Tempted By The Roguish Lord. Mary Brendan

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       Chapter Three

      ‘You look rather tired, my dear.’

      ‘I stayed up reading until quite late,’ Emma replied coolly, meeting the watchful eyes of the man standing opposite her. She knew he was expecting her to invite him to sit down. But she wanted him gone, not making himself comfortable. ‘My father will not be home for some hours. He has gone out on business. You should return another time, sir.’

      Joshua Gresham refused to take the hint to leave. He shifted his feet even wider apart, crossed his arms over his bulky torso and treated her to another of his false smiles. ‘But I am here to see you, as I imagine you well know.’ He glanced at the small servant hovering in the doorway of the parlour. ‘Will you send her away?’

      The maid’s expression didn’t change and neither did she move. Mrs O’Reilly remained where she was, glaring into space. But Emma knew that the woman was biting her tongue in the same way she was herself. In her Irish brogue, and behind his back, Cathleen O’Reilly had called Mr Gresham a nasty fat feller on previous occasions that he’d visited.

      Customarily he’d turn up unannounced on the pretence of visiting her father. But she wouldn’t put it past him to have watched and waited for Bernard to leave the house today before knocking on the door to trap her alone. She was well aware that she was the one he really wanted to torment.

      ‘I am expecting my friend to call on me this afternoon. We are going shopping.’

      ‘Then we have a chance to talk before she arrives,’ he purred.

      ‘As you wish.’ The effort of being civil to this loathsome individual made Emma’s stomach squirm. She avoided Cathleen’s eyes. The maid was muttering beneath her breath and Emma knew the woman was itching to be told to show him out. But there were things that even her father wasn’t aware of that had gone on between his daughter and this man.

      She’d not pretended to have an appointment, but her friend wasn’t due to call until four and the clock on the mantel had only just chimed three.

      Joshua Gresham propped an elbow against the chimneypiece, cocking his head to peer at her. His stance reminded Emma of another gentleman who had recently been in this room. But Joshua, shorter in stature and thicker of frame, had none of Mr Harley’s fine physical attributes. Neither did he have that man’s character. Oddly, as she compared the two of them, she realised that she had found Mr Harley quite charming...a fact that she imagined might make him give her one of his ironic smiles, did he but know it.

      Emma went to the window and gazed along the street, hoping her friend might come early and save her enduring Gresham’s company. For all his sham politeness he was a nasty piece of work and his brother had been little better. It had been a terrible error of judgement on her part to get involved with Simon, let alone fall in love with him. She had put her faith and trust in a lying wretch and thereby destroyed her family.

      Yet, even knowing Simon had tricked her couldn’t prevent a residue of wistfulness welling up inside. The man she’d wanted to marry had been the same one who had driven them all into debt and disgrace, losing his life in the doing of it. Her brother and her father had declared it was his own fault and no less than the scoundrel deserved. But Emma had shut herself in her room and howled for days when she found out that the man she’d believed she would grow old with had died. She pushed memories of Simon from her mind as his elder brother spoke to her.

      ‘I have been patient, my dear, but must insist on having my answer from you.’ Joshua had crept up behind her and was curving over her shoulder as though he might touch her face with his lips.

      Emma swerved away as the sour smell of his person infiltrated her nostrils. Joshua Gresham and Lance Harley had both brought the whiff of licentious living inside the house. But her rescuer hadn’t turned her stomach. A hint of sandalwood soap had emanated from Mr Harley as well as the night-time aromas gathered from hours of revelry.

      ‘I would remind you that you had your answer many months ago. I have nothing else to say about it, sir.’ Emma was relieved that she’d managed to sound polite when what she really wanted to do was curse him as a devil.

      He returned to pose against the mantel and a set of stubby fingers commenced drumming out a tattoo on the oak shelf. ‘You are intending to hold fast to that decision, are you, and put your father in jeopardy in his twilight years?’

      ‘I would also remind you that I have asked you before not to blackmail me.’ Outwardly, Emma retained her icy aplomb. Inside, she was anything but calm. Joshua’s detested proposition had been issued after it became apparent that her father would struggle to repay him his money. Her tormentor had been biding his time, believing eventually his threats of retribution would make her submit. She could tell he was done with waiting. His eyes were on her bosom and his tongue was slithering about his lips like an excited worm.

      ‘I have it within my power to finish the Waverleys once and for all,’ he growled. ‘Don’t think me bluffing!’ He strode up to her so fast that Emma put a chair between them, fearing he might here and now attempt to assault her as he had before. But on that occasion she hadn’t been in her own home!

      When the knock came at the door, Emma managed to keep her gasp of relief barely audible. Her friend had fortuitously turned up early.

      ‘I told you I was expecting company. I must insist you leave as I am going out shopping.’ Emma hurried into the hallway, and when Mrs O’Reilly, who was a little hard of hearing, didn’t immediately appear to answer the knock she did so herself, impatient to let Dawn in and vile Mr Gresham out.

      ‘My apologies for turning up unannounced...’

      Emma’s lips parted in astonishment. Quickly, she pressed them together and closed the door. A heart-stopping second later she realised she had not only been unbelievably bad mannered, but most unwise. She jerked open the door. He was still there as though he’d expected her to reconsider once her reflex to put a barricade between them had been overtaken by common sense.

      ‘May I come in?’ the Earl of Houndsmere asked with barely a hint of amusement lurking in his voice.

      ‘Yes... I’m sorry, sir... I... I...’ There wasn’t a plausible reason for her rudeness that she could quickly think of so deemed it best to stay quiet rather than stutter nonsense like a fool.

      He seemed to understand in any case, judging from his half-smile. Having the door shut in his face didn’t appear to have bothered him.

      But Emma was bothered; instead of being annoyed that he’d returned when she’d told him not to, a sweet, joyous feeling was unfurling within. She banished it. Explained it away. It was simply that of the two men presently bedevilling her peace СКАЧАТЬ