Page 1 of Truly, Madly, Daring

Chapter 1

Dearest Mama and Papa,

Please forgive me. I am so dreadfully sorry for the hurt and worry I know I am causing you, and I know you will not understand why I have done this, but I beg you to trust me, to believe in me. I have good reasons for my actions.

Do not come after me, or make a fuss, for you will only risk causing a scandal. We will be back with you very soon, I promise.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Emmeline Knight to her parents, Lady Helena and Mr Gabriel Knight.

14th February 1845, Lady St Clair’s Valentine’s Day Ball, Holbrook House, Sussex.

Emmeline sipped at her glass of orgeat and wished fervently it was something stronger. She hadn’t much of a taste for strong liquor, but her mother swore by a medicinal tot of brandy when the occasion arose, insisting it steadied the nerves, and Emmeline’s nerves could certainly have withstood a bit of steadying. As it was, they were quaking like a newborn foal.

She wished she could find Cat. Speaking to that madcap creature might give her courage, not that she was about to confide in her. Surely even Cat would think she’d gone far too far in carrying out Lord Wrexham’s plan but, all the same, it would be nice to have some company. Mostly everyone else was dancing and Alana had just left with her new husband, looking so ecstatically happy and in love with her reverend that Emmeline had almost been sick. Not because she was revolted, or jealous, or anything of the sort. She was delighted for Alana and wished her much joy. It was only that it made the contrast in their situations so obvious, because Emmeline was not ecstatically happy and in love, and surely one ought to be happy and in love before one got married?

Yet tonight, for reasons she did not wish to dwell on overmuch, she was eloping with the Marquess of Wrexham. He had recently lost his sight, which did not make him the least bit less attractive in her eyes or any less interesting. All the same, she was rushing headlong into marriage with a man she barely knew, who had a terrible reputation and was rumoured to be losing his mind. Why? Whenever she posed this question, her mind ran in frantic little circles, her heart raced, and her palms grew sweaty with anxiety, because there was no sensible answer. Why was she—quiet, well-behaved Emmeline—doing such a ridiculous and scandalous thing? Well, because in the first place she was quite obviously certifiable and, in the second, she was terrified of what might happen to him if she didn’t. That was not all, however. In the third place, she had pulled that blasted dare from the hat and the horrid thing might have been written with this very circumstance in mind. There was something exceedingly spooky about that wretched hat, for defy convention and stand up to injustice were words that rang in her ears constantly whenever she tried to talk herself out of this madness. And as for the fourth… well, she might not be in love, but she was most certainly overwhelmingly, dreadfully, and fatally infatuated with the dratted man. In short, she was an idiot.

“Felix, what time is it, please?” she asked, grabbing her brother’s arm as he sauntered past.

Felix removed her arm from his sleeve with a pained expression before she creased the fabric.

“Eight o’clock, why? Have you got to be somewhere?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“No, of course not,” Emmeline retorted, rather too sharply. She let out a breath and smiled as her brother’s expression became serious. “I just wondered.”

His gaze narrowed, and Emmeline’s stomach lurched. Felix was just as astute as her father. Had she been anyone else, it would have been impossible to sneak anything past him, but Emmeline doubted he’d suspect his own sister of harbouring such a madcap plan… especially not after Evie’s little adventure. It was a wonder their father had even allowed Emmeline out of the house after her sister’s scandalous escapades. For a while she’d believed herself destined for a nunnery. Poor Papa was going to throw a fit when he discovered what she’d done. The idea made her already queasy guts roil unpleasantly.

“Are you quite well, Em? You look a bit peaked.”

“Actually, no, I… I have rather a headache,” Emmeline said, touching her fingers to her temple and wishing she had practised the art of lying instead of spending so many hours at the piano. It would have been a deal more use at this moment. Still, this was the perfect excuse to allow her to leave, and she did not think it would be at all difficult to conjure a real headache, as she was quite ready to cast up her accounts. “I think it’s a megrim, actually. I’m afraid I ate the lemon tart at the wedding breakfast because it was so delicious.”

“Well, that was daft. You know lemons always set you off! What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, I suppose,” Emmeline said sheepishly, hoping her brother would just accept the excuse and play his part, though she felt wretched for telling him such whopping lies.

Felix regarded her for a long, torturous moment. “Well, that’s a rotten shame. Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh, yes, be a dear and tell Mama I’m going to bed. You know the only thing that works is lying down in the dark and being quiet.”

“Right you are, then. I’ll play messenger. Do you want her to come up and see you?”

“Oh, no,” Emmeline replied at once, shaking her head. “Don’t let her miss the party. Please assure her I’m quite all right. I shall take some headache powders and you know they knock me out. I’ll be asleep in no time, so there’s no point.”

Felix accepted this with a shrug, gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder in sympathy, and went to find their mother. So far, so good.

Emmeline took a breath, but her lungs seemed too tight to draw in much air. For a moment, her courage failed her, and she considered changing her mind, considered really going to her room and hiding under the bedcovers. But then she remembered Wrexham, remembered the way he had looked when he had told her his family were trying to kill him. His family! The very people who ought to be supporting him and keeping him safe had turned upon him, and all for the sake of his wealth and title. Emmeline could hardly imagine it, but he had looked so very alone and vulnerable, and that had hurt her heart, for he was such a physically powerful man, so imposing and beautiful and… and she had wanted him so badly in that moment it had shaken her to her core. She had wanted him enough to agree to anything. Even his ridiculous proposal. Now, though….

“Oh, good heavens, Emmeline Knight, what have you gone and done? And Papa thought Evie was a troublemaker,” she muttered to herself, and hurried out of the ballroom.

“My Lord, I—”

“Don’t say it,” Rex warned the man by his side.

Humboldt scowled. Not that Rex could see his scowl, having lost his sight almost three years ago, but he could feel it. He could sense the disapproval rolling off his loyal secretary in waves. Humboldt was too good, that was the trouble; too good and too honourable, and nothing like Rex.

“You can’t possibly know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to ask me if I was perfectly sure this was the best course of action,” Rex said under his breath, for he could not be certain if anyone was close enough to hear their conversation. The sound of the orchestra was making it very difficult for him to concentrate, drowning his perceptions of the world around him. “You were going to ask me if I really wanted to drag Miss Knight into my life and rob her of the opportunity of meeting a decent man. A whole one, anyway.”