Page 2 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“I was most certainly not going to phrase it in such a way,” Humboldt replied, his indignation apparent.

“No, because you know I am an impatient brute with a vast amount of pride, which is far too easily bruised, but it doesn’t make the meaning any less accurate.”

“Very well. If you insist on framing my demand in such terms, so be it. And your answer?”

Rex shifted, reaching behind him to check the wall was still at his back. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d felt as if it had moved to somewhere unexpected. He did not wish to answer the question, to think too deeply about what he was getting Miss Knight into. Sweet Miss Milly was far too innocent, too tenderhearted, to realise the enormity of what she was doing, but Rex wasn’t. If he was any kind of gentleman, he would never have asked her, would at least have changed his mind and released her, but the truth was that he was terrified. As humiliating as it was to admit it, even to himself, he feared the future alone far more than he feared being an utter bastard. If he did not do this, did not have someone who could stay with him at all times of the day and night without causing a scandal, he was going to end up in an asylum. His father and half-brother would see it done between them, never mind if he were truly mad or not, unless they got really lucky and arranged an accident that caused him to break his neck. He was certain they’d already tried it.

No. The only way was to have someone with him, someone who could stay with him constantly, even at night, and who could be his eyes. The only person who could do that was a wife.

He still could not believe she had agreed to it. That she had, he still found hard to believe. Humboldt had described the lady to him: she was undoubtedly beautiful and had a vast dowry. She must not be short of offers. Rex knew that her mother, Lady Helena, had lost much of her social standing through her marriage to Gabriel Knight. Lady Helena might be sister to the Duke of Bedwin, but Mr Knight had been born and raised in the workhouse, and even his mighty fortune could not entirely erase that stigma from his children. It made sense that Emmeline would accept his offer for the reasons he had suggested she do so, for marrying Rex would make her the Marchioness of Wrexham, a vastly wealthy and powerful woman. Every door would be open to her. Yet something nagged at him. The uneasy notion that his Miss Milly was not the kind of young woman who considered wealth and power as the most important things in her life was hard to overlook. But there could be no other reason. They hardly knew each other, and society had given him proof enough that his charms were no longer what they once were. Ida had taught him that lesson with great clarity.

Lucky for his faithless fiancée that Lord Waring had offered for her the moment the news had broken about Rex’s sight. A comedown from a marchioness to a mere earl, perhaps, especially for a climber like Ida, but better that than marrying a man who needed constant attention. If he’d had any illusions about how far he’d fallen from grace, Ida’s defection had shattered them. Until that moment, Rex had been the one calling the tune.

The Marquess of Wrexham had been on top of the world: popular, wealthy, powerful and skilled at most everything to which he turned his hand. He’d thought himself invulnerable, fool that he’d been. Before the accident, Ida had been doing all in her power to get him to the altar, and only Rex’s determination to stay single and thwart his father’s machinations had stopped it from happening. Ida had been the duke’s choice, chosen for breeding and powerful connections. Anything his father wanted of him was reason enough to dig in his heels. She had tempted him, though, for Ida was beautiful and sophisticated, and knew all the ways to make him desire her. Oh, she had used her wiles with the greatest of skill, but in the end his hesitation had benefited her, and she’d cut him loose the moment she’d realised the kind of man she would be marrying. He’d become an invalid, in her eyes and now society had rehashed the story of his uncle’s sight loss and subsequent madness, one tainted with the stigma of insanity too. She’d made no bones about it. Ida did not want to be saddled with a madman for a husband, a man who would likely breed another generation of insanity. Rex couldn’t blame her.

Ida had loved to dance, visit the opera, ride for miles, and attend art exhibitions. How could he possibly do any of that? That part of his life was over, as was so much else of it. His world had shrunk down to the size of his private rooms at Buxton Hall, where his father had kept him prisoner for so long. If not for his sister and his aunt, he might be there still. And yet all Rex really wanted was to return to his own home.

Cawston Hall might become another prison of sorts but at least it was one of his own choosing, with people he trusted around him and a place he loved and knew like the back of his hand. Yet he was condemning sweet Emmeline to inhabit that prison with him. A luxurious incarceration with an ill-tempered husband who would gradually descend into madness. What a charming prospect. If only he weren’t so damned stubborn, perhaps he’d take the easy way out as his father had so helpfully suggested and throw himself out of an upper-storey window. But that felt like giving up, like giving the duke what he wanted. No. Never that.

So what was his answer to Humboldt? Did he truly want to drag Miss Knight into his increasingly dangerous world, to imprison her there in order to keep him alive and out of an asylum? No. He really did not. But he would do it anyway.

Emmeline left the ballroom and made her way cautiously to the blue drawing room. With a nervous glance around her, she picked up the lamp that had been left burning to illuminate the corridor for the guests and opened the door. Moving fast, Emmeline crossed the imposing space and walked directly into the Roman room, so named for the striking paintings of famous episodes of Roman history that covered every wall, and even the ceiling. From all corners of the room, mythological figures and beasts stared, their gaze following Emmeline as she found the door to the next room, the judging eyes of ancient deities making her feel more anxious than ever. Heart thundering, she tugged open the door, walked through and gave a little shriek as she discovered someone waiting in the dark.

“It’s me, Miss Knight. I beg your pardon for alarming you,” Mr Humboldt said, his expression one of regret.

“Oh, that’s quiet all right, Mr Humboldt. I’m a little overwrought, truth be told,” she said, her hand pressed to her heart. “And it’s foolish of me, for I was expecting to meet you here.”

“Not in the least foolish, I assure you,” Mr Humboldt said warmly. “The truth is, Miss Knight, I am glad to have this moment alone with you because… Well, there is no delicate manner of asking this so I shall put both feet in at once. Are you quite certain you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I’m not certain!” Emmeline said, outraged. Did he think her a complete bedlamite? “But I honestly don’t see how I could not do it.”

Mr Humboldt’s anxious features softened. “Easily. Turn around and go back to the ballroom.”

Emmeline regarded him for a long moment. “Why? Why do you say this to me? Is there something about Wrexham I ought to know? Is he tricking me? Is this all a hum? Is he a bad man?”

“No.” Humboldt shook his head without hesitation. “No, he’s not a bad man, and I’m afraid it’s all true. He’s had several accidents of late, which is easy enough to arrange for a blind man. He’s accident prone enough with no help from anyone, because he’s so determined to be independent, but of late it’s become clear there have been traps laid for him, and the last one nearly did for him. If I’d not been there….” The man shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. He looked exhausted. “But it’s not your problem, and to marry a man you don’t know just because you feel sorry for him—”

“No!” Emmeline stood a little straighter when Mr Humboldt returned her look of surprise. For she had astonished herself with the vehemence of her reaction, but the truth of her feelings gave her courage. “I am not doing this out of pity, or at least, that is only a small part of it. Wrexham is not a man who invites pity, and he would despise me for feeling it, no doubt. I have my reasons for going through with it, but my reasons are my own.”

Mr Humboldt nodded, his expression grave. “Then we’d best go at once. He’s waiting for us.”

Emmeline nodded. Well, there was no turning back now.

Rex sat in the carriage, listening to the tick of his fob watch. They ought to be here by now. What was taking Humboldt so long? Unless Emmeline had changed her mind. The thought sent a shiver of apprehension skittering down his spine, a chill eating into his bones. Damn this bloody snow to hell. As if this journey wouldn’t be challenging enough, without adding in such terrible weather. But eloping in February was hardly ideal. Still, once they got to the station, his private carriage would take them all the way to Birmingham. From there, they would take another train to Manchester, and then on to Lancaster. After that, it would become hellishly slow as there was not yet a line to take them into Scotland. Rex was dreading it. The idea of staying in rooms he did not know, where the layout would be different each time, of depending entirely on Humboldt and Miss Knight… it made him furious and frustrated and so humiliated he could weep. He sat up straighter, disgusted by his display of self-pity. Damn them all. He’d got this far. There was no way he was giving in now.

The soft tread of footsteps through snow caught his attention, making his heart pound. Too light for Humboldt… no, he was coming too, or at least a man and a woman. Rex held his breath as the door opened.

“Good evening, Lord Wrexham.”

He wondered then if she could sing, for there was something so lovely, so melodious about her voice. It smoothed down his jagged edges, poured over his raw nerves like warm honey and assured him all would be well.

“You came,” he said, discouraged to hear the depth of relief behind those words, wishing he had not sounded quite so desperate.

“I said I would,” she replied, and he wondered at the assurance in her voice. Was she not as terrified, daunted, and thrumming with anxiety as he had been before she had arrived?

“So you did,” he replied, smiling now. He reached out a hand towards her, startled by the way his heart leapt as she took it, her grip sure as she climbed into the carriage.

His future bride settled into the seat opposite him with the rustle of expensive fabric, bringing with her the scent of orange blossom. It transported Rex to the Mediterranean in an instant, to the sensation of the sun burnishing his skin, memories bright with images of a time and place when he could not tell where the sea had ended, and the sky began. His mood shifted from delight to melancholy, as he remembered he would never see such a thing again.