster thrust under the bed had nearly made him sneeze — their low voiced comments on Emily's situation made him realize that the servants were not as blind to the situation as the countess herself.
"It's a true pity that 'handsome boy couldn't ha' eloped with 'er again," said one with a little sigh.
"'E'd better not, not unless he makes sure ta do it right this time," the other replied, and then spoiled her severity with a giggle.
Valentine cringed at the truth of the comment. Even the servants had no confidence in his ability to protect their mistress. It was no wonder that Emily felt she needed to devise her own plan of action in dealing with the marquess of Granbury. He turned his mind from that worry, there was nothing he could do to prevent her carrying out her plan as long as he was stuck under her bed. Later, however, he would make sure she understood the danger. He would make her promise to let him handle the matter alone, for her own safety's sake.
He could not help but think of Emily as she had been this morning, clad only in her nightgown, looking at him as if she wished he would sweep her away. And he, shameful cad that he was, considering the option eagerly. Of course, that had been before she realized that he had no wife. Knowing that, might her desperation lead her to agree to a plan which would not be good for her future? Perhaps he should have let her believe he was indeed married? No. He had never lied to Emily before, he would not start now. It was enough to tell her that he could not marry her and let her believe the reason was that he no longer loved her.
Caught up in his thoughts, it took some time for him to notice that the room had become quiet. The maids had gone.
Careful of his limbs, stiff from their cramped positioning, he eased out from under the bed, on the side away from the door. As he stood, enjoying the sunlight
Emily wanted to toss her spoon at the dratted man. "I cannot bear the thought that you might be injured on my account. If this . . . this curse is mine to bear, then I must do so alone."
Irritation erased the indulgent smile on his lips. "Emily, I do not wish to discuss this matter again. I am not a superstitious man, and I do not wish for my wife to harbor fanciful imaginings either."
"But — "
"Emily!" Her mother's voice was stern as she entered the room and overheard the direction of the conversation. "Have I not taught you to listen to your husband in all matters?"
"Of course," Emily said politely. "But he is not yet my husband, Mother."
Her mother's lips pressed tight together. "He will be, in less time than you seem to realize." She waved a hand toward the tea tray. "Pour for me, please." Emily poured without protest. She would simply have to try again. She could not fight against both the marquess and her mother at once. With her teacup poised lightly in her hand, and a false smile set firmly upon her lips, the countess set out to convince the marquess that Emily's worries were just the mark of a high strung young woman who could be easily reined in by the proper husband.
As Emily, gritting her teeth, rose and poured a second cup of tea for her mother, she could not help a quick glance at the doorway. If she ran quickly enough, would she be able to escape? Even as she had the thought, she realized the futility of running away. The dogs had been called out. Granbury would consider it only a new challenge to win, and Valentine would be trapped up in her bedroom without anyone to rescue him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Valentine lay cramped and uncomfortable as the chambermaids tidied up the mess left from Emily's tumultuous morning toilette. Giggles were clearly audible once or twice as one or the other held up a garment to herself and took a sweeping circle around the room. Though they were for the most part quiet and efficient — a feather duster thrust under the bed had nearly made him sneeze — their low voiced comments on Emily's situation made him realize that the servants were not as blind to the situation as the countess herself.
"It's a true pity that 'handsome boy couldn't ha' eloped with 'er again," said one with a little sigh.
"'E'd better not, not unless he makes sure ta do it right this time," the other replied, and then spoiled her severity with a giggle.
Valentine cringed at the truth of the comment. Even the servants had no confidence in his ability to protect their mistress. It was no wonder that Emily felt she needed to devise her own plan of action in dealing with the marquess of Granbury. He turned his mind from that worry, there was nothing he could do to prevent her carrying out her plan as long as he was stuck under her bed. Later, however, he would make sure she understood the danger. He would make her promise to let him handle the matter alone, for her own safety's sake.
He could not help but think of Emily as she had been this morning, clad only in her nightgown, looking at him as if she wished he would sweep her away. And he, shameful cad that he was, considering the option eagerly. Of course, that had been before she realized that he had no wife. Knowing that, might her desperation lead her to agree to a plan which would not be good for her future? Perhaps he should have let her believe he was indeed married? No. He had never lied to Emily before, he would not start now. It was enough to tell her that he could not marry her and let her believe the reason was that he no longer loved her.
Caught up in his thoughts, it took some time for him to notice that the room had become quiet. The maids had gone.
Careful of his limbs, stiff from their cramped positioning, he eased out from under the bed, on the side away from the door. As he stood, enjoying the sunlight
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