Though Thomas composed himself outwardly, inside he smiled. Emma’s unfortunate encounter with the major had been the perfect setup for him to jump in and save her.
Of course, Thomas would have done that anyway. However, he knew the ladies were in the gardens and were bound to exit at some point. He would have kissed Emma for hours, if need be, to accomplished his plan. And now he would ignore the guilt riding him. She would marry him; that was all that mattered.
By the time Emma was composed enough for Thomas to escort her back into the ballroom, every eye fell on them. He saw Emma’s body tense up. “Don’t let them get to you, my dear. We are betrothed; there’s nothing they would dare whisper about you behind your back now that I am protecting you. Smile and look happy, will you?”
***
Smile and look happy. What world did he live in? Emma lived in a cruel one where people loved a good scandal. And one involving an American and a duke was all the better for entertaining scandal. But she plastered on a smile and acknowledged all the well wishes from strangers and friends alike. Nothing seemed real; it was as though she watched herself from afar, not actually from inside her own body.
Amelia enveloped her in her arms and murmured into her ear, “I am jealous; I wish Captain Rycroft had done what my brother did. Then I would be engaged as well. Now we will be sisters for real.”
Next, Bella hugged her. “Congratulations. My brother could not have picked a better wife. Welcome, sister.”
As much as she fought it, tears streamed down her cheeks and she brushed them away with her gloved fingers. Emma lowered her voice because what she had to say was for her new sisters’ ears only. “You are not shocked by the gossip?” Her stomach revolted. “Your mother—what will she say? She will be shocked and angered by the scandal.”
“Mama…” Amelia began. “She will be glad to have her eldest son finally married. She can rest easy knowing an heir will soon follow.”
“Oh. You misunderstand,” was all Emma could say as a chill of foreboding racked her body from the inside out. No matter what Amelia said, she knew the duchess would be apple-red with rage. She might even think that Emma had tricked her son into the proposal. Maybe Emma could beg Thomas to send her back to America instead.
Her reputation would be intact there. Then she remembered that Sebastian was in America. Could she change her name, like one of her heroines in her books might do under the circumstances? Not likely. Boston and New Bedford society knew her too well for that. She could move west…
And if she went away, his reputation would not be tarnished at all. Indeed, most would believe him lucky to have escaped marriage to an American. Life was unfair. Standards for men and woman favored men in every regard, and dukes in particular. Someday, in the future, maybe things would be different. But for her and for now, life tipped in favor of the male sex.
Upon arriving at Wentworth House, Thomas waited until Amelia and Bella went inside to have a private word with Emma.
“My dear,” He took Emma’s gloved hands into his. “I realize tonight was a shock to you, but I promise you, you will not regret marrying me. Please say nothing about what led up to this to my mother. I will tell her in the morning.” Thomas dropped her hands, stepped back, and bowed. “Goodnight.”
***
His body trembled as he watched Emma enter his home. He hoped he could keep his promise to her. That he would never give her cause to regret marrying him.
During the ride to Amesbury’s he had the coach stop twice so he could relieve himself of the nausea he felt. Guilt mixed with acid churning inside his stomach didn’t settle well.
He was massaging his right side when he climbed the stairs to his friend’s townhouse. The moment Thomas crossed the threshold into Amesbury’s bedchamber, Myles surveyed his appearance.
“You look worse than Amesbury,” Myles exclaimed. “What happened?”
Thomas ignored his question. “How is he?”
“Sleeping. He still can’t keep anything down, but the doctor says by tomorrow he should be as good as new.” Myles glanced toward their friend and cringed. “I don’t believe him.”
“Indeed. I think his fight has just begun,” Thomas agreed as he paced the room, slightly bent to the right side, his hand still massaging away. Why the bloody hell he didn’t sit down was a mystery.
“I’m getting married.” There, he said it.
Myles stared at him, eyes wide. “You’re what?”
Thomas raked his left hand through his disheveled hair. “Look at me. I’m a mess. I thought I would be glad to marry Emma.”