Page 56 of Truly, Madly, Daring

At first, the staff shifted uncomfortably, appearing uncertain and ill at ease at the master of the house lowering himself to apologise—they were probably wondering if he had an ulterior motive—but the longer Wrexham spoke, the easier the atmosphere became.

“I ought never to have doubted you, any of you,” Wrexham carried on. “And I pray you will put it down to the stresses of the past days and the shock of the situation I found myself in this morning. I should have confided in you all before now, perhaps, but I have been too used to keeping my counsel. That ends today. I am putting my trust in you all from now on, and I am asking you to be discreet, for our sakes.

“You all know that my wife and I eloped, but we did so because we feared my father’s interference. You here all remember Mr Thompson, who acted as my steward these past five years. He betrayed me to my father and sold the information about our elopement. The duke sent Lord Cecil in pursuit of us, hoping to delay us long enough so he could interfere and stop the marriage. I believe he means me harm, at the very least, to get me locked up in an asylum.”

To Emmeline’s relief, there were gasps of shock and angry murmurs at this revelation, and she knew she had been right to persuade Wrexham to do this.

“On what grounds?” demanded an indignant voice.

Wrexham gave a grim smile. “Those of you who have had experience of working in the duke’s household will know his grace does not need grounds or proof. He wants me gone. He wants to take control of my finances and my lands and for Lord Cecil to take my place.”

“Shame!” cried a woman’s voice this time, the shout quickly taken up and echoed around the room. “Shame, shame on him!”

“We won’t let them do you harm, my lord!” shouted one of the gardeners fiercely, an older man with thick, dark whiskers and a ruddy, weather worn countenance.

“Thank you, Greaves,” Wrexham said, apparently recognising the voice. “That means a great deal to me.”

Suddenly the room was filled with many more such comments, from a shy little kitchen maid who shouted, “God bless and keep you!” to the coachmen and grooms, who were louder and more raucous but no less sincere.

Emmeline’s throat grew tight as she realised Wrexham was getting emotional. She doubted he had ever realised the regard with which his staff held him in. But she knew him now, knew he was gentle and kind and fair. He would have been a good employer, a generous one, and these people would know that. She moved closer to him and took his hand, unsurprised when he grasped it tightly.

“I think they’ve forgiven you,” she said, smiling up at him.

He let out a breath, shaking his head. “Thanks to you, pet,” he said. “Thank you for taking me to task. I did not mean to act the brute, it’s just sometimes—”

“I know,” she said, squeezing his hand. “There’s no need to explain. Come along now. I think we’ve provided them with enough entertainment for one day.”

It took forever to extricate themselves from the staff as everyone wanted to speak to them and Emmeline understood Wrexham did not wish to rush away, but gave them his time and attention, and made certain to thank everyone personally for their loyalty to him and Emmeline, and to Cawston Hall.

When they finally made their way back up the stairs, there was one thing that still nagged at Emmeline. “Where is Lord Cecil? He was apparently on our trail and the reason we had to keep moving, but if that is the case. Where is he?”

Wrexham considered this. “Biding his time and awaiting my father’s arrival if I were to guess. Cecil is a bully, but only when he feels the odds are in his favour. Accosting me on the road with his hired thugs is one thing. Setting foot on my property where I have my staff at hand, that is another. I don’t doubt his thugs will try to cause more trouble, though.”

“You think he’s nearby, then?” Emmeline asked, disturbed by the idea. “You think it was him who hired those men and put the eyeballs in your bath?” She shuddered again as she remembered, knowing she’d never forget the sight.

“Undoubtedly,” Wrexham said. “The duke is a bull in a china shop, and he doesn’t care who he hurts to get his own way, but he’s not got a scrap of imagination. Cecil, though, he’s petty, and he can be remarkably spiteful. He was the kind of boy who would torment small animals for the fun of it. I’ve punished him for such vile behaviour before now. The last time he was here was the worst. It must have been about five years ago, before things between us became openly hostile. Before that he always tried to toady up to me, but he attempted to importune one of the kitchen maids. I dread to think what might have happened if I hadn’t come upon them. Poor girl, she was scared witless. I made good and sure he knew what that felt like before I kicked him out.”

Emmeline wondered if it were possible to fall in love with him any harder. She kept thinking she had fallen quite hard and far enough, only to discover there was more. He was all she could think of, all she wanted, and she could well imagine why his loathsome half-brother resented him so badly. Wrexham was good and honourable, strong, and handsome and popular; all the things it appeared Cecil was not.

They walked in silence along the corridor, Wrexham finding his way with ease until he halted close to his bedroom door.

“You know, I had forgotten how kind and good the people are here, Emmeline. I have always loved this place. It has been my home since I was a boy, and I always loved it, but with everything that has happened to me, I think I forgot that much of what I love, that makes it home, are the people. Thank you for reminding me, love.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, staring at him with a daft expression of adoration he would have found amusing had he been able to see her.

“Now then,” he said. “I think we have some unfinished business, do we not?”

Emmeline blushed, remembering the brief interlude in his study. “It’s the middle of the day. What if someone comes?”

“Then they will be told we are indisposed,” he said with a suggestive grin, and hurried her through the door.

“You are terribly wicked, my lord,” Emmeline said sometime later, sprawled over her husband’s torso. He was breathing hard still, his skin damp as she trailed her fingers back and forth through the hair on his chest.

He grinned, looking exceedingly smug. She laughed and shook her head.

“Now I understand all those scandalous stories people whisper about you.”

His face fell then, his expression darkening. “You heard such stories?” he asked, looking uncomfortable.