England, 1812
DECEPTION DID NOT suit her. In the past, Emily Maitland
had always prided herself on her honesty. In the past,
she had never told a lie of any proportion. Yet, the lie
she had created three weeks ago in London was more than
just your average size prevarication. No, her first foray
into the fabrication of fact was about the size of
Gibraltar. And she could feel that lie pressing against
her chest, like a solid chunk of frozen granite.
Emily stood in a corner of the ballroom in her parents’
home near Bristol, staring at the swarm of guests
gathered beneath the glitter of crystal chandeliers to
celebrate her recent marriage. If she was not certain one
of her family or friends would question her absence, she
would escape the crowd, retreat to her room, and hide
like a coward.
“I know how you must feel, celebrating tonight while you
wonder if he is safe. Believe me I know.” Marisa Grantham
squeezed her hand. “We must have faith he will return to
you soon.”
Emily looked into the concerned blue eyes of one of her
closest friends and fought the words clawing at her
throat. What would she think if Marisa knew the truth?
Would she ever forgive her for deceiving her in this way?
“Mari, you and Meg are my dearest friends in the world.
You know that.”
Marisa smiled, a look of curiosity flitting across her
beautiful face. “Of course I know, silly.”
“You know I would never wish to hide anything from you.”
Emily drew a deep breath, catching the mingled scents of
various sweet waters hovering in the warm room. “And you
also know I would never in my life put you or Meg in a
position that would threaten your integrity.”
Marisa tilted her head, a raven curl brushing her
shoulder. She regarded Emily in that singular way she had
that came when sharp intelligence melded with an
inquisitive nature. “Emily, you know you can tell me
anything.”
Emily wondered if she might share this burden. She
glanced to the dance floor where Margaret Drummond was
gliding through the steps of a country dance. In the past
few years Marisa, Meg, and Emily had shared each London
Season. They had also shared their dreams, their joys,
and their secrets. The friendship they had forged had
helped each of them survive Town life. There was one
secret she had not shared with them.
Emily stiffened when she noticed her grandmother step
from a crowd of people near one of the refreshment
tables. Dear heaven, she was headed in Emily’s direction.
One look at Lady Harriet Whitcomb’s face, and Emily knew
her grandmother was not pleased with her performance this
night. She marched through the crowd with all the purpose
of an arrow headed for her target. Emily drew in her
breath and prepared for the worst as Lady Harriet drew
near.
“Is something wrong?” Marisa asked.
“No. Nothing is wrong. You were right, Mari. I’m simply
concerned about him.” It was the truth. Emily was
concerned about him, but not for the reasons Marisa
believed.
Marisa squeezed Emily’s hand. “I know how difficult it
is, worrying about him. At least you know when he does
return, he will return to you.”
Emily saw the sadness in her friend’s eyes, knew the
reason behind that lingering pain, and felt even worse
for her own deception. Marisa deserved more from her. She
deserved her complete honesty. Yet Emily knew that
honesty would only prove a burden.
Lady Harriet smiled as she joined them. “Mari, dear. I
believe Mr. Haverleigh is looking for you. Did you
perhaps promise him this dance?”
Marisa looked surprised. “No. I’m certain I did not.”
Lady Harriet patted her arm. “Would you be a dear and
dance with him, before he starts following you about like
a lost lamb? I’m afraid he will run into one of the
potted palms the way that Carsten boy fell into the
refreshment table at the Andover ball last April. As I
recall he was trying to slip past one of your beaux and
ended up with a tray of cake on his head.”
“I always find it remarkable the way certain gentlemen
can make complete cakes of themselves.” Marisa laughed,
the sound melding with the music. She squeezed Emily’s
hand before leaving her alone with Lady Harriet.
“Mark my words, that handsome child shall cause a riot
one day.” Lady Harriet took Emily’s arm. “The gentleman
who wins her hand shall do us all a service.”
Emily didn’t resist as her grandmother led her to a
nearby alcove, where two gilt trimmed chairs sat beneath
a large gilt trimmed mirror. She remained standing,
holding Emily’s arm, smiling as though she had something
pleasant to discuss. Yet the hard glitter in her green
eyes told Emily another story.
“Emily dear, you look as though you are waiting to be
marched to the gallows. We don’t want your guests
wondering what is wrong with you. Do we? You didn’t share
our little secret with Mari. Did you?”
“No. But I do so wish I might.”
“We agreed not to share this with anyone. And I do mean
anyone. You must remain strong.”
“Look at all of these people, Grandmama,” Emily
whispered, her voice nearly drowned by the bright notes
flowing from the orchestra perched high in the minstrels’
gallery on the far side of the room. “They all believe
this monstrous lie.”
Harriet squeezed Emily’s arm. The warmth of her palm
radiated through the buff kid leather, like a brand
against Emily’s cool skin. “May I suggest the rather
obvious fact that we want them to believe this monstrous
lie?”
“I know. I simply didn’t realize it would be this
difficult. I despise deceiving everyone.”
Harriet laughed softly, as though Emily had just said
something witty. “You have little choice but to grow
accustomed to deception, my dear. At least in this
matter.”
“I keep thinking of how disappointed Mama and Papa would
be if they knew the truth of what I have done.”
“Precisely why I suggest we never allow them to discover
the truth. I doubt they would have much sympathy for
either one of us.”
Emily watched her parents as they glided through the
steps of a cotillion. Small, with dark hair and green
eyes, Audrey Maitland looked like a young girl dancing
with her first love. The way she gazed up at her tall,
fair haired husband mirrored the adoration in Hugh
Maitland’s brown eyes as he smiled down at his handsome
wife.
Emily had never seen a couple more in love than her
parents. Growing up with that love as a standard for what
she expected from her future marriage was part of the
reason Emily found herself in this horrible situation
tonight. She had tried desperately to prevent this lavish
party. Yet, her parents had insisted. She truly believed
they wanted to prove to the world their eldest daughter
had finally managed to comply with their wishes.
“I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to face
everyone and maintain this illusion we have created. I
feel as though I’m betraying everyone. I know I would
feel better if I could tell Mari and Meg. And Anna. I
have never in my entire life kept a secret from Anna.”
“Only three people? You would force only three of the
girls you care most about to share your burden?”
Emily moistened her lips. “I know. It is selfish to even
think of it.”
“Fortunately, Mari and Meg are both leaving tomorrow. So
the temptation to tell them will be gone. As far as your
sister, you know that dear child could never bear the
weight of a deception such as this.” Harriet tightened
her grip on her granddaughter’s arm, her fingers pinching
the skin beneath Emily’s short sleeve. “Emily, look at
me.”
Emily tore her gaze from her trusting parents to look
into her grandmother’s taut features. The few silver
threads that streaked her dark red hair, the lines that
crinkled at the corners of her eyes could not steal
Harriet’s beauty, even though she was past sixty. Just
how far past sixty she had progressed, no one knew. Lady
Harriet Whitcomb, the dowager Countess of Durrington,
believed every woman should keep a degree of mystery
about her.
“I expect you to play your role well. You are not a green
girl.”
Emily cringed at the reminder of her age. In three months
she would attain the advanced age of three and twenty.
She needed no reminders of the fact she was beyond the
first blush of youth.
“You are not going to do anything foolish, are you my
girl?” Harriet’s eyes were filled with an uneasy mixture
of dread and determination. “You shall remember you
convinced me this was your only hope. And of course, you
will bear in mind that both of our reputations are now at
stake. Your parents trusted me to guide you safely
through London society.”
The responsibility of her deception rested across Emily’s
shoulders like an iron yoke. If the truth were ever
discovered the scandal would not only ruin Emily and her
grandmother, but her entire family. No, she was far too
tangled in her own web of lies to hope of escaping. She
looked into her grandmother’s worried eyes and managed a
smile. “I would do nothing to jeopardize my parents’
trust in you. I will not fail you.”
“Of course you won’t.” Harriet dropped her hand and
frowned at the red marks her fingers had left on Emily’s
arm below the emerald silk of her short sleeve. “You are
after all my granddaughter. The only one of your sisters
who had the excellent sense to inherit my looks.”
Emily rubbed the tingling flesh of her upper arm. “Mother
has always said my temperament is related to my red
hair.”
“Yes, well, you have also inherited my unfortunate
propensity for being just a bit headstrong.” Harriet
flicked open her fan, the gilt trimmed edge glittering in
the candlelight. “Still, all in all, I am quite satisfied
with how you have turned out, even if you are a trifle
stubborn at times. You are, after all, quite an Original.
Indeed, you remind me remarkably of myself at your age.”
Emily smiled as she thought of how her penchant for rich
colors and medieval decoration had set her apart in the
eyes of the ton. After her first disastrous Season, she
had fashioned a mask of sophisticated elegance to protect
herself from the horde of foppish bores, arrogant
aristocrats, and charming fortune hunters that swarmed
London. She had yet to find a gentleman interested in
looking beyond the mask to the woman beneath.
“I have faith in you. And I believe you were justified in
doing what you did. If not, I never would have agreed to
this. Your parents were being quite unreasonable.”
“Thank you, Grandmama.”
Lady Harriet smiled. “Your parents were foolish to think
they could control you in this manner. In a very real
sense they brought this about. You must keep that in
mind. I assure you, I keep reminding myself of all the
reasons for this deception.”
Emily nodded. “I shall remain strong. I know what is at
stake.”
“Grandmama! Emily!”
Emily turned as her sister Annabella glided toward her,
her pale hair glowing in the golden candlelight cascading
from the chandeliers.
“Is it not a wonderful party?” Anna waved her fan in an
elegant sweep of the ballroom. “I cannot wait until my
first London ball. I do hope it’s all I imagine it will
be.”
Harriet smiled. “My dear, I am quite certain you will
enjoy London. And London shall adore you.”
“Do you think so?” Anna clutched her fan to her chest.
“They won’t think me too countrified?”
“They will think you a diamond of the first water.”
Harriet smoothed her fingers over Anna’s flawless cheek.
“You shall be a great success, my dear.”
A blush rose to brush a pink stain across Anna’s cheeks.
“Oh, I do hope so.”
“We shall make certain of it.” Harriet snapped her fan
closed. “Now, my sweetings. I see Lady Chadwick has
arrived, and I really must speak with her.”
Emily watched her grandmother wend her way through the
crowd surrounding the dance floor, making her way to
where Lady Chadwick stood near the base of the three
curving stairs leading from the entrance of the room into
the swirling mass of people below. People stood aside to
allow Lady Harriet passage as she sailed like a queen
across the crowded room in her gown of dark blue
sarsenet. No matter what, she would not betray her
grandmother. She certainly would not risk a scandal.
There was far too much as stake. It would all be fine.
She simply had to keep her wits and…
A military man dressed in full regimentals walked through
the entrance of the ballroom. He stood for a moment on
the top stair, framed by the white arched entrance,
looking across the room like a hunter seeking prey. Emily
watched as he descended the stairs, a tingling sensation
rippling through her. It was like watching a hawk descend
into a covey of doves. Even from a distance she could
sense an aura of danger about this man. She could imagine
him astride a huge black stallion, like a knight of
legend, leading his troops into battle. Looking at this
commanding man she had little doubt he had only recently
left the battlefields of the Peninsula.
Candlelight slipped golden fingers into his black hair,
the glossy mane curling in luxuriant waves over his
collar. The fringe of his golden epaulets dangled like
gilt in the candlelight, emphasizing the incredible width
of his shoulders. White braid marched down the front of
his short coat, the blue wool hugging the planes of his
wide chest. A gold dress sword brushed the side of his
thigh, buff colored breeches molded the muscular curves
of his long legs before plunging into shiny black
Hessians. One look and Emily forgot to breathe.
“Emily, there is something I have been meaning to ask you
ever since you returned from London last week,” Anna
said.
“What?” Emily stared, her gaze never wavering from the
tall, dark haired man who was making his way across the
room. He moved with the easy elegance that came when
strength blended with agility. Power rippled with his
every stride. This was a man men would follow into hell.
And women would wait breathlessly for his return.
“I have been worried.”
“Worried?” Emily noticed heads turn as the officer made
his way through the crowd. Women cast admiring glances
his way. Men gazed with a touch of envy at this tall,
powerful figure. Who was he? She was quite certain she
had never met him. Oh no, she would never have forgotten
this man. Even if she had merely glimpsed him before.
“I have been wondering about something.”
Anna kept her voice so low Emily had to incline her head
to hear her sister. Anna was several inches shorter than
she was, small and delicate, a perfect flower of the ton.
“What is it?”
“About your marriage.”
Emily’s muscles tensed. No one knew her better than Anna.
She couldn’t possibly suspect anything. Could she? “What
about my marriage?”
“Emily, you didn’t abandon your dream did you?”
“Dream? What do you mean?”
“You didn’t marry simply to allow me to have my first
Season, did you?” Anna twisted her fan, crinkling the
ivory lace trim. “Oh Emily, I do hope you married only
because you found a gentleman you truly loved. I know how
much you wanted me to go this year. I know you would put
my situation above your own. I do hope you didn’t marry
out of a sense of duty.”
The concern in her sister’s huge blue eyes tugged on
Emily’s heart. Even though she was four years Anna’s
senior, they had always been close, sharing their hopes
and dreams. In fact, this was the first time she had ever
kept a secret this important from her sister. Still,
Emily knew she could not lay this burden on anyone, not
her sister, not her closest friends.
“You must not fret about me.”
“But Emily, it all happened so quickly. An elopement!
Emily, you do love your Major Blake, do you not?”
Emily glanced down to the embroidered ivory lace edging
one short sleeve of her sister’s pale pink silk gown.
“You and I made a pact. Remember? Neither of us would
ever marry unless we were as deeply in love as Mama and
Papa are.”
“I know. But, I also know how hard you fought to have
Mama and Papa send me to London this Season, even though
I wanted you to go. I could not live with myself if I
thought you had married someone simply because of me.”
“Then it’s time you stopped torturing yourself. I
certainly didn’t marry a man I did not love.”
“Then it’s true?” Anna’s eyes pleaded for the
confirmation of her hopes. “He swept you off your feet?”
Emily took Anna’s hand in hers. All the lies made sense
when she looked into her sister’s sweet face. The chance
to see Anna happy was worth the price of her own
integrity, she assured herself. “I knew Major Sheridan
Blake was the answer to my prayer.”
Anna sighed, the strain leaving her beautiful face. “And
do you tremble when he touches you?”
“It’s difficult to say how he makes me feel.” Emily
glanced past Anna’s shoulder to where the officer was
greeting her parents near one of the two refreshment
tables in the room. In some strange way this man had
stepped straight out of her fantasy. This is how she
imagined Major Sheridan Blake would look, if he truly
existed. He didn’t of course, that was the problem. Emily
had invented him.
“You always said that for each of us there is one person
destiny has meant us to meet,” Anna said.
“Only one.” Emily drew in a breath that trembled in her
lungs as she stared at the officer. There was something
about him, an aura of command, a strength she could sense
all the way across the room.
“And now I know it’s possible. I can find that one
special man destiny has meant for me.”
“Of course you can. We must never settle for anything
less than to marry for affection, Anna. And we must be
very careful not to be tricked by clever frauds.”
Anna touched her arm. When Emily glanced down at her
sister she saw admiration shimmering in her eyes. “I
only hope I can be as strong as you are, Emmie. I know
how much Mama and Papa want to see each of us settled.
But what happened to you that first Season frightens me.”
“When you think of the lifetime you will spend with your
husband you will know you cannot live with an imitation
of love. You must trust yourself. If something feels
wrong, it is. When you meet the right gentleman, you will
know.” Emily would never settle for anything less than
true affection. And that is where she had run into a
difficult dilemma.
Hugh and Audrey Maitland had insisted Emily have the
opportunity to marry before any of her four younger
sisters would be allowed to have a Season. In this her
parents were every bit as stubborn as she was. They could
not accept the fact she should have the right to make her
own decisions. The fate of her poor sisters had depended
upon Emily choosing a husband.
Emily really didn’t understand why her parents could not
see she knew what was best for everyone in this
situation. She had a right to determine her own path in
life. If it took years to find the right man, then her
parents should allow her the time. If she never found
him, they should allow her to don a cap and live the life
of a spinster. She should not be punished for wanting to
live life on her own terms. Her sisters should be allowed
to enter Society, even though their older sister was
still unmarried. Yet her parents simply could not be made
to see reason. And Emily certainly could not allow her
parents to punish her sisters for her choices. This year
the guilt had nearly broken her; she had very nearly
accepted a man she didn’t love to ease the guilt and free
her sisters. Still, desperation had found a path.
Instead of accepting a man she didn’t love, Emily had
devised what seemed a perfect plan—she had married a
fantasy. Three weeks ago, she had given this fantasy a
name she had borrowed from a popular playwright and one
of her favorite poets. Sheridan Blake became an army
officer who had been in London for a few days before
heading back to the Peninsula, just long enough to elope
with Emily. At least that was the fairy tale she and her
grandmother had concocted. It seemed a perfect solution
to her dilemma.
Of course, Emily didn’t plan to stay married to her
fictitious husband forever. She fully intended to become
a widow after a few weeks. Sheridan Blake would die in
battle, a casualty of war, his body lost on a distant
battlefield. As a widow she would be free to make her own
choices. Perhaps one day she might even meet the one man
she was meant to marry. She could attend the Season as a
widow. Her sisters could find their destiny without her
blocking their path. It had been a difficult choice, born
of desperation, but this deception had been her
salvation.
Emily stared across the room to where the army officer
was talking with her parents. She could tell even from a
distance this was the type of man she had always dreamed
of meeting. Honest. Brave. Loyal. The type of man a woman
could trust with her dreams. Who was he?
“You always were the impetuous one, Emmie.”
Impetuous. Desperate really. Determined to live life on
her own terms without hurting anyone. Who was that
officer? She watched the officer press his lips to her
mother’s hand. Why had she never met him before?
“An elopement, imagine. How utterly romantic.”
“Yes. Very romantic.”
Odd, her mother and father were greeting this man as
though he were a long lost son. Father couldn’t seem to
stop shaking his hand. Mother was staring up at this dark
haired officer with something close to awe. If her
parents knew him so well, why hadn’t they ever introduced
her to this intriguing man? Was he married? Oh please,
don’t let him be married. Dear heaven, she was married!
She supposed her poor husband might meet his fate earlier
than she had anticipated.
They were coming this way. Mother was leading the officer
her way, while Father was headed for the spiral staircase
leading to the minstrels’ gallery at the back of the
room. Emily’s heart crept upward in her chest until each
beat throbbed at the base of her throat. Oh my goodness,
she couldn’t breathe.
“Emily, my goodness.” Anna touched Emily’s arm. “Look at
the officer walking this direction with Mama.”
Emily wasn’t merely looking at the man, she was staring.
She couldn’t help herself.
“He is really quite dashing.” Anna whispered. “In a dark,
formidable way. I suppose he wouldn’t be the fashion in
London. Still, I think him handsome. Remarkably so.”
If society measured male perfection by the soft,
petulant, pretty looks of Lord Byron, this man was far
from ideal. There was nothing soft in the finely sculpted
lines and curves of this man’s face. Nothing petulant in
the sensual curve of his finely molded mouth. Nothing
pretty in the overall effect of towering strength and
bold masculinity.
He was compelling. Mesmerizing. Overwhelming. Handsome
was such a mild word to employ for this man. Emily had
never seen a more blatantly attractive man in her life.
Here was a warrior who could easily have stood before her
in polished armor awaiting a token from his lady to take
with him into battle.
“Emily, look who is here!” Audrey rushed toward her
daughter, clutching the army officer’s arm as though she
were afraid he might get away from her. “It’s such a
marvelous surprise.”
Emily glanced at her mother, dazed by the presence of
this bold warrior. Why was her mother so surprised to see
this man?
“Emily, darling.” Audrey hugged Emily, then stepped back,
pressing her hand to the base of her neck. “I can see you
are overwhelmed.”
The tears welling in her mother’s eyes startled Emily’s
already confused senses. “Mother, I don’t understand
what…”
Emily’s words dissolved in a gasp as the officer gripped
her shoulders in his big hands and drew her near. She
caught a glimpse of his smile, a glimmer of the amusement
in his eyes as he lowered his head and kissed her.
Emily had been kissed before. The mistake she had made
years before had allowed one gentleman the presumption to
kiss her. It had happened once. Broxburn had held her
hands and touched his lips to hers. It had all been over
in a heartbeat. As she recalled it was cool and dry and
had left her wondering why kissing was considered
scandalous. Now she understood.
He slid his firm lips across hers, slow, deliberate, as
though he had every right to kiss her, as though he had
every right to do more. Shock and confusion solidified
into a shimmering excitement within her. This was a kiss
straight from her wildest fantasy. This was a bold knight
claiming his lady. Not with cold steel and brute
strength. But, with the intoxicating elixir of a single
kiss.
He wore no cologne. Yet a beguiling aroma of leather and
wool mingled with a clean fragrance of bayberry, blending
into a scent that was entirely masculine. A scent that
teased her. A scent that made her want to press her face
against his neck and fill her senses with his essence.
The music and voices in the room dissolved into the
distant roar of her own pulse pounding in her ears.
Although he didn’t hold her pressed against his chest,
she could feel the heat of him, the strong radiant warmth
of his body stroking hers through the emerald silk of her
gown. And for some inconceivable reason, she sought that
warmth, her body instinctively leaning toward him.
She felt a shifting within her, a yielding of muscles
that made her sway until she could feel the press of his
chest against her breasts. Sensation shimmered with the
contact, a delicious ripple of excitement spiraling
through her in all directions, like sparks escaping a
flaming pinwheel. He tightened his grip on her arms
holding her close for an instant. Only an instant. And
then he was pulling away, leaving her breathless and
hungry for more.
She stared up at him, stunned by her virulent reaction to
him. In that instant she saw a flicker of what could have
been confusion in his eyes, melding with the heat of a
desire she could recognize even in her innocence. Who was
this man?
“I have missed you, Em.” He smiled, his lips curving
upward, a single dimple slicing into his tanned right
cheek.
The sounds in the room faded into a distant buzz in her
ears. Her entire world seemed nothing more than this man.
She stared at him, stunned by her overwhelming response
to this man. For one extraordinary moment she wondered if
he had indeed stepped straight from her fantasy. “Missed
me?”
His eyes sparkled with a bedeviling light, an intriguing
sense of mischief and a promise of more. “I have missed
you more than words can say.”
The bright notes of the orchestra faded only to erupt in
a stunning crescendo. A moment later her father’s voice
cracked like a whip in the room. Emily flinched, as
though she were coming awake with a sharp slap across her
face.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give me your attention for
a moment.”
Her father’s voice sliced through the fog clouding
Emily’s mind. Reality swept through her with a vengeance.
Dear heaven! The stranger had kissed her. What was worse,
she had kissed him back, as though she had known him a
thousand years. What would people think of her kissing a
stranger in this manner? Especially now, when she was a
married woman?
She glared at the man. “What the devil do you mean by…”
her words dissolved in a startled exhale of breath as
this tall stranger pressed his fingertip to her lips.
“Hush sweetheart, your father has an announcement to
make.”
Emily frowned as she glanced to her mother, looking for
support in her indignation, finding none. The world
suddenly seemed to be spinning in the wrong direction. A
man had kissed her. Here in her own home, in the middle
of the ballroom. Why was her mother smiling? She glanced
around her. Four hundred people stood in the huge room,
staring up at the minstrels’ gallery, where her father
stood at the black wrought iron balustrade, commanding
the attention of everyone present. Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
“Mother, I…”
Audrey raised her hand, cutting off any words Emily might
say. “Emily, your father is speaking.”
Emily stared up at her father, feeling as though she were
trapped in some odd dream. Only she knew all too well she
was wide awake. What the devil was happening?
“As you all know we are here tonight to celebrate the
marriage of my daughter Emily to Major Sheridan Blake,
who is in service to His Majesty, King George the Third.”
Hugh paused a moment, staring down at his guests, his
lips curved into a smile. “It seems we thought the major
was unable to attend tonight, due to a prior engagement
in the Peninsula.”
Thought the major was unable to attend. Emily stared up
at her father, an uneasy shiver skittering up her spine,
a sense of impending disaster settling over her, like a
heavy cloak.
“Through a twist of good fortune.” Hugh’s smile grew as
he looked to where Emily stood near the back of the room
and raised his arm in her direction. “He was able to join
us tonight. It’s my great pleasure to introduce all of
you to my new son, Major Sheridan Blake.”