Date: 2018-10-04 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Historical; Historical Romance
Description: When mill heiress Miss Emily Marsham agrees to a marriage born out of tragedy and hardheaded necessity, her hopes for future marital bliss aren't high. Adam Blackthorn, the ambitious manager of one of her father's mills is not what she expected in a husband. Can she make the best of her situation and be a dutiful wife, or will Adam challenge her to become something else entirely?

MASTER OF NONE

Kate Pearce

Millcastle series, book 2

Table of Contents

Introduction

Note to Readers

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Excerpt – Educating Elizabeth

About Kate

Other Books by Kate

Copyright Page

Introduction

When mill heiress Miss Emily Marsham agrees to a marriage born out of tragedy and hardheaded necessity, her hopes for future marital bliss aren’t high. Adam Blackthorn, the ambitious manager of one of her father’s mills is not what she expected in a husband. Can she make the best of her situation and be a dutiful wife, or will Adam challenge her to become something else entirely?

Note to Readers

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Millcastle where the old world of the Regency collides uneasily with the booming industrial age. I hope you enjoy reading about Adam Blackthorn and Emily Marsham who don’t have a title between them but represent a new rising class set to change the very nature of England. If you enjoy the book, please consider leaving a review or join my newsletter to get advance notice of what’s coming up next.

Best wishes

Kate

Chapter 1

Millcastle, England, 1832

“Well, I never!”

Emily Marsham walked into the drawing room and stared inquiringly at her mother, who was reading the newspaper.

“What is it?” She handed her mother her sewing basket, and resumed her seat beside the fire. “Has somebody died?”

Her mother, Doris, loved to peruse the Millcastle society columns, such as they were, searching for scandal and fresh gossip. In truth, being a somewhat timid woman, she preferred reading about things rather than actively entering society and participating in them.

“Mrs. Harding!”

“The bookkeeper who works at the dressmaker’s has died?” Emily asked.

“No! It’s far worse than that.”

“In what way?”

“I’m beginning to believe bookkeeping was not the only service she was providing for that man.” Her mother lowered the paper to stare at Emily. “She’s marrying Captain Grafton.”

“My Captain Grafton?” Emily sat up straight.

“Your father isn’t going to be pleased about this at all,” her mother murmured.

“He actually approved of Captain Grafton as a potential husband for you, and now he will blame me.”

“It’s hardly your fault, Mother,” Emily objected even though she knew her opinion would make no difference to her father when he was angry. “I can quite see why Captain Grafton decided to marry Mrs. Harding. She is nearer his age, is a lady despite her occupation, and she is very handsome.”

Her mother sighed and returned to her reading, only to squawk again.

“Emily, Captain Grafton is Viscount Wesley!”

Emily put aside her embroidery. “He never mentioned he had a title.”

“He never mentioned it to anyone, apparently, seeing as he was out of favor with his family.” Her mother sighed. “This will just make things worse with your father. You could’ve been a Viscountess, Emily, and your children would have been landed gentry.”

For a woman like her mother, who had started life as the daughter of a clerk in a shipping company, such lofty heights were almost unimaginable. It was only due to her father’s rapid rise as a mill owner that Emily and her brother had grown up in such relatively wealthy surroundings.

“Perhaps Father won’t find out about it,” Emily said.

“He’ll know. They’ll all be talking about it at their silly meetings at the Piece Hall, I can guarantee that.” Her mother shivered, drawing her silk shawl more closely around herself. “I can only pray that your father doesn’t come back in a bad mood tonight.”

Despite her father’s veneer of respectability, he still tended to settle arguments and grievances with his fists, and would think nothing of taking out his anger on his wife or his children.

“You can share my bed tonight if you wish, Mother.” It wouldn’t be the first time she had sheltered her mother or attempted to get in between her parents when her father was in a rage.

“Thank you, my love. I’ll see how he is when he arrives home.”

After her mother retired with a headache for an afternoon nap, Emily picked up the newspaper and read through the wedding announcement. She marveled at the change in Mrs. Harding’s fortunes—from working for a living to becoming a Viscountess with a substantial country home not far from Millcastle. Mrs. Harding and her mother had been very kind to Emily, and she would write the bride-to-be a congratulatory note.

If she were being honest, she was slightly disappointed that Captain Grafton hadn’t furthered his acquaintance with her, but she couldn’t deny the allure of the intelligent, hardworking Mrs. Harding. There were very few men in Millcastle who interested Emily. Captain Grafton had lived in India and had business interests all over the country. Despite his somewhat dry wit and fearsome reputation, he had encouraged her questions without making her feel presumptuous for asking them.

Emily went to the desk and wrote the note to Mrs. Harding. The family had recently moved out of their lodgings above the dressmaker’s, but she didn’t have a new address for them. She decided she would drop the letter into Captain Grafton’s office, which was above the shop, the next time she visited the dressmaker’s with her mother.

“Afternoon, sis.”

She looked up to see her brother Matthew smiling at her from the doorway.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the mill?” Emily asked.

“Of course I am.” He sauntered toward her. “I can’t stand it in there. The noise, all those stinking paupers…” He wrinkled his nose. “They don’t like me, anyway.”

“That’s because you have made no effort to learn about the business.” Emily met his gaze head-on. “If you tried—”

He held up his hand. “Be quiet, Emily. Just because you think you could run the entire world, doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do at my own bloody mill.”

“It’s not your mill. It’s Father’s,” Emily retorted. “They are all his.”

“And one day, they’ll all be mine.” He walked over to the sideboard and helped himself to a substantial glass of brandy. “If Father asks where I am, tell him you haven’t seen me.”

“As if I would give him news that would anger him.” Emily shuddered. “I have no desire to take your punishment for you.”

“I’m too big for him to hit now.” Matthew drank half the brandy and stared at her over the rim of the glass. “I hit him back last time, and he stopped.”

“Which means he now turns his fists on me and Mother whenever you transgress.”

Her brother at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “There’s trouble brewing in the sheds over that bloody reform bill again.”

“There always is.” Emily sighed. “Although I can’t say I blame them.”

“You dare to side with the workers whose labor provides you with the clothes on your back, the carriages you ride in, and that fancy horse of yours?” Matthew’s smile wasn’t pleasant. “Let me tell you, little sister, that if that mob ever gets the vote, they’d strip you of your finery and make you work down the mines in your petticoats.”

Emily shivered. She feared that Matthew was right, but it didn’t stop her attempting to remonstrate with her father to provide adequate wages and rudimentary schooling for those he employed. If she had the ability, she would do so much more…

“Did you hear that your beau is marrying his mistress?” Matthew asked.

“Are you speaking of Captain Grafton?” Emily raised an eyebrow. “He was hardly my beau.”

“I saw you fluttering your eyelashes at him at the Yule ball, but you never stood a chance, did you? Men like Captain Grafton prefer a more seasoned and mature bed-partner than a simpering twenty-two-year-old miss.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“And well past the age when you should be married and nagging some poor bastard other than me.” Matthew finished his brandy. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up on the shelf, my dear.”

“You aren’t married, and you are five years older than me,” Emily pointed out.

“I’m betrothed, don’t forget that.” An expression of distaste crossed his face. “Although why Father had to honor his promise to take care of his wastrel second cousin’s progeny and shackle me to that woman, I will never know.”

“Margaret is—”

“A plain, managing woman who will no doubt make me a dutiful wife one day when I am forced to settle down and procreate.” Matthew yawned. “And now I’m going to bed. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Emily sealed her letter and decided to consult with Cook to ensure that when her father did return from the mill, he would be offered all his favorite dishes. Perhaps that might mollify one of his appetites and prevent him from starting an argument with Matthew or berating her or her mother about Captain Grafton’s matrimonial plans. It was a forlorn hope, but it was the best that she could do.

“And where were you today?” John Marsham scowled at his only son, who was seated to his right at the dining table. “Mr. Coster said you didn’t show up at Ravenhead.”

“Ravenhead?” Matthew leaned back in his chair and regarded his father. “That’s because I was at your other mill.”

“Liar.” Mr. Marsham chewed vigorously on his roast beef as he scowled at his son. “I was at Marshams myself, and there was no sign of you.”

“You must have just missed me.” Matthew smiled.

Emily tensed as her father dropped his cutlery onto his plate with a clatter.

“You will present yourself at Ravenhead tomorrow at six o’clock sharp, or I will cut off your allowance for a month!” Mr. Marsham barked. “I will not have you defying me like this.”

Matthew sighed extravagantly. “As you wish. Although the place seems to manage itself perfectly well without my interference.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, lad. If the owner isn’t involved, that’s when trouble starts. Look at what happened to my second cousin, Richard, when he thought he was too good to run Ravenhead. His employees ran it into the ground.”

“And he ended up in the ground after he shot himself to avoid his debtors,” Matthew said. “The reason I don’t need to worry about Ravenhead now is because Richard’s rather ambitious son—whom you chose to employ when he came of age—is terrifyingly competent and despises me.”

“He is a good man,” Mr. Marsham acknowledged grudgingly. “And far more useful to me that you will ever be.”

Matthew rolled his eyes in Emily’s direction, but despite her lack of appetite she kept her gaze determinedly on her plate. When her father was in a belligerent mood she didn’t want to draw his attention to her.

“And what is this I hear about Captain Grafton, Viscount Wesley marrying that Mrs. Harding, eh, girl?” Mr. Marsham asked.

Despite knowing there was no escape, Emily sank lower into her seat.

“Why didn’t you catch him when you had the opportunity, miss?” Her father jabbed his fork in Emily’s direction. “You’ll never find a husband if you don’t smile a bit more and give a man a proper hint that you are interested.”

In a vain effort to help, her mother attempted to stand up for Emily and divert attention to herself. “Emily was very charming to Captain Grafton, John, and—”

“Be quiet, woman,” he snapped. “It’s your fault my daughter is overeducated, and thinks herself too high and mighty for the men around here.”

Her mother winced at the loudness of her husband’s tone, her hand shaking so much that she spilled her wine.

“That’s hardly fair, Father,” Emily spoke up. “Captain Grafton is much older than me, and he’d obviously made his decision to marry Mrs. Harding long before we became acquainted.”

“By making her his bookkeeper?” Mr. Marsham’s laugh was unkind. “Aye, we all guessed what was going on there, but the man didn’t have to marry her if he was already getting it for free, did he?”

Emily winced at his coarseness, and his expression changed.

“See? That’s exactly why you’ll never marry. You think you’re too good for everyone.”

“I would love to get married and have my own family,” Emily said steadily. “Perhaps if you allowed Mother and I to visit one of the bigger towns, or even London, then I might meet someone you would approve of?”

“You’re not going anywhere until you’re well and truly married, girl. I don’t want you gallivanting around London attracting all the worst sort of men who want my money.” He used his napkin and then tossed it onto his plate. “You’ll marry a local man and keep our business interests close to home. If you don’t make up your mind in the next few months, I’ll do it for you.”

“You wouldn’t… pick a husband for me?” Emily asked.

Mr. Marsham stood and towered over her, his hands clenched into fists. “I already have someone in mind, so you’d best be quick about finding your own man then, hadn’t you girl?”

* * * * *

“Emily, your father wants us to meet him at Ravenhead Mill at four o’clock, so you’d better go and put on your bonnet.”

“At the mill?” Emily put her book aside and stared at her mother, who appeared to have avoided any fresh encounter with her husband’s fury. Matthew had not appeared at breakfast that morning, having apparently decided to follow his father’s orders. “Why on earth does he want to see us there?”

“I have no idea, Emily.” Her mother looked quite flustered. “Please go and get ready. I don’t want to be late and make him angry.”

Her mother refused to speak as the carriage made its way into Millcastle and turned toward the older of the two mills Emily’s father owned.

As they approached, Emily lowered the carriage window and craned her neck to see why they had almost stopped moving. There appeared to be a crowd of people around the main gate of Ravenhead Mill, and the air was filled with shouts and a swirling menace.

“I wonder if we should turn back?” Emily asked her mother. “The road is blocked.”

“We cannot do that. Your father would be angry. If we can’t drive up there, we shall walk. It isn’t far.”

“Mother, I don’t think—”

Before Emily could finish her sentence, her mother had opened the door on the other side of the carriage, and stepped down onto the street. Emily hastened to join her after telling the coachman to stay where he was and guard the horses.

“This is not a good idea.” She grabbed hold of her mother’s elbow, and stopped her progress. “We could get caught up in this, and Father would not be able to save us.”

In truth, he’d probably be furious with them for causing a fuss and not lift a finger to help them at all.

Her mother looked at Emily and then at the angry crowd of people blocking the gate. There was no reason anyone should be out in the street at this time of day, as the shift didn’t finish until six.

“Go back to the carriage, Mother, and I’ll go and find out what is happening,” Emily urged her mother. “Please.”

After one last uncertain glance, her mother retreated to the carriage, leaving Emily alone. She straightened her spine, and approached the mill entrance from the side where the crowd was less dense, and hopefully, no one would notice her.

“Send him out here!” someone yelled, and the crowd took up the refrain. “Send that murderer out to face justice!”

Emily spied her father and brother looking down on the scene from the top of the slope leading down to the gates. There was no sign of the local constabulary or militia coming to the aid of the owners, and the mill workers didn’t seem inclined to disperse without them. Even as Emily watched, her brother sauntered down toward the angry mob. She could tell from his unsteady gait that he was drunk.

A satisfied, guttural roar went up as he approached, which sent a shiver of pure fear straight through Emily’s body. Matthew held up his hands and shouted over the waiting crowd.

“Go home! All of you! Or get back to work! We’re about to lock the gates, and anyone outside will be let go.”

“Murderer!” someone shouted.

Matthew gave an exaggerated bow. A second later, he was knocked off his feet by a lone figure who hurtled from the ranks of the opposition.

“No!” Emily screamed, and, without thought for her safety, battled toward where she had last seen her brother. Even as she went forward, most of the people were running away or disappearing as fast as they could manage it.

There was someone crouched over Matthew, his right arm moving rhythmically up and down. Emily grabbed the back of his thin coat and attempted to pull him off.

“Stop it! Let him go!” she screamed, and pummeled uselessly at his back until he turned on her, shoved her to the ground, and ran off, leaving the knife he’d used on her brother sticking obscenely out of Matthew’s chest in the center of a growing circle of red.

“Matthew!” She tried frantically to stop the bleeding, cradling her brother’s head in her lap. All around her, people melted away, leaving her alone on the cobbled surface. “Somebody help me!”

She looked frantically back up at the mill, and saw her father and an unknown man rushing toward her. Her red-faced father reached them, clutched at his heart, and collapsed right next to his son.

“Father!” Emily screamed.

“It’s all right, Miss Marsham. You can let go now. I’ve got him.”

Emily allowed the man to ease her to her feet as others crowded around her brother’s body, lifted him, and took him back up to the old mill house, which had once housed Emily’s parents.

Another group focused on her father, who was gasping like a stranded fish.

“I’ve sent a lad for the doctor, sir.”

“Thank you. Let’s take him up to the house.”

Emily blinked as everyone started to move up to the mill. She looked back into the empty street, and discovered her mother’s carriage had gone. The coachman had obviously decided it would be safer to take his passenger home. Emily could only hope her mother remained in blissful ignorance of what had just happened—although she would have to be told soon enough.

Picking up her skirts, her hands shaking, she turned to the mill and began climbing the slope. She had to know what was happening with her father and brother, and, as she seemed to be invisible, she would just keep going until she discovered the truth.

“What a bloody mess,” Adam Blackthorn, the manager of Ravenhead Mill muttered to his friend Dr. Simon Prentice. They stared down at the corpse in the spare bedroom of the mill house. “The absolute fool! Why did he have to go down there and damn well taunt them?”

“What did you expect from a drunken sot? I can’t even say I feel sorry for him, can you?”

“No, but the repercussions of this will make life here very unpleasant for everyone.” Adam grimaced. “How’s the old man doing?”

“Not too well. He had a heart attack.” Dr. Prentice met Adam’s gaze. “He might not survive the night. I’ve sent for Mrs. Marsham.”

“I’ll go and speak to him.” Adam nodded. “Margaret put him in my bedroom.”

He went out into the narrow hallway and knocked before bracing himself to enter the biggest of the three bedrooms in the house. Mr. Marsham was propped up against the pillows in an upright condition. His face was grey, and his breath was a mere whispering wheeze of panic.

Adam went over and leaned in close. “Mr. Marsham. Your wife will be here shortly, is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?”

“My solicitor.”

“I’ll see to it immediately, sir.”

His employer scrabbled for his hand. “My… son?”

“I’m afraid he’s dead, Mr. Marsham.”

“The fool.” Mr. Marsham briefly closed his eyes. “Then you must do as I proposed.”

“I hardly think this is the time to be discussing that, sir,” Adam suggested gently. “We can wait until you are fully recovered, and—”

“No, it must happen now. Where’s the girl?”

Adam blinked at the old man. Damnation, where had she gone? “I don’t know.”

“Find her, and bring her to me.” Mr. Marsham coughed and barely managed to speak again. “She’s my heir now.”

Adam left the room, sent a boy to fetch the Marsham solicitor, and walked out into the barren front yard overlooking the chimneys of the mill below. There was no sign of the earlier discontent or the tragedy that had played out before his appalled eyes. There was no sign of Emily Marsham either. Had she run away, or had the Marsham carriage taken her back home with her mother?

She was the heir to everything…

Adam stared unseeingly out into the encroaching darkness, aware of a leap of excitement within him that was totally at odds with the current appalling situation. Should he take advantage of this opportunity to reclaim what his father had so carelessly thrown away?

“Adam?”

He turned to find his oldest sister Margaret behind him. She’d been crying, which was quite unlike her. It belatedly occurred to him that Matthew Marsham had been her intended husband.

“I’m sorry for your loss, sister.” Adam awkwardly patted her shoulder.

“I cannot speak of it yet.” Margaret drew herself up. “I’ll let Lottie weep and wail over it and offer me no help in the kitchen at all. Reverend Wilcox will be here shortly to pray and help lay out the body.”

“Yes, and Mrs. Marsham has also been summoned.” Adam attempted to collect his thoughts. “Perhaps, if you feel capable, we could offer them some tea?”

“Of course.” Margaret nodded. “I didn’t come out here to bemoan my own fate. I came to ask you what to do about Emily Marsham. She won’t speak to me, and I’m beginning to wonder whether all is well with her.”

“She’s here?”

“She wandered into the kitchen looking quite dazed, and sat herself down. She hasn’t said a word since. Perhaps Dr. Prentice should take a look at her?”

“I’ll speak to her myself.”

Adam followed Margaret into the kitchen and left her sorting out a tea tray, his gaze falling on the diminutive woman curled up in the rocking chair by the fire. She looked like a terrified child. He went over and crouched at her feet on the old rag rug his sisters had made. She clutched one of the kitchen cats to her bosom, her face buried in its fur.

He breathed in the coppery scent of blood emanating from her soiled skirts and hands, and his heart ached for her. How on earth had she ended up in the middle of a mob baying for her brother’s blood? It was a miracle that no one had recognized her and extracted even more vengeance on the family. It wasn’t the time to ask such questions, but at some point he would like to know the answer.

“Miss Marsham? Do you remember me?”

She didn’t respond, and he tried again. “I’m Adam Blackthorn. My sister Margaret is—I mean, was engaged to your brother, and my father was a second cousin of your father. I’m the manager of Ravenhead.”

She slowly raised her head and met his gaze. “My brother is dead.”

“Yes. I’m sorry for your loss.” He kept looking at her, accepting the devastation in her blue eyes, not turning away from the horror lingering there. “Your father wishes to speak to you.”

“He is still alive?”

“Yes.” He didn’t wish to alarm her further about her father’s fragile condition. “Will you come?” He held out his hand, and she reluctantly took it. He grimaced as the stickiness of blood coated his fingers. “I’m sure my sister Lottie can lend you one of her dresses.”

She looked down at herself as if only just noticing the state of her clothes. “I couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

“No one could, Miss Marsham. Please do not blame yourself.”

He assumed Miss Emily’s nerves were shaken after witnessing the death of her only brother. Adam promised himself that whatever Mr. Marsham said; he would not allow her to be taken advantage of. She was hardly in any position to make decisions about her future.

Adam beckoned to his sister Lottie who, although the family member least affected by the tragedy, was still dabbing at her eyes.

“Lottie, can you help Miss Marsham wash, and find her something else to wear?” Adam lowered his tone to whisper in his sister’s ear. “And do it quickly. I don’t know how long the old man is going to last.”

Emily allowed Lottie Blackthorn to fuss around her, wash away Matthew’s blood, and help her into a new dress that Emily vaguely recognized as one of her own old gowns. She’d often wondered what her mother did with them, and now she knew.

“Come along.” Lottie took her hand and began leading her down a hallway like a reluctant child. “Your mother and Reverend Wilcox will be here very soon.”

“Thank you.” Emily mumbled the words because it seemed as though it was the right thing to say. “Where is my father?”

“He’s in here.” Lottie tapped on the next door, and the tall man who’d spoken to her in the kitchen opened it. She vaguely remembered him now. With his black hair, strong features, and rather harsh mouth, he reminded her rather too much of her father.

“Miss Marsham. Please come and sit here.”

Emily approached the bed, where a man who looked like a caricature of her father awaited her. She sat and forced herself to look at his ghastly greying face as he studied her.

“Daughter,” he wheezed. “My only heir now.”

Emily bit down hard on her lip, glad of the pain, which was the only thing that felt real in her world right now.

“Promise me.”

She waited, but he didn’t speak again and watched her imploringly, his lips moving as if in prayer.

“Promise you what, Father?” Emily managed to reply.

He groped for her hand. “Marry him.”

“I don’t understand.”

His grip tightened. “Marry Blackthorn. Promise me.”

Emily looked back toward the door. The mill manager leaned against the panels, his expression inscrutable, his arms folded across his chest.

“Him?” Emily asked.

“Family. Keeps the business intact, protects you, and your mother’s interests.”

His voice caught and he started to cough. Emily tried not to cry. She shook her head, her gaze returning to the silent man at the door. He either didn’t understand her plea for help, or was quite willing to go along with what her father was suggesting. And why wouldn’t he? Marrying her would make perfect sense to an ambitious mill manager.

“Refuse, and I’ll cut you and your worthless mother out of my will,” her father rasped.

The man at the door straightened. “Mr. Marsham—”

Emily spoke over him. “You… don’t mean that.”

“Aye. I swear on the Bible that I’ll do it. Now what do you say?” Her father’s eyes glittered, and he started to wheeze.

Frantically, Emily tried to gather the torn fragments of her mind together sufficiently to think things through. Agreeing to marry Mr. Blackthorn to ensure that her father continued to recover was surely preferable to angering him and threatening his health? When he was well again, she could refuse to go through with it. He might disinherit her, but at least she wouldn’t be responsible for his death. She let out her breath.

“I will… do as you wish, Father.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Come here, Blackthorn.” His voice was almost gone now. “Take her hand.”

Emily’s shaking fingers were soon joined with Mr. Blackthorn’s. As her father placed his hand over both of theirs, and offered them his blessing, she noticed she still had her brother’s blood under her fingernails. It seemed fitting somehow—as if her attempts to wash herself clean had failed, and that Matthew, too, was present while his future was obliterated.

Chapter 2

“Miss Marsham.”

Emily looked back over her shoulder as Mr. Blackthorn came striding after her. His clothing was black, apart from the whiteness of his shirt, and his expression was grim.

“May I suggest you don’t go outside? The mill shift is letting out, and I’d rather not provoke another incident.”

“As you wish.” She stared out of the grimy window of the parlor, and drew her borrowed shawl tightly around her shoulders. “I won’t marry you.”

He went still. “As to that—”

She turned around, and had to raise her chin to look up at his face. “I only said yes because I didn’t want to distress my father. When he is well again, I will speak to him.”

Mr. Blackthorn opened his mouth to reply, and then looked past her as a carriage drew to a stop outside the front door.

“That will be your mother.”

“I will go and speak to her.” Emily brushed past him. “She will be sorely distressed.”

Her mother came into the house accompanied by her physician and followed by the family solicitor.

“Emily, my God… I thought I’d lost you, too, I thought—”

Emily gathered her mother in her arms. “It’s all right, Mother.” She looked at Mr. Blackthorn, who was shutting the front door. “Perhaps you could take Dr. Pike to see my father, while I show my mother Matthew’s body?”

“Yes, Miss Marsham.” He nodded, adroitly diverted the solicitor into the parlor, and disappeared with the doctor.

Holding her breath, Emily opened the door off the hallway and let her mother walk past her into the room where Matthew lay.

“My poor little boy.” Her mother lowered the sheet that covered his face and cupped his chin. “He looks very peaceful.”

“Yes... He does.” Emily tried to forget her last sight of him screaming as he was stabbed, all his bravado gone, leaving him vulnerable and afraid as his lifeblood flowed out of him.

Her mother’s hand moved to lower the sheet further, and Emily caught her wrist.

“He was stabbed in the chest. I don’t think you need to see that.”

“Probably not.” Her mother sighed, traced a cross on Matthew’s forehead and replaced the sheet. She was far calmer than Emily had expected, but then she had buried four children, her two sisters, and her parents. “Do you know what happened?”

“Not really.” Emily gathered herself with some difficulty. “He walked down to remonstrate with some of the workers at the gate, and one of them murdered him.”

“But why?”

“That I do not know. Once we have Father settled at home, perhaps we can ask him.”

“The message said that your father had suffered heart failure.”

“I suspect the sight of Matthew… profoundly agitated him. We can only pray that rest and our continued care will make him well again.” Emily hesitated. “Have you met Mr. Blackthorn before?”

“The manager here? Yes, of course. He’s the son of John’s second cousin—the one who used to own this mill. He’s been to our house on more than one occasion and has been nothing but respectful toward me.”

“Father wants me to marry him,” Emily blurted out.

“Ah.”

Emily studied her mother’s face. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Well, John did say that he would find you a husband.”

Emily went to open the door. “Do you wish to go and see Father now?”

Her mother braced herself and nodded. “Yes, I suppose I should.”

After showing her mother to her father’s bedside Emily went into the kitchen where Margaret and Lottie Blackthorn were busy setting out a tea tray. There was no sign of the rather imposing Mr. Blackthorn, for which Emily was decidedly grateful.

“How is your mother?” Margaret inquired as she filled the teapot with boiling water from the kettle over the fire.

“Surprisingly calm,” Emily said. “I thought she would succumb to her nerves.”

“It cannot be easy for her to see her only son dead before her,” Margaret observed.

Emily went over to her. “I am sorry for your loss, too, Margaret. My brother spoke about you only yesterday—about how much he was looking forward to your marriage.”

It was little enough to offer, but Emily hoped it might bring some solace to Margaret, who was now almost thirty and a spinster again, when she must have dreamed of leaving the dreary mill house and taking her place as the wife of a wealthy mill owner.

“It’s God’s will,” Margaret stated as she stacked mismatched saucers on the tray. “I will speak to Reverend Wilcox and ask him to pray for me.”

“Yes, of course.” Emily hesitated. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I think I have everything in hand, Emily dear, but thank you for your offer.” Margaret dismissed her with a brusque nod. “I assume your mother will wish to claim the body and take Mr. Marsham home to his own bed?”

“I will go and consult with her,” Emily said, glad to escape the stifling kitchen where Margaret was determined not to succumb to tears, and her sister Lottie could not stop crying.

Emily went into the parlor and found her mother in low-voiced consultation with the family solicitor. Both of them stopped talking when Emily approached.

“How is Father?” Emily inquired. “Margaret was wondering if you intended to take him home?”

The thought of being stuck in the small confines of the mill house with Mr. Blackthorn while she tried to nurse her father was quite uncomfortable. His mere presence, and her father’s demand that she marry the man, would prey on her nerves. Not that Mr. Blackthorn had made any attempt to force his attentions on her, but she could feel him watching and waiting like a large cat ready to pounce.

“Dr. Pike is with your father now, Emily,” her mother said. “If he thinks it will be safe to move John, we will do so.”

Mr. Erskine, the solicitor, bowed to Emily and her mother. “Miss Marsham, Mrs. Marsham. I must be on my way. I have many documents relating to Mr. Marsham’s new will to draw up, and he wishes to see them as soon as possible.”

He left, and Emily’s mother sat down in one of the drab, overstuffed chairs by the fireplace. She took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “What a horrible day.”

Emily knelt down in front of her and took her hands. “Yes.”

“And now your father is threatening to leave me nothing.”

Emily slowly raised her gaze to meet her mother’s, anxiety fisting in her chest. “Why?”

“I spoke out against his scheme of marrying you off to Mr. Blackthorn.” Her mother sighed. “I have a little money of my own, but—”

“Surely, Father cannot do that?” Emily glanced back at the door through which the solicitor had just departed.

“Mr. Erskine seems to think that he can.”

Emily struggled to her feet and ran out of the room, almost upsetting Margaret and the tea tray in her haste to get to the solicitor.

To her relief, he was still standing outside awaiting his carriage. She slowed as she realized he was in conversation with Mr. Blackthorn. Both men looked up as she approached, and Mr. Blackthorn stepped back.

“Thank you for that clarification, Mr. Erskine.” He nodded once, and turned toward the house, his considering gaze on Emily as he passed her. “Miss Marsham.”

To say that the solicitor looked guilty as Emily cornered him was an understatement.

“Mr. Erskine, is it true that my father is threatening to disinherit my mother?”

“He is certainly attempting to limit her access to his funds, yes.”

“Why?”

Mr. Erskine winced. “Perhaps you should speak to your father on that matter, young lady.”

“My father is ill.” Emily took a quick breath. “As my brother is dead, I am his only living child. Don’t you think I have a right to know about my own inheritance?” The solicitor said nothing, and Emily continued, “Is it true that my father will disinherit me and my mother if I don’t marry Mr. Blackthorn?”

“There is… some possibility of that,” Mr. Erskine acknowledged. “But I cannot discuss it with you, Miss Marsham. My professional discretion is allied with the man who pays my bills.”

“I see.” Emily stepped back. “Then perhaps I might ask you if such a decision would be legal?”

“I believe so, but there is always an opportunity to appeal.”

“Which costs money neither my mother nor I would have.” Emily nodded. “If my father doesn’t leave his estate to us, who does benefit?”

Mr. Erskine’s furtive glance back at the mill house told Emily everything she needed to know about that.

“I fear I cannot answer you.” Mr. Erskine bowed as his carriage arrived and the coachman got down to open the door for him. “Good evening, Miss Marsham.”

Emily turned back to the house, which was now illuminated against the dreary backdrop of the mill sheds and storage buildings. Her steps slowed as she approached the front door, and she eventually stopped moving completely. Nothing felt real anymore. Her whole world was in turmoil…

A slash of yellow light fell over her, and she blinked as Mr. Blackthorn held the front door open.

“Please come in, Miss Marsham. It’s cold out there, and God forbid you catch a chill.”

She stared at him, but he gave nothing away. She was torn between walking forward and slapping his face, and turning and walking away from him forever. But her mother was still inside the house, and Emily couldn’t desert her.

She stepped into the warmth of the hallway and immediately shivered.

“You should have some tea,” Mr. Blackthorn said. “Your mother and my sisters are currently in the parlor while Dr. Pike and I arrange transportation for your father and brother. Perhaps you might care to join them?”

“Thank you.” Emily went to move past him, but he gently caught her elbow.

“Are you all right, lass?”

She slowly raised her head to meet his blue-eyed gaze. “I am perfectly fine, thank you, and I am not your lass.”

A faint smile transformed his harsh face. “You have a great deal of courage, Miss Marsham. I cannot help but be impressed by that.”

She eased free of his grasp and went into the parlor where her mother was sitting beside Margaret and sipping tea.

“Oh, there you are, Emily, dear. Would you like some tea?”

Two hours later, Adam sat in the kitchen eating a late supper while studying the documents Mr. Erskine had sent up to him. Realizing that he might be dealing with the man taking over the Marsham mills, the solicitor had proved remarkably amenable to keeping Adam informed. The Marshams had departed, taking both the living and the dead with them.

“Finish your dinner before you start working again, Adam. Please.” Margaret filled up his teacup. Lottie had taken herself off to bed. “The dinner table is not an appropriate place for such things.”

“This is hardly the dinner table,” Adam pointed out. “I’m sitting in the kitchen in my shirt sleeves eating my supper after a very trying day.”

Margaret sat opposite him, her keen gaze fixed on his face. After the death of their father, they’d grown very close. “Is it true that Mr. Marsham intends to make you his heir?”

Adam put down his fork. “Now where did you hear that?”

She shrugged. “It’s a very small house, and I am rather… interested in the outcome of this issue.”

He contemplated her for a long while before taking a slug of the strong tea she’d placed at his elbow. “Mr. Marsham suggested it, but with certain conditions.”

“Such as?”

“He wants me to marry his daughter.”

“Ah.” Margaret nodded. “That makes sense.” She topped up his tea from the brown earthenware pot. “You should do it.”

“I’m surprised you think that knowing my current situation.” Adam frowned. “Why?”

“Because Emily is a very sweet, malleable girl who will allow you to manage the mills, and the marriage, in your own way.”

“Sweet?” Adam pictured the determined expression on Emily Marsham’s face when she’d told him she was not his lass. “I think you underestimate her greatly.”

Margaret waved a hand. “She will do as she is told. That’s how she’s been brought up. Everyone knows that Mr. Marsham rules his family with a rod of iron.”

Adam pushed one of the documents across the table to her. “Mr. Marsham wants me to get a common license from the Bishop so that Emily and I can be married in seven days. All I have to do is sign a statement under oath that there is no impediment to the marriage.”

“Then why are you hesitating?” Margaret asked.

“Because it feels… wrong to go behind her back,” Adam confessed.

“Her father refused to help ours when he needed a loan to keep the mill going, and then bought the place for a pittance after Father killed himself.” Margaret’s eyes sparkled. “Isn’t this justice for that?”

“That is hardly Emily’s fault,” Adam protested. He read through the solicitor’s letter again. “And Mr. Marsham isn’t dead yet, so this is all speculation.”

“Dr. Prentice said Mr. Marsham’s condition might kill him.”

“You’re a bloodthirsty wench, aren’t you, sister?” Adam said. “And you an upstanding member of the church.”

Margaret drew herself up. “The gospel speaks of justice, and the Old Testament is even more explicit.”

If she’d been a man, Adam could picture her as a fire and brimstone preacher inspiring her nonconformist flock.

“An eye for an eye?” Adam asked.

“Mr. Marsham wronged us, Adam. Never forget it.” She rose to her feet, and cleared away the remnants of his meal with something of a clatter. “It is right and proper that you should be his heir, and if marrying Emily Marsham will accomplish that, then you should not hesitate.”

After Margaret finished clearing up, she went off to bed, leaving Adam sitting at the table, a single candle burning at his side. He shoved a hand through his hair and groaned. Whatever Margaret thought, he couldn’t deceive Emily Marsham. Tomorrow, after he’d made sure the mill had quieted down, he’d go to inquire after his employer’s health and seek an audience with his rather formidable daughter.

* * * * *

“Mr. Blackthorn, ma’am.”

Emily almost dropped her teacup as Adam Blackthorn marched into her mother’s drawing room as if he already owned the place. The nerve of the man! Why couldn’t he stay at Ravenhead where he belonged?

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Marsham, Miss Marsham.” He bowed to her mother. “I came to inquire as to the state of Mr. Marsham’s health.”

“Please sit down.” Emily’s mother smiled up at the mill manager. “My husband managed to sleep through most of the night and regained some of his vigor this morning.”

“Excellent news.” Mr. Blackthorn nodded, but didn’t take up her invitation to be seated. “He sent me some paperwork from his solicitor and asked me to bring it back directly to him. Would that be possible?”

“Emily will go and see if John is awake and willing to receive you,” her mother said. “We are trying not to upset him at this point, so if he appears agitated, I must ask you to return another day.”

“I completely understand, Mrs. Marsham.”

Emily rose to her feet, slipped out of the door and up the stairs to her father’s room. To her surprise, her father was sitting up, being fed gruel by his valet.

“What do you want?” He glared at her.

“Mr. Blackthorn asked if he might speak with you. Mother asked me to check if you were feeling well enough to see him?”

“Aye. Send him up.”

Emily waited, but her father’s attention returned to his food. Mindful of her mother’s dire warnings not to anger him, she didn’t have the courage to ask outright about his decision that she should wed. She descended the stairs, holding the black skirts of her too-long mourning gown clear of the steps. She would have to get one of the maids to alter the hem for her…

“Miss Marsham.”

She’d been so focused on not tripping that she hadn’t noticed Mr. Blackthorn was standing in the hall, hands clasped behind his back, watching her descent. He wore his habitual dark garb, with the addition of a black cravat for mourning, and looked his usual forbidding self.

“My father will see you.” Determined not to appear discomfited, Emily advanced toward him. “His room is the third door on the right.”

“Thank you.” He bowed, and then hesitated. “There is one more thing.”

Emily paused, her chin in the air. “And what might that be?”

“Your father asked me to get a common license from the Bishop that will allow us to wed in seven days.”

Emily blinked at him. “Seven days?”

“Aye.” He shrugged. “I thought you should know.”

“Why?” Emily asked slowly. “Surely it would be in your best interest to say nothing and spring this upon me at the last moment as my father probably intended?”

“I wouldn’t want to begin a marriage in such a fashion, would you?”

She shook her head. “So you do not really wish to marry me?”

He turned, one hand on the bannister, and regarded her. “Oh, aye, I do, but I don’t like going behind people’s backs. Perhaps we can speak more on this after I’ve seen your father?”

He continued up the stairs, and Emily rejoined her mother in the drawing room, her heart thumping in her chest. It seemed her father was serious about marrying her off to Mr. Blackthorn, whether he recovered his health or not.

“Mother, has Father spoken to you about Mr. Blackthorn?”

“Yes, dear. John mentioned him again this morning.” Her mother wouldn’t look at her. “I understand that you are to be wed.”

“And what if I don’t want to do that?” Emily asked. “Why isn’t anyone asking me?”

“You are rather young, my dear.” Her mother folded her hands in her lap. “I have changed my mind, and I am in agreement with John. With your brother now deceased, you are the heir to a considerable fortune and a business you are incapable of running.”

“I am not incapable,” Emily stated. “I am just not allowed!”

“That is the way of the world, my dear.” Her mother waved away Emily’s concerns. “John is worried that any man who wants to marry you now will be after control of your fortune and might destroy his business. Adam Blackthorn is not only related to our family, but he is conversant of the demands of the trade, and he is a hard worker.”

“So I’m not to be trusted to pick my own husband,” Emily said. “It isn’t fair, Mother.”

“Life isn’t fair, Emily. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be burying my only son, and your father would be hale and hearty.” Her mother raised her head, and her voice. “If you are thinking I will intervene with John and stop this marriage, you are quite mistaken. I cannot allow either of us to be plunged into poverty if we are disinherited. From what I have observed, Adam Blackthorn is a fine man, and a worthy husband for you.”

Emily considered her mother, who appeared on the verge of tears. “Father threatened—” She broke off as the door behind her opened, and the subject of their somewhat heated conversation came in, followed by the butler.

“Madam, there is a Sergeant Sykes from the local constabulary in the hall. He wishes to speak to Miss Marsham about the unfortunate incident outside the mill yesterday.”

“Me?” Emily looked from her mother to the butler. “Why?”

Mr. Blackthorn looked down at Emily. “Perhaps because you were… somewhat close when the incident occurred.” He cleared his throat. “If you permit, perhaps we could go together and speak to Sergeant Sykes without distressing your mother further?”

“Or I could go by myself,” Emily said.

He didn’t look away. “And I would appreciate it if you would allow me to offer my support in this matter.”

“Oh for goodness sake, Emily, stop being so difficult and let Mr. Blackthorn accompany you!” Her mother pressed a hand to her brow. “You are giving me a headache!”

“As you wish.” Emily swept past Mr. Blackthorn and headed for the hall, the butler alongside her trying to keep up. “We can speak in Father’s study.”

The gentleman in the hall doffed his hat as Emily approached. “Miss Marsham. I apologize for disturbing you in your grief.”

Emily nodded and allowed Mr. Blackthorn to open the door for her into the study at the rear of the main hallway.

“How may I assist you, Sergeant?”

“I was hoping you might help me capture the man who murdered Mr. Matthew Marsham, Miss.”

“And how would I do that?” Emily asked.

“From all accounts, you were closest to this vile individual when he committed his crime, and might be able to describe him to me?” Sergeant Sykes drew out a notebook and pencil and looked inquiringly at Emily.

She allowed herself to think about the tumultuous events of the day before. “He was… quite young, barely an adult. His coat was threadbare, and he wore no hat. His hair was short and fair, and his skin was dirty.”

“Do you remember what color his coat was Miss Marsham?”

Emily closed her eyes. “It was brown.”

“And his features?”

She shuddered. “He was screaming something, his mouth was wide, his eyes…” She swallowed hard. “Were blue I think.”

Sergeant Sykes scribbled in his notebook. “Thank you, Miss Marsham. Was there anything else that struck you about him at the time?”

“Only that he looked terrified—as if he couldn’t quite believe that he’d done something so… awful.”

“Perhaps if you have any more questions for Miss Marsham you could return another day?” Mr. Blackthorn spoke into the silence. “She has to prepare for her brother’s funeral.”

“Of course, sir.” Sergeant Sykes immediately put his book away. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me, Miss Marsham. Sir.”

Emily nodded and Mr. Blackthorn escorted the sergeant out into the hall and then returned to her. She looked up at him.

“I’d forgotten that.”

He leaned back against the door and regarded her intently. “Which part?”

“That he was so young, and so… scared.” She shivered.

“He might not have been as young as you think,” Mr. Blackthorn observed. “The mill workers are often stunted from lack of good food and fresh air.”

“I am aware of that.” Emily straightened her spine and walked toward the door. “I doubt my account will help much. There must be a hundred boys who work at Ravenhead who fit that description.”

“True, but very few of them were angry enough to plunge a knife into the owner’s son.”

She searched his face. “Do you know who it was?”

“Not yet, but I should imagine the police will be investigating other matters concerning this event that might narrow the list of possibilities.”

She sensed that he knew more than he was willing to share with her, but she was too tired to press her point.

“Thank you for your help,” Emily said politely.

“For what, lass?” His smile transformed his harsh face. “You were right. You dealt with him perfectly well on your own.”

He held the door open, and she moved past him, aware that he was still smiling, and unwilling to respond to his obvious attempt to flatter her.

“Did you discuss our marriage with my father?”

“I tried to.” He shrugged. “He is pretty set on it, and, mindful of my instructions not to upset him, I said my piece and left it at that.” He followed her out into the hall, and picked up his hat from the hallstand. “And now I must get back to the mill. As your father reminded me, it won’t run itself.”

He tipped his hat to her and went out into the rain, leaving Emily feeling more conflicted and confused than ever. Her mother would not stop the marriage, her father was determined to make it happen, and her potential bridegroom was not averse to taking on the mills and her fortune. Which left her where exactly? She could run away and end up like Mrs. Harding, seeking employment and living on pennies in a slum. She didn’t even have any useful skills. Her father had made sure of that.

She glanced around the splendid marble-and-wood-paneled hall and saw nothing but an ever-shrinking cage. She’d been informed that if her father died before the wedding, Mr. Blackthorn would inherit everything. He could then refuse to marry her and leave her and her mother destitute. Seeing as he was a protégé of her father’s, she couldn’t assume he had a conscience or would do the right thing, even if he had promised to do so.

If, by some miracle, her father recovered enough to change his mind, she might convince him to give her more time by agreeing to marry any man he wanted her to in the future. For one terrible second she wished he’d died alongside her brother rather than hanging onto life intent on making her and her mother suffer. But, as it stood, in seven days’ time she would be married to Mr. Blackthorn, whether she liked it or not.

Chapter 3

Adam Blackthorn tugged at his new black cravat, and forced his attention toward the front of the church. Because the Marshams were still in mourning, the wedding was family only. The church was devoid of flowers, freezing cold, and almost empty, much as it had been the day of Matthew’s funeral. Before that, Adam hadn’t been in the Anglican church since his baptism, and much preferred the teachings of the Methodist chapel his sisters attended. But marriages had to be solemnized in the official church of the land, and that was where he awaited Emily Marsham.

“Are you worried she won’t turn up?” Dr. Prentice, who was standing up with him, joked.

“Yes,” Adam replied shortly.

Emily didn’t want to marry him. From what he’d heard she’d spent the last week pleading with her father to go back on his word. Would she run? She was an intelligent woman, but would she realize there was no way out for her?

Part of him was ashamed of not walking away himself, but his ambition and his desire to reclaim his father’s lost place in Millcastle society drove him on. He’d battled hard with Mr. Marsham and the solicitor to ensure that Mrs. Marsham and Emily were well provided for in the new will. But having gone from relative wealth to poverty once in his life, he had no intention of allowing it to happen again. If that made him a bad man or an opportunist, then so be it.

There was a stir at the back of the church, and the sound of echoing footsteps coming behind him. Mr. Marsham was too ill to walk his daughter up the aisle and awaited them at home, so an uncle of Mrs. Marsham’s had been pressed into service. There was no music, and the bride wore black. When she lifted her veil, her face was pale and set. She refused to look at Adam as he took her hand.

Well. God help them both. Neither of them had wanted this, but he had everything to gain, and she? He glanced down at her set expression. He would take care of her, treat her with the respect she deserved, and never dishonor her as his father had done to his mother. Emily might consider him a bad bargain, but he would prove her wrong, and perhaps somehow along the way they would learn to rub along well enough together.

Her fingers were shaking as he slipped the wedding band on, but she spoke her vows in a composed voice that gave no hint of any inner turmoil. He was grateful for that. After the spectacle of his parents’ marriage, a wife who conducted herself well in public would prove to be a blessing. He’d spent the last week sorting out his own personal affairs, and hadn’t had much time to worry about whether the wedding would actually take place. With Mr. Marsham incapacitated and his son dead, all the decisions for both mills now fell on Adam’s shoulders.

“Amen.” Adam blinked as the vicar concluded the short ceremony. “Now, we shall sign the register, and you may be on your way.”

So that was that. He squared his shoulders. Now all he had to do was survive the wedding breakfast and the rest of his life.

Emily still couldn’t quite believe she’d failed to deter her father. Even as the vicar was reading the wedding service, some part of her had kept expecting an interruption. But nothing had happened, and now she was Mrs. Adam Blackthorn, her identity, her person, and her fortune, all her husband’s do to with as he pleased.

Earlier that morning, Mr. Erskine had sat her down and gone through the financial aspects of the marriage contract. From all accounts, Mr. Blackthorn had been more than generous and agreed to a considerable sum of money being settled on Emily and her future children. Mr. Erskine had expected her to agree how lucky she was, when she knew all along that her new husband was simply giving her back a portion of what had been hers alone—if only for a week.

She also had a substantial amount of pin money, which the solicitor said Mr. Blackthorn had insisted upon. Having control of at least some of the money did mean a great deal to her. Her father had kept her mother very short of coin and insisted she ask his permission for everything, which had often resulted in her mother in tears as her decisions were ridiculed and rejected.

Emily had no idea how Mr. Blackthorn would behave in similar circumstances, but the firm set of his mouth and the fact that her father approved of him didn’t sit well with her.

“May I ask you something, Emily?”

Emily started and turned her head toward Mr. Blackthorn, who sat opposite her in the carriage taking them back to her house. He hadn’t said a word since they’d walked down the aisle together. It was only the second time he’d used her first name.

“Of course,” Emily said, proud of the calmness of her voice.

“Why did you allow the marriage to take place?”

“Me?” She blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I know you didn’t wish to marry me.” He held up a hand. “It’s all right, I understand why, but I thought you might manage to get out of it.”

“How exactly?” Emily faced him. “By holding a knife to my father’s throat? Believe me, I thought of everything, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to sink to that level.” She gathered her resources. “He is very ill. I don’t think he will ever regain his strength, but I didn’t want to be the one who stirred his rage and was responsible for his death.”

“Why not?” He regarded her quizzically. “If he’d died before you married me, you could’ve set your lawyers onto getting out of the marriage contract.”

“If he’d died before I married you, the entire estate would’ve gone to you, and my mother and I would get nothing.”

“Ah.” He stared at her for a long moment. “Now I understand.” He grimaced. “What a remarkably horrible set of choices you had to negotiate.”

His unexpected sympathy made her press her lips tightly together and stare out of the window. The carriage turned up the drive toward the house. When they reached the entrance, he stepped out of the carriage and came around to help her down, his grip firm, his gaze respectful.

Her mother was just inside the hall removing her bonnet, and she smiled up at Mr. Blackthorn.

“Ah, there you are. Emily, why don’t you take Adam up to your new rooms? When you have refreshed yourselves, come down and join us in the drawing room. Your father is anxious to see you both.”

“Yes, Mother.” Emily took off her gloves and her new husband relieved her of her cloak. “Thank you.”

She walked up the stairs, aware of her silent companion behind her, and remembered not to turn left, but right at the top. She opened the door into the new suite of rooms, and found Prudence, her maid, awaiting her.

“Mrs. Blackthorn, Mr. Blackthorn.” Prudence curtsied. “May I offer you my best wishes for your future happiness?”

“Thank you.” Emily remembered to smile. “I just need to change my shoes and comb my hair.”

“I’ll fetch you up some hot water immediately, ma’am.” Prudence helped Emily remove her veil and went out.

Mr. Blackthorn prowled around the room and stopped at the window, which looked out over the green hills rather than the mill town.

Emily sat down, picked up her comb, and attempted to straighten out her blond curls.

“Where’s the bed?” he asked abruptly.

She twisted around to look at him. “In the room next door. There’s also a dressing room for you on the other side.”

“A dressing room?” He whistled. “I only own two coats and five shirts.” He glanced down at his garb. “Make that three, as this is new for the wedding. I don’t have a servant, either.”

“That is your choice.” Emily turned back to the mirror, aware that he was still pacing restlessly behind her.

“Will you permit me to explore further?” Mr. Blackthorn asked.

“I can hardly stop you, can I?” Emily tried not to sound sharp. “This is now your domain.”

Instead of leaving, he came to stand directly in front of her. “I am still finding that rather hard to accept.”

She reluctantly raised her gaze, refusing to succumb to his conciliatory tone. “We should hurry. Would you like me to ask Prudence to get one of the footmen to help you?”

“Help me what? Wash my face?” He shrugged. “I can manage that for myself, and I’ll happily share your hot water so that Prudence doesn’t have to go up and down the stairs again.”

Prudence came back, and Adam walked through the internal door into the bedchamber where a large four-poster bed, complete with embroidered curtains, dominated the room. He went through the other door into a more masculine version of his wife’s space and whistled quietly to himself. The whole suite was about the size of the mill house, and smelled of fresh paint, beeswax, and wallpaper paste.

“Mr. Blackthorn?”

He spun around as Prudence appeared in the doorway.

“Yes?”

She held up a jug. “Mrs. Blackthorn said to bring half the water through to you here and ask if you needed any help.”

“I don’t need anything, and that’s very good of you.” Adam watched as she poured the water into the basin of the mahogany shaving stand. His new wife obviously didn’t want him to share her ablutions.

“There you are, sir. There are fresh towels and soap in the cabinet beneath.”

Prudence went back to Emily, leaving Adam free to explore the wall of cupboards and the chest of drawers where someone had already unpacked his meager belongings. On his sister’s urging, he’d bought himself a nightshirt and dressing gown, neither of which he’d needed before, seeing as he slept naked and dressed immediately after he got up to avoid the cold. He almost laughed at the sight of his two patched-work coats hanging in splendid isolation in the massive cupboard.

He splashed water over his face, smoothed down his hair, and went back through to his wife’s realm. She was already standing by the door, straightening her black silk skirts and nervously patting her hair. She might look like a fragile blonde doll, but he already knew better.

“Shall we go down?” she asked him.

“If we must.” He went and took her hand in his. “I must confess that dealing with your father is never something I expect to go well.”

He received a fleeting smile and wondered anew how it must have been to grow up with a father like John Marsham.

“Hopefully, he will be so pleased to have achieved his wishes that he will be at his most pleasant and amenable,” Emily replied.

“Amen to that.” Adam opened the door.

They went down the stairs, and Adam kept hold of her hand as they entered the drawing room. His sisters smiled, as did Mrs. Marsham, but no one else within the ranks of the family seemed particularly pleased by his sudden advancement. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

He led Emily to where her father was propped up in a wingchair beside the fire. He was smiling, but his complexion was grey and his visage haggard.

“Mr. Blackthorn, Emily. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.” Adam bowed as Emily leaned in and kissed her father’s sunken cheek. “I promise I will take care great care of your daughter.”

“And more importantly, my business.” Mr. Marsham attempted a chuckle, but coughed instead. “I trust you will not destroy that!”

“I’ll do my best.” Adam bowed again and stepped back, holding Emily’s elbow, aware that she was trembling and determined to offer her his support, even if she didn’t think she needed it.

“I won’t be joining you at the wedding breakfast, lad, but I will expect to see you tomorrow morning before you go to the mill,” Mr. Marsham declared as two burly footmen picked up his chair and headed for the door.

“As you wish, sir,” Adam said.

After her husband had gone, Mrs. Marsham clapped her hands and looked around the rather subdued gathering in the drawing room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please follow our bride and groom into the dining room where we shall celebrate their marriage and future happiness.”

“Good night, Prudence.”

“Good night, ma’am.”

Emily blew out of all the candles except one, climbed into bed, and lay down. The moment Prudence shut the door behind her, Emily sat up, her back against the headboard, her gaze darting around the new room as if she expected Mr. Blackthorn to have secreted himself somewhere. It was all most peculiar. He’d been attentive and pleasant during the breakfast, deflecting curious questions and outright demands for answers from their various relatives, and sticking by her side throughout.

She supposed she ought to be grateful to him… But she was too apprehensive. There was a light under the door into his dressing room, but she couldn’t hear anything to indicate he was there or intent on joining her. She had to assume he would join her, considering she was now his lawful wedded wife, and as the solicitor had explained to her, his legal property.

The door opened, and she jumped and grabbed hold of the covers. He stayed in the doorway, observing her warily, as if he thought she might bolt. Without the formality of his normal workday clothes, he should’ve looked less intimidating in his dressing gown, but somehow he didn’t.

She held her breath as he padded toward her on bare feet and sat on the edge of her side of the bed.

“Are you feeling all right, lass?”

“As well as can be expected,” Emily managed to reply. It was difficult when he was so close and so warm and she could see his bare forearms.

“I know we’ve hardly had a chance to become acquainted yet, but if this marriage is to be legal, it has to be consummated.” He held her gaze. “I hope your mother explained that to you.”

Emily nodded.

“I will do my best to make it a pleasant experience.”

Pleasant? Emily didn’t question him, but her mother had made no mention of her enjoying anything. As far as she was concerned, Emily just had to lie back and endure…

She bit her lip as Mr. Blackthorn blew out the candle, went around to his side of the bed and got in, making the newly starched sheets rustle. She lay down on her back and braced herself as he leaned over her, one hand cupping her cheek, his thumb warm against the corner of her mouth.

“May I kiss you?”

She nodded and closed her eyes as his mouth descended. She’d been kissed before and hadn’t liked it, but he barely touched her lips before he moved elsewhere, kissing her chin, her nose, and her forehead… Emily opened her eyes, and considered the gentle caresses.

“That’s better,” he murmured and returned to her mouth, the pressure deeper now, and his tongue probing between her teeth to tangle with hers in a most shocking manner. She gasped for breath, and he eased back a little, nuzzling her lower lip as one of his hands smoothed over her cotton-covered hip.

“This first time? It might hurt, but I promise you it will get easier.”

Emily wanted to ask him how on earth he knew that, but was too distracted by his hands roaming her body, familiarizing himself with the curve of her waist and the length of her thigh. It was all very confusing, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it at all.

He rucked up her nightgown and rolled on top of her, spreading her thighs with one of his and cupping her mound, making her rise against him in instinctive protest.

“It’s all right, lass, I’ve got you.” He returned to kissing her, his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth while his fingers mimicked the same action below, penetrating her little by little until she was awkwardly moving with him.

“God, you’re tight,” he murmured against her mouth. “So tight.”

She had no idea what he meant. It didn’t sound like a criticism when he spoke in that almost reverential tone. He pressed deeper, until she could feel the palm of his hand against her mound with every thrust of his finger.

He shifted, spreading her thighs even wider, and she felt the first thick hot press of his member against her most tender flesh. He grabbed her hands, which were fisted in the sheets, and placed them around his neck.

“If it hurts, dig your claws in me, lass. I won’t mind.”

Holding onto him felt like being offered an anchor in a storm as he flexed his hips and drove inside her. She froze for a second as he retreated and then plunged forward again, impossibly inside her. She closed her eyes and held him as he set up a regular rhythm, the scrape of his hot, stiff flesh so foreign, so different to anything she had ever experienced that she simply did as her mother had suggested and endured.

“Ah… God.” He pushed forward one more time and held still, his member pulsing inside her, bringing more heat and a strange muted throb from her own loins. He eased himself free, causing a stream of wetness on her thigh, and rolled onto his back, breathing hard.

He stroked her hair. “Thank you, Emily.”

There didn’t seem to be anything to say in return, so she waited tensely until he turned away from her. When his breathing evened out, she tentatively brought her hand down to her sex, and discovered she was not only wet with his seed, but that everything felt more exposed, and open, and…

Emily bit down on her lip. God, why hadn’t her mother told her about this part? The raw physicality of it, of being penetrated and held so intimately? She’d spoken of duty and endurance and of not being surprised by anything Mr. Blackthorn chose to do, but this? Nothing could’ve prepared her for such base emotions, and for the sense that he now knew her more intimately than she knew herself.

Perhaps if they’d had the opportunity to have a normal courtship she would’ve grown used to his attentions, learned to welcome his hands on her… Emily swallowed hard. But nothing had been normal since she’d held her dying brother in her arms…

A tear trickled down her cheek and then another. She wiped furiously at them, but they would not stop. A second later, she was turned into her husband’s arms and held tightly while she bawled her eyes out on his chest. He smoothed her tangled hair and crooned to her as he rocked her.

“It’s all right, lass. Let it all out. It’s all right.”

She tried to speak through her tears, angry with herself for allowing him to see how vulnerable she was and afraid of how he might use such knowledge against her. But she couldn’t form the words and simply cried until she somehow must have fallen asleep.

The next time she woke, the blackness in the room had lifted to a dull grey, and she was lying right across Mr. Blackthorn, her arms wrapped around his chest and her inner thigh pressed against his stomach. She considered moving, but she was too exhausted to make the effort.

At first he was snoring slightly, the sound reverberating through Emily’s ear, and then his hand moved over her bottom, caressing her.

“Let’s try this again before I have to get up and face your father, aye?”

She allowed him to roll her onto her back and somehow strip her out of her nightgown. She lay there and let him touch her, quivering when he cupped her breasts and bent to kiss their tips. Knowing what to expect somehow made everything easier, and this time when he slid into her, she only felt a hint of discomfort and a dawning curiosity as to what such intimacy might lead to.

In the half-light she could also see him more clearly. His unshaven skin rasped against hers, making her shudder in a not unpleasant way. He paused, still braced over her, and drew his nightshirt over his head in one impatient gesture, giving Emily her first ever view of a naked man.

He came down over her again, and this time she put her hands on his shoulders tentatively, studying the flex of his muscles under his skin as he moved over her. This part, touching him, was not unpleasant and distracted her from what else he was doing. He gathered her bottom in one of his large hands, lifting her against him even more tightly as he thrust deep.

He bit down gently on her lip, making her startled gaze meet his.

“Say my name.”

Emily blinked at him.

“Say my given name. You of all people have the right to it, especially when we’re in bed together, and you haven’t said it once since we made our vows.”

His morning voice was sleep-roughened, deeper and less polished, as if shedding his formal clothes revealed the real man beneath.

“Say it,” he began to move again, faster now, and more urgently.

“Adam.” Emily gasped as his teeth grazed her throat and he bucked against her. “Adam Blackthorn.”

A little while later, he kissed her and got out of bed. She had no idea how he knew what the time was, but she knew that, like her father, he would want to be at the mill when the gates opened to admit the workers.

She went back to sleep and was awakened by Prudence who had ordered up a bath for her. While Emily bathed, Prudence gathered up Emily’s nightdress and stripped the bed with her usual efficiency. Idly, Emily wondered if her father would demand proof that the marriage had been consummated, but hoped he would take Mr. Blackthorn’s word for it.

Adam… Her husband. Adam Blackthorn.

At the top of the stairs, Emily paused and wondered whether she should go and present herself to her father. But she had nothing left to bargain with and didn’t relish offering him an opportunity to comment crudely on her newly married state. She was married, her fortune was in safe hands, and the thought of her father gloating about those things didn’t sit well with her. She went down the steps, aware that her body was aching in unusual places, and there was definitely a slight bruise forming on her throat where Mr. Blackthorn—Adam—had bitten her.

She touched the tender spot with her fingertips and hoped no one would notice it.

“Mrs. Blackthorn?” The butler was in the hall, directing two of the footmen who were bringing in some trunks. “Mrs. Marsham is in the breakfast parlor.”

“Thank you.”

Emily made her way to the small room at the rear of the house that overlooked the gardens. She paused on the threshold, caught by surprise at the additions to the breakfast table. She’d forgotten that some of her family and Mr. Blackthorn’s sisters had stayed at the house after the wedding.

Her mother smiled at her. “Good morning, Emily.”

“Good morning.” Aware that every single person in the room was studying her, Emily went to the sideboard and helped herself to a plateful of food. She’d hardly eaten a thing the day before and was now excessively hungry. What the assembled crowd would make of that, she didn’t particularly care. She’d heard whispered stories of the horrors of a wedding night all her life, and she was determined not to appear either destroyed by the events or too pleased with herself.

She took the seat beside her mother and allowed the butler to pour her some tea before settling in to eat.

Her mother leaned in and whispered, “Are you all right, my dear? Was Mr. Blackthorn respectful of your person?”

Emily considered that and almost choked on her tea. Respectful wasn’t the first word that came to mind. Determined to claim his territory was more to the point, but she couldn’t say that to her mother.

“He was a perfect gentleman, Mother.” She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, aware that her lips were slightly tender from Mr. Blackthorn’s thorough kisses.

“I’m delighted to hear it.” Her mother hesitated. “Because he is a large man, and—”

Emily shot to her feet. “Excuse me, I want some more ham.”

When she returned to her seat, her aunt had taken her mother’s attention, and Emily was allowed to eat in peace for several minutes. So much had changed for her, but the usual routine went on; her mother ruled the domestic side of the house, and her father was apparently telling Mr. Blackthorn how to do his job.

“You did not get up to see Adam off to work this morning, Emily?”

She looked up to find Margaret addressing her from across the table. “No, he didn’t suggest that I should, why?”

Margaret raised her eyebrows. “I’ve always made a habit of doing so. I liked to make sure that he was properly turned out, and had sufficient victuals to last him the day.”

Emily studied her new sister-in-law. “With all due respect, Margaret, Mr. Blackthorn now has staff to command, and need not worry about the state of his linen, or his ability to feed himself.”

“I am aware of that.” Margaret nodded. “It just felt like the right thing to do, you know? To show that I cared for him.”

Emily tamped down several replies to that rather self-righteous utterance and nodded instead. She would not allow Margaret to make her feel inferior on the first day of her married life.

“I’m sure Mr. Blackthorn appreciated your presence, Margaret.”

“If you do not intend to continue the practice, Emily, would you object if I did?” Margaret asked.

“Not at all,” Emily stated. “Although as Mr. Blackthorn is now residing here, that might prove a little difficult, but you could always greet him at the mill when he arrives.”

Margaret blinked at her. “I assume you are joking, Emily my dear, as it has already been decided that Lottie and I are coming to live here with our brother.”

Decided by whom? Emily glanced over at her mother, who avoided her eye.

“How lovely.” She pushed her plate away and used her napkin. “Then please be my guest.”

“Do you want me to rise to see you off to the mill in the morning?”

Adam turned back to where Emily was sitting at her dressing table, fiddling with her jewelry. He was dog-tired. He had already listened to a lecture from his father-in-law about the way he was conducting the business, and now he had to deal with a decidedly frosty wife before he was allowed to eat his dinner.

“Why would you think that?”

“Margaret mentioned that it was her custom to do so.” Emily wouldn’t look at him.

“Ah.” Adam considered what to say. “There is no need for you to bestir yourself.”

She swiveled around in her seat, and he braced himself. “I would not wish to appear remiss in my attentions to you.”

“I do not consider you remiss.”

“Then what do you require of me? My mother is running this house, my father oversees the mills, and now your sisters will live with us here as well.”

He leaned wearily back against the doorjamb. “I just wish you to be content.”

“And in your bed.”

“Yes. That. And now, if you permit, I will go and wash before we must present ourselves at dinner.”

He walked through to his dressing room where one of the footmen had left him a jug full of hot water. He quickly stripped down to the waist and splashed soapy water over his torso. It was a luxury to be warm and know that, if he wanted, he could order up a bath whenever he required one.

He was reaching for a towel when Emily came through the door, and he regarded her warily.

“I swear I am not normally this shrewish.” Emily sighed. “It’s just that so much has changed, and then other things have remained exactly the same. I don’t know where I fit anymore.” She sank into the chair beside the fire and looked down at her joined hands. “I’m still a daughter at home, with no power to direct the household, or make even the most basic decision.”

“I suspect it will take all of us a while to adjust,” he said diplomatically. “I much preferred it when your father stayed at Marsham’s, and left me alone, instead of telling me everything I’ve done wrong before I’ve even had my dinner.”

He scrubbed at his chest, aware she was staring at his exposed skin with badly concealed interest. He wished he could strip them both naked, take her to bed, and to hell with his father-in-law and the rest of his family. But she was probably still sore from his attentions on their wedding night and was hardly likely to encourage him to enjoy a romp in bed.

He walked over to the tallboy, opened the third drawer where his clean shirts were stacked, and took out a new one. The fact that his sister no longer had to do his laundry, and then pretend she hadn’t, was a source of great satisfaction to him.

Emily watched him dress with the same fascinated expression throughout. It occurred to him that she’d probably never seen a man in anything less than his coat in her entire life.

“Mother said to tell you that she has asked Father’s tailor to make you up another half a dozen shirts in the style you prefer.”

He paused in the tying of his cravat. “Your mother did what?”

She flinched away as he raised his voice. “As I mentioned, it seems as if everyone is making decisions for us.” She hesitated. “It wouldn’t even have occurred to me to order you new shirts.”

“And it shouldn’t have occurred to your mother. My sister has always made them for me.” He secured the plain pin and turned back to her. “Would you prefer it if we removed ourselves to the mill house, and left them all here?”

“Would I have to do the cooking?” Emily considered him as if surprised by his impulsive offer.

“My sisters did.”

“Then we would probably starve.” She sighed. “Thank you for the suggestion, but I cannot leave my mother here alone to cope with my father.”

“Then we’ll stay here and make the best of it.” He shrugged into his second best coat, and held out his hand to her. “Come on then, lass. I’m famished.”

Adam came down the main staircase into a cold grey dawn and headed for the door, only to be intercepted by the butler.

“Good morning, Mr. Blackthorn. Mrs. Blackthorn ordered breakfast to be available to you before you leave. Would you care to come through? Miss Blackthorn is awaiting you.”

Adam glanced at the clock in the hall. He could probably spare ten minutes, and the thought of going to work with something warm in his belly was decidedly appealing.

And there was Margaret to deal with.

“Thank you.” Adam nodded at the butler and allowed himself to be ushered through into the small parlor at the rear of the house. Margaret immediately poured him some coffee from the pot in front of her.

“Good morning, Adam.”

He helped himself to a substantial plate of food from the silver covered dishes on the sideboard and sat opposite her.

“Good morning.” He started eating, marveling at the change in his circumstances, before he noticed his sister was regarding him solemnly.

“Is anything amiss?” Adam asked as she offered him more coffee.

“Only that it is strange to finally be in the house I thought I would be the mistress of, only to find that I have little status here.”

“Even if you’d married Matthew, you would’ve had the same issue for as long as Mr. and Mrs. Marsham were alive,” Adam pointed out.

“I know that, but I would probably have persuaded Matthew to set up his own establishment.”

“Or he could’ve lived at the mill house with us,” Adam said.

“Hardly.” Margaret sipped her tea.

Adam finished his breakfast and wiped his mouth. “By the way, I don’t expect you to continue getting up with me in the morning. I’d much prefer to think of you sleeping in and not having to toil in the kitchen all day.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, brother, but someone needs to have a care for your welfare.”

Adam shot her a look. “I have a wife now, don’t forget.”

Margaret peered elaborately around the room. “And yet, I don’t see her here with you.”

“She ordered this breakfast especially for my needs.” He finished his coffee in one gulp. “That’s good enough for me. Good day, sister.”

He nodded, walked back into the hallway, and collected his hat, gloves and cloak. Both his wife and sister had similar complaints about their lack of position within the household, but what they expected him to do about it was beyond him...

“Mr. Blackthorn?”

Adam paused at the door. “Yes?”

The butler bowed. “Mr. Marsham asked to see you immediately on your return.”

“Please tell him I’ll be there.”

Adam slammed the door shut behind him and walked around to the stables. Between the lot of them, the mill was beginning to feel like the most pleasant place to be, and that was saying something.

Chapter 4

“Mrs. Harding and Captain Grafton, ma’am.”

Emily sat up straight as her former dressmaker and the man she had once dreamed of marrying came into her mother’s drawing room. Captain Grafton looked his normal indolent self, but Mrs. Harding was now dressed in the height of fashion.

After greeting her mother, Mrs. Harding came straight over to take Emily’s hand.

“My dear Miss Marsham, we have been in London for the last three months and only heard about the terrible misfortune that had befallen your family on our return. I am so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Emily murmured. “My brother will be sorely missed.” She turned to Margaret and Lottie who were staring openmouthed at Mrs. Harding. “May I introduce you to my sisters-in-law, Margaret and Lottie Blackburn?”

Mrs. Harding curtsied, and then turned back to Emily, lowering her voice. “Sisters-in law? You are married?”

“My father decided that as his only heir I needed… someone to watch over the business for him.”

Mrs. Harding sank into the chair next to Emily’s as Captain Grafton was introduced to the Blackthorn ladies. “Are you… comfortable with that decision?”

“I was not given much choice in the matter,” Emily said.

“Oh my dear, Emily, I wish I had been in Millcastle when this all happened.”

“I doubt there was anything you could’ve done to prevent it, ma’am.” Emily smiled tightly. “My father made sure of that.”

Mrs. Harding reached out and took Emily’s hand again. “Is the man he chose for you a good man?”

“Yes, he is.” Emily had no hesitation in saying that. “You might know of him? Mr. Adam Blackthorn runs the Ravenhead Mill for my father and is a distant cousin of his.”

“I have heard nothing ill of him, which, in this town, counts for something.” Mrs. Harding looked up as her husband-to-be strolled over to them.

“Francis, Miss Marsham is married.”

“Indeed?” Captain Grafton studied Emily’s face. “Happily, I hope?”

“I have only been married for two months, so I have very little experience of it yet,” Emily confessed. “We had a private ceremony, as we are still in mourning for my brother.”

Captain Grafton grimaced. “A bad business, that. I am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Emily replied.

“And I want you to know that if you need anything in the future, you are more than welcome to visit me or Mrs. Harding, and we will do our best to aid you.” Captain Grafton kissed her hand and met her gaze squarely. “And I mean that, ma’am, most sincerely.”

He stepped back as the butler brought in the tea, and settled beside Mrs. Harding on the couch where he looked remarkably like a caged animal enduring what he could not change. Emily had no more opportunity to speak directly to the couple, as her mother dominated the conversation, ably abetted by Lottie, who seemed to have gotten over her initial distaste for Captain Grafton remarkably quickly.

Before she left, Mrs. Harding took another moment to assure Emily that she would welcome her friendship and gave her the address of the house in Millcastle that she intended to retain after her marriage.

The couple departed, leaving Emily feeling as if she had lost an ally.

“Well.” Margaret barely waited until the door had shut behind them before turning to Mrs. Marsham. “I must admit that I am somewhat surprised you allowed a fallen woman and her lover into this house.”

“Fallen woman?” Emily intervened, as her mother seemed incapable of speech. “Mrs. Harding is a widow of good family who has taken care of her mother and sisters in the most dreadful of circumstances.”

“By becoming that man’s bookkeeper?” Margaret sniffed. “Women can’t possibly deal with complex mathematical details. We all know what she really was.”

“Mrs. Harding is a very intelligent woman,” Emily retorted. “And I, too, enjoy the complexities of an accounting book.”

Margaret raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps you could offer your services to my brother, and see what he makes of them.”

“Maybe I will.” Emily refused to be cowed. “Now if you will excuse me, I need to go and speak to Cook.”

She walked out of the drawing room, aware that the disruptions in her life seemed to have no intention of abating and that, for some reason, Margaret Blackthorn disliked her intensely.

Emily woke up later that night to find herself alone in bed. Earlier, Mr. Blackthorn had sent her a note apologizing for his absence at dinner due to problems at the new mill. She’d been quite relieved he hadn’t been at the table. She was fairly certain Margaret would’ve mentioned Mrs. Harding and Captain Grafton’s visit in unflattering terms, and perhaps even appealed to her brother to order Emily and her mother not to allow them in the house.

After checking the time on the mantelpiece clock, she went into Mr. Blackthorn’s dressing room and discovered his cloak and gloves thrown on the chair but no sign of the man himself. Arming herself with a candle lit from the embers of the fire, she crept down the stairs and peered into every room before pausing in the main hall.

Faint sounds reached her from the rear of the house, and she decided to investigate. Holding her candle high, she went through the servants’ door into the less palatial wing with its tiled walls and echoing stone floors. There was a light in the kitchen, and she hastened toward it.

Mr. Blackthorn sat at the table in his waistcoat; his shirt was open at the neck, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He had one hand in his hair and the other braced on the kitchen table. A mug of beer stood near his right hand and three candles illuminated his workspace.

“If that’s you again, Margaret, I told you to go to bed.”

He sounded rather abrupt, and for a second Emily hesitated before shutting the door behind her and coming farther into the room.

His head jerked up. “Emily!” He shot to his feet and blinked at her. “I—”

She indicated the pile of papers on the table. “I did not mean to interrupt you.”

He stayed on his feet, and she registered the rings of tiredness under his eyes and the rigid set of his jaw.

“Is everything all right?” Emily asked.

He glanced down at the table. “I got behind with the paperwork. Trying to manage two mills, deal with an unhappy workforce, and plan for the future is stretching me to the limit.”

“I should imagine it is.” Emily took a seat to his right, and he sat down. “And I should also imagine my father isn’t making things easy for you.”

“He isn’t.” His mouth twisted. “He doesn’t like the way I do things, and because of his frail condition I’m trying not to argue with him too much. I give my orders to my staff, and his spies—I mean, associates who don’t want me around—come running up here to tell him what I’ve done, and then he countermands my orders.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily offered.

“It’s hardly your fault, is it, lass? None of us expected things to work out quite like this.” He smoothed a hand over the pile of papers. “I took to schooling late in life because my father wouldn’t pay for it, and I’m a slow reader. These are the plans for the newest mill. Your father is expecting me to know all the ins and outs of it by tomorrow morning when he’s insisting on holding a meeting in his bedchamber.”

“Would it help if I read them to you?” Emily asked.

“The plans?”

“To speed things up a little,” Emily tried to explain, because he was looking at her strangely. “My brother struggled with reading. He said the words wouldn’t stay still on the page. Reading aloud helped him understand things more quickly.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“You’d do that for me?” Mr. Blackthorn said slowly.

Emily shrugged. “I’m wide awake, and I’ve nothing else to do.”

Adam studied his wife, who had plaited her hair in a single braid that fell over her shoulder and made her look absurdly young. Her offer of help had startled him, as had his own admission that he still found reading a chore. His lack of schooling wasn’t something he was proud of, and he’d assumed she would be appalled by his ignorance.

Without replying directly, he shoved the whole stack of papers over to her and found his pen. He could at least take notes of the salient parts as she read to him.

She cleared her throat and started reading. A few pages in, Adam held up his hand.

“Wait. You should have some water or ale, in case your throat gets dry.”

“Water would be fine, thank you.” Emily nodded.

He went into the scullery and brought her a jug of water and a cup and waited until she took a sip of the icy cold water.

She read on, glancing up at him every so often to make sure he was attending to her, like a rather anxious schoolteacher. Soon he forgot to worry about the strange situation he found himself in and simply absorbed the information and took notes.

When she came to the end, she set the pages down, and drank a whole cup of water in one go before smiling at him.

“Did that help?”

“Yes, very much so. I at least think I can hold my own tomorrow if nothing else.”

“Good.” She paused. “I hope you do not mind me saying, but the financial aspects of this new mill appear to be rather… incomplete.”

“In what way?” Adam asked curiously.

“The funding sources seem inadequate. If the loans haven’t been paid off on the second mill, then adding new debt seems rather dangerous.” She looked across at him and then blushed. “I’m sorry. You probably think I’m talking nonsense. My father would never allow me to have an opinion on such a matter.”

“On the contrary. I agree with you,” Adam said. “And it is a matter I intend to bring up with your father tomorrow.” He fought a yawn as he gathered together his papers. “I suppose I mean today.”

Emily took the jug and cup back to the scullery along with his tankard. On her return, she lingered by his chair.

“You should at least attempt to get some sleep.”

“I know.” He slid an arm around her waist and drew her down on his lap. “Thank you.” He kissed her cheek and she blushed.

“For what?” She turned to face him.

“For your help.” He planted a kiss on her lips, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her again with much more purpose.

The kitchen door opened and he heard a gasp. “Adam!”

He raised his head to find his sister glaring at him and barely concealed a chuckle. “Don’t start, Margaret. We’re just going to bed, and so should you. Good night.”

He set Emily back on her feet and kept his hand in hers as they went past a for-once-speechless Margaret. As they mounted the stairs, he looked down to see that Emily was smiling. He squeezed her hand.

“You find it amusing that my sister caught us kissing in the kitchen?”

He thought she wasn’t going to answer him when she suddenly spoke up.

“She did look rather shocked.”

“Margaret enjoys being scandalized. It gives her something to complain about,” Adam explained as he ushered her into their bedroom. It was already past three, which meant he would not be sleeping for long.

Emily took off her robe and climbed into bed. Adam was too tired to worry about the niceties and simply stripped off and got in beside her. He slid his arm under her shoulders and encouraged her to roll onto her side against him. Her head fitted neatly under his chin. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, but he was too weary to even contemplate untying her braid.

“Why didn’t your father send you to school?” Emily asked.

Adam stiffened at the question; his instinct was to ignore her and feign sleep before he reluctantly conceded that perhaps he owed her an answer.

“He preferred to use his money to gamble or pay prostitutes. He regularly failed to pay my school fees, and eventually I stopped going because it was humiliating. I mainly taught myself after that.”

She smoothed her palm over his chest as if she was petting him. “That is a shame.”

He clasped her fingers in his. “I manage well enough.”

“Obviously. My father speaks very highly of you.”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Adam confessed. “Ah, well, at least he won’t be able to find fault with me today.”

“That’s good.” She settled against him, her knee sliding up his thigh to rest across his groin. “Goodnight, Mr. Blackthorn.”

He was immediately awake as his cock reacted to her soft presence.

“Adam,” he murmured into her ear.

“Adam,” she agreed and sighed herself straight to sleep.

Chapter 5

“But Mr. Marsham—” Adam kept on speaking despite the increasing agitation of his employer and father-in-law. “Surely you can see that considering the current political turmoil, this amount of debt might cause us some problems?”

“What political issues?” Mr. Marsham demanded, his color high. “This ridiculous reform bill? It will never pass. The government and people won’t stand for it.”

Adam glanced around at the other men who were attending the meeting, noting who was agreeing with him and those who were siding with Mr. Marsham, for future reference.

“But what if it does?” Adam persisted. “We cannot afford to expose ourselves to such risk.”

Mr. Marsham drew himself up against his pillows. “I still make the decisions, Blackthorn, not you, and I am inclined to go ahead. What say the rest of you?”

Only one of the men didn’t raise his hand, and Adam reluctantly shut his mouth as the motion to move forward was agreed upon. He held the door open for the rest of the men to precede him down the stairs before turning back to the bed.

“I don’t agree with this, sir,” Adam repeated. “I urge you—”

“You just don’t like looking a fool in front of those other men,” Mr. Marsham jeered.

“I don’t care what they think of me.” Adam focused on keeping his temper. “But this isn’t a good financial decision.”

“As if you would know ought about that considering the mess your father made of his business.” Mr. Marsham’s color rose.

“On the contrary, sir. My father’s mistakes made me the cautious and financially prudent man I am.” Adam drew himself up. “Please reconsider your position.”

“Get along with you.” Mr. Marsham waved a hand at him irritably. “I’m beginning to think I made a mistake in hiring you altogether.”

Adam bowed, turned on his heel and strode toward the door, shutting it firmly behind him even as Mr. Marsham called out his name. The man was impossible. For the first time, Adam considered what it must have been like for Matthew Marsham to live with a father like that. He went down the stairs and joined his father-in-law’s guests in the hall.

The gentleman who hadn’t sided with Mr. Marsham took his time finding his hat and cloak and found a moment to speak to Adam.

“I’m with you, sir. This is folly.” He took out his card and handed it to Adam. “I’m Mr. Bolton, the manager of the new Millcastle Valley Bank and Savings. I would be more than willing to speak to you about your own financial matters at any time.”

“Thank you.” Adam pocketed the card. “I appreciate that.”

Mr. Bolton indicated the rest of the men with a jerk of his head. “This group is too afraid of Mr. Marsham to speak out against him.”

“So I observed,” Adam said wryly. “I’ll try and speak to Mr. Marsham about this matter again, but I doubt I will make much headway.”

The men left in two carriages, and Adam shut the front door behind them.

“Good riddance.”

He knew some of them were wary of him because of his father’s appalling reputation, but the rest were, as Mr. Bolton had succinctly put it, more afraid of his father-in-law.

“Mr. Blackthorn?” The butler came down the stairs toward him. “Mr. Marsham requests your presence. He seemed quite agitated, sir.”

“Then I’ll go right up.”

It was the last thing Adam wanted to do, but he wasn’t a coward. He would accept the scolding he was sure was coming from his employer, who had a right to expect that his heir would agree with him about everything. He’d accept it, move on, and try and do his best to slow down the process until he was more certain of how the country would react to a reform bill.

When he reached Mr. Marsham’s bedchamber, the door was ajar, and he went in without knocking to find his father-in-law’s valet bending over the bed.

The man turned toward Adam. “I think he’s dead, sir,” he announced, his voice shaking.

Adam moved quickly over to the bed and stared down at the glassy-eyed fury of Mr. Marsham, who still sat bolt upright against his pillows, but was most definitely dead. He’d died as he’d lived—in a fury of his own making.

“Fetch Dr. Pike and ask Mrs. Marsham and my wife to meet me here.”

Emily and her mother came into the house and found Margaret awaiting them, her expression solemn. She rushed over and took Mrs. Marsham’s hand.

“I have some bad news for you, ma’am. Mr. Marsham has passed away.”

Emily’s breath caught in her chest as Lottie, who had followed Margaret out into the hall, nodded solemnly at her.

“What happened?” Her mother looked around as if expecting to see her husband’s lifeless body lying on the stairs. “He was perfectly fine at breakfast.”

“Dr. Pike is with him now. Perhaps you might care to go and speak with him?”

For the second time in less than three months, Emily was left behind as both Blackthorn sisters tenderly escorted her mother up the stairs, leaving Emily alone with her bewilderment and grief. She struggled to breathe as everything around her continued into chaos.

“Emily. I’ve been waiting for you to get back.” She looked up to see her husband striding toward her. “I’m sorry about your father. Do you wish to see him?”

When Adam reached her, he took her hand and tucked it firmly into the crook of his arm. It was odd how he was always on hand when she most needed him.

“He was almost his old self during our meeting, but when I went back to speak to him afterward, he was quite dead.”

He led her up the stairs and along the corridor toward her father’s suite of rooms, but halted before they entered, turning her to face him. He smoothed a finger over her cheek and held her gaze.

“I don’t think he suffered. Dr. Pike said his heart just gave out.” She nodded, but he still didn’t release her. “I’m sorry, lass.”

She nodded again, and he bent to brush a kiss over her lips. “Come on, then.”

“You will accompany me?”

“Seeing as you look as pale as a winding sheet, I think I’d better.”

Her feet refused to move. She swallowed hard. “I’m afraid.”

He halted, again searching her face. “Of what?”

She shuddered. “Of there being blood, or—”

He took her hand and walked her farther along the corridor until they were out of sight of the bedroom door.

“It’s all right. There’s no blood, no violence. I promise you that.”

She looked up into his eyes and found nothing but sympathy in them. She thought of Matthew lying in a pool of his own blood until there was nothing left of him.

“I feel like a coward,” she whispered.

“You’re not a coward. In truth, you’ve dealt with more in the past few months than most ladies of your station ever have to endure.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You’re a strong woman, Emily Blackthorn.”

She didn’t feel like one, but his quiet confidence helped to restore her ability to act like a reasonable person. She straightened her shoulders.

“I think I’d like to see him now.”

He kissed her again. “That’s my girl.”

She accompanied him into her father’s bedchamber where her mother was sitting beside the bed, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief while Lottie and Margaret spoke in low tones with Dr. Pike and Mr. Marsham’s valet, Albert. Her father lay with his hands folded neatly on his chest and his eyes closed.

Her breath shortened as she approached the bed, but Mr. Blackthorn stayed beside her, one hand on her shoulder as she paused to view her father, who looked far more serene in death than he ever had in life. She wanted to grieve for him, but it was remarkably hard.

“All right, lass?” Adam murmured into her ear so no one else could hear him. “He’s perfectly nice and peaceful.”

Emily nodded and stepped back, immediately turning her attention to her mother, who looked quite lost. She knelt in front of her and took her hand.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mother?”

“No, I think everything is well in hand. Dr. Pike and Mr. Blackthorn have been most efficient. The vicar will arrive shortly to say a prayer over the body, and Mr. Blackthorn will deal with the arrangements.”

“Do you wish to lie down in your room, or will you stay here?” Emily inquired. “I can ask Cook to send you up something to eat.”

“Just some bread and butter and tea, my dear. That’s all I can contemplate eating at the moment. I intend to stay here until John is taken care of.”

Emily hesitated. “Would you like me to wait with you?”

“Oh no, dear. You should be off tending to Mr. Blackthorn’s needs. Margaret will sit with me for a while, and then Lottie will take over. I’ll call for you when I need you.”

Emily wasn’t quite sure how to take her dismissal, but did wonder whether even in the depths of her mother’s grief she was trying to protect her only living child. She rose to her feet and glanced over to where Mr. Blackthorn was conversing with his sisters. Or had her husband had a hand in her mother’s decision-making?

She went over and touched his arm. “I’m going down to the kitchen to make sure they send up some victuals for my mother.”

“That’s an excellent idea.” He nodded. “Margaret and Lottie have already eaten, and are happy to sit with your mother until you are ready to take over.”

“So I understand.” She wanted to say more, to thank him for his support, but Lottie was still listening. “Thank you.”

He nodded, and she escaped down the stairs, aware she was neglecting her responsibilities to her mother and deceased father, but not caring. Her husband had done everything he could to allow her the gift of a period of private reflection.

She ordered her mother’s repast, accepted the condolences of the staff, and used the backstairs to get to her room. There was no sign of Prudence, so Emily stripped off her rain-dampened black gown and sat at her dressing table in her petticoats while she attempted to arrange her hair.

She jumped when the bedroom door opened. Mr. Blackthorn came in carrying a tray and a bottle of brandy.

“I reckon you forgot to eat anything yourself, didn’t you?”

“I’m not really hungry.”

He set the tray beside her, poured them both a glass of brandy, and handed her one. “You should try and eat something.”

She sipped the brandy, enjoying the pool of warmth that seared down her throat to her stomach. He took the seat by the fire and turned it to face her.

“Thank you for your support,” Emily said.

He shrugged. “You’re my wife, and your family are now connected to mine. It’s the least I can do.”

“My mother appreciates your attentions as well.” Emily took another larger sip of brandy. “She will be quite helpless without a man to guide her.”

“I suspect your father had a lot to do with that.” He drank from his glass. “She might surprise you, now that he has gone.”

“He spent years bullying her,” Emily added. “Maybe you are right, and now that he is dead, she will blossom again.”

“Mr. Marsham was definitely a hard man.” He glanced at her over the rim of his glass. “He bullied you, too. You would not have married me if he hadn’t threatened to cut you both out of his will.”

“That’s true.” She met his gaze. “And my mother took his side.”

Her husband stood and placed his empty glass on the tray. “I’m sure it has occurred to you that if your father had died when your brother did that we would not be married?”

“I am aware of that.” Emily watched him closely.

“And all this”—he flung out a hand—“would be yours.”

She wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say. Had her father not told him he would inherit everything, if she hadn’t agreed to marry him? Was he asking for forgiveness? Or offering her the chance to get angry all over again at the cards fate had dealt her? Did he expect her to reassure him that she was delighted with the way things had turned out?

She picked up the pot of tea he had also placed on the tray and poured herself a cup. One thing she had learned from watching her mother deal with her father was how to divert a conversation away from a potentially damaging argument.

“I think I will eat something now. I’m rather hungry.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

Adam bowed and walked out of his bedchamber, pausing in the hallway downstairs to ask the butler to send a boy to inform the deputy mill managers that he would not be coming in for the rest of the day. He also made sure the butler was ready to receive the local vicar and the undertaker.

There was nothing immediate that required his attention, so he went to stand outside in the well-laid-out garden and lit a cigar. He walked down one of the gravel paths that allowed him to look out over Millcastle and its fog of smoking chimneys. The town would soon be home to a passenger railway, and would no doubt get even busier and filthier. He blew out smoke and considered the view.

He’d done it.

He’d bloody won.

He was now the proud owner of two of the most competitive mills in town, with plans for a third. He’d seen the books, and if everything continued to prosper he would one day be richer than his wildest dreams, his sisters would be well dowered, and the shame of his father’s past erased forever.

And it was all thanks to Emily Marsham, who had deftly sidestepped his questions about how she really felt about that. Even if he hadn’t married her, he would have become the overall manager of the business. Before his son’s death, Mr. Marsham had told him that he’d put a provision in his will that Adam, rather than Matthew, would oversee the mills.

Should he give himself more credit, or was he simply attempting to justify the current situation? He’d worked his way up in the mill, done every job, and he knew the business inside out. He’d supported his widowed mother and sisters and stopped them from having to apply for parish relief at the workhouse. Mr. Marsham had given him the opportunity to progress even further…

If Mr. Marsham and Matthew had lived, Adam would still have taken the opportunity to court Emily Marsham. He’d never considered the idea until Mr. Marsham had approached him, because she was simply too far above him. But having married her—having learned the strength in her—the fact that she still regarded him with suspicion was somewhat disheartening.

Adam heard a carriage approaching, stubbed out his cigar, and turned back to the house. Whatever Emily thought about him would have to wait until he’d dealt with the complicated business of burying his employer.

Chapter 6

Emily stumbled as she left the church, and her husband’s hand immediately closed around her elbow, holding her steady. The church had been full for her father’s funeral with representatives from the town and his business associates on hand to bid him a final farewell. She’d even spotted Mrs. Harding and Captain Grafton near the back. It was a sunny day, and Emily was glad she wore a black veil as they came out into the churchyard.

“I’ve arranged for you and your mother to accompany my sisters home in the carriage. I’ll meet you back there after I’ve attended the burial.”

“Thank you, Mr. Blackthorn,” Emily answered him. “Mother said to please make sure that anyone who wishes to come back to the house is most welcome.”

“I’ll do that.” He escorted her to the carriage and then went to fetch her mother and his sisters. With a last nod in her direction, he shut the door, and the carriage moved off.

“There was an excellent turn out, Mrs. Marsham.” Margaret was the first to speak up. “You must be very gratified by that.”

“Indeed,” Emily’s mother agreed. “John was well respected in this town.”

She lapsed into silence. Emily took her mother’s gloved hand, and held onto it until they arrived back at the house. She was fairly certain that her mother was as sick of attending the funerals of those she loved as Emily was.

The butler greeted them at the front door, and, after taking off her bonnet and cloak, Emily went into the drawing room, which had been opened up into the dining room to provide a repast fit for a king. As the mourners filed in she took her place beside her mother and the Blackburn sisters, ready to greet each arrival and listen to their comments and commiserations for her father.

“Mrs… Blackthorn?”

Emily studied the face of the woman in front of her who had a somewhat fierce expression, and desperately tried to recall her name.

“Yes?” Emily held out her hand, but the woman didn’t take it, choosing to curtsey instead.

“I came to offer my condolences to your family on the death of your father.”

“Thank you.” Emily glanced over at her mother who was talking to an older gentleman whom Emily thought might have come in with the woman. “It was very kind of you to come.”

“You couldn’t have kept me away.” The woman’s gaze was more appraising now. “This is a beautiful house.”

“My father certainly thought so.” Emily hesitated. “I do beg your pardon, but your name escapes me.”

“I’m Miss Gardner.” She gestured behind her. “That is my father.”

“Ah, the schoolteacher.” Emily finally remembered where she’d seen the man before.

“He’s retired now.”

“Do you also teach?” Emily asked, and Miss Gardner raised her eyebrows.

“I expect that will be my destiny now, don’t you?”

“If that truly is your vocation then I must admit that I envy your choice. I always wanted to be a teacher, but my parents would not allow it.”

“What a shame it is that we can’t change places then, Mrs. Blackthorn. Good day.”

Emily opened her mouth to reply, but Miss Gardner had already turned away and was effusively greeting Margaret and Lottie. If she was a friend of Margaret’s it might explain her strange attitude toward Emily. She could think of no other reason for it.

She continued to greet the guests, and was so taken up with it that she failed to notice exactly when the men returned from the cemetery. She spotted her husband moving through the groups of people, stopping to speak to everyone who approached him, his dark head bent as he listened, nodded, and shook hands.

She had no need to wonder why he’d suddenly become so popular. As the new owner of Marsham Mills he was now a force to be reckoned with in Millcastle society. She noticed him speaking to the rather haughty Miss Gardner and her father and stiffened as the woman placed a gloved hand on her husband’s arm.

He merely bowed, patted her on the back and moved on, his expression unreadable until he saw Emily across the room and immediately made his way over to her.

“Are you all right, lass?” He took her hand. “I bet you haven’t eaten a thing, have you?”

“I’ve been too busy,” Emily confessed as he steered her toward the buffet.

“Then bide with me awhile, and we’ll eat something together.”

Adam escorted a third group of businessmen to the front door, before turning back into the hall. He slowed as Mr. Gardner and his daughter approached him.

“I’m just going to collect our coats, Adam,” Mr. Gardner said. “Will you keep Eliza company while she waits?”

“Of course.” Adam bowed to the elderly gentleman who had been instrumental in furthering his academic studies, and for whom he held a deep affection.

“I don’t expect you thought I would come today, did you, Adam?” Eliza said the moment her father was gone. “But I was curious to see this place—and of course meet your wife.”

Adam slowly exhaled. “I’m sorry, Miss Gardner. I don’t know what else I can say to make things right. I am aware that I am totally at fault, and—”

She talked over him. “I can see now why you chose the path you did.” She looked around the hall. “This must have been impossible to resist. It’s just that I thought better of you—that you were more admirable than this.”

He winced at that. “You certainly have the right to think badly of me.”

“And your wife. How old is she, Adam? She looks about twelve. And she claimed not to remember who I was.”

“She is hardly a member of your social circle, Miss Gardner,” Adam pointed out. “And she is blameless in this.”

“Poor lamb.” Miss Gardner’s eyes were bright with tears, and Adam felt guilt rise up in him again.

“As I said, you have my permission to think of badly of me as you like, but not of my wife.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I understand my place in all this. I don’t intend to disrupt this rather fine life you have chosen for yourself.” She turned away from him, her voice unnaturally bright. “And here is my father with my cloak.”

Adam helped her into it, and walked them both to the door where the Marsham carriage was ready to take them home. He tried to remember what poet or playwright had mentioned a tangled web, and couldn’t put his finger on it. Mr. Gardner would know, as would his daughter, who had often helped him study on the odd evening he had off work.

Eliza had a right to feel aggrieved, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He’d tried to be honest and not offer her false hope. He’d set out deliberately on this path, and now he had to bear the consequences both good and bad, and hope that one day she would find it in herself to forgive him.

The family solicitor, Mr. Erskine, approached and bowed. “Mr. Blackthorn, I thought it might be a good time to read the will before the family disperses.”

“As you wish.” Adam bowed. “I’ll get everyone to gather in the study.”

Much later, Adam put on his blasted dressing gown, and walked through to Emily’s part of the suite to find her alone and ready for bed.

“Your father’s valet has decided to attend to me,” Adam said.

She studied him, one eyebrow raised. “If you don’t wish him to, then tell him to go away.”

“He’s an old man.” Adam sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “He’s had an upsetting week, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

She climbed into bed. “If you offer him a nice sum of money, I’m sure he’ll have the decency to retire. My father left him a pension in his will, didn’t he?”

“Aye, he did.” Adam took off his dressing gown and got into bed, shivering at the coldness of the sheets. “I’ll do that, because I can’t bear him fussing around me for much longer.”

“Perhaps you should consider hiring a younger man as your valet.”

“To do what? Lay out my clothes? Button me into my trousers like a five-year-old?” Adam snorted. “I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself, lass.”

“As head of the business, you will be expected to represent the company on all sorts of occasions,” Emily said. “You’ll need evening clothes for the theater, or for your club, riding clothes—”

“I can barely stay on a horse,” Adam protested, and then subsided back onto the pillows. “And I have no intention of joining any damned clubs.”

“Father said that’s where all the real business was done.”

“He was probably right.” Adam turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “I’m glad I married you, lass. At least you set me straight.”

“You are perfectly capable of doing that for yourself.”

He tried not to smile at her tart reply. “Yes, ma’am.” He blew out the last candle and drew her into his arms. “I’m glad this day is over. How about you?”

“It was as horrible as I expected, but not as awful as when we buried my brother. My father lived a long and successful life. My brother hadn’t even begun his.”

“They are both at peace now, and in a better place,” Adam murmured and smoothed a hand over her hair, loosening the braid and allowing her hair to spill out over her shoulders.

“Do you really believe that?”

He came up on one elbow so that he could see her face. “Aye.”

She looked up at him, her gaze troubled, and he kissed her. Even as he did it again, he realized he’d wanted to kiss her all day.

“Will you have me, lass?” he murmured against her lips.

She nodded and kissed him back with a fierceness that surprised him and ignited his desires. He was tired of darkness and death. He wanted to live.

He removed her nightgown and allowed his hands to wander at will over her lush flesh. Leaning in, he cupped her breast and brought her nipple to his mouth, making her gasp and instinctively roll her hips toward him. He slid his other hand between her legs, and probed her with one finger as the roughness of his palm rubbed against her sensitive bud.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and he returned to kiss her mouth, spreading her thighs wide as he plunged his cock deep and held still, enjoying the sensation of her hot, slick clasp around him. He started to move then, thrusting in and out of her, his hands and mouth everywhere on her skin, inhaling the scent of her perfume and the unique taste of her mouth.

She gasped against his lips, and he reached down to set her foot against his hip, widening her even more for the long, rhythmic strokes of his cock. He climaxed so unexpectedly that he collapsed over her, his body floundering like a beached whale.

Eventually, when his heart stopped pounding, he raised himself up and looked down at her.

“I’m sorry, lass. Did I squash you?”

“A little.”

She smiled at him, but there was still a distance there—as if she’d watched and enjoyed a performance at a theater, but hadn’t actively participated in it. He promised himself that next time, when he wasn’t so tired, and they weren’t in the middle of a period of mourning, that he would attend to her needs more directly.

He eased out of her and turned onto his back, drawing her close.

“Goodnight, Emily.”

“Goodnight, Adam.”

“I have to go back to the mill tomorrow.” He sighed. “But do not hesitate to send for me if you need me.”

Her fingers flexed against his skin. “I think we will manage. With your sisters here, my mother has plenty of company.”

“Good.” Adam yawned and promptly fell asleep.

Emily lay awake for quite a while, listening to her husband’s gentle snores. His ability to fall asleep so quickly astounded her, particularly after his exertions. She pressed a hand low over her belly, aware of a lingering throb within her, a sense that there was something more… but what was it? Her mother had discouraged her from touching her own body, slapping her hard if she’d caught her and threatening her with eternal damnation for her sin.

Her mother insisted that a woman’s purpose was to submit to her husband and that any instruction necessary would be offered within the sanctity of her marriage bed. She’d warned Emily against appearing too eager –that it would encourage a man to treat her as less worthy.

Adam hadn’t attempted to educate her beyond the obvious: that he was in control and would use her body to gain his pleasure. He certainly hadn’t discouraged her from touching him, and it no longer hurt when he penetrated her, so she had little to complain about. But was there more? With her newfound knowledge, she doubted Mrs. Harding allowed Captain Grafton to dictate everything that happened in their bed. But according to her mother and Margaret, Mrs. Harding was little more than a prostitute, which brought Emily right back to her mother’s dictates about a man knowing the difference between a virtuous woman and a fallen one.

Emily stealthily slid her hand lower and jumped as her thumb encountered the now swollen bud at the front of her mound. She pressed down on it, and her whole body jerked. She glanced over at her husband, but he appeared to be sleeping soundly. The urge to touch herself again intensified, and she stroked her flesh, shivering as a wave of heat engulfed her, and a need…

She quickly withdrew her fingers and turned away from Adam onto her side. This could not go on. She would wake him, and then he would be horrified by her licentious behavior. She wiggled against the sheets, seeking a position that would distract from the throbbing. Perhaps her mother did have a point, and her sinful desires should be ignored.

Adam woke up with his arm around Emily’s waist, her rounded bottom pressed against his groin, and a hard cock. Without even opening his eyes or thinking too much, he placed his hand under her knee, opening her up to him, and slid his shaft home from behind. He moved slowly, luxuriating in the feel of her, one hand on her breast, the other on her hip.

He gently bit her shoulder, making her arch her neck, offering him access to the curve of her throat, which he kissed, drawing himself up until he coaxed her into turning her head and kissing him back.

“Mmm…” Adam sighed and slid his hand from her hip to fondle her between her legs. She jumped as if he’d hurt her, and he went still, his fingers pressed to the slick flesh and the throb of her bud. “Emily…”

She shivered as he stroked her there, her body growing less responsive and more rigid every second. Had she not known a man could enter a woman from behind? He’d probably shocked her, but what to do next? Adam opened his eyes and wished he could see her face properly. He could pull out, turn her onto her back and try again, but he had a sense that she’d simply withdraw from him.

“Is this not to your liking?” he murmured against her throat. His cock twitched deep inside her, urging him to move.

“I am… quite well, thank you.”

That wasn’t what he’d asked, but from the polite finality of her tone he sensed it was all the answer he was going to get. He withdrew his hand from between her legs, and she immediately relaxed, allowing him to slowly thrust until he climaxed.

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed five times, and he reluctantly rolled away from her. It was his first day as the official owner and manager of the Marsham Mills, and he had to get up and make sure everyone knew it. He groaned and got out of bed as Emily curled up in the covers.

He walked through to his dressing room, only to be brought up short by the sight of Mr. Marsham’s valet, Albert, hovering over a steaming bath of water. Suddenly aware that he was both naked and smelled of sex, Adam almost retreated.

Albert didn’t seem to notice his dilemma and bustled around, laying out Adam’s clothes, which had been freshly ironed.

“Good morning, sir. I’ll bring your coffee up while you are in the bath.”

Adam got into the bath, enjoying the luxurious treat, and contemplated being able to have a bath every single day for the rest of his life… He sunk down in the water and washed his hair for good measure. Albert had laid out his best coat and Adam considered it.

It was his first day. Mayhap he should wear it and order another one. For the first time in his life he could well afford it.

Chapter 7

“Are you quite certain that you wish to come with me, Emily?” Margaret asked for the second time as they awaited the arrival of the carriage. “You do realize that I intend to mingle with the children?”

Emily smiled at her. “Yes, so you have said several times.”

“Don’t you think you should stay with your mother?”

“Lottie has offered to stay with her.” Emily put on her most sensible black bonnet. “I am confident that they will both enjoy their time together.”

In truth, Lottie did seem to be fond of her mother, and her quiet demeanor suited her companion far better than Margaret’s bossy way of doing things. Emily was trying hard to get along with Adam’s oldest sister, but after three months together, she was finding it increasingly difficult.

She barely saw her husband. With two mills to manage and the prospect of building a third, Adam spent long hours away, came home to eat his dinner, and slept the night through. This meant that Emily spent long hours with her mother and his sisters. She was beginning to chafe at the restrictions constantly placed around her.

Officially, she was now the mistress of the house, but her mother and Margaret carried on giving orders and contradicting hers, as if she was still the unmarried daughter. After months of staying home to officially mourn her father and brother, Emily was desperate to leave the house. Even the prospect of going out with Margaret seemed better than doing nothing.

She’d chosen an older gown with less flamboyant sleeves than currently fashionable, and the minimum of ornamentation. She’d also decided not to wear any jewelry except for her wedding ring. She thanked the footman who assisted her into the carriage and settled opposite Margaret, who had a large wicker basket with her.

“Where exactly is the school situated?” Emily asked.

“Don’t you know?” Margaret looked faintly surprised. “It was founded by your father.”

“I am aware that he reluctantly funded a school, but as he never allowed me to visit it, I don’t know exactly where it is situated.”

“It’s not much. Just a room at the Marshams Mill where the younger children are encouraged to attend after their shift to learn how to read and write.” Margaret shifted her basket onto the seat of the carriage. “I try and visit to make sure that everything is progressing satisfactorily, but I haven’t been there for the last month.”

“It is very good of you to be so concerned for the children,” Emily said.

“I do my best.” Margaret almost smiled at the compliment. “I certainly believe that the ability to read and write can be advantageous.”

“I agree.” Emily smiled warmly at Margaret. Perhaps there was something that she and her sister-in-law were in accord on. “I look forward to assisting you in your endeavors.”

The schoolroom was at the end of a dark corridor at the back of the original mill building. It was poorly lit, and contained rows of desks and barely a handful of children. When Margaret and Emily entered, two of the children were asleep. The teacher was ignoring the rest of them and reading a book, his feet propped up on the desk. The smell of wet clothing, sweat, and dirty skin made Emily close her mouth and breathe through her nose.

The teacher jumped up when he saw them, waking up the children, and came toward them. He was a young man with a pleasing smile and was dressed moderately well to withstand the coldness of the room.

“Good afternoon! You must be Mrs. Blackthorn. I’m Mr. Kelly, the new teacher.” He bowed to Margaret. He had a slight Scottish accent. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Gardner spoke very highly of your devotion to the school and its pupils.”

Margaret curtsied. “I’m Miss Blackthorn.” She placed a hand on Emily’s arm. “This is Mrs. Blackthorn, my brother’s recent bride.”

“Apologies for the confusion, ma’am.” Mr. Kelly turned to Emily and bowed again. “Congratulations on your marriage. I haven’t had the opportunity to meet Mr. Blackthorn yet, but I hear he is a good man.”

“My brother will be an exceptional mill owner,” Margaret stated. “He is very interested in the education of children.”

Emily could well believe that, after Adam’s experiences as a child. Her good opinion of her husband increased even as she covertly studied the horrible schoolroom.

“Where are you lodging, Mr. Kelly?” Margaret asked.

“With Mr. and Miss Gardner at the moment. They have been most kind to me.” He lowered his voice. “The morale here is somewhat lacking since I took over Mr. Gardner’s position.”

Margaret looked at the children. “It would be better if they took advantage of the opportunity offered to them and did not fall asleep at their desks.” She indicated her basket. “I’ve brought them bibles. May I distribute them while you explain how you manage the schoolroom to Mrs. Blackthorn?”

Mr. Kelly grimaced as he led Emily to the front of the room and lowered his voice. “We have plenty of bibles, and I’m very grateful for them, but the children suffer from exhaustion and lack of food. If I could offer them something to eat if they came into this schoolroom, I suspect my enrollment would go up. Children learn better on a full stomach.” He grimaced. “I hope Mr. Blackthorn will listen to my pleas. It seems like the previous owner paid lip service to the idea of having a school but did nothing to make it a viable proposition.”

“Perhaps you might write a list of all your requirements, Mr. Kelly, and I will discuss the matter with my husband,” Emily suggested.

“Will he be angry?” Mr. Kelly asked. “I can’t afford to lose this position, ma’am. It is my only means of support.”

“I suspect he will at least listen,” Emily reassured him. “He truly does believe in the value of education.”

Mr. Kelly set to writing, and Emily watched as Margaret went around to all the children and questioned them extensively before returning to Emily.

“Four of those children have lice and two of them have fleas,” Margaret reported. “I do not understand why their parents do not keep them clean.”

“I suspect it is hard to stay clean during a twelve-hour workday,” Emily said. “And I doubt that most of them have access to fresh water.”

Margaret sniffed. “I had to boil water for all our baths and needs over the kitchen fire, but I managed it.”

“Perhaps they don’t even have a fire. Or a cooking pot,” Emily suggested. “Have you ever been into a dwelling in Three Coins?”

“Three Coins is owned by that rascal Captain Grafton, and is soon to be knocked down to build the new railway station and hotel.”

“A huge improvement,” Emily agreed. “I understand that the captain is building new houses for his tenants near the site of Father’s proposed mill. Perhaps some of the children who work here will benefit from that.”

Margaret nodded. “We can only hope so. Do you wish to speak to any of the children?”

“I think you have done an admirable job already, Margaret.” The last thing she wanted was to interrogate the poor little waifs again. Emily looked back as Mr. Kelly came toward her, a piece of paper in his hand.

“Ah, thank you, Mr. Kelly. If you think of anything else, please let me know.”

The teacher bowed. “Thank you, ma’am. Thank you very much.”

Emily folded the paper, slipped it into her reticule, and they left the room. As they awaited the carriage, Margaret glanced curiously at Emily.

“What did Mr. Kelly give you?”

“A list of his needs,” Emily replied. “I offered to speak to Mr. Blackthorn on his behalf.”

“You offered?” Margaret’s complexion flushed, and she turned to the approaching coachman. “Is Mr. Blackthorn here today?”

“No, Miss. He’s at Ravenhead.”

“Thank you. Then we will meet him there.”

Emily got into the carriage and studied Margaret’s averted profile. “Is something wrong?”

“I do not wish to speak to you at this moment, Emily Blackthorn. Please respect that!” Margaret snapped. “I will, however, be speaking to my brother.”

Emily pressed her lips together and sat back. She had no idea what Margaret intended to do, but she was more than willing to allow her sister-in-law to take her to see Mr. Blackthorn. She had quite a few things she wished to say to him herself.

“What is it?” Adam looked up as his clerk knocked on the door. “I told you not to disturb me.”

The young man sidled through the door and faced his irate employer.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but Miss Blackthorn is here and wishes to speak to you urgently.”

Adam threw down his pen and got to his feet. “What now?” he muttered as he strode to the door and discovered not just his sister but also his wife in his outer office. Without welcoming them, he indicated they should follow him inside.

Margaret started talking the moment the door closed behind her.

“Adam, you must speak to your wife. She is intruding where she is not wanted and I will not have it!”

Adam glanced over at Emily who was regarding him steadily, one eyebrow raised as if she found Margaret’s outburst faintly amusing.

Unfortunately, his sense of humor had disappeared the moment he’d taken over the mills. He returned to stand behind his desk. “Margaret, has someone died?”

“What on earth are you talking about, Adam? Of course not!” Margaret faced him. “I came here to tell you—”

He cut across her. “If you and my wife have had some kind of silly falling out, I would appreciate it if you would sort it out yourselves, in the privacy of our home!”

It was only when Emily winced that he realized he was shouting.

“But this is important!” Margaret persisted, two spots of color on her cheeks.

“Are you deaf, woman?” Adam pointed at her. “I told you not to come near Ravenhead until I gave you permission! And you’ve brought my damned wife with you!”

Margaret opened and closed her mouth, and then gathered herself. “I thought—”

“No, you didn’t think. You allowed your indignation to override your good sense,” Adam finished the sentence for her, and strode back to the door. “Now, go home, and if you still insist on airing your grievances, I will attempt to come back early enough to hear them. Now good day!”

He wrenched open the door, aware from the sudden silence in his clerk’s office that several of his employees had heard him shouting. He went down the stairs, made sure that Margaret and Emily were settled in the carriage, and saw them off without another word.

It only occurred to him when he returned to his office that his wife had not uttered a single word to him. Well, she’d seen him at his worst now, and would probably greet him on his return with that calm iciness he found both alluring and infuriating.

He sat down at his desk and groaned at the columns of figures in front of him. He’d been in the middle of checking the monthly totals for both mills, and would now have to start again. He shoved a hand through his hair and picked up his pen. At some point he would have to go home and deal with his womenfolk, but for now he would have to push them out of his mind and concentrate on running the mills.

Adam opened the door into Mr. Marsham’s study, which still didn’t feel like his, and ushered his sister and wife inside. Apart from Lottie’s chattering, the dinner table had been remarkably silent. Adam had been hungry enough to eat and keep his head down. Margaret still looked affronted. Emily appeared reluctant to have anything to do with either of them.

“What did you wish to speak to me about, Margaret?” Adam asked politely.

His sister glared at him. “Perhaps you might start by apologizing for shouting at me in your office. I was mortified.”

Adam nodded. “I apologize for raising my voice.” He turned his head to include Emily in his acknowledgment of fault. “I was rather busy at the time, and as I mentioned, your arrival was not well-timed.”

Margaret sniffed, and Emily continued to look as if she wasn’t really attending to a word he said.

“Emily accompanied me to the school room at Marshams Mill today,” Margaret continued. “She said she wished to see the place, and I agreed to allow her to come with me.”

Adam tensed. Had they encountered Mr. Gardner or his daughter? Eliza was a forthright woman who would have no compunction in setting Emily straight about the connection between them.

“We met a Mr. Kelly, who is the new teacher,” Margaret said. “He was very pleasant and very grateful to have the post.”

“And?” Adam nodded at Margaret to go on.

“While I was speaking to the children about their education and other matters, your wife was talking to Mr. Kelly.”

“So?” Adam looked questioningly toward Emily, but she offered him nothing but a pleasant, blank face. “She is perfectly entitled to ask him any questions she wants.”

“Not when she is attempting to undermine me by encouraging him to complain about everything.”

“He is new to the school. Perhaps some of his comments might be valid,” Adam suggested.

“They might well be so, but he shouldn’t have shared them with your wife!” Margaret insisted.

“Why not?” Emily asked.

Adam started as Emily intervened for the first time and directed her softly spoken question toward Margaret.

“Because, I am the one who deals with the school.” Margaret bristled.

“But what if I want to be involved as well?” Emily asked, in a perfectly reasonable tone that seemed to infuriate Margaret even more.

“You need my brother’s permission to interfere.” Margaret turned to Adam. “And he will not give it.”

“Margaret.” Adam stepped between the two women. “Please don’t put words into my mouth.”

He saw the hurt in her eyes and patted her shoulder. “I do understand your point, sister, and your legitimate concerns over the schooling of the children.”

“Then you will order Emily to stay out of my schoolroom!”

“It is not yours,” Emily spoke up again. “My father founded it, and my husband is in charge of it now. Surely you can see that I have a right to be involved?”

“You know nothing about managing such a venture,” Margaret insisted, her mouth set in a stubborn line that reminded Adam of his mother. “You have no experience of such charitable work.”

“But I am willing to learn.” Emily turned to Adam. “Mr. Kelly—”

“Mr. Kelly thought he’d found an easy mark with you, Emily,” Margaret rushed to speak over Emily. “That’s the only reason he talked to you. He’s probably laughing at his success in duping you right now.”

Emily’s eyes flashed. She started to say something and then stopped, her gaze now on Adam.

“I can see no point in continuing this discussion. I might say things I will later regret.” She swept Adam a curtsy. “Perhaps when you and your sister have come to an agreement about what I am allowed to do, you will inform me.”

She left the room, her head held high and her back straight.

“Well, goodness.” Margaret stared at the door. “Emily really is very childish and hardly fit to involve herself in anything.” She turned to Adam. “You will stop her interfering, won’t you?”

Adam slowly exhaled and faced his sister. “Margaret…”

Emily stomped up the stairs and went into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She sat at her dressing table and then, too agitated to sit still, immediately got back up and paced the room. She’d never realized that Adam and his sister had identical dark blue eyes until they’d both stared at her before she made her very dignified exit. Adam was probably telling Margaret that he would be her champion right now…

She turned as the door opened and her husband came in. He stayed where he was and just watched her, his expression inscrutable, which didn’t make her feel any more kindly toward him.

Reaching into her pocket, she took the note Mr. Kelly had given her and held it out.

“Before you tell me to mind my own business, perhaps you might have the decency to read this.”

He took the folded letter, opened it, and began to read as she retreated to the other side of the room.

Eventually, he glanced up at her. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome. And, as I now have a headache, perhaps you could go away and leave me in peace.”

He stowed the letter in his coat pocket and continued to study her.

“You’re still angry.”

“How very observant of you, Mr. Blackthorn.” She looked away from him. “Please forgive me.”

“No need for that.” He shrugged. “As I lost my temper with you and Margaret this afternoon, I am hardly in a position to criticize you, am I?”

“Men are allowed to lose their temper. Women are not.”

“I have no objection to you speaking your mind, Emily, in fact I’d appreciate it.”

“Why is that?” Emily asked despite herself.

“Because sometimes it’s hard for a man to know what is going on inside your head, lass.” He hesitated. “Perhaps it might help if you told me what you are angry about?”

She eyed him dubiously, but he held her gaze.

“I‘m honestly asking.”

“Well, one might start with the fact that you obviously don’t wish me to be anywhere near your mills.”

“Your brother died at Ravenhead three months ago, and his murderer has not been caught,” he said flatly. “The workforce is still not settled, and them seeing you there? Might stir things up again.”

“Oh.” Emily nodded. “I hadn’t considered that.”

“I have no objection to you visiting Marshams Mill if you are accompanied by someone.” Adam continued. “Seeing as the school is situated in Marshams, I can see no reason why you shouldn’t continue to visit there.”

Emily blinked at him. “You… don’t object to my involvement in the school?”

“Not at all. The fact that Mr. Kelly was inclined to confide his concerns speaks well of you.” He paused. “My sister means well, but sometimes she can be a little… overbearing.”

Emily nodded foolishly and tried to imagine what he might have said to Margaret and how her sister-in-law would react.

As if reading her thoughts Adam continued. “Margaret believed she would be mistress of this establishment when she married Matthew, and she is finding it somewhat hard to accustom herself to the new order.” Adam studied the carpet at his feet. “When my father killed himself, she held our family together. I will always appreciate her strength of purpose and care of me.”

Even as she reveled in her victory, Emily knew Adam was warning her of the unbreakable bonds between him and his sisters. He might not always choose to support her, and that, surprisingly, hurt.

“I understand, perfectly.” She nodded and faked a yawn. “Thank you for your consideration.”

He shifted his stance. “Emily, I am well aware that I am proving to be a very unsatisfactory husband.”

She turned her back and sat at her dressing table to remove the pins from her hair, watching him warily in the mirror as he continued speaking.

“I am rarely here, I barely speak to you, and I fall into bed and sleep like the dead until dawn.”

“Some women would consider that the ideal husband, sir.” Emily took off her jet necklace and earrings and put them back in her jewelry case.

His appreciative chuckle made her want to turn around, but she resisted the impulse. She knew the position she held in his life now. It was far below his work and his loyalty to his sisters. Why did that surprise her? It was the reason he’d married her, after all.

“I’m interviewing for two new deputy managers this week, and once I have those men in place, I should have to work a lot less.”

“How very pleasant for you.” Emily went to remove her bracelet and found it had caught on the lace of her cuff. She tugged at it for a second, but it was on her right wrist so difficult to manage. She tried again, and realized she was fairly close to bursting into tears.

“Let me help.” Adam knelt at her feet, his dark head bent over her hand. She inhaled the now familiar mixture of the mill, cigar smoke, and the sandalwood soap he favored. She wanted to touch his skin, to smooth the lines of worry from his brow and tell him that he was working too hard, that he should take more care…

But she didn’t have that right. Apparently, only Margaret did.

“There you are.” He placed the bracelet on her dressing table. “I think the lace survived as well.”

“Thank you.” Her voice wavered, and she fought to correct it. “I’d forgotten why I rarely wear this set. The clasps are very small.”

He stayed where he was and looked up at her, his expression serious. “Is everything all right?”

“Wonderful, thank you.” She summoned a smile.

“I don’t believe that for an instant, but I suspect that’s all you’re willing to say.” He held her gaze. “I’ll read through Mr. Kelly’s letter again tomorrow, and then perhaps we can go and see him together?”

“If you wish.” Emily attempted a shrug.

“Seeing as I’m home early, how about we go to bed?” he suggested.

“We?” Emily stared at him and then at the clock. “Together?”

“That’s the general idea.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand. “I’ve missed you.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about his abrupt transformation from businessman to husband, or that he expected her to cooperate with him.

“Shall I ring for Prudence?” Emily asked.

“There’s no need. I’ll be your lady’s maid tonight.”

He started on the buttons of her bodice, untied her petticoats, and eased her gown off her shoulders with a competence that surprised her. But why should it? A man like him would have no problem finding women willing to be undressed by him. He worked the laces of her corset free, and she was left in her shift and stockings while he was still completely clothed.

He turned her around to face him, one hand gently cupping her breast through the cotton of her shift.

“You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Good,” He shrugged out of his coat. “Help me with the rest of it.”

She stripped him down to his shirt. He picked her up and walked her through to their bedchamber where he sat her on the edge of the bed. He stood between her thighs, his mouth hard and demanding over hers, his arms locked around her.

“Come on then, lass,” he murmured against her throat as he nipped her skin. “Show me how angry you are. Make me pay.”

She kissed him. As his mouth crashed into hers, she bit his lip, drawing an appreciative growl from him. Could she do as he asked?

“Why?” She wrenched her mouth away from his. “What exactly do you want from me?”

“Whatever you are prepared to give,” he replied.

“But I don’t know anything,” Emily protested.

“You know that I want you.” He took her hand and folded it around the thick column of his member, still covered with his shirt. “This doesn’t lie.”

She considered the throbbing length, moving her fingers. His breath hitched, and he pushed against her hand.

“Do that again.” He breathed hard, and pulled off his shirt one-handed, pressing her fingers back around his naked flesh. “God, yes.”

Emily looked down at her hand and contemplated the difference between her slim fingers and the pulsing column of flesh she now had ownership of. It occurred to her that such ownership might bring a man to his knees.

“What should I do?” she asked, keeping her gaze downward.

“This.” He showed her how to move her hand up and down his shaft. “As tight and fast and hard as you like, lass.”

She did as he suggested, and he shuddered as her fingers were coated with a starchy stickiness, making it even easier to manipulate him. Even as she touched him, he touched her, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples and stripping off her shift, leaving her just in her black stockings and garters.

Eventually, his hand closed over hers and stopped her movement. “I’ll come if you keep that up, and I want to do that inside you.”

Emily nodded, relinquished her hold, and prepared to lie on her back.

“Don’t move.” Adam touched Emily’s shoulder as she attempted to scuttle away from him. “Seeing as you gave me pleasure, the least I can do is return the favor.”

She looked up at him uncomprehendingly. “What pleasure is there in this for a woman?”

He blinked at her. “Whoever told you there wasn’t?”

“Everyone.” She shrugged, drawing his attention to her tumbled golden locks and the curve of her breasts. “My mother.”

“Your mother told you not to expect any pleasure in your marriage bed,” Adam repeated slowly.

“She was very clear. Women of ill-repute and mistresses are for a man’s pleasure and might enjoy such attentions, but a wife is merely a receptacle for her husband’s children and should behave accordingly.”

“And you believed that?” Adam asked.

She met his gaze. “I haven’t had any reason to doubt that she was right so far.”

He winced at that. Another casualty of his working such long hours was his selfishness in bed. He’d taken what he’d wanted in the limited time he was awake, and not thought about anything other than his own pleasure.

“I’m sorry, lass.”

“For what?” She wrinkled her brow. “I know my duty. I am not complaining. I am merely answering your questions.”

“So you don’t expect pleasure?” Adam asked slowly.

“I understand my position very well.” She smiled at him and went to lie down on the bed. “Are you done?”

He climbed on the bed and crawled over to her, aware that under her calm exterior she was still angry with him. He suddenly craved her emotion, wanted her to really see him and stop hiding behind that calm, compliant mask.

“I’m not done,” Adam said.

She sighed and turned her head on the pillow as if awaiting his invasion. In response, he spread her thighs with his knee and crouched between her legs. At the first touch of his tongue on her most sensitive flesh she tried to sit up, but Adam held on to her hips.

“What are you doing?” she squeaked and tried to kick him.

“Pleasuring you.” Adam dipped his head and licked her with a slow possessiveness that made her gasp and squirm. “Let me.”

He used his strength to hold her exactly where he wanted her and his tongue to tease her bud and lavish attention on her now-wet entrance. He added two fingers, widening her as he sucked her bud into his mouth and held her close. At first she struggled, and then his rhythm took her, and she moved awkwardly with him, pressing into each caress, her hands in his hair and on his shoulders, urging him on.

“I can’t…” she gasped. “Adam…”

He plunged three fingers into her and lightly grazed her bud with his teeth, and she came apart in his hands, her body clenching and releasing his fingers with a strength that made his cock as hard as iron, and him desperate to be inside her.

Changing position, he reared over her and thrust deep. She screamed into his mouth and climaxed again, making him close his eyes, hang on, and try not to come too soon. He didn’t need to tell her to touch him this time, she clung to him, her feet climbing his thighs to his arse, and her arms wound round his neck.

He held still until the last of her tremors disappeared and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, and her head turned away from him.

“Emily.” He cupped her chin. “Look at me.” She bit her lip, and he gently kissed her. “Look at me, lass.”

She slowly opened her eyes to reveal a mixture of passion and uncertainty that smote his heart.

“If you haven’t felt pleasure before it’s my fault,” he said firmly. “I promise to do better if you’ll let me.”

She nodded, her skin flushed from the abrasion of his stubbled chin, her lips swollen from his kisses. His cock kicked inside her, and he gathered her close.

“Hold on tight then, lass and let’s finish this together.”

Emily found her robe and wrapped it around herself before going to sit on the window seat in her dressing room, which looked out over the back garden. The first few times Adam had touched her she’d felt owned, as he’d claimed a physical connection with her that no one else had ever asked her for.

Now… She squirmed on the seat. What he’d done to her and how he’d made her feel was something else altogether. She couldn’t decide how she felt about it…

He’d certainly proved his point that there was pleasure to be had in a marriage bed for a woman, but at what price?

Now all she could think about was him touching her, taking her, turning her into a writhing mass of need that she already suspected would never quite go away. Having experienced such pleasure, how could she not seek it out again, and what power did that give Adam Blackthorn over her?

Chapter 8

Of course it was a Sunday, and Adam had not gone to the mill and had to be faced over the breakfast table along with a still-fuming Margaret, Lottie, and Emily’s mother. Emily helped herself to a good breakfast and sat as far away from her husband as possible. She’d put on a black gown with a high lace collar to cover the slight abrasions on her throat from his stubbled chin, but nothing could obscure the glow of satisfaction that emanated from her body.

“Good morning, Emily,” Adam said as she sat down.

“Good morning, sir.”

She caught his appreciative gaze on her and tried not to blush. There he sat, encased in his somber Sunday suit with a knowing smile on his face because he’d… She choked on her coffee. Done that to her.

How could she ever look at him again without remembering his mouth on her most intimate and private parts while she screamed and encouraged him?

“Are you all right, Emily?” her mother inquired. “You look like you are still asleep.”

“I’m quite well.” Emily lowered her head and started eating.

“Did you have difficulty sleeping?”

“She slept very well, ma’am,” Adam answered her mother. “In fact, she seemed remarkably tired after her exertions.”

Emily glared at him, and he had the temerity to wink when her mother looked away.

Margaret set her teacup down with a bang. “Lottie, the carriage will be here to take us to chapel very shortly. I suggest you go and put your bonnet on.”

“Yes, Margaret.” Lottie obediently stood and then looked back at her brother. “Are you coming, Adam?”

“I intend to accompany Mrs. Marsham and Emily to church this morning, Lottie.”

“Why?” Lottie asked, her expression puzzled. “I thought you had no time for the Anglican Church.”

Adam shrugged. “I have to attend so that the other mill owners see me there and understand that I am a man of principle just like they are.”

Margaret sniffed. “Much good that will do you. All they care about is whether you turn a profit.”

“Ultimately, yes, but as my wife pointed out to me, a lot of business is done in such social situations, and I would do well to appear at them.”

Emily noted that the amusement had gone from her husband’s face, and he was now focused on the success of his business. His ability to switch so swiftly from one aspect of his life to another was quite striking. It would be well for Emily to remember his priorities, even as she struggled with her own confused reaction to him in their personal life.

“I’d be interested to hear what our minister thinks about that,” Margaret said as she pushed in her chair. “No doubt you assume he’ll forgive you if you offer him a substantial sum for his church fund.”

“I expect he will,” Adam agreed, drawing a glare from his sister. “Please give him my regards.”

Margaret shut the door with somewhat unnecessary force after she and Lottie exited, making Emily’s mother wince.

“My daughter is right, you know, Adam. Mr. Marsham conducted a lot of business after church, and at his club. It is the way of the world now.”

“Your daughter is often right and is of great assistance to me as I come to terms with my new status in life. I consider myself a very lucky man.”

Emily went upstairs to put on her bonnet and find a new pair of gloves and promised to meet her mother down in the hall. Prudence awaited her and helped Emily secure her bonnet to her head with a few extra pins. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She was growing weary of black, but she had another few months to endure.

“Thank you, Prudence.”

She left her bedroom and almost collided with her husband in the corridor. He grabbed hold of her around the waist and held her still.

“Steady on, lass.”

She raised her eyes to his face and couldn’t look away.

“What?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, suddenly overcome with shyness. Being so close to him again, breathing him in, was doing the strangest things to her stomach.

He slowly lowered his head and kissed her, making her gasp. A second later she was pressed against the wall as he explored her mouth with a devastating slowness that made everything female in her come alive.

“Devil take it,” he murmured. “Now I want to take you to bed, and we have to go to church.” He took her gloved hand and pressed it to his groin. “And now I’m hard, which is not the look I need to impress my fellow mill owners.”

Emily didn’t move her hand away, and Adam groaned and pushed into her palm.

A polite cough behind him made him go still as he realized his elderly valet had come up the stairs. He would never get used to being surrounded by servants. He reluctantly released his wife and stepped away.

“I’ll see you down in the hall.”

She rushed away from him as if the house was on fire, her cheeks red, and he went into his dressing room followed by his valet.

“I’ll need my hat and gloves.” He informed his newly acquired servant. It felt strange telling someone what to do in a domestic setting. He still hadn’t decided how to get rid of the man.

“I have them right here, sir.”

“Thank you, Albert.” Adam imagined his upcoming hours in the church, concentrating his thoughts on the cold marble interior and not the lush curves of his wife. He hoped that the ride to church would prove chilly enough to make him decent to be seen in polite company.

Much to Adam’s surprise, Mrs. Marsham took it upon herself to introduce him to the congregation after the service. No one was likely to refuse the overtures of a recent widow who obviously approved of her husband’s choice of successor. Adam received the most cordial of receptions from several men who wouldn’t previously have given him the time of day. Several of their wives seemed delighted to make his acquaintance as well, and he soon found himself fending off social invitations, using the excuse of their mourning.

Throughout everything, Emily stood at his side, smiling and agreeable, and let her mother dictate the conversation around her. The only time she showed any animation was when she spotted Mrs. Harding, the bookkeeper, and excused herself from his side to go and speak to her and her family.

Curious to see her interaction, he approached quietly, admiring the openness of her smile and the eagerness on her face as she chatted. Touching his wife’s shoulder, he addressed himself to Mrs. Harding.

“I believe congratulations are in order, ma’am.” He bowed. “I’m Mr. Blackthorn, the new owner of Marsham Mills.”

Mrs. Harding took his hand and shook it, all the while assessing him, which amused him greatly. She was an attractive woman with a strong face and a direct gaze he imagined her future husband appreciated.

“Mr. Blackthorn. Emily said you were a good man, and as I have no reason to disbelieve her, I am glad to make your acquaintance.”

Her diction was as high class as Captain Grafton’s, belying her current station in life.

“Ma’am.” Adam bowed again.

“Perhaps you and Emily might care to have dinner with Captain Grafton and myself? I know you are in mourning, but this would be a private occasion.”

Adam repressed his instant denial and looked down at his wife, who had retreated into her calm, reserved self the moment he’d appeared beside her. “Would you like that, my dear?”

“If it pleases you.”

“Then we would be delighted.” He tipped his hat to Mrs. Harding. “Good day, to you, ma’am.”

He tucked Emily’s gloved hand in the crook of his arm and turned away only to bump right into Mr. Gardner and Eliza, who were accompanied by an unknown man.

“Ah, Adam, Mrs. Blackthorn.” Mr. Gardner smiled and gestured to his companion. “Have you met Mr. Kelly, our new teacher yet? He comes with excellent references from Edinburgh in Scotland.”

“Good morning, Mr. Kelly.” Adam nodded to the young man. “I’m glad we encountered you. My wife and I will be visiting your schoolroom next week to see what might be done to improve things to your liking.”

“That would be much appreciated, sir,” Mr. Kelly said. “Thank you.”

Mr. Gardner intervened to ask Emily a courteous question, leaving Adam staring at Eliza.

“I do hope you are well, Miss Gardner?”

“As well as can be expected.” She drew her cloak closed at the front. “I was surprised to hear that your wife is a champion of education.”

“She is certainly interested in helping the children in our mills succeed,” Adam said diplomatically. “Do you think the school needs updating?”

Her mouth thinned. “My father has been petitioning Mr. Marsham for the last three years for some form of help, so yes, of course I do.”

“I was unaware of that,” Adam replied.

“Margaret didn’t mention anything to you?”

“No.” He considered her. “But then, neither did you.”

She sniffed. “It was hardly my place to comment on your employer, was it?”

“Even though you knew I had some influence with him?” Adam asked. “I would have listened.”

Her smile was rather condescending. “That’s easy for you to say, now, isn’t it—seeing as you are in charge.”

“I don’t quite see—”

He stopped midsentence as Emily swung back toward him, her curious glance moving between him and Miss Gardner.

He smiled down at her. “Miss Gardner and I are old friends, and we often disagree about things, don’t we?” He looked at Eliza.

“We certainly don’t see eye to eye on anything these days,” she replied. “Once upon a time I thought we were on the same side, but those days have long gone.” She bobbed a curtsey and turned back to Mr. Kelly. “It’s getting late, and we have a long way to walk home.”

“We could take you up in our carriage if you don’t mind a bit of a squash,” Emily suggested.

“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Blackthorn, but we wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you.” Miss Gardner inclined her head a stiff inch. “Good day, ma’am.”

Adam said his goodbyes and watched the trio depart, Emily at his side.

“I think I know why she doesn’t like me,” Emily remarked and Adam tensed.

“Why is that?”

“Because of the state of the school. If she and her father tried to make my father keep his promise to fund it properly, then she probably has a fairly bad opinion of my family.”

Adam took her hand and placed it on his sleeve. How much of their conversation had she actually overheard? Should he explain that Eliza’s antipathy toward them both went deeper than that? Was it better to keep Emily in blissful ignorance? He was just starting to get to know her properly and gain her trust, and he was reluctant to share anything that might shake her faith in him.

“Shall we go and find your mother? I think it is starting to rain.”

After their midday meal, Adam excused himself to work in his study, and Emily settled in the drawing room with her mother and the Blackthorn sisters. Margaret stayed long enough to convey her continuing displeasure with Emily’s attempt to intrude on her personal concerns, before she returned to the chapel to help with the Sunday school run by a Mr. Jon Ford. Emily didn’t dare mention that Adam had already agreed to meet with Mr. Kelly in the upcoming week.

After Margaret departed, the atmosphere lightened considerably, and Emily even managed to coax Lottie into talking quite amicably with her. Her mother read the newspaper, commenting on the local stories that interested her and ignoring the headlines of political upheaval and unrest. Eventually she dozed off and sat back in her chair, snoring very slightly.

After a swift glance to make sure that her mother was truly sleeping, Emily put down her embroidery frame and regarded Lottie, who was turning the heel on a knitted sock.

“We met Mr. Gardner and Miss Gardner after church today. Adam introduced himself to the new teacher, Mr. Kelly, who accompanied them to the service.”

Lottie nodded. “I’d forgotten they attended that church, but I didn’t expect Mr. Kelly to worship there. From what Margaret told me he’s a Presbyterian.”

“Perhaps he went so that Mr. Gardner could make him known to your brother?” Emily suggested.

“Quite possibly.” Lottie frowned at her stitches, and Emily kept quiet while she counted. “Mr. Gardner is a very conscientious man.”

“So I understand.” Emily paused. “He said he’d known your family for years.”

“Yes, after Adam returned from boarding school because Father kept forgetting to pay his fees, Mr. Gardner offered to tutor Adam.” Lottie smiled. “Adam, of course, insisted on paying Mr. Gardner for his time, and did all sorts of odd jobs to come up with the necessary coin.”

“Was there a school in Millcastle at that point?”

“Only the village one, which barely taught children how to read and reckon.” Lottie sighed. “Adam used to go around to the Gardner’s house, and share lessons with Eliza.”

“Miss Gardner? The current village school teacher?”

“Yes.” Lottie looked down at her knitting again, her brow creased. “They became very good friends.”

Emily digested that interesting information. “Adam mentioned they’d known each other for quite a while.”

“Indeed, and he had quite a lot of explaining to do when he decided to marry you.”

Emily stiffened. “Was Adam expected to marry Miss Gardner?”

“I believe they considered themselves engaged.” Lottie shrugged, apparently unaware of the effect of her words on Emily as she battled with the intricacies of her knitting. “In truth, I’m surprised she is still speaking to him.”

“Miss Gardner was not overtly friendly toward either of us,” Emily said.

“Well, one can see her point. She’s almost thirty, and she’s still a spinster just like Margaret, and what hope is there for them now?” Lottie asked. “At least Adam can ensure that Margaret has an impressive dowry to tempt a man, but Eliza Gardner has nothing.”

Emily set her embroidery on the side table, and rose to her feet. “If my mother wakes up, will you tell her I’ve just gone to speak to Cook?”

“Of course I will.” Lottie barely looked up from her work. “I do hope there is lamb for dinner.”

“I’ll find out.” Emily left the room and went into the hall. She looked over at the study where her husband was ensconced and decided not to disturb him. After dutifully inquiring in the kitchen as to what was on the menu for dinner, she found her cloak and stout boots and walked out into the garden behind the house to think.

It was a cloudy afternoon, but it wasn’t raining, and the wind barely ruffled her skirts or hair. She trekked down to the bottom of the garden and stared out over the hills on the opposite side of the valley from Millcastle. She eventually sat on the stone bench beside the ornamental fountain.

Why hadn’t Adam told her that he and Miss Gardner had contemplated marriage?

The answer was so obvious that even she understood it. Her father had known Adam was an ambitious man willing to do whatever it took to succeed at the mill. Marrying Emily and gaining complete ownership of the business had obliterated all other considerations and commitments.

Here she was—married to the man—and there was nothing she could do to change that. Was it worth confronting him with her newfound knowledge? Would he care? And what could she possibly hope to achieve by bringing it up? He’d never claimed to be in love with her. They’d both known their marriage was an arrangement born out of tragedy and necessity.

But she’d thought he was beginning to care for her… Emily bit down hard on her lip. But was that even true? Perhaps he’d simply used his considerable experience to gain her willing cooperation in bed? Having a compliant wife—a woman who gazed adoringly at you and desired your touch—made her far more satisfactory and malleable than one who fought you at every turn.

Emily turned to look back at the house. Perhaps her mother had been right to suggest that giving in to the more carnal and sinful side of one’s nature made you more vulnerable after all…

Adam considered his wife’s averted profile as they ate dinner and wondered what exactly had occurred to change her from blushing bride to a distant statue. She was perfectly polite to him, answered every question he asked her, but something was missing. Had she scared herself with her passion? Women of her class were not encouraged to enjoy sex. If so, he would soon coax her out of her embarrassment and back into his arms.

He’d spent rather too much time imagining getting her into bed while he should have been working. But discovering her unexpected sensuality, and knowing she was his for the rest of his life, was remarkably uplifting considering how their marriage had started.

“I asked Reverend Wilcox if he would come and have tea with us this week, Ma’am, and he will be here on Tuesday.” Margaret was speaking to Mrs. Marsham.

“I don’t think I’ve met him,” Mrs. Marsham confessed. “John was not fond of dissenters. He believed they spread discontent among the workers.”

“By teaching them the scriptures and how to read and write?” Margaret sniffed. “With all due respect, Mrs. Marsham, such things are hardly revolutionary.”

“John said that teaching his workers to read and write gave them ideas about their station and led to discontent,” Mrs. Marsham stated. “And seeing as one of them brutally murdered my son—your fiancé, Margaret, I am surprised you are in favor of such things.”

“We might never know why that man killed Matthew,” Margaret said, “but I doubt his ability to learn to read had anything to do with it. Reverend Wilcox teaches from the Bible, how can anyone not want to learn from that?”

“Margaret does have a point, Mother,” Emily entered the conversation. “Surely a workforce that is more skilled is better for everyone?”

Mrs. Marsham dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I suppose so, dear. But then they demand higher wages, and John was not happy about that, either.” She glanced over at her daughter. “You might choose to argue your case with your husband, Emily, seeing as he is the one who will be making the decisions, not me.”

“I am more than willing to hear all sides of the argument,” Adam said. “And I have no issue with my workers being literate, even if it does give them ideas above their station.”

Margaret sat up straight. “And you will pay them what they are worth, won’t you brother? Even if you anger every other mill owner in the valley who keep wages low.”

“I’ll certainly not let a group of old men tell me what to do with my own business,” Adam agreed. “But I do have to turn a profit to keep you all in fine silks and laces.”

Mrs. Marsham rose to her feet. “I do not think John would like your plan at all.”

Adam tensed and stared at her as he, too, rose. “I am sorry about that, ma’am.”

She smiled. “There is no need to apologize. My husband was not always right, you know.” She glanced over at Lottie. “Would you come and help me search for my pink embroidery thread? It’s tangled up with the reds, and my eyes can’t tell the difference.”

“Of course I will.” Lottie immediately went over to Mrs. Marsham. “If you will excuse us, we’ll be in the drawing room.”

Adam resumed his seat and finished his wine in one long swallow.

“It appears that we agree on some points, Emily,” Margaret said stiffly.

“Indeed.” Emily faced Margaret across the table. “I did not agree with almost anything my father did. He was a bully and a tyrant.”

“We know what he was like, don’t we Adam?” Margaret shot a knowing glance at him. “He treated our father appallingly.”

“He certainly never had a good word to say about him,” Emily agreed. “In fact, the only person I heard him praise in the last year was the manager of Ravenhead Mill.”

“My brother.” Margaret sat back with a complacent smile. “I am glad you at least appreciate that.”

“How could I not?” Emily’s smile was a challenge. “He has even agreed to come and speak to Mr. Kelly about the school.”

“Oh?” Margaret turned to Adam. “You did not mention this to me. When is it to be? I will need to check my appointment book.”

Before answering, Adam transferred his attention to the port and poured himself a small glass. He had a sense that Emily was testing him, and he wasn’t sure he appreciated it.

“If you are busy, Margaret, you do not need to attend. I’m sure Emily and I will obtain all the information necessary to make a decision.”

“But I should be there,” Margaret insisted. “I am far more knowledgeable about the place than either Mr. Kelly or your wife.”

“As soon as I have settled on a time I will let you know,” Adam agreed.

“Thank you.” Margaret rose and offered him a brisk nod. “I appreciate your consideration.”

Adam waited until Margaret left the room before he turned to Emily, who wasn’t looking very pleased with him. “May I suggest that as soon as you know which day Reverend Wilcox is coming to tea we arrange our appointment with Mr. Kelly at the same time?”

“How very clever of you.” Emily regarded him through the flickering candles. “I can see why my father appreciated your talents.”

He shrugged. “I do my best.” He placed his napkin on the table and held out his hand. “Now, may I escort you into the drawing room where I’m fairly certain your mother will be dispensing tea?”

Emily rose, ignored his outstretched hand, and focused her gaze on the open door. “I’m rather tired, and I have a headache. I think I’ll go straight to bed.”

Adam halted and looked down at her with a frown. “You made no mention of feeling unwell earlier.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to alert you to every change in my health, sir. I’m sure you would quickly find that rather tedious.” She steadfastly refused to look at him. “Perhaps I might ask you not to disturb me when you come to bed?”

“As you wish.” He walked over to the door. Things were obviously even more complicated than he had anticipated. His mother had often used the same excuse to escape the attentions of his father. “Good night, my dear. I hope you feel better in the morning.”

He left her there and went into the drawing room, a curious sense of dissatisfaction enveloping him. He’d make sure the rest of his womenfolk were happy, and then go back to his study to work. If Emily were lucky, he’d fall asleep at his desk and not bother her at all.

Chapter 9

Adam turned a slow circle around the schoolroom and grimaced. The place was even worse than he had feared, and he berated himself for not paying attention to the matter beforehand. He’d been so busy rebuilding Ravenhead, and then attempting to take over the whole damn business, that he’d hardly ventured over to Marshams.

“Write me a list of everything you need to make this school successful,” he said abruptly to the schoolteacher. “Everything, and don’t worry about the cost, that’s my business.”

Mr. Kelly opened and closed his mouth twice before he managed to get a word out. “Thank you, sir. That is beyond my wildest imaginings. That you should believe in the education of the children in your employ is quite revolutionary.”

“Thank my wife.” He looked down at Emily who was listening attentively. “She’s the one who brought the matter to my attention.”

“Mr. Kelly did mention that providing the children with a hot meal before they begin their studies might both encourage attendance and increase the ability to learn,” Emily said.

Adam knew how it felt to be hungry and nodded in agreement. “I’ll talk to my under-manager here and see what we can do. I’d like to set up the same program at Ravenhead, Mr. Kelly. Perhaps you would be willing to advise me on that?”

“Yes, Mr. Blackthorn, I would indeed.”

“Good.” Adam offered the teacher a brisk handshake. “I’ll expect that list at your earliest convenience, Mr. Kelly.”

“Don’t worry, sir. I will get it to you without delay.”

“Thank you, and good day.” Adam went to open the door, and Emily followed him.

He placed her gloved hand on the sleeve of his coat. “I need to go and speak to Mr. Murphy in the office. It won’t take long.”

She nodded, the black feather on her bonnet dipping up and down. “As you wish.”

Adam was growing remarkably tired of that particular phrase. For the last few days, Emily had been the most dutiful wife in the world, and he didn’t like it one bit. He’d reached for her in bed one night, but her lack of response, and his distaste for coupling with a woman who clearly wasn’t willing, had him turning away again. At some point he would have to find the time to sit her down and have a frank discussion with her, but that would have to wait until Sunday when he had a few precious hours off.

“Mr. Blackthorn!” One of the managers Mr. Marsham had appointed came hurrying toward them. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Murphy.”

They went through the clerks’ room to the private offices beyond. Adam offered Emily a chair, but didn’t sit down himself.

“I’ve been speaking to Mr. Kelly, our new schoolteacher,” Adam addressed Mr. Murphy.

“And?” Mr. Murphy asked. “Is he still complaining? I’m sorry he’s been bothering you, sir. He’s been up here about twenty times in the last month alone. And what does he expect me to do about those lazy slobs who are forced to attend his school? There’s no point in trying to educate ignorant savages, and the parents resent the loss of wages.”

Adam studied the older man. “I’ve already told Mr. Kelly that the school will be greatly improved, and you have just given me another idea. If any child attends, they will be paid the same hourly wage as they receive in the factory.”

Mr. Murphy’s color rose alarmingly. “With all due respect, sir, Mr. Marsham wouldn’t have liked that at all.”

“Mr. Marsham is no longer in charge here, I am.” Adam held the manager’s furious gaze. “And while we’re still on the subject of the school, I want to look at the plans of the building where it is situated. I want to build a kitchen.”

Emily hid a smile as her husband demonstrated exactly why her father had deemed him a worthy successor. By the time Mr. Murphy had received his new instructions, the man was red faced and incoherent, his bluster gone in the presence of a far superior will. When he chose to do so, Adam Blackthorn was rather intimidating and not the sort of man one should cross.

Which made her personal struggle with him even more fraught with danger. At some point she would be pinned by his cool gaze, her arguments examined in minute detail and no doubt dismissed, and he’d move on and demand something else from her. His ability to be remarkably understanding one minute and like a steel trap the next was difficult to deal with. He’d been kindness itself to Mr. Kelly, and then blasted Mr. Murphy’s weak arguments into smithereens.

She sat quietly as her husband went into his own office, gathered up a stack of paperwork that awaited him there, and brought it out with him.

“Shall we go?” He raised an eyebrow. “I know you must be keen to meet Reverend Wilcox.”

“I’ve met him before,” Emily said. “Before my father died, I attempted to find out if there was anything I could do to assist at the chapel.”

“You did?” He looked down at her. “That was brave of you considering your father would not have approved.”

“He didn’t.” Emily kept her gaze on the upcoming doors and walked on. “When he found out, he slapped me so hard he bruised my face, and then he locked me in my room for a week.” She half-smiled. “Not that I would’ve been able to go out into polite company anyway, as I had a black eye.”

His fingers closed on her elbow, bringing her to a stop.

“He did what?”

She met his furious gaze. “I think you heard me, sir.”

“The bloody bastard.” His gaze was so cold that she wanted to look away. “Now I understand why you and your mother were always so scared of him.”

“Because we had reason to be.” Emily eased her arm away. “Shall we proceed? I’m sure you won’t want to keep the horses waiting in this weather.”

As they exited the building, a rush of women came out of the mill and headed for the open gates where a crowd of young children awaited them. Each woman grabbed the baby offered to her, breastfed it for a short while, and then handed it back to its young carer.

Emily wanted to look away, but forced herself not to. If her father hadn’t clawed his way up from the ranks, she would be working in the mill and probably resorting to feeding her own children like this.

Some of the women acknowledged Adam as they hurried back inside. Most of them simply ran past, their faces expressionless.

“Are you all right?”

Startled, Emily looked up into her husband’s face. “Yes, I’m just…” She gestured at the gate, which was now being locked again, and couldn’t find the right words. If she said what she felt, she had no idea how Adam would react. She’d learned from her father to keep her opinions close to her heart.

“I don’t like it either, lass,” he said simply. “At the moment, allowing them time to feed the little ones without loss of pay is all I can offer them if they want to work here.”

Emily watched some of the little girls shoulder their heavy burdens and walk back down toward the town. “There are children looking after children.”

“Aye. They can come up here and earn a wage from the age of eight, so that’s where the older ones are.”

Emily tried to imagine her eight-year-old self working a twelve-hour shift at the mill and shivered.

“It comes down to money,” Adam said. “Most of the mothers prefer the children to be here under their eye rather than running wild in the streets or getting caught begging or thieving.” He took her hand and led her away toward the waiting carriage. “I was fourteen when I started here myself.”

Emily stopped walking again. “You worked in the mill?”

His smile was a challenge. “Where else was I going to work? My father lost control of Ravenhead and killed himself, and my family needed to eat. We were lucky your father allowed us to stay in the mill house, or else we would’ve been in a much worse state.”

At his gentle urging, Emily continued toward the carriage, aware of the ground shuddering beneath her feet from the steam-powered engines servicing the mill. Her husband was a man of contradictions, and she didn’t know how to deal with that. His sympathy for the plight of his workers was not feigned, but he was also a realist who had attempted to explain to her how things were, and what, realistically, he could do about them.

He’d gone from a relatively cosseted life as the son of a mill owner to a dispossessed boy having to work in one of the mills to feed his family. It could hardly have been easy for him. Emily settled into the carriage, and Adam came in after her, dropping his armful of paperwork on the seat beside him.

He continued talking as they moved off. “I’d like to see legislation for the reduction of children’s hours and some form of mandatory education, but I suspect I’m in a minority in this town.”

“I should imagine you are,” Emily agreed as the factory gates were unlocked to allow their carriage to leave. “My father and his friends were vehemently opposed to any form of restricting their workforce.”

Adam glanced out of the grimy window. “It’s a common problem. Once you climb to the top of your particular dung heap, your instinct is to keep everyone else down.”

“That is exactly what Captain Grafton said at the Christmas Ball,” Emily said. “His contempt for my father and his companions was barely concealed.”

“Captain Grafton is an aristocrat,” Adam said. “He is a different breed all together.”

“I wish—” Emily sat forward and then stopped.

“What?” Adam asked.

“I wish the women and children didn’t have to work,” Emily completed her sentence in a rush.

“It’s a grand sentiment, lass, but I doubt it will ever come to pass.” Adam held her gaze. “If you needed to eat and put a roof over your head, you’d work wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, of course I would,” Emily conceded. “Just like Mrs. Harding had to do to protect her family.”

“Then all I can do as a mill owner is attempt to make that experience as bearable as possible while still turning a profit.” His smile twisted. “An impossibility, aye? But one that becomes more likely if more men get the vote and have a say in how the world is run.”

Emily blinked at him. “You believe that all men should have the vote?”

“Why not?” He shrugged. “We’re all the same under the skin.”

“What about women?” Emily asked warily.

“Aye.” He smiled at her. “If you want to terrify every man who currently holds power. I do not have an issue with it.”

“You are a very unusual man, then.” Emily fiddled with the fingers of her black gloves. “Almost a radical.”

“Possibly. Do you have time to look into setting up this kitchen at the mill, and any ideas where we might get the staff for it?”

“I’m not sure, but I am more than willing to find out.” She smiled at him. “It will be nice to have something useful to do.”

When they reached the house, Adam escorted her into the drawing room where Reverend Wilcox was still ensconced with another unknown man, and the rest of the family. He immediately excused himself, as he had work to do.

Emily went across to the reverend who smiled at her. “Miss Emily—although I gather that congratulations are in order as you have married Mr. Blackthorn now. He is a good man.”

“Indeed he is,” Emily agreed.

“May I introduce you to Mr. Ford?” Mr. Wilcox asked. “He is very involved with the chapel and Sunday school.”

Emily regarded the calm-faced man in front of her. “Mr. Ford. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I have long wanted to be involved in your endeavors and now have the ability to do so.”

“That’s very admirable of you, Mrs. Blackthorn. Miss Margaret has long been a supporter of our efforts and having another member of the family involved will be most helpful.”

Emily glanced over at Margaret and didn’t notice quite the same enthusiasm on her face.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew Reverend Wilcox, Emily,” Margaret said.

Emily sat down beside her mother. “I attempted to offer him my help while my father was still alive, but I wasn’t allowed to proceed.” She accepted the cup of tea her mother offered her. “Do you work at one of the mills, Mr. Ford?”

“I used to, but now I’m the bookkeeper for Captain Grafton—I should say Viscount Wesley.” He smiled. “I still can’t see him as an aristocrat.”

“You have taken over from Mrs. Harding?” Emily asked.

“Aye, although I suspect she will be looking over my shoulder for a long while yet.” Mr. Ford chuckled. “She has a head for figures that rivals Captain Grafton’s.”

“They are getting married soon, aren’t they?” Mrs. Marsham looked at Mr. Ford. “I know I have an invitation somewhere, but as I am in mourning I might not attend.”

Lottie patted her hand. “If you don’t choose to go, ma’am, I will stay and keep you company while Emily, Adam and Margaret represent us.”

“Such a sweet girl,” Emily’s mother murmured. “Such a comfort to me.”

For a moment Emily and Margaret’s gazes collided, and then they both looked away.

“Well, we should be going.” Reverend Wilcox stood up. “I have to unlock the hall for our evening activities, and Mr. Ford has to speak to his employer.” He turned to Emily. “Perhaps you might come and see me next week so we can discuss the matter of your participation further, Mrs. Blackthorn? There is also a vacancy on the board of governors for the village school that might suit you. I live right next door to the chapel.”

“That would be wonderful.” Emily nodded as the reverend and his companion said their goodbyes to all the ladies and departed.

Margaret poured herself some more tea. “It would’ve been nice if you’d mentioned that you already knew Reverend Wilcox, Emily. You put me in a remarkably awkward position.”

“How so?” Emily inquired.

“You made me look as if I didn’t know what was going on in my own family.”

“But we weren’t family then,” Emily reminded her. “So why would you know my past, and why would you think it reflected badly on you?”

“I remember when you told your father you were going to offer your help to Reverend Wilcox,” Emily mother’s interrupted them. “He was most displeased.”

“Yes, he was.” Emily unconsciously touched her cheek.

“So you gave up the idea?” Margaret sniffed. “One would have thought that if you were sincere in your efforts you would have shown more perseverance.”

“Emily obeyed the dictates of her father, just as any well-brought up young woman should,” her mother intervened. “And, as a married woman, her husband is the man she will turn to for advice as to her future response to such matters.”

“Adam is more than happy to encourage my charitable efforts,” Emily said. “He intends to set up a second school at Ravenhead.”

“What an excellent notion,” Lottie said warmly. “And how like him.” She smiled at her sister. “Perhaps if he offers a good wage, he could persuade Miss Gardner to come and teach there.”

“I hardly think she would accept,” Margaret countered with a wary glance at Emily. “She is quite well situated at the village school.”

The thought of Eliza Gardner working in close conjunction with Adam didn’t sit well with Emily. She suspected all Margaret’s apprehension was for her brother rather than any concern for her sister-in-law’s feelings.

“When do you next intend to visit Reverend Wilcox, Margaret?” Emily deliberately changed the subject.

“On Wednesday.”

“Then would you object if I accompanied you? I am very interested in what you and Mr. Ford have accomplished.”

“Mrs. Harding’s sister, Ruby Delisle also helps out quite a lot,” Margaret acknowledged. “She is something of a firebrand, though. She believes all men and women should have the vote.”

“And you do not?”

“I would be in favor of a small number of women—as in widows and spinsters over the age of thirty—having the vote,” Margaret said. “But not women such as yourself, Emily, who would merely vote as their husband or father tells them to.”

“Why would you think that?” Emily inquired.

“Because if you voted against their interests, your vote would cancel out theirs, and that is simply not acceptable.”

“To whom?”

“To the best interests of harmony within a marriage and a family.” Margaret gathered up the teacups and placed them on the tray. “I’m sure Mrs. Marsham agrees with me.”

“Indeed I do, although the very notion that any woman will get the chance to cast her vote in the future is pure fantasy.” Her mother gathered her shawl and stood up. “I’m going to speak to Cook. That mutton we had for dinner last night was appalling.”

Adam looked up as someone knocked on his study door and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was dark outside, and he hadn’t even noticed. Was Emily wondering whether he intended to eat his dinner with them? These days she had cause to wonder whether he inhabited the same house as she did, he was so busy.

“Come in.”

Margaret came through the door and peered at him through the gloom. “Did you forget to light the lamp?”

He attended to the one that sat on his desk as she tended to his fire, adding more coal to the dying embers. She wiped off her hands and came to stand in front of his desk, her frown deepening.

“You look worn out, brother.”

He shrugged. “There is a lot to do and a lot to learn, you know that.”

“Then perhaps you should mention it to your wife, as she seems—”

“Margaret.” Adam held up his hand. “I am not interested in hearing your current complaint about Emily.”

“She is attempting to interfere in my life!” Margaret stated. “Who else can I bring my concerns to except you, my brother and her husband?”

“To Emily herself?” Adam stared at her. “It is not like you to be backward in sharing your feelings and opinions, sister.”

“I’ve tried and she won’t listen to me. She insists on poking her nose in where it is not wanted.”

“Both of you have to adjust to changes in your circumstances.” Adam tried to be patient. “Emily has been denied the opportunity to be useful for too long, and I refuse to stop her from exploring and engaging with the world.”

“Ah, but how involved is she? I suspect this is just a passing urge to impress you.”

“I don’t agree.”

Margaret raised her eyebrows. “Did she tell you that she knew Reverend Wilcox? That she already tried to help out and then changed her mind the moment her father told her not to?”

“Aye, she did.” Adam met her gaze head-on. “Her father slapped her so hard he gave her a black eye and locked her in her room for a week. That’s why she didn’t persist.”

Margaret opened and closed her mouth. “Why didn’t she say that to me?”

“Possibly because it is none of your business.” Adam grimaced. “I should not have shared her confidence, but I am tired of you leaping to judge her when all she is trying to do is find a place for herself in society where she can be useful.”

Emily was doing the same as Margaret, but somehow his sister didn’t see the parallels between them. It also occurred to Adam that Emily complained far less about his sister than Margaret did of her.

Margaret didn’t speak for a long moment and then she nodded. “You are correct. I should not have been so quick to judge her in that particular instance.”

It was a grudging admission, but at least it was progress, and perhaps would make Margaret think before she argued with Emily again.

“I don’t want you and Emily at loggerheads, Margaret. I have enough on my plate. I don’t need to come home to another set of problems over my dinner.” Adam stood and pushed back his chair, his muscles aching as he attempted to straighten up. “I appreciate what you do for me and understand that your life and position here aren’t what you expected them to be, but I can’t change what happened.”

She bit her lip, and he went to her and drew her into his arms. “Come on, Margaret, love. Don’t give up on me now.”

“I will not.” She attempted a smile, kissed his cheek, and stepped away from him. “Now come and have your dinner. You look well ready for it.”

Chapter 10

Emily paused at the door of her husband’s dressing room and discovered he was in the bath, his head against the back rim of the metal tub as steam rose gently around him. Even as she studied him, his eyelids closed, and he slowly exhaled. He looked exhausted, the stark lines of his face and purple shadows under his eyes all the evidence she needed that he was working far too hard.

She pressed her fingers into the doorframe and considered retreating. She’d barely taken a step back when he spoke to her.

“Is there something you want, Emily?”

She paused and went forward again, hovering uncertainly near the bath, her gaze on the curve of his throat and the faint black stubble on his chin. Eventually she sat gingerly on the edge of the chair that held his clothes.

“I suspect that you have enough to worry about without me asking you for things,” Emily said. Awkwardly, she reached out and smoothed a stray lock of his black hair away from his forehead. “In truth, I am worried about you.”

His smile was wry. “I’m fine, lass.”

“You are not. You barely sleep, you work all the hours available, and you are barely home.”

“That’s why I’m successful.” He turned toward her, catching her in his stare. “Would you rather I failed?”

“No, of course not.” She hesitated, and lightly rested her fingers on his wet shoulder. “But if you continue to work at this pace, you will exhaust yourself and become susceptible to all kinds of diseases.”

“And then you’d be a rich widow, lass.”

She drew back her hand. “That is hardly fair. I didn’t agree with much my father said, but he did insist that running the mills took more than one man—that he could not do everything, and that finding good, talented, ambitious men, such as yourself, was the key to success.” Emily paused, but for once he didn’t interrupt her. “You cannot do everything.”

“I’m used to doing everything by myself,” he muttered. “I’ve never been given preferential treatment.”

“Which is why my father chose you as his successor,” Emily agreed. “But owning the mills and attempting to deal with every single element of their day-to-day running is impossible.”

He closed his eyes again and ducked his head beneath the water.

Realizing she had been summarily dismissed, Emily rose from her seat and marched back into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. Why had she even imagined that a man like Adam Blackthorn, a man her father had handpicked, would ever take advice from a woman? And he’d insinuated she was only concerned for his wellbeing for selfish reasons.

She retreated into her own dressing area and investigated her wardrobe, looking for a simple gown that would withstand the children at the chapel when she visited them tomorrow. When would she be able to stop wearing black? Was four months enough? She supposed she would need to consult her husband on that matter as well.

“Emily…”

She swung around to find Adam regarding her from the door of their bedroom. He had a towel around his waist, but apart from that he was naked and dripping water all over the carpet.

“I’m sorry.” He shoved a hand through his wet hair. “I’m not at my best. I do appreciate your concern for me.”

She nodded, holding the dress in front of her like a shield.

“I’m not… good at letting go of things.” He grimaced. “I need to think about that.”

Still quietly hurt by his assertion that she wished for his demise, Emily turned back to the cupboard and hung the dress up. She almost hoped he’d take the hint and leave, but he was nothing if not tenacious.

“Will you accept my apology?”

“Of course.” She smiled brightly at him. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and speak to my mother.”

Realizing that for once she held the advantage, as he was half-naked, she shut the cupboard and reversed direction until she escaped out into the corridor. She would spend an hour with her mother and then linger in the drawing room until she was certain that her husband had fallen asleep. If he didn’t choose to listen to her and chose to misinterpret her genuine concern, then she would leave him to it.

Lottie was quite happily entertaining her mother, so Emily went down the stairs, and entered the drawing room to find Margaret the sole occupant of the place.

“Ah, Emily.” Margaret glanced up from the letter she was writing. “I intend to go down to the Methodist Hall at three o’clock. Will that suit you?”

“Yes, of course.” Emily blinked at Margaret’s conciliatory tone. “That would be perfect.”

She took a seat beside the fire, pulled out her embroidery and attempted to reciprocate in kind. “Lottie is becoming a great comfort to my mother.”

“I noticed that, too.” Margaret put down her pen. “I believe she is enjoying the experience of living in such comfort and is anxious to prove her worth.”

“Her brother is the master here. She has no need to worry. Her position is secure, but it is very kind of her.” Emily picked up her needle. “I do feel somewhat unnecessary myself. When I mentioned it to my mother, she said my duty and time should be directed toward my husband and that she did not expect me to devote myself to her comfort.”

“Your mother is a very pleasant woman,” Margaret stated.

“She is, and she suffered greatly at the hands of my father, who bullied her, criticized her, and used his fists on her when he became enraged by some imaginary infraction to his endless rules.” Emily let out a breath. “In truth, she is blossoming without his presence, and I am delighted to see it.”

“She deserves to be happy,” Margaret agreed as she sealed the back of her letter. “Has Adam gone to bed?”

“He was in the bath when I last saw him. I hope he has decided to go straight to bed after he has finished.” Emily shook her head. “He is working far too hard.”

Margaret nodded. “I told him the same thing myself.”

“Well, I hope he paid more attention to you than he did to me,” Emily confessed. “He is a remarkably stubborn man, and I am very worried about him.”

“So am I.” Margaret regarded her steadily in the candlelight. “Perhaps we have finally found something we can agree upon, Emily Blackthorn. Now what can we do about it?”

Adam woke from a troubled sleep and rolled onto his side, his fingers outstretched to find no one beside him. With a groan, he checked the pocket watch he kept beside the bed. It was too early for him to get up for work, and he’d only been asleep for four hours.

Where the devil was his wife?

He got out of bed, retrieved his dressing gown, and set off on a tour around the suite, but there was no sign of Emily. Lighting a single candle from the embers of the fire, he ventured down the stairs and eventually found Emily asleep in one of the wingchairs in the drawing room. He set the candle on the shelf and stared down at her.

In sleep she looked so perfect he was reluctant to disturb her. Knowing she’d not to come to bed because of him made him pick her up and head toward the stairs. She barely stirred and settled her head under his chin as if she belonged there. He kissed the top of her head and kept walking until he reached their bedchamber where he deposited her carefully between the sheets.

“Adam…” she murmured, her arms still around his neck, holding him close.

“Aye.” He leaned in and kissed her soft mouth. “Who else?”

She kissed him back, her mouth opening under his like a flower, and he forgot all about being tired and the struggles that faced him on the morrow. Her fingernails scraped over his scalp, and he was instantly hard.

He climbed into bed beside her, their mouths still locked, and took her in his arms. She spread her thighs, making a place for him that he gratefully occupied. His fingers spanned her waist, reminding him that she was still fully clothed. He stifled a groan and knelt over her. His dress had about a thousand buttons to release but he quickly dispensed with them and then removed her corset and shift before sinking back down over her.

Her foot slid up the side of his thigh and he slipped his fingers between their bodies to caress and tease her most intimate flesh. She sighed into his mouth, her hips moving into the rhythm his fingers demanded until he could no longer hold back and he slid deep inside her. The hot, tight clasp around his cock made everything in him relax at some level he could not logically account for, but which meant everything.

“Mmm…” Emily hummed her satisfaction against his lips, and he began to move slowly and carefully, determined to enjoy every moment of their coupling. This made sense to him. This intimacy and closeness, as if being inside Emily made all his other problems fade away.

He continued to stroke her bud, and she climaxed, clenching and releasing his stiff member until he thought he might die of pleasure. He set his jaw and tried not to come, but she demanded everything, and he had to give in to her.

Eventually, he found the energy to roll over onto his back and bring her with him. She settled against his chest, her knee drawn up over his stomach, and went back to sleep.

Adam stared up at the canopy over the bed as his body hummed with satisfaction. He pushed all the other worries to one side and concentrated on the scent of their lovemaking, of the naked woman in his arms, and the sense of contentment she brought him. They might disagree about many things, but here, in the darkness and privacy of their bed, surely they were now equal partners in pleasure?

Emily wrote another item on her ever-lengthening list and glanced around the Methodist Hall. It was a Spartan structure with very little ornamentation. The members, who tended not to be the wealthiest in the town, had paid for its construction. Margaret was busy talking to Mr. Ford, who was listening to her intently, leaving Emily free to wander around and talk to the children.

The problem was that most of them didn’t want to talk to her. In truth, some of them look terrified, and she had no idea why. After the third group of children simply gawked at her, she went over to Mr. Ford, who had finished speaking to Margaret and was now setting out slates and desks for his evening class of mill workers who wished to learn to read and write.

“Mr. Ford?”

He looked up at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

Emily lowered her voice. “The children seem unwilling to speak to me.”

He put down the pile of slates and turned his body so that they were facing away from the room. “You’re new here, Mrs. Blackthorn. They’ll probably take a while to warm up to you.”

“It feels like more than that,” she confessed. “As if they actively… dislike me.”

“Do you think they might have reason to dislike you?” he asked, regarding her intently.

“Seeing as you just suggested that they do not know me, then probably not.” She hesitated. “Is it because I am married to Mr. Blackthorn, who owns the mills?”

“Mr. Blackthorn is well respected here, and so is Miss Margaret Blackthorn.”

“Which means it must be me.” Emily bit her lip. “I feel like I am failing a test I wasn’t aware I was taking. Would it be better if I did not come back?”

“That’s up to you, Mrs. Blackthorn.” He paused. “Perhaps if you continue to appear, the children and their parents will eventually forget that you used to be a Marsham.”

Emily held his quiet gaze. “One would think, seeing as my brother was murdered by one of their own, that they might have some sympathy for me.”

“Mr. Matthew Marsham was—” He abruptly stopped speaking as Margaret rejoined them. “There you are, Miss Blackthorn. I was just explaining to Mrs. Blackthorn that the children might be a little shy with her for a while.”

“They might well be, and rightly so.” Margaret nodded. “You are the wife of the mill owner, who is a much respected figure.”

Emily nodded, but kept her attention on Mr. Ford. Before Margaret had interrupted him, something in his expression had alarmed Emily. What had he been going to say about her brother? She was well aware that Matthew had done little to endear himself to the mill workers, but was there more?

“Emily, we should be going. Mr. Ford has a lesson to prepare for,” Margaret said.

“Yes, Margaret.”

Emily folded up her list and put it in her reticule, her mind busy. Perhaps if she persisted, she might get to know the children better, and their dislike of her would fade. The thought of failing—of Margaret telling Adam that Emily had given up too easily again stuck in her craw. She wanted to help the children of Millcastle and she refused to be deterred.

She shook Mr. Ford’s hand as Margaret turned away to say goodbye to the children. “Thank you for allowing me to see your work, sir. It was most educational. I will consult with Mr. Blackthorn, but I am fairly certain that he will agree with my ideas and sanction the costs.”

“Thank you for coming, Mrs. Blackthorn.” He smiled down at her. “I hope you do decide to continue your visits.”

He escorted them to the door and shut it behind them to keep the heat in as Margaret stepped outside into the gathering dusk followed by Emily. The carriage awaited them in front of the Methodist chapel, which sat to the side of the squat hall.

Emily had almost reached the carriage, and Margaret was already inside, when something sharp struck Emily’s face, making her gasp. A hail of stones followed, and she tasted her own blood.

“Go home!” someone yelled from one of the dark side streets. “Murderer! Stay away!”

“Emily!” Margaret grabbed Emily’s elbow and hauled her into the carriage. “What happened?”

Emily pressed her hand against her bloodied cheek, and her vision blurred. Margaret commanded the coachman to move off and make all haste for home. By the time they arrived, Emily was oddly calm and descended from the carriage by herself. Ignoring the shocked questions from her butler and Margaret, she took herself up the stairs into her bedchamber and locked the door behind her.

In the welcome silence, she removed her bonnet and sat at her dressing table. The white face staring back, marred by the ragged and bloody cut on her left cheek didn’t even look like her. At least her black dress had obscured the blood dripping down her neck. When Matthew had died, her sprigged muslin gown had been ruined...

The servant’s door into the bedroom opened, and Prudence came in, a bowl of water in her hand and a shocked expression on her face.

“Oh my goodness, ma’am! Let me help you!”

Emily sat patiently while Prudence cleaned the cut and helped her out of her soiled black dress and into another one. Her maid suggested Emily might wish to lie down, but she wasn’t sure if she could find the energy to move from the spot, so she shook her head.

“Let me get rid of this dirty water, ma’am, and I’ll be right back.” Prudence curtsied. “Your mother and the Blackthorn ladies wish to speak to you. Shall I let them in now?”

Emily forced herself to speak. “No. I don’t wish to see anyone. In fact, I might have a nap after all, so you don’t need to return.”

Prudence opened her mouth as if to object, and then seemed to think better of it. “As you wish, ma’am. I’ll tell them all that you are quite well and that you are resting.”

When Prudence left, Emily sat down in one of the chairs beside the fire. She couldn’t bear looking at her reflection any more, and she was terribly cold.

A while later, there was another disturbance, and this time her husband entered the room. He came straight over, paused and looked down at her, before sinking to his knees and taking her hand.

“Are you all right, Emily?”

She swallowed against a sudden swirl of nausea and pressed her lips together as hard as she could, which made her cheek throb.

Adam swore under his breath, picked Emily up, and sat her on his lap. She didn’t lean back against him, but sat bolt upright, her spine rigid. Dear God, she looked like a wax doll, her expression so absent that he was terrified she would never come back to him.

There were a hundred questions he wished to ask, but he bit them back. Her current wellbeing was far more important than finding out which bloody miscreant had dared to attack his wife. He took one of her cold hands in his, held it tight, and waited.

After a long while, when he had begun to believe she might never speak to him again, she slowly exhaled and finally met his gaze. He winced as he observed the damage to her face. Someone had thrown something sharp enough to break her skin, and she would have an ugly bruise tomorrow. He’d been infuriated by the idea that her own father had once blacked her eye and now here he was—her husband—unable to stop someone inflicting damage on her.

He risked a question. “Would you like me to send for your doctor?”

“No, thank you.” She brought her hand to her face and gingerly touched her cheekbone. “It will be fine.”

He silently agreed with her. He’d seen far worse cuts that had healed perfectly on their own.

“I am sorry I was not there to protect you,” Adam said.

“I’m not a child, Adam, and this was hardly your fault.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I’m the owner of Marshams Mills. There are many people who resent that.”

“But I don’t think it had anything to do with you,” Emily said politely. “They knew that I was a Marsham.”

He searched her face; her calm replies were worrying him more than her previous silence.

“You think that mattered somehow?” he asked as a hundred awful possibilities flashed across his mind. “I assumed you were just… unfortunate.”

“Oh, no, it was quite deliberate,” Emily said. “The children were wary of me from the start. Mr. Ford tried to tell me that they were just being shy, but I’m not stupid.”

“Do you think it was one of the children who threw the stones at you?” Adam asked. “If so, I will be speaking to Reverend Wilcox and demanding an explanation.”

“Please don’t do that.” She placed her palm flat on his coat like a supplicant. “I don’t know who it was; they were hidden in one of the side streets.” She hesitated. “Perhaps you are right, and I was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That’s not what I said.” Adam held her gaze. “I am not doubting your account in the slightest. If you think it had something to do with your name being Marsham, then you are probably correct.”

“My father certainly wasn’t popular.” Emily grimaced. “And neither was my brother.”

Adam tensed as she studied him closely and continued speaking.

“Do the children have good reason to hate me enough to injure me and call me a murderer?”

“You? Of course not,” Adam said firmly. “Now, do you feel well enough to eat something, or could you bear to see your mother? She is extremely anxious as to your wellbeing.”

She regarded him for a long moment. “Is there something I should know, Adam?”

He began to deny it, but she pressed her fingers to his lips.

“Please don’t lie to me.”

He tried to think of a way to offer her the truth without going into too much detail.

“Your brother was in charge of maintaining the safety of the looms and engines at both mills.”

“I didn’t know that.” Emily winced. “I suspect he was not very good at it either.”

Adam agreed, but he didn’t say it out loud. He was too busy thinking his way through his explanation. “There are always… incidents and accidents in a weaving shed. Ravenhead had its share of them, being the oldest of the mills. In the last six months, there were several problems. I suspect some of the blame for those accidents fell on your brother.”

There was silence as she studied his face. “The workers blamed him?”

“Some of them.”

“Enough to kill him?” Emily asked.

His wife wasn’t stupid; he should’ve remembered that. “I can’t answer that, lass.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “So as Matthew and my father are dead, that blame has been transferred to me.”

He didn’t say anything, but she was wise enough to understand why.

“I don’t want to spend my life being afraid,” Emily whispered. Adam wrapped her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder. “For the first time in my life I have the means and freedom to help people, and then this happens. I wonder if I am doomed to stay in this gilded prison forever?”

“I’ll make sure you’re safe, lass.”

“But it’s not up to you.”

He didn’t really know how to answer her. His instincts told him to lock her up tight until he could be assured there was no longer any threat to her. All he could do was quietly investigate what had happened and make sure everyone knew he would not tolerate any further attacks on his wife. But he was also aware that he couldn’t possibly be by her side at all times and that the mood in the town and in the country was ugly.

As if anticipating the direction of his thoughts, Emily straightened and looked him in the eye. “I won’t allow them to stop me, Adam, and I hope you aren’t going to order me to stay home and mind my own business.”

“I’d never do that.” He was under no illusions that women were delicate flowers. He’d seen the strength in his mother and sisters, the women who worked the looms, and most recently in Emily.

“Thank you.” She nodded. “Then perhaps I should come down to dinner and you can make sure my mother and your sisters understand that I will be continuing my visits to the mill school and my work at the chapel hall.”

He kissed her nose. “That’s my girl.”

She smiled for the first time and got off his lap, giving him ample opportunity to admire the determination in her expression. She might look fragile, but he was rapidly learning that his wife had a quiet, steely determination that matched his own.

“Emily, lass, wake up, you’re safe, I promise you.”

She came awake with a gasp and scrabbled against the hard hands holding her in place. Her husband instantly released his grip, but he didn’t move away.

“You were having a nightmare.”

She blinked at him and then sat up, dislodging the bedclothes as she turned to him and frantically patted his bare chest and broad shoulders. “I was dreaming about Matthew’s death. When I looked up from his wounds, I saw your face. You were bleeding, and I couldn’t stop it.”

He slid a warm hand behind her neck, holding her still. “It was just a dream. I’m fine. Pet me all you like.”

She drew a shuddering breath as he lay down on his back and spread his arms wide. “See?”

Emily hiked up her nightgown, straddled his hips and leaned down to place her mouth over the pulse in his throat. She closed her eyes and just breathed in the smell of him, let herself feel that his heart was thumping away in his chest. He didn’t touch her, but just let her stay where she wanted to be—needed to be, inhaling him like the very air she required to stay alive.

Still not fully awake, and unwilling to be so, she licked his skin, and he shuddered beneath her, making her aware of the rigid length of his member pressed against her belly. She scratched her nails down over his shoulders, and he murmured his approval.

“Do what you want, lass. I’ll not break. I can promise you that.”

She considered him in the moonlight, still too desperate to fall back to sleep and encounter her demons, but unsure of what exactly she could do with the warm, living, breathing man beneath her.

“You can have me like this.” He touched her hip, making her shiver as her mound brushed against his shaft. “You can take me inside you and have your way with me.”

She reached between them and touched the hot throb of his member. He arched his back and pressed into her hand.

“Aye, like that,” he breathed. “But take off your nightgown, let me see you.”

She drew her nightgown over her head and stared down at him. His gaze lowered to her breasts and he cupped them in his hands.

“Beautiful.” He leaned forward and tasted her nipples, which were already hard and begging to be touched. “God…”

He placed his fingers over hers and gripped his shaft around the base to draw it away from his taut belly. “I’m wet and hard for you, lass. Do you want me?”

Keeping one guiding hand at her hip, he drew her up onto her knees, his other hand holding his shaft, and gently brushed the head against her entrance. “Here, see? Come down over my cock and ride me.”

Suddenly understanding, Emily rocked her hips and took the first inch of him inside her, gasping at the unfamiliar sensation, and unsure how to proceed when he felt so large.

He shifted his position slightly so that he was leaning against the headboard and went deeper.

“Steady now, no need to rush, is there, lass? We have all night.”

His callused thumb touched her bud and she jumped as he stroked her so gently that she rocked into each subtle caress, no longer caring that her naked breasts were swinging in his face and that he was gradually penetrating her with each desperate tilt of her hips. Why did he feel so much bigger like this? And why was it so intoxicating?

“Adam.” She closed her eyes and reached for his shoulder, needing something to hold onto.

He briefly clasped her fingers. “I’m here, Emily. I’m not going anywhere. Take whatever you want from me.”

She moaned as he leaned in and sucked her nipple into his mouth, echoing the rhythm of her hips as she took him deeper and deeper, until she ached from it but never wanted it to stop. His fingers continued to play with her bud until it became almost too much, and she strained against him, chasing what she knew awaited her with every breath.

“Ah…” She breathed out and bit his shoulder as pleasure consumed her. This was real. This was no dream. His thick shaft still within her, the harshness of his breathing, and the taste of his skin meant they were both alive.

He held her over him, one hand clamped on her hip as if determined that she should experience every last drop of desire even if it killed him, his face buried between her breasts, his body taut.

“I need—” He somehow reversed their positions without disconnecting their bodies. Emily found herself on her back, her knees spread wide over his elbows, opening her to him even more.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and bit his ear. “Yes. Please.”

His groan made her smile as he gathered himself and thrust hard and fast. She closed her eyes and just held on as her body reacted to his demands with a slow, inevitable climb to yet another level of excitement she hadn’t known existed. There was nothing else now except his body locked with hers, his whispered words of encouragement, of profanity, of worship, as he pounded into her so that she forgot her terror and let him give her everything. Her second climax caught her by surprise and she screamed, thrashing against the pillows as he followed her over into ecstasy. He barely managed to hold himself clear of her as he came, his muscular arms braced with tension, his face a mixture of sublime joy and a vulnerability that shook her to her core.

When he finished, he rolled to one side groaning, and Emily moved across to lay her hand on his chest.

“You’ve worn me out, woman,” he breathed.

Emily put her ear to his chest and listened to the rapid beat of his heart. He was alive, he was with her, and he’d offered himself to her so completely that she was no longer afraid to go to sleep. Even as she thought about that gift, her eyes closed, and she drifted off to the sound of his ragged breathing.

Chapter 11

“Welcome to Grafton Hall.”

Emily tried to conceal her awe at the sumptuous surroundings as Caroline Harding came toward them, her hand outstretched and a smile on her face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Harding.” Adam bowed.

Luckily, Adam had the composure to reply while Emily was still gawping at the magnificence of Captain Grafton’s country house. She knew he was a Viscount, but she hadn’t expected such wealth and grandeur.

Mrs. Harding continued speaking to Adam as Emily removed her bonnet. “We haven’t asked any other guests. It will just be the four of us.”

“It was very kind of you to invite us,” Adam replied as he handed his hat and cloak to the butler.

Mrs. Harding turned to Emily, and then frowned. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, Emily, but were you injured?”

Emily brought her hand up to the slight bruise that was all that remained of the cut she’d received two weeks earlier. “It was nothing, truly. Just an accident.”

She caught the wary glance Caroline threw Adam’s way as they proceeded along a corridor lined with portraits and paintings and into a small room with silk-lined walls toward the rear of the huge house.

“Captain Grafton will be with us shortly,” Caroline announced. “He was going over the monthly accounts for the estate, and he does tend to be rather particular.”

“As I am that way myself, ma’am, I can easily accept his excuse and his absence.”

Adam smiled. He looked very fine in his new evening clothes, although he had refused to venture far from his favorite black and white. Emily had persuaded him to wear a waistcoat that had silver embroidery on the dark grey fabric and he still appeared dubious about the decision, claiming he felt like a gaudy bird.

Mrs. Harding took a seat near the fire and gestured for Emily to join her, while Adam walked over to look out at the extensive grounds.

“Captain Grafton and I haven’t decided whether we will make this our main residence, or whether we should buy something else in Millcastle.”

“Don’t you already own a house there?” Emily asked.

Caroline nodded. “Yes, I do, but it is quite small.”

“Are your mother and sisters intending to stay in Millcastle?”

“I’m not sure. Ruby is very involved with the Methodist Chapel and doesn’t wish to move, whereas my mother and Ivy are strongly inclined toward residing in the peace and quiet of the countryside.”

Having always lived in Millcastle, Emily suspected that quietness would make her nervous. She wondered if Adam felt the same.

“It is a beautiful house.” Emily could at least agree about that part. “I suspect you could move half of Millcastle in here and never notice them.”

Caroline laughed. “I would agree with you, but I suspect Francis would not approve.”

“Approve of what?” Captain Grafton spoke from the doorway. He’d donned his evening clothes, but didn’t look quite as well turned as Adam. He came over to kiss Emily’s hand. “Good evening, ma’am.”

“Captain Grafton,” Emily said doubtfully. “Or should it be, my lord?”

“Don’t concern yourself with that nonsense, ma’am. Captain Grafton will do perfectly well.” He turned toward Adam. “Mr. Blackthorn. I’ve heard a lot about you from your fellow mill owners over the past few months, none of it good.”

“I’m glad to hear that, sir.” A slight smile crossed Adam’s face as he shook his host’s hand. “Nothing like upsetting the apple cart by disproving a few long-held beliefs about wages and other matters and still turning a higher profit than the doubters.”

Captain Grafton smiled in return “You sound like a man who plows his own furrow, Mr. Blackthorn. I appreciate that.” He turned to the footman, who had followed him into the room with a silver tray of drinks. “Would you like some refreshment? Dinner will be served very shortly.”

It didn’t take Emily long to relax and enjoy the meal as Adam proved more than capable of holding his own against the acerbic and somewhat arrogant Captain Grafton. She’d forgotten her husband had attended a public school until he was fourteen, and was probably more used to mingling with the aristocracy than Emily was.

She was also surprised that Captain Grafton paid equal attention to Caroline’s contributions to the conversation, and even listened when Emily hesitantly offered an opinion. She’d grown used to Adam respecting her views, but it was encouraging to find another man who did not discount her worth simply because of her sex. In her father’s world, such men were surely few and far between.

Caroline was very interested in Emily’s plans for the mill school and suggested that Emily speak to her sister, Ruby, who was heavily involved in charitable work with the Methodist Chapel.

“Ruby is the most forthright of Caroline’s sisters,” Captain Grafton remarked. “She considers it her moral duty to regularly lecture me on my responsibilities to my tenants, and the town in general.”

“Then we will probably get along well, sir,” Emily replied. “Is it true that you are building new homes for the residents of Three Coins?”

“Yes, Three Coins will become the site for the new passenger railway station and a fine hotel.” Captain Grafton nodded and then turned to Adam. “I am hoping you intend to go through with your plan to build a third mill on the east of the town. If you do, you will have many willing workers, as that is where my new properties will be built.”

“So I understand,” Adam said. “I haven’t decided whether to proceed at this point. I am still getting the books for Ravenhead and Marsham in order.” He grimaced. “My late father-in-law’s style of accounting was something to behold.”

“Did he leave you in debt?” Captain Grafton asked bluntly.

“No, but his business practices were somewhat outdated and relied on a system of gentlemen’s agreements and handshakes that won’t work in our ever-expanding markets. I don’t intend to run my business like that.”

“Which is why you will continue to make a profit,” Captain Grafton murmured. “And offend all around you. What accounting measures are you using now?”

Caroline glanced at Emily. “I can see that this discussion is going to turn to matters that don’t interest me. Would you care to come to the drawing room and have some tea, Emily?”

Emily doubted her hostess wouldn’t enjoy such a discussion, but appreciated her consideration for her guest.

“That would be lovely.”

Captain Grafton caught Caroline’s hand as she went past him and kissed it. “I promise I won’t be too long, my love.”

“You’d better not be, or I shall come and fetch you.” She mock-frowned at him, obviously not scared of him at all, which, considering his ferocious reputation, surprised Emily considerably.

She followed her hostess out into the vast entrance hall and then up the stairs into a lovely suite of rooms with delicate painted walls, gilded furniture, and an enormous four-poster bed.

Caroline threw her arms wide. “This is the mistress of the house’s suite. Isn’t it splendid? I’m not sure I will ever feel comfortable here even after my marriage. It is bigger than Madame Louise’s entire dress shop.”

“It is rather magnificent,” Emily agreed. “I feel as if I am in a palace.”

“Perhaps now that you are married, you can persuade Mr. Blackthorn to take you to London to see a real palace,” Caroline suggested as she showed Emily where she could use the facilities.

After washing her hands and checking her reflection in the mirror, Emily rejoined her hostess in the bedchamber. She was sitting in the window seat looking out over the gardens and gestured for Emily to join her.

“I know we haven’t been particularly close in the past, Emily, but I do hope you know you can tell me anything,” Caroline said carefully.

“About what in particular?” Emily asked.

“Did, Mr. Blackthorn hit you? Is that why your cheek is bruised?”

“No!” Emily blinked at her. “He would never do such a thing.”

Caroline let out a breath. “I’m glad, because Francis has taken a liking to your husband and that is very unusual. I would hate to have to tell him to break off the connection.”

“I was visiting the Methodist Hall and someone threw stones at me,” Emily explained. “One of them hit my cheek.”

“Good gracious me!” Caroline said. “I think Ruby mentioned something of the sort to me last week, but I never imagined it had happened to you. Why on earth would anyone do that?”

“Because I was a Marsham, and, according to my husband and others, the workers might have good reason to hate me.”

“Oh, my dear.” Caroline took Emily’s hand. “How unfair. Is there anything we can do to help? Can Mr. Blackthorn find the culprits and deal with them?”

“He’s certainly tried.” Emily sighed. “I’ve been back to the hall on three occasions since then, and I haven’t encountered any further hostility. I hope it was just an isolated incident.”

It had taken all her resolve to accompany Margaret on her next visit. She’d muddled through, aware that some of the children were whispering about her bruised cheek, and also that Mr. Ford had done his best to support her throughout her ordeal.

“I’ll speak to Jon Ford,” Caroline said. “He is supposed to be in charge of the programs to educate the children and will probably know who the offender might be.”

“Please don’t.” Emily touched Caroline’s sleeve. “The last thing I want is for a child to be accused of something so minor and end up in court being convicted and transported for life. I would never forgive myself.”

“You have a point,” Caroline conceded. “Having dealt with the justice system in Millcastle myself, I have no confidence in their ability not to do exactly as you forecast.”

“I am sure that as I become better acquainted with the children, both at the chapel school and at the mills, their opinion of me will change for the better,” Emily reassured her companion. “Adam is very much respected by his workforce.”

“So I have heard.” Caroline considered her. “And is he a good husband?”

“Yes,” Emily nodded. “Even though I didn’t choose him, he is a good man.” She blushed, thinking about him naked in her bed. “A very good man.”

“Did you have any acquaintance with him at all before you married him?”

“I knew of him, but only in a vague way. My parents did not consider his father a good influence or a competent businessman, so the family was not invited to our house except on formal occasions. After Mr. Blackthorn’s death, the only concession my father made was to allow the family to continue to live in the mill house and let Adam work at the mill.” Emily smiled. “Everything else Adam achieved by his own hard work until my father, impressed despite himself, eventually promoted him to run Ravenhead.”

Caroline touched Emily’s hand. “This is all very admirable, but I was thinking more that it must have been difficult for you to start a physical relationship with a man who had presumably never courted you or kissed you.” She hesitated. “Forgive me, I know that you have a mother, but I remember how blissfully ignorant I was about what went on in a marriage bed, and what a shock it was to discover that my first husband had no concern for me other than as a body he owned, and could do with as he wished.”

“My mother told me to… endure,” Emily confessed. “And not to make Mr. Blackthorn angry.”

Caroline shook her head. “My husband told me that my enthusiasm for copulation was unwomanly.”

Emily opened and closed her mouth and then blurted out, “My mother said that pleasure was for mistresses and whores, and that wives were for breeding.”

“And do you still believe that?” Caroline asked gently.

“No, because Adam…” Emily felt her cheeks heat even more. “Taught me otherwise.”

Caroline laughed and hugged her hard. “Thank goodness for that. I do believe I will learn to like Mr. Blackthorn very well indeed.”

Captain Grafton passed Adam the port and then poured himself a glass. Adam had a sense that he was being thoroughly examined and judged by the man sitting opposite him, but did not find the sensation untenable. He’d been judged all his life for being the son of a drunken wastrel. He had always enjoyed proving his doubters wrong.

“May I ask what happened to Mrs. Blackthorn’s face?”

Adam blinked at the directness of the question and replied in kind. “I didn’t give her a clout, if that’s what you’re implying. Someone decided to take out their anger on her when she was visiting the children at the Methodist Hall and threw stones at the carriage.”

Captain Grafton grimaced. “Someone who blames her for what happened at Ravenhead, even though it was entirely her brother’s fault?”

“You know about that?” Adam sat up straight.

“I have many tenants who work at your mills, Mr. Blackthorn. I hear all sorts of gossip.” Captain Grafton shrugged. “As I understand it, many people think Matthew Marsham got what he deserved.”

“And my wife is not one of them,” Adam interjected. “She is unaware of exactly what happened to ‘provoke’ the murder, and I have no intention of prolonging her grief by telling her at this time.”

Captain Grafton raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

“It is merely a suggestion.” Adam didn’t back down.

“I can’t stop Caroline from confiding in your wife.” Captain Grafton sipped his brandy. “And I would caution you that attempts to conceal the truth are rarely successful.”

“I am aware of that. But. I’d rather be the one to tell her the truth, when I deem it safe to do so.”

“Do you think she’ll go after the killer?”

“She might.” Adam smiled despite himself. “She is a lot stronger than you think.”

“Amen to that.” Captain Grafton held up his glass and then drank deeply. “My Caroline is not averse to holding my feet to the fire when necessary.” He refilled his glass and offered Adam the decanter. “Now we have established that you aren’t a wife-beater and that you hold your wife in high esteem, shall we talk about your new mill, and how we can both continue to turn a profit?”

Adam shut the door of the carriage and took the seat next to his wife.

“That was a very pleasant evening indeed,” Adam stated.

Emily hadn’t bothered to put her bonnet back on, and her blond hair was gleaming in the moonlight like silver thread.

“You and Captain Grafton seemed to get along very well.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close against his side, anchoring her against the rock and sway of the carriage.

“You sound surprised by that.”

“By all accounts, he is a very difficult man. My father didn’t like him at all, yet felt forced to make him welcome within the business community because of his wealth and status.”

“We found much to agree upon,” Adam said. “He is certainly a blunt speaker, but I cannot find fault with his business practices, or his proposals for the area around the new mill.”

“Do you think you will go ahead with it, then?” Emily asked.

“As soon as I have Ravenhead and Marshams working at full capacity and the finances to cover it, yes.”

She smoothed her hand over the lapel of his coat. “You sound very certain.”

“I am.”

Her chuckle made him look down at her.

“What is it, lass?”

“You.” She poked him in the chest. “Taking on the likes of Captain Grafton and the rest of the men in Millcastle without a qualm.”

“Oh, I still have my doubts, and there are many things that might go wrong along the way to alter my plans, but I’m fairly confident we will be able to expand soon.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I hope you won’t mind being the wife of a very rich man. Perhaps I’ll buy you a country estate. I hear there are a lot of them going cheap these days.”

She laughed out loud. “And maybe a title to go with it? I quite fancy being Lady Blackthorn.”

“Why not?” He sat her on his lap, glad to see her smiling back at him. “With a bloody great tiara on your head and the rest of you dripping in diamonds.” He paused. “Maybe nothing else…”

“Adam!” she gasped. “You—”

He kissed her until she kissed him back, molding her body against his, and murmured in her ear, “I’d lay you down on my bed in all your naked finery, kiss every inch of your skin, and then make love to you for hours.”

She eased away, her cheeks flushed. “It would not be very comfortable.”

He kissed her nose. “You’d be too busy screaming my name to worry about that, lass.”

“I was thinking about you,” Emily protested. “Diamonds are hard.”

“And, as other parts of me would be harder, I doubt I’d give a damn about the inconvenience until I’d satisfied you.” He kissed her again, lingering to capture her lip between his teeth. “That might take a while, eh?”

She shivered as he nuzzled her throat, appreciating the low neckline of her evening dress that almost bared her shoulders. He cupped her breast, sliding his thumb inside the bodice of her gown to tease her nipple.

“This is hardly seemly,” Emily breathed against his lips. “We are in a moving conveyance. Perhaps you should wait until we are home.”

“I could do that.” He scraped his fingernail over her now hard nipple. “Or you could put that lesson I gave you the other night to good use, straddle my lap and take me inside you?”

She looked up at him, her gaze half amused and half appalled. “And what if we arrive home and the coachmen opens the door to find me, us… doing that?”

Adam chuckled. “If he values his job, he’d quickly get back on his box and take us around the house again.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“I don’t know what that means, lass, but if you say so.” He took her hand and pressed it to the front of his trousers where his cock was hard and ready for her. “Mmm… that feels good, doesn’t it?”

She removed her hand and fixed him with her stare. “I would prefer to investigate it further in the privacy of our bedchamber.”

“Investigate it?” He kept hold of her fingers. “Perhaps you might consider kneeling at my feet, unbuttoning my trousers and taking me in hand?” The slight catch of her breath made him dare to go further as he sucked one of her fingers into his mouth. “Perhaps you might do this to me?”

She blinked at him. “Suck?” Her mouth formed a perfect O, which made him shift on the seat. “You cannot be serious?”

“Oh, aye, I am, lass.” He wrapped his tongue around the tip of her finger. “I’d love you to taste me.”

A rising noise caught his attention, and he eased away from her, his smile disappearing. “Stay right there.”

He moved over to the window and looked out into the darkness as they entered the outskirts of Millcastle. A blare of lights caught his attention. He made an attempt to guess where the column of men was heading before he banged on the roof of the carriage until it stopped moving.

He got out and climbed up on the coachmen’s box for a better view.

“Do you know what’s going on, Joseph?” Adam asked.

“I believe there is a meeting going on in the town square this evening, sir, in favor of votes for all men.”

“Then you’d better turn around and take Mrs. Blackthorn the long way home around the edge of town.” Adam slapped the man on the back. “I don’t need to tell you to take care, do I?”

“No, sir. I’ll get her home safely, I promise.” Joseph hesitated. “You’re not thinking of going down there yourself are you, sir?”

“Why not?”

“In that fancy rig?”

Adam glanced down at his dining attire. “Ah. Can you lend me your cloak?”

“Aye, sir.” Joseph handed over his cloak, and Adam put it on.

“Don’t worry about me.” Adam turned to get down. “I’ll be back in an hour. Now get my wife home as fast as possible.”

He saw Emily’s startled face in the window and blew her a kiss as the carriage turned smartly about. He suspected he would have a lot of explaining to do when he got home, but he was more concerned about removing her from the town than in delaying to offer her a long explanation. She’d seen enough violence in her life.

Confident that Joseph would avoid potential trouble, Adam tied the cloak more tightly at his throat, and carried on down the hill toward the town square. He was fairly certain he knew why the citizens of Millcastle were enraged. The government’s third attempt to pass the Reform Act had recently resulted in the resignation of Lord Grey and the invitation from the king to the Duke of Wellington to form a new government.

Adam wasn’t surprised that the House of Lords were balking at offering more men the opportunity to vote in newly created boroughs. The upper house represented the landed classes, the aristocracy, and the church, and had no intention of relinquishing power to the common man. Threats against the government and the monarchy had increased, resulting in a great deal of political agitation and fear.

He arrived at the square to find it full of men and burning torches. Attention was directed toward a raised platform in front of the George and Dragon Inn where Captain Grafton had once conducted his business. Adam was relieved to see that none of his workers or managers appeared on the main stage. He had no doubt that within the crowd there were men tasked with reporting back to his fellow mill owners the names of their employees present—employees who would be summarily dismissed the next morning for daring to show their faces.

Adam didn’t care about his workers’ politics. If they turned up on time and did their jobs, what they did after that was none of his concern. Adam edged closer and recognized the speaker as Mr. Henry Hetherington, the editor of The Poor Man’s Guardian, a newspaper he subscribed to that advocated for the vote for all men over the age of twenty-one, the secret ballot, and other radical ideas that offended the ruling classes.

Even as Adam listened to—in his opinion—the more than reasonable demands of the speaker, he became aware of a new level of noise joining the righteous anger around him. He turned his head to see the local militia pouring into the rear of the square, bayonets at the ready. A woman screamed, and the audience’s attention shifted dangerously away from the front to the armed men.

This wasn’t the first time that the militia had been called out to deal with the population of Millcastle, and Adam doubted it would be the last. He took a quick survey of his options and worked out which route to take if things became violent. Even as he edged toward one of the narrow alleys that led into Three Coins, he heard the voice of the local magistrate reading the Riot Act ordering people to disperse, and the derisive roar of disapproval from the crowd in return.

A woman in front of him stumbled, and he instinctively grabbed hold of her arm to keep her upright as those around him increased their speed to get away.

“Thank you, sir,” she gasped, holding a small child to her chest, and another, who was wailing, by the hand.

“Go home, ma’am, as quickly as you can,” Adam advised her.

“I was looking for my eldest.” She gulped. “He’s all fired up about his ‘rights’, and I can’t talk any sense into him. I’m afraid he’ll attack the militia.”

Adam grimaced. The chance of her finding the lad in the melee was remote, and his even more so.

“If he is old enough to fight, ma’am, he is old enough to accept the consequences of his actions,” Adam said. “Go home, take care of your little ones.”

She glanced helplessly behind her once more, and then nodded. “I will, sir. Thank you.”

He followed her until she was safely in the maze of passages within Three Coins and then made his way through to the livery stables of the George, which were on the side of the property facing away from the square.

He found the head ostler in the stables. “I need a horse.”

“I’m sorry, sir. The owner told me not to let any of our animals out while this madness is going on.”

“I can see his point.” Adam let out an impatient breath as the roar from the square shook and echoed around the stone structure.

“May I suggest you bide a while in the tavern until things have quietened down, sir?”

“I suspect I have no choice.” Adam nodded at the ostler. “Thank you.”

He went into the tavern where the owner’s wife Nancy was serving behind the bar.

“Good evening, Mr. Blackthorn.” She looked him up and down. “Out for the night are you? Seems a funny place to come to all dressed up like a dog’s dinner.”

He sat at the bar. “Good evening, ma’am. My wife and I had dinner with your Captain Grafton, and on our return I spotted what was going on in the square and came to investigate.”

“Captain Grafton, eh? At his fancy house?” She sniffed as she poured Adam a tankard of ale. “He’s a dark horse, that one.”

“So I understand.” He sipped the brew with great appreciation. The fancy wine, tea, and spirits he now consumed on a regular basis never tasted quite this good. “I came in to rent a mount to get me home again, only to find that your husband had very sensibly decided not to lose sight of his cattle.”

“I believe the crowd are dispersing,” Nancy remarked. “I hope none of them decide to attack the militia. I’ve had enough broken windows for one year.”

“I should imagine you have.” Adam drank the rest of his ale. “Your ostler said he would let me know when I could safely borrow a horse.”

“Shouldn’t be long now, Mr. Blackthorn. Why don’t you sit by the fire, and I’ll fetch you another tankard of ale?”

Adam found a corner seat that gave him an excellent view of both entrances into the inn, but also offered him some privacy. He drank the second ale more slowly, aware that he wasn’t the best horseman and that staying on top of his mount all the way home was his priority.

As he relaxed back into the shadows, a man dressed in the uniform of the local militia came down the stairs and looked carefully around the almost deserted inn. He obviously didn’t see Adam because he beckoned to someone behind him. Even though a shawl covered her head, Adam stiffened as he recognized Eliza Gardner. His first instinct was to go and offer his assistance. At the bottom of the stairs, she turned to the man beside her, cupped his cheek, and kissed him before leaving through the front door.

Adam sank back into his seat. He suspected Mr. Gardner would not approve of Eliza being alone at an inn with a man, and considered what to do. Should he raise his concerns with Eliza’s father or perhaps attempt to speak to her himself? Neither of them were truly his concern anymore, but he still cared for them. Would Eliza appreciate his interference in her life, and how would he explain himself if Emily found out? He already had a suspicion that someone had put her in possession of the facts surrounding his previous relationship with Eliza.

Even as he considered all the possibilities, the young soldier left the inn, and the head ostler appeared at his table.

“Mr. Blackthorn? I have a horse saddled for you, sir.”

Adam drank the dregs of his ale and stood up. “Thank you. I hope you’ve chosen a nice, docile beast. I am not quite as accomplished as Captain Grafton.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, sir.” The ostler winked at him. “I’ve seen you ride, and I promise old Blue will get you safely home.”

Chapter 12

“Are you all right, ma’am?” Prudence’s anxious voice filtered through the spotted blackness surrounding Emily as she attempted to rise from her bed. “Sit here and stay put for a while.”

Emily staggered over to the seat in front of her dressing table and took in some great gulps of air as the dizziness receded. She reached for the table to steady herself.

Prudence offered her a glass of water. “Here you are ma’am.”

Emily took a cautious sip and then another as her stomach did a slow roll of revolt. Eventually, she handed the glass back to Prudence and managed to smile.

“I’m not sure why I felt so dizzy. Perhaps I straightened up too fast.”

Prudence hesitated and then asked, “Have you considered that you might be with child, ma’am?”

“No, I…” Emily stared helplessly at her maid. “Oh.”

“You haven’t had your courses for four months. I know you’ve never been that regular, but you are married now, and, begging your pardon, sharing your bed with a man.”

“I hadn’t even considered it,” Emily said and then put her hand on her stomach. “How bizarre.”

“I’m sure your mother and Mr. Blackthorn will be thrilled, ma’am,” Prudence said encouragingly.

“We don’t have to tell them yet,” Emily said quickly. “My mother lost several babies, and I’d rather not get her hopes up or make her worry about my health. You know how she is on this subject.”

“As you wish, ma’am. I won’t breathe a word about it.” Prudence nodded. “My mother always used to wait until the baby quickened before she told a soul.”

“Until she felt it move?” Emily asked. “I think I will adopt the same strategy.”

Prudence turned to gather up Emily’s clothing, which Adam had tossed willy-nilly all over the floor the night before when he came home late and made love to her.

Emily remained seated as Prudence bustled around and considered what to do next. She no longer felt dizzy or nauseous, and she was due at Ravenhead Mill to open the new school with her mother and Adam later in the day. At some point she assumed her condition would become obvious to everyone, but until then she preferred to keep the knowledge to herself. She would have to tell Adam, of course, but she was fairly certain he would keep her secret.

Adam…

Did he even want children? In the nine months of their marriage he’d never expressed an opinion about them, but she had to assume he would want sons to inherit the mills and daughters to marry off to cement new business contacts. In his world, as in her father’s, children were another form of currency.

“Which gown would you prefer, ma’am?”

Prudence’s question brought Emily back to the present, and she pointed at the lilac one. It was very pleasant not to have to wear black anymore, although her mother had decided to remain in mourning for at least the full year. It was strange how fast time had passed. In less than three months, they would be approaching the first anniversary of Matthew’s death, and no one had ever been charged with the crime. She still missed him dreadfully.

“The dress is plain enough to wear to the mill. I won’t mind if it gets dirty. I’ve never liked it that much.” She put it on and noticed it was tight across her bosom.

“It’s not the best color on you,” Prudence said as she did up the buttons on the back. “In your present condition, it won’t fit you for much longer, ma’am, so you will be done with it anyway.”

Emily hoped that the fact that Adam had deemed it safe enough for both her and her mother to visit Ravenhead meant that tensions at the mill had settled down. The third Reform Act had finally passed in the summer, but there was still a sense in the rising industrial towns that the middle class had been shortchanged, and that they were still poorly represented in Parliament.

Adam regularly brought his copy of The Poor Man’s Guardian newspaper home, and had no issue with Emily reading it. She discovered that the working men were even less satisfied with the bill than the middle class, and were demanding revolutionary changes by foul means or fair.

As summer had faded into the cooler colors of autumn, Millcastle still had the feel of a pot coming to the boil.

Lucy went into the drawing room where her mother was sitting with Lottie.

“What time did you order the carriage for our trip to Ravenhead?” Emily asked.

When her mother raised her head to speak, it occurred to Emily how well she looked and how relaxed she now was in her own home. Adam treated her with far more courtesy than her own husband ever had, and she was blossoming under such benign attention.

“At two o’clock, Emily. Why? Is there something I have forgotten? Dear Adam suggested we arrive early so that we can tour the schoolroom before everyone else arrives.”

“Everything is fine,” Emily reassured her mother. “I just need to make sure that Cook has loaded the cakes and sweets for the children into our carriage. I would hate to forget them after all her hard work.”

“Oh, I haven’t checked.” Her mother smiled at Emily. “Thank you for remembering. I will go up and change my dress, and I’ll be ready in no time.”

Lottie also stood. “I’ll get ready as well.”

“Is Margaret here?” Emily asked Lottie. “I haven’t seen her this morning.”

“I believe she is meeting us at the schoolroom. She said she had some important errands to run this morning.” Lottie winked at Emily. “You know how she is.”

Emily didn’t reply as she left the room to go to the kitchen. Over the passing months, she and Margaret had cemented a somewhat uneasy truce over their shared desires to help the children of Millcastle and to look after Adam. In truth, without Margaret’s stalwart support after the shock of being injured outside the chapel, Emily wasn’t sure if she would’ve had the courage to return.

She enjoyed her work with the children and had learned to assert herself when necessary, which gave her a great deal of private satisfaction. Her father would have been horrified, but Adam seemed to appreciate her new confidence, and often asked her advice about the new school and the kitchens he was building. She’d even interviewed the new staff alongside Margaret and Mr. Ford and taken a position on the Millcastle board of education.

In truth, her life was far more fulfilling than she had anticipated. She could breathe freely now, and a lot of that was due to Adam’s tolerance.

An hour later, she was ushered into the new schoolroom at Ravenhead, and wanted to burst with pride. She had helped select the new teacher, stocked the cupboards with supplies, and found a cook to operate the kitchen next door. It would dispense porridge in the morning and healthy stew and bread in the afternoon to any of the children who worked at the mill.

Adam walked over and brought her gloved hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you proud of your endeavors?”

“I must admit to some pride,” Emily answered him. “But I am aware that the majority of the credit goes to you.”

He waved away her compliment. “As you well know, I had little to do with this matter. You and Margaret dealt with everything. I just signed the paperwork.”

She knew all too well that he had scrutinized every bill, and often asked her to justify her expenditures. He was not the sort of man to allow anything in his mills to escape his notice, even something as small as the beginnings of a school.

“Is Miss Horwood here?” Emily asked.

“The teacher?” Adam looked around. “Yes, she’s over there with my new manager. Have you met Mr. Burton yet?”

“No, I don’t think I have.” Emily glanced up at him as they walked across the room. “You ordered me not to show my face here for six months.”

“For your own safety,” he countered, his expression hardening. “You know that, lass.”

His ability to shift between pleasant conversation and stern commands was quite remarkable. She hadn’t really tested the limits of his patience, and she wasn’t sure she would ever want to. If he thought he was right, he generally made sure everyone knew it, and that included the other mill owners and his family.

Emily moved away from him and concentrated her attention on the new teacher, who looked thrilled to finally start her new job. From Emily’s conversations with her, Miss Horwood was well aware that her charges might prove difficult. Having come from an orphanage herself, she had no illusions as to the struggle ahead of her.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Blackthorn.”

Emily turned to find Mr. Ford behind her and greeted him with a smile.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

He gazed at the whitewashed walls, new desks, and the plentiful supply of slates and books on the teacher’s desk and nodded approvingly.

“You and Miss Margaret have done a bang up job, lass.”

“Well, Margaret certainly has, and Ruby DeLisle was most helpful.”

“You played your part, Mrs. Blackthorn. Give yourself some credit.”

“I did my best.” Emily accepted the compliment with as much composure as she could. “Is Ruby here yet?”

“I believe she is coming with Miss Margaret. They went to pick up some other guests.” He nodded toward the raised platform at the end of the room. “I see Reverend Wilcox and the vicar have arrived.” He winked. “I’d better go and pay my respects and keep them apart.”

Over the summer months, Emily had learned to appreciate Mr. Ford’s quiet humor and was certain he would maintain peace between the two clerical gentlemen who held such widely differing opinions on every matter possible.

Adam beckoned to her to join him on the platform. She made her way past her mother and Lottie, seated in the front row, and took the chair he held out to her as the room filled with people. She spotted Margaret and Ruby DeLisle at the back of the room and waved to them to come forward.

It was only when Margaret began to make her way across the room that she realized the guests Margaret had brought were the Gardners, both father and daughter. Miss Gardner looked rather pale and clung onto her father’s arm as they took their seats right behind Emily’s mother.

As if to remind her that she wasn’t above feeling queasy herself, Emily’s stomach did a slow, ominous roll. She had to breathe through her nose to counteract the black spots that appeared in her vision.

Adam touched her shoulder. “Are you all right, lass?” he murmured. “I’m about ready to begin.”

She nodded. “Yes, please go ahead. I think everyone is now present.”

He stood and addressed the assembled crowd. “Good afternoon. I’d like to welcome you to the opening of our new schoolroom and kitchen.”

There was a polite amount of applause and then Adam continued. “Our new teacher, Miss Horwood, comes to us from the town of Bradford, and is willing and eager to impart her knowledge to our children.” He nodded at the blushing teacher. “Good luck, ma’am. You’ll need it.”

Even Emily smiled at that.

“I’d like to thank my sister Margaret, Miss Ruby DeLisle, Mr. Ford, and my wife for their endeavors in getting this school up and running in a very short amount of time.” He bowed to each of them. “I’d also like to thank Reverend Wilcox for his guidance and help.” He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you and the vicar might consider offering a prayer to conclude this ceremony?”

Both men stood as Adam stepped back, and the vicar of St. Mary’s, perhaps realizing that the audience was not composed of his congregation, offered a quick prayer and left it to the Methodist minister to finish up.

After a moment of silence, Adam spoke again. “We have tea and refreshments available in the back of the room. Please help yourselves.”

The thought of eating wasn’t appealing, so Emily stayed where she was, her gaze tracking her husband as he moved through the crowd, making sure to acknowledge every person present and give them his full attention. Lottie rose, took Emily’s mother’s arm, and walked her toward the display of cakes, while Margaret and Ruby vied for Mr. Ford’s attention.

Emily wasn’t sure which of the women would win. Both of them were remarkably confident and outspoken, but Mr. Ford didn’t seem to mind being fought over. What man wouldn’t? Another wave of nausea came over her and she gripped her reticule until her knuckles shone white. By acknowledging her condition, had she inadvertently allowed herself to suffer all the physical afflictions associated with it?

She rose slowly from her chair and headed out of the crowded room toward the corridor between the kitchen and the indoor water closets Adam had insisted were constructed for the school. She kept one hand on the freshly painted wall and took deep breaths until she started to feel better.

“Mrs. Blackthorn?”

She turned slowly, her lips pressed together to find Miss Gardner approaching her.

“You might have considered me for the position of schoolteacher here,” Miss Gardner said, her voice echoing in the hall. “But even if my name was mentioned, I’ll wager you stopped Adam from appointing me.”

“Your name wasn’t mentioned,” Emily said simply. “Now, if you will excuse me?”

She gathered her resources and brushed past Miss Gardner. She realized she really didn’t like some other woman calling her husband by his first name.

“You know he only married you for your wealth, don’t you?”

Emily stopped, but she didn’t turn around. “I am well aware of that.”

“He’ll always love me best. He told me so himself.”

Emily started walking before she forgot herself, turned around, and slapped Miss Gardner’s face. The last thing Adam needed at his own mill was an argument between the woman he apparently loved and his wife.

God, it hurt more than she had anticipated—that Adam, who seemed to care for her, really preferred another woman. Emily reached the door of the schoolroom, pinned a smile on her face, and prepared to pretend that nothing was wrong. It was a skill she’d learned early in life when dealing with her father, and it would stand her in good stead now.

As he talked to everyone who wished to attract his attention, Adam glanced at Emily once or twice, but she appeared to be quite happy socializing with their guests, her pride in her achievements showing on her face. And yet something was amiss. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew her well enough now to sense something was wrong.

“Congratulations on the founding of the new school.” Mr. Gardner approached, and shook his hand, his kindly face full of pride. “I wish I’d had the forethought to ask for your help when Mr. Marsham was alive. I’d given up trying by then.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Adam grimaced. “You know my views on the importance of education. Finally having the opportunity and the finances to do something about it means a lot to me.”

“I think Eliza was hoping you would employ her here,” Mr. Gardner remarked. “She wanted me to put in a word with you, but I refused. She is paid well by the town, and they need her there.”

“I had no idea she would be interested in the job,” Adam said. “Last time we spoke she seemed satisfied with her current employment.”

“I doubt your wife would wish to see her up here every day, close to you.” Mr. Gardner winked. “Aye?”

“There is that.” Adam decided to risk a question. “Has Eliza found a new beau? I thought I saw her with someone in Millcastle a few months ago.”

“I’m not sure what she’s up to.” He sighed. “She’s become quite secretive with me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Adam replied. “If there is anything I can do to help…”

Mr. Gardner patted his shoulder. “You’ve been more than generous, lad. Don’t you worry your head about anything.”

As some of the mill children sidled in to take a look at the new schoolroom, Adam said goodbye to most of the guests and made sure the children knew there was food in the kitchen. He noticed Emily making her way there with Margaret and knew that someone would be supervising.

“Good afternoon, Adam.”

He turned to find Eliza at his elbow. She looked rather pale, and her hair was escaping from the untidy bun at the nape of her neck.

“Good afternoon, Miss Gardner. What do you think of our new schoolroom?”

“It is very fine. Much nicer than mine in the village.”

“I believe that once we have this one up and running, Margaret and my wife intend to turn their attention to helping you out as well.”

“That is very good of them,” Miss Gardner said stiffly. “Although, as I understand that your wife has recently joined the school board, I am unsure how long my employment will last.”

Adam stared down at her. “Then perhaps you should stop worrying. Emily is not vindictive, nor does she have need to be in this case.”

“Of course she doesn’t. She’s won, hasn’t she?”

“Her brother was murdered right in front of her eyes, and her father suffered heart failure from the shock. I scarcely think she has won much more than a husband she didn’t ask for and a life she didn’t plan.”

Miss Gardner blinked at him. “You care about her, don’t you?”

“Aye.” He met her gaze without faltering. “I do.”

She nodded, curtsied, and turned away from him, her expression unreadable. Part of him wanted to go after her, but he sensed it would do no good. They were traveling different paths now. Even though he could acknowledge that she would’ve made him a fine wife, life had thrown a different set of challenges at his feet, and he’d done what was necessary to be successful.

He doubted Eliza would see it that way, and perhaps she had the right of it. But he could not have turned down the opportunity to succeed at the mill and prevent his family from sinking back into poverty. He knew firsthand how swiftly that could happen. If that made him a sinner, then he would have to answer to his Maker. He was lucky that Emily had come around to the necessity of marrying him, and that they had found a good measure of happiness together. And they were happy, an emotion that had eluded him for the last desperate decade and a half while fighting to survive in an unforgiving world.

He’d survived. If that made him a bad man, then he would willingly embrace it.

“Mr. Blackthorn?” His new manager came over to speak to him. “Do you have a moment to attend to some business matters while you are here?”

Adam nodded. “Let me just speak to my wife, and I’ll be right with you.”

Emily made sure her mother, Lottie, and Margaret had all their belongings with them, and shepherded them out into the yard in front of the mill where the carriage awaited to take them home.

Adam caught up with her at the door and held it open for her. “Can you send the carriage back for me in an hour or so? I have some work to finish up.”

“Yes, of course.” Emily managed a smile, even though she dreaded the thought of getting in a moving carriage.

“Are you all right, lass?” He gave her one of his appraising looks that made her want to confess everything. “You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine. It’s just been a very exciting day.”

“Aye, it has, and a lot of that is thanks to you.” He took her hand in his and kissed her fingers. “You are a fine woman, Emily Blackthorn.”

“Thank you.” She curtsied, aware that she might be blushing at such an open display of affection. “Do you wish me to delay dinner until you return?”

“No, don’t suffer on my account. I’ll eat when I get back.”

Which meant he would probably be home around midnight. Inwardly, Emily sighed. Her and Margaret’s efforts to curtail his working hours hadn’t really succeeded at all.

She was about to reply when one of the shed doors opened, and a crowd of workers emerged and headed toward the gates. Adam grimaced.

“I forgot how late it was. I’ll tell Joseph to wait until this lot have dispersed before he leaves.” He took Emily’s hand. “You’d better get in the carriage, lass. It’s about to rain.”

Emily reluctantly complied and immediately rolled the window down so that she could stick her face out and breathe more easily. Adam went back into the building, and the stream of workers continued to pour out of the mill. Emily idly watched their faces and imagined herself there, hurrying home to get her family their dinner or care for her younger children. If she had a man like Adam at her side, she would probably be more than content.

“Emily? Can you close the window?” Margaret asked. “The rain is coming in.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily apologized. Just as she attempted to yank up the window she stopped dead, her gaze fixed on a man emerging from the mill. “It’s him.”

“What on earth?” Her mother asked, but Emily wasn’t listening. She wrenched open the door of the carriage and almost fell down the step. She struggled to right herself.

She started in the direction of the man she’d seen and then stopped, surrounded by curious faces, suddenly aware of her vulnerability, of the fact that these people had reason not to like her, and that she was carrying a child. She turned and ran back toward the building, bursting in through the doors into the entrance hall.

“Adam!”

Her voice echoed up the stairs as two of the clerks cautiously approached her.

“May we help you, ma’am?”

“Adam!”

He somehow must have heard her and came clattering down the stairs. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

She grabbed hold of his arm. “I saw him.”

“Who?” He gently resisted her attempts to drag him outside.

“The man who murdered my brother! I saw him, Adam. He works here!” She tugged harder. “Come on.”

He grabbed hold of both of her shoulders. “Emily, calm yourself. That’s not possible.”

“Why not?” She glared at him. “Why won’t you believe me? Have you let him stay here all along? Do you still pay him?”

He set his jaw. “That isn’t the person who killed Matthew.”

“How do you know that?” She wrenched out of his hold and started for the door. “If you’d just look at him.”

“Emily…”

She kept walking until she was in the yard, only to discover that the workers had dispersed, and that a new shift was walking up the hill toward the sheds. Adam came up beside her, his expression full of sympathy.

“I know what you’re thinking, lass, but—”

“Please stop pretending to be nice.” She looked anywhere but at him as tears choked her throat. “I can’t—”

“No, we need to have this out between us.” He slammed the carriage door shut, ignoring the rising clamor of alarm and questions from the occupants inside and looked up at the coachman. “Please take the ladies home and come straight back for my wife, Joseph, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Joseph touched his hat, clicked to his horses, and set off, leaving Emily alone with her husband and the several hundred workers of Ravenhead Mill.

Adam held out his hand. “Come in out of the rain so that we can discuss this matter in private. I don’t need the whole mill knowing my bloody business.”

Seeing as there was nowhere else to go, Emily turned, and went back in, ignoring the curious faces as she climbed the stairs and was ushered into Adam’s office. She heard him ordering someone to get her something hot to drink and then he came in, closed the door behind him, leaned back on it and just watched her.

She knew he expected her to start on him again, but her panicked rage had dissipated, and she had nothing more to offer.

“Will you sit?” Adam gestured at the chair beside the fire and thanked God when Emily did as he asked. “Thank you.”

A knock at the door announced the arrival of a teapot and two mugs. Adam poured them both a drink and set the mugs on the edge of the fireplace before taking the chair opposite her. She was shivering slightly, her arms wrapped around her waist, her face so pale that he feared she might swoon. He had to speak carefully, but he was determined not to outright lie to her. He’d promised her that.

“Emily, listen to me. The man you think you saw—”

“I did not ‘think’ it, sir,” she interrupted him. “I’m not blind. I saw him as clearly as I see you.”

Adam tried again. “You have to remember that sometimes we have three generations of the same family working here together. Sometimes multiple branches of a family. The man you saw might have looked like the murderer, but I can assure you it wasn’t that person.”

“How?” Emily asked, her chin in the air. “How can you know this?”

“Because I know these families, lass. I worked in the sheds at this bloody mill with them. Would you think it fair if I fired the lot of them because of the appalling actions of one?”

She looked down at her gloved hands.

“Would you really want me to do that?” Adam persisted. “You hate how you are blamed for your father and brother’s actions, should I hate you, too?”

“No, of course not.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “Did you even bother to question them after Matthew was murdered?”

“As soon as I heard your description, I went to speak to them. They were as horrified by what happened as you were, and had no idea where the murderer had run off to.” He paused. “They thought I’d come to kick them out of their lodgings and were already packing.”

“But you let them stay.”

“Aye. I did.” She finally looked up at him and he held her gaze. “Do you blame me for that?”

She slowly shook her head and stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. He waited her out, but she seemed disinclined to continue the argument. Her inward expression reminded him of the early days of their marriage, when he hadn’t had a clue what she was thinking.

“Do you believe what I’m telling you, lass?” Adam asked.

She reached down and picked up the mug of tea, shuddering as she sipped it before setting it down again.

“Emily, will you please answer me?” Adam didn’t like having to resort to begging, but the sight of her was making his heart hurt.

“I don’t think there is anything left to say, is there?” She stood and smoothed down her skirts. “Thank you for explaining.”

He rose, too. “I swear to God that I am telling you the truth.”

“I’m sure you are.” Her brief smile made him feel like a worm. “Please excuse me. I should not have embarrassed you at work.”

“That’s not important, I—”

She headed for the door. “Perhaps I should go down to the entrance hall. I don’t want to keep Joseph waiting in the rain.”

Silently cursing, he marched over and held the door shut. “You’ll sit here and someone will come and fetch you when Joseph arrives.”

“As you wish.” She sat down again and stared into the fire. “Thank you for your consideration, sir.”

He stared at her in frustration and realized there was nothing left for him to say. Perhaps she just needed time to absorb his words, and the best way to do that was for him to walk away and leave her alone. Leaving her when she was still obviously distressed went against every instinct he possessed. He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her tight, and tell her that everything would be all right, but what if she turned to stone in his embrace? What would he do then?

He bowed and opened the door, accepting defeat. “I’ll come back and let you know when Joseph arrives.”

Chapter 13

He’d known all along.

That was the thing Emily kept circling back to. Adam had known exactly who had killed her brother and he hadn’t told her. What did he think she was going to do? Chase after the man and stab him in return? In her wildest dreams she’d thought about doing exactly that, but she wasn’t a fool. Even though the man had been slightly built, she doubted she would be able to overpower him.

Emily put down her needlework and stared out of the window. Had Adam disclosed the name to the authorities? He’d stood next to her that morning when the constable had questioned her and not spoken a word. She’d thought he’d been respecting her ability to speak for herself, but what if his silence had a more sinister meaning? Had he immediately warned the family to send the murderer into hiding?

Where did his loyalties lie? With her family or with the family he had known and worked alongside in the mill?

“Are you all right, Emily, dear?”

She turned to see her mother regarding her anxiously. In truth, she was tired of people asking her how she was feeling. Part of her wanted to scream at them all for being so unobservant, and the rest of her just wanted to scream at the unfairness of life.

“I’m fine.” She smiled at her mother and changed the subject. “Have you decided whether you will attend Mrs. Harding and Captain Grafton’s wedding yet?”

Despite Caroline’s desire to have a quick wedding it had taken more than six months for the couple to organize the ceremony. After the bride and groom had been too busy to work out the details, Captain Grafton’s mother had taken over and apparently invited a large crowd.

“It is next week, Mother,” Emily reminded her.

“I’m still not sure.” Her mother patted her skirt. “I’ve always thought that wearing black to a wedding was frowned upon and deemed unlucky.”

“You could wear dark blue,” Emily suggested. “No one would think ill of you.”

“I prefer to stay in black for at least a year, Emily. Your father would’ve wanted that.”

Emily bit back her caustic reply as to what her father deserved.

Her temper was quite uncertain at the moment. She wasn’t surprised that Adam had taken to spending long hours at work, and that his sisters and her mother found plenty to do that didn’t involve her. Trying to pretend that she wasn’t about to either swoon or vomit was taxing enough without having to smile and be pleasant.

But Adam’s choice to distance himself from her through his work played to her advantage. She was often so exhausted by the end of the day that it didn’t matter what time he returned—she was always fast asleep. She still hadn’t told him about the baby, but she was fairly certain that the next time he attempted to make love to her he would notice the changes in her body and demand an explanation.

If he ever made love to her again. In the four weeks since their argument at the mill, he hadn’t come near her.

The drawing room door opened, and Margaret and Lottie came in chattering to each other. Margaret had graduated from black dresses to browns and plums that suited her dark coloring very well. Lottie had barely bothered with mourning and wore a bright-patterned muslin dress without a care in the world.

“What do you intend to wear to the wedding, Lottie, Margaret?” Emily’s mother asked after the sisters settled on the couch, and Emily rang for more tea. “I am still not sure if I wish to attend. It’s only been ten months since Matthew died.”

“Mrs. Harding would surely appreciate it if you did, Mother,” Emily said. “She doesn’t have much of a family to support her, whereas Captain Grafton is apparently related to half the county, all of whom his mother has invited to the wedding.”

“I suppose that is true,” her mother agreed somewhat reluctantly. “She was always very kind to me when she worked at the dressmaker’s.” She looked over at Lottie, who nodded encouragingly. “Then perhaps I will go, after all.”

“I’m sure Madame Louise would have time to make you a new gown if you wished for one,” Lottie said. “When we were at the shop today, she said she had hired new staff because of the increase in business, but that her old customers would always come first for her.”

“It’s a shame Mrs. DeLisle no longer works there,” Emily’s mother said with a sigh. “She did the most beautiful embroidery, didn’t she, Emily?”

“I suspect she is enjoying not having to work for her living anymore, Mother,” Emily suggested.

“Naturally, my dear, and I wish her all the best. Did you meet anyone else in the shop, Lottie?”

Lottie nodded. “We saw Miss Gardner. I believe she was having some skirts altered. She didn’t stay long because she was meeting someone at the inn before she had to get back to the school.” She glanced over at Margaret. “We did see her stop to speak to Adam in the square, but whether she shared a meal with him, I cannot say.”

“Well, they are old friends,” Margaret pointed out, with a swift glance at Emily. “And if Adam was in town and saw Miss Gardner, he is far too polite not to acknowledge her presence.”

Was Margaret attempting to defend her brother again? Emily suspected so. Whether Adam had met Miss Gardner or not was simply another small layer of hurt on top of many others. As Lottie and her mother settled in to a chat about their intended clothing, Margaret caught Emily’s eye and came to sit beside her.

“Are you feeling quite well, Emily?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Emily recovered her smile. “Would you like some tea? I’ve ordered a fresh pot, but the scones and cakes are still palatable.”

“Emily.” Margaret lowered her voice. “I am not unobservant. Is it possible that you are expecting a child?”

“Why would you think that?” Emily hedged.

“I didn’t grow up in a house like this, and I certainly wasn’t as protected from the harshness of the real world as you were. I’ve noticed you struggling to eat, and disappearing at odd times, presumably to vomit.” Her gaze swept over Emily’s bosom. “And your shape has altered in some rather obvious places.”

She hesitated and placed her hand over Emily’s. “Is it possible that you were unaware of this yourself?”

Emily grabbed Margaret’s hand and marched her out of the drawing room and into Adam’s study down the hallway. She shut the door behind them and faced her sister-in-law. “I am expecting, but I haven’t told anyone yet.”

Margaret nodded. “I’m just glad that you knew. I’ve been wondering about that for the last month. When is the baby due?”

“In about four or five months, as far as I can tell,” Emily said. “My mother suffered several miscarriages and stillbirths. I fear to tell her because she might become overwrought.”

Margaret nodded. “And what about my brother? Does he know?”

Emily straightened her spine. “He’s hardly been here this last month. I haven’t had the opportunity to tell him yet.”

“Indeed.” Margaret raised her eyebrows. “I see.”

“If you go behind my back and tell him I will never forgive you,” Emily said fiercely, her hands curling into fists.

“I would never do that,” Margaret said. “Why would you even think it?”

“Because your loyalty is to Adam, and you have never much cared for me, have you, Margaret?”

“I confess that originally I did not like you very much, but I have changed my mind.” Margaret paused and raised her chin. “You truly care for my brother, and that is the most important thing in the world to me.”

Emily studied her sister-in-law. “You still like to be first with him.”

“Of course I do, but I’m not stupid.” Margaret swallowed hard as if the words were difficult to speak aloud. “He turns to you now, which is just as it should be.”

“That is a very generous of you, but Adam loves you and holds you in such high esteem that he would listen and believe you, and it would not reflect well on me,” Emily said despairingly.

“And I repeat that I will not tell him.” Margaret came over and put a tentative hand on Emily’s shoulder. “He’s not a fool. He’ll work it out eventually.”

“Maybe when I’m a big as a horse,” Emily muttered.

Margaret chuckled. “Men can be quite unobservant sometimes. But now that I know you are breeding, I can at least offer you my support if you don’t wish to tell your mother.” She hesitated. “If that is acceptable to you, of course.”

Emily met Margaret’s forthright stare and suddenly felt a little better. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

When Adam had yet again sent his excuses that he would not be home for dinner, Emily went into his study, lit the lamp at his desk, and found a clean sheet of writing paper. She’d noted the address of the town gaol on her last visit to Millcastle, and convinced herself that a polite inquiry into the state of the investigation of her brother’s death was perfectly acceptable.

She addressed her letter to Sergeant Sykes, folded it, and sealed it with wax. After checking the clock on the mantelpiece she realized it was far too late to send the letter out. She was reluctant to leave it in the entrance hall for delivery in case Adam decided to peruse the post on his arrival home.

Even as she considered what to do with it, the study door opened, and Adam came in. Emily jumped to her feet, stuffed the letter into her pocket, and began tidying up the desk.

“I do apologize. I’ll be out of your way in just a moment.”

He approached her at the desk, his expression unreadable. He looked tired, but when did he ever not these days? All her worrying and concern about him obviously had no effect. He seemed intent on working himself to an early grave.

“Scribbling love letters to another man so early in our marriage?” he inquired. “Surely not, Emily.”

“Hardly.” She smiled as she put the wax away and set the pen back in the pot. “And I doubt I would be composing them at your desk if I was.”

“Good point.” He smiled back, lightening his face. “I’m sorry I missed dinner again.”

She shrugged. “My father often did the same.” She prayed that the letter in her pocket wouldn’t crackle too loudly as she came around the desk. “Would you like me to ask Cook to bring you up a supper tray? I assume you still have work to do.”

“That would be very kind of you.”

She nodded and headed for the door; so intent on her escape that she almost didn’t notice he had carried on speaking.

“After you have done that, would you mind coming back and joining me here?”

“Whatever for?” Emily blurted out.

He regarded her steadily. “You seem surprised I would want your company.”

“That isn’t the case at all. I just assumed you would prefer to be undisturbed,” Emily replied, aware that she might be sounding a little defensive. “If that is your wish, of course I will return. Just give me a moment to ascertain that my mother is settled for the night, and I will be right back.”

Adam stared at the door for a long time after Emily had practically run through it. She wasn’t a good dissembler, and her shock when he’d discovered her at his desk had been palpable. He shoved a hand through his hair and sat down with a thump on the chair Emily had recently vacated. What in God’s name was going on with his wife? She hadn’t been very pleased with him since the debacle at Ravenhead when she’d spotted one of the Patterson family, and immediately concluded her husband was harboring a criminal in his mill.

She’d reluctantly accepted his explanation, but things had not been good between them since. She was hiding behind a mask of perfect politeness and outward compliance that frustrated him immensely. He’d seen the woman beneath that mask, had made love to her, confided in her, and she‘d disappeared like smoke through his fingers.

She was hiding something from him, but what was it? Had she decided he was no longer worthy of her attention? He’d certainly neglected her over the past few months, but as the daughter of a mill owner, she couldn’t have expected him to lavish attention on her like a gentleman of leisure.

Aware that he was now attempting to justify his own shortcomings, Adam got up to pour himself a large brandy and then resumed his seat. He spread the paperwork out over the desk, sipped his brandy, and drummed his fingers on the desk as another quarter of an hour passed by.

The butler came in with a covered tray, glanced at the cluttered desk and placed it on a small side table beside the fireplace.

“Your supper, sir.”

“Thank you,” Adam said.

The man hesitated at the door. “Cook was concerned that Mrs. Blackthorn ate very little at dinner and suggested you might convince her to eat with you, sir.”

“I’ll certainly try.” Adam stood as Emily entered the room and gestured at the two seats beside the fire. “Ah, there you are. Will you join me?”

She still looked rather wary, but she took the seat and spread her skirts carefully to avoid the heat of the fire. He moved the table between them and uncovered the tray, breathing in the succulent smell of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and roast potatoes.

“I’m hungry,” he confessed as his stomach rumbled. “I had something from the kitchen when I went in to speak to the children, but that was it.”

“Which mill were you at?”

“Marshams.” Adam set the two plates to one side. “Mr. Kelly is in fine fettle, and the children are thriving and learning.”

“So I am told.” Emily smiled at him. “I visit him once a week and he never seems to have any complaints these days. The teacher at Ravenhead is also very content,” Emily continued. “I think she will prove to be an excellent choice.”

Adam glanced at her as he spooned food onto his plate. Was there a hint of a challenge in her voice? Had she heard the rumor that Miss Gardner had wanted that job, or had Eliza found the nerve to question Emily herself? He wouldn’t put it past her. He had a feeling that if he wanted to break down Emily’s reserve, he might have to be more blunt about certain subjects.

“I think Miss Gardner from the village school would have liked the position,” Adam said. “Did she put in an application?”

“Not that I am aware of.” Emily avoided his gaze, fiddled around with the napkin, and then handed it to Adam. “Perhaps she thought that, as a particular friend of yours, she would automatically be offered the place.”

“I don’t work like that, lass.” He unfolded the napkin and set it on his knees. “You should know that by now.” He put some of the food on the second plate. “Eat up.”

She frowned as if he were offering her poison. “I’ve already eaten.”

“Not according to the staff.” He put the plate on her knee. “Humor me.”

She sighed and picked daintily at the food, stirring it around the plate rather than actually eating it, until she realized he was watching her. “I understand that you were in town today,” Emily said.

“Who told you that?” Adam asked.

Her eyebrows shot up. He must have sounded defensive.

“I didn’t realize it was a secret. Forgive me for inquiring.”

“It’s not a secret.” Adam ate his first plate of food and loaded up a second. “I was visiting Mr. Bolton.”

“The banker?”

“Yes, which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Adam picked up his fork again. “Let me finish this, and then we can discuss my plans.”

Even as he ate, he was aware of how little his wife was allowing to pass through her lips. Every time she thought he wasn’t looking, she hid a piece of the cut up beef under her potatoes like a child. Although, when he was a child he would’ve left nothing on his plate, including the pattern. He was always hungry.

Was she ill? She certainly looked pale, but he couldn’t see any evidence of her bones sticking out or her cheeks hollowing. He’d seen fellow workers die of consumption, lack of food, and various other ailments over his working life, but she didn’t have that look about her. Mayhap he should ask his friend Dr. Prentice for his opinion on the matter and persuade Emily to consult him.

“There’s a steamed treacle pudding, too.” Emily showed him the plate and the jug of custard beside it. “It is excellent.”

After insisting that Emily share a slice of the sponge, he steadily ate his way through the rest of the pudding and sighed in satisfaction as he pushed his plate away.

“That was very good.” He patted his flat stomach. “I must remember to tell Cook.”

“She will be thrilled,” Emily said. He noticed she had managed to eat all her pudding. “She is very keen to impress you and discover your favorite meals.”

“Which I don’t deserve, seeing as I am rarely here to enjoy her culinary efforts at their best.” Adam wiped his mouth with his napkin and rearranged the items on the tray before setting it and the table against the wall. “Come and sit with me at the desk.”

He pulled up a second chair, set it close to his, and waited expectantly for Emily to join him. He tapped the pile of papers.

“Here’s where we are with the new mill. I have an estimate of costs from the architects, the builders, and the suppliers of the looms and steam power. I have Captain Grafton’s assurance that there will be plenty of people willing to work at the new mill, which will be close to their homes. I have Mr. Bolton’s bank ready to offer me a substantial loan to finance the property.”

Emily looked at him, mostly relieved that he hadn’t wanted to talk about more personal matters, but still rather unsettled. “Then why are you asking my opinion?”

“Because we’re in this together, aren’t we?” He passed some of the papers over to her. “I want you to read through everything and see if there is anything I’ve missed.”

She kept her gaze on the accounts and considered what to say. The fact that he was even seeking her advice was quite remarkable. He wouldn’t have done so unless he considered she might bring something useful to the discussion.

“Do you want me to do it now?” Emily asked, aware that there was a slight wobble in her voice, and that Adam wasn’t the sort of man who would miss it.

He sat back and regarded her. “Only if you have time, Emily. I don’t want to presume.”

“I’d be happy to help.” She studied the books and papers. “Do you have the current accounts for Marshams and Ravenhead? I can start there.”

He passed her the relevant pages and stood up. “I’m going to take the tray back to the kitchen and speak to Cook. I’ll be back in a while.”

Emily nodded, too engrossed in the first column of figures to notice his departure. Within half an hour she was well aware how significantly he had improved the net profits of both of her father’s mills and was quietly impressed.

At some point, Adam set a cup of tea at her elbow and she murmured her thanks. He disappeared again and then came back to freshen the lamps and add coal to the fire. Eventually, he settled in a chair beside the fire and left her to her own devices.

Emily found a piece of paper and scribbled some calculations on it before raising her head to look at Adam.

“Would it not be more profitable to simply replace the old looms in Ravenhead rather than build a whole new mill?”

“Ravenhead’s not wide enough for the new looms, and the floors won’t bear the extra weight,” Adam said.

“Oh,” Emily scratched a line through one of her sums. “That makes sense.”

“The new mill can take advantage of more modern equipment and ideas. Ravenhead cannot.”

“Would it be cheaper to shut down Ravenhead altogether?”

“Probably.” His smile was wry. “But I’m not willing to put those people out of work, lass.”

“Couldn’t they find employment at the new mill?”

“It’s too far away for most of them. I suspect they’d simply sign on with one of my competitors closer to their dwelling.” He shrugged. “Of course, I might be offering some of them a promotion at the new place, but a higher wage gives them more choice of where to live in Millcastle.”

“But if Three Coins is being demolished to make way for the railway station, then your workers will be homeless anyway,” Emily pointed out.

“Not all of them. Captain Grafton is giving his current tenants first choice of his new buildings at the same rent. Of course that means that some of them will want to work at the new mill, which is fine by me. I always need workers, and I pay better than most around here.”

Emily had heard the grumblings of the other mill owners at Adam’s outrageous wages, and the warnings that he was being taken advantage of and would never make a profit. The accounts books clearly said that was not the case, and Emily was fiercely proud of him for that.

She turned her attention to the new financial agreement Mr. Bolton had proposed. “Forgive me, but didn’t my father arrange financing with another bank?”

“He did, but I have no intention of working with that man. He consistently sided against me when your father was alive, and I haven’t forgotten it”

Or apparently forgiven it.

Adam came over to perch on the side of the desk, a glass of brandy in one hand. Emily was glad he’d smoked his cigar outside in the garden because she feared the smell would’ve set off her nausea, though she didn’t mind the residue of it that clung to his clothing. It was simply part of who he was.

“So what do you think?”

She considered the loan papers. “I’d probably like the rate of interest to be lower, but overall I think Mr. Bolton has been remarkably fair with you.”

Adam nodded. “Do you think we should go ahead, then?”

“It is not up to me.” She put down her pen. “What do you wish to do?”

“I’m asking you, lass.” He met her gaze. “Yes, or no?”

She considered him for a moment and gave a decisive nod. “Yes.”

His smile was both intimate and triumphant. “That’s my girl.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

She gathered the papers together, aware that she was blushing, while he took his seat beside her at the desk.

“Now all I need to do is read through the dratted things again, sign all the pages, and take the whole lot back to Mr. Bolton tomorrow.” Adam groaned and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I suspect I won’t see my bed for quite a while yet.”

Emily rose to her feet and pushed back her chair. “Then I will leave you in peace.”

She’d decided to ask one of the stablehands to deliver her message to the town gaol, and wanted a moment to take the letter down to the kitchen where she knew the boys would be having a late supper.

Adam caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Thank you.”

“It was a pleasure.” She went to ease her fingers free, but he retained his grip.

“Is everything all right with you, lass? You look worn out.”

“Not as worn out as you do,” Emily replied.

“That’s not what I asked.” He studied her intently. “Once I’ve sorted out this new mill, perhaps we could take a trip together? Have you ever been to Harrogate?”

“No, I haven’t been anywhere,” Emily reminded him. “My father wouldn’t allow it.”

“You’ll like it.” He assured her with the confidence of a man used to getting his own way. “We’ll stay at one of the good hotels and forget about Millcastle for a couple of days.”

“That sounds lovely.” In truth it did, but she was fairly certain such a thing would never happen. Men like Adam Blackstone never took two days off work simply for the pleasure of spending time with their wife. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He finally released her hand, and she went toward the door, her feelings so conflicted that she had to force herself not to run. He asked her opinion about the business and listened to her advice, and yet he also concealed things from her.

But was she not concealing things as well? Emily paused on the stairs, her hand pressed to her bosom. She hadn’t told him about the baby yet, and she certainly hadn’t confronted him with her suspicions about Miss Gardner or the murderer’s family.

Could she do so?

Would he listen to her with the same attention as he had earlier, or would he exhibit that cold logic that froze her protestations at the core? She was never sure which Adam she would encounter. Her last attempt to get him to acknowledge that she’d seen Matthew’s killer at the mill had ended with her looking hysterical, and him in complete control.

With a sigh, she delivered the letter and then continued up the stairs, her skirts held clear of the steps. After eating the treacle pudding, her stomach felt both remarkably full and quite stable. She’d sleep well tonight, and when Adam did finally come to bed she doubted he would be interested in anything other than falling asleep himself.

In the bedroom, the fire was warm, the curtains closed, and there was no sign of Prudence. Emily rang the bell and sat down at her dressing table. When she wasn’t feeling nauseous she missed Adam’s arms around her at night, his hands on her, his mouth…

Before their disagreement over Matthew’s murderer, he’d often curled himself around her in bed, but recently that had ceased as well. She suspected that even half-asleep he was reacting to her current aversion to being touched. At some point, he would notice she was pregnant. In truth, it would be nice if he did notice. At least it might mean that he was really looking at her.

But he’d looked at her today, asked her advice, and listened to her arguments. Doubt consumed her. Was she asking too much of him? Shouldn’t she be pleased that he respected her, was an excellent businessman, and would be a good father? That was far more than most women achieved, even in love matches.

She half-turned to the door. Mayhap she could go back down the stairs and share all her fears and worries with him. At least then she’d know what he thought. There was more to their marriage than just convenience. She sensed it.

“Good evening, ma’am.” Prudence came in carrying a jug of hot water. “Are you ready for bed? Let me just set this down, and I’ll be right with you.”

Emily found a smile somewhere and turned back to her maid, her impulse to return to Adam defeated by her own uncertainties and fears. Perhaps it was better to stick to what she knew, rather than risk everything in a foolish attempt to wrest something from what might only be silly dreams.

Chapter 14

Adam checked the time again and reluctantly concluded that he had best get himself home and into his wedding suit before Emily came looking for him. He’d spent the morning at Ravenhead reassuring his manager that the new mill would not come at the expense of the old, and that he intended to keep them all in production, albeit on different merchandise.

After news had broken about the construction of the new cotton mill, he’d had a similar conversation with his manager at Marshams on the previous day. Both men were his employees, not Mr. Marsham’s, and had embraced the news with some skepticism, but a loyal belief in his ability to carry the thing off, which was most reassuring.

He closed his ledger, stood, and stretched. The wedding was at eleven, which meant he had over an hour to get home, allow his valet to tidy him up, and be ready to escort his ladies to the church.

Construction on Captain Grafton’s new buildings had already begun and would be completed well before his factory was in operation, giving him a willing and well-housed workforce. Adam had no doubt that several of the other mill owners in Millcastle were likely to bend his ear at the wedding about his follies, but he’d never let them worry him much. The proof of his success was in his profits, and none of them could argue with that.

Adam nodded to his head clerk and left his office. If only his domestic life was as settled as his business one, he’d be a happy man. His wife continued to be elusive, and his focus on the new mill had left him little time to unravel the puzzle of her emotions. Now that things were finally out in the open, he intended to change that. He’d been lucky to marry a woman like Emily, and he intended to make sure she knew that.

He made his way down to the entrance hall, stopping to speak to various employees on the way, and eventually went outside to wait for his carriage. The mill had been freshly painted and repaired. His satisfaction in its transformation settled like a warm glow around his heart. His father might not have cared what happened to Ravenhead, but he did.

Just as the carriage turned into the gates, a boy ran up and pressed a note into Adam’s hand before sprinting away again. Adam unfolded the scrap of paper and read it through before uttering a heartfelt curse Emily would not have approved of at all.

He looked up at Joseph, who had pulled up the horses right in front of him. “I need you to take me into Millcastle and then go back home. Bide there a moment while I write a message for you to take for my wife.”

Emily put on her new blue dress and settled the folds of the skirt over her petticoats. Despite her best efforts, her stomach was definitely rounded. Not wishing to harm the baby, she’d instructed Prudence not to lace her too tightly into her stays, and it definitely showed. She’d also tucked a fine lace fichu into the bodice of her dress to cover her ever-expanding bosom.

“When you put your cloak on, ma’am, no one will notice,” Prudence reassured her. “Now sit down and let me do your hair.”

Emily glanced at the clock. “Has Mr. Blackthorn returned from the mill yet?”

“Not that I am aware of, ma’am.” Prudence deftly brushed out Emily’s hair and twisted it into a high knot, leaving several ringlets to frame her face. “I saw his valet pressing his best coat and shirt so all will be prepared when he does arrive.”

Emily tamped down her unease. It would be just like Adam to forget the time. Her father had been the same. With the formal announcement of the new mill, he’d barely been home for the last week or so, and had insisted he had no choice but to work on the morning of the wedding.

Prudence pinned up her hair, while Emily considered what jewelry to wear to complement the gown. When Emily had gone to try on the dress, Madame Louise had noticed the change in her shape and let out the seams without a word, but with a definite wink. Her stomach was very unsettled this morning, and as time ticked on, her concern about Adam’s whereabouts increased and made her feel even worse.

“You look lovely, ma’am.” Prudence stepped back to admire her handiwork and added another pin to control the newly created ringlets around Emily’s face. “A real picture.”

“Thank you.”

Emily made sure that her new bonnet and cloak were laid out on the bed before walking through to Adam’s dressing room where she found his valet and no husband.

It was now less than half an hour before they needed to leave for the church. After conferring with a worried Albert, Emily picked up her bonnet and cloak and went down to the entrance hall where the butler was standing by the door.

“Has Mr. Blackthorn returned yet?” Emily asked. “Or have we received a message from him?”

“No, Mrs. Blackthorn. I haven’t seen or heard from him at all.”

Emily dumped her outdoor things on a chair in the drawing room and went back up the stairs, aware that her lower back was aching. She knocked on her mother’s door and found her almost ready to descend.

“You look beautiful, Mother.” Emily kissed her cheek.

“Even in black?”

“Yes.” Emily smiled at her mother’s maid, who curtsied and left the room. “Are you ready to come down?”

“Is it time to depart?” Her mother looked flustered. “I must put on my perfume and find a clean handkerchief.”

After helping her mother complete all her tasks, Emily accompanied her down the stairs, and found Margaret awaiting them in the drawing room. She wore a rich plum-colored gown and a matching hat with a tall feather that Emily immediately coveted.

“Emily, where is Adam?” Margaret asked as she came toward them. “It is almost time to depart, and he hasn’t even returned to the house!”

“I have no idea where he is,” Emily replied as calmly as she could. “If he is not here by the time we are due to leave, we will go without him. I don’t want to be late.”

For once Margaret nodded in agreement. “Indeed. There is no need for all of us to display such a lack of punctuality and bad manners.”

Lottie came in wearing a charming paisley print dress that suited her lighter coloring admirably. She went to Emily’s mother’s side and kissed her cheek.

“See? You look beautiful, Mrs. Marsham. I’m sure Captain Grafton and Mrs. Harding will be delighted that you chose to attend their wedding.”

Margaret concealed a snort as she leaned in to whisper to Emily, “As if they will notice us at all, when half the aristocracy is attending.”

Emily had only recently discovered Margaret had a sense of humor. She would’ve enjoyed the joke more if she hadn’t been so worried about Adam’s whereabouts. Since the death of her brother, she’d never taken any unexplained absence for granted. Tragedy could befall anyone at any moment.

The butler came in and bowed. “The carriage is here and awaits your convenience, Mrs. Marsham.”

“If the carriage is here, then where is Adam?” Margaret demanded, even as Emily set off for the door.

Joseph, the coachman, was standing in the entrance hall looking remarkably out of place. His gaze alighted on Emily, and he stepped forward.

“Mrs. Blackthorn. I have a note from Mr. Blackthorn for you.”

“Thank you.” Emily unfolded the note and read the scant information. “He says he has been delayed and will meet us at the church.” She raised her head to look at Joseph. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure, ma’am. He just asked me to deliver that note, and take him into Millcastle.”

“So there isn’t any trouble at the mills?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Where in town did you take him?” Emily asked.

“To the square. He told me to get back here, deliver his note, and get you all to the wedding on time, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” Emily murmured and turned to the other ladies who had gathered in the hall behind her. “It seems that Adam will meet us at the church.”

Margaret blew out a breath. “How very unhelpful of him.”

Emily didn’t bother to answer her sister-in-law, who carried on complaining as Emily went back to put on her cloak and bonnet.

She shepherded the other ladies into the carriage and allowed the butler to shut the door behind her. Her whole body felt like a coiled spring, which was making her nausea much worse. She had a sense that whatever had happened could not be good news, otherwise Adam would’ve done his utmost to be with her.

Wouldn’t he?

Adam sent Joseph on his way, buttoned his coat, and dived into the nearest alley in Three Coins. He took a meandering path toward his final object, aware that his very appearance in the area might cause some interest. In the distance, the bells of the Anglican church rang out in anticipation of the wedding that would begin in less than an hour.

Adam came into the backyard of the house and knocked on the door. When no one answered him, he went in, removing his hat. The kitchen was deserted, so he walked into the sitting room that sat between the little-used front parlor and the front door.

Mr. Gardner rose from his chair and came toward him. He looked as if he had aged twenty years in one day.

“Adam! Thank God you’ve come. I am afeared for Eliza’s life.”

“What happened?” Adam asked. “Is she ill?”

Mr. Gardner sank back into his chair. “Ruby Delisle found her wandering around the streets of Three Coins this morning, delirious and bleeding.”

“Was she attacked?” A hard fist of anger coalesced around his heart.

“I’m not sure. She won’t speak to me.” Mr. Gardner hesitated. “She wouldn’t even let me call the doctor, but she is bleeding, and I’m afraid she will die of it.”

Adam took off his cloak and placed it with his hat and gloves. He handed Mr. Gardner a handful of coins. “I’ll go and speak to her. Mayhap she’ll talk to me. While I’m gone I want you to get a message to Dr. Prentice in Mill Street to meet me here as soon as possible.”

He went up the narrow staircase and into the bedroom that faced the back of the house, and found not only Eliza in the bed, but Ruby Delisle watching over her.

Ruby shot to her feet. “You cannot come in here! What are you thinking?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a wedding?” Adam faced her down. “I need to talk to Miss Gardner. You can stay and watch over her if you wish, but I will speak to her.”

“After what you’ve done?” Ruby gave him a disgusted look. “How dare you.”

Adam moved past her and focused his attention on the figure in the bed. “Is she still bleeding?”

“Yes. What did you think would happen?”

Adam held on to his temper as Eliza’s eyes opened, and she saw him.

“Oh God, no. Adam…”

Ruby pushed past him again. “You don’t have to speak to him, Eliza. In truth I should call for the constable to come and arrest him for what he’s done to you.”

Adam took Ruby’s elbow in a firm grip and marched her out onto the landing, which was just big enough for them to square off.

“What the devil are you talking about?” Adam demanded. “I understand that she was set upon and beaten so why are you blaming me?”

Ruby didn’t back down. “That’s the story she told her father, but it isn’t the truth.”

“Then what is the truth?” Adam held her gaze. “Tell me.”

Ruby raised her chin. “What do you think happens when you pay a woman to get rid of your child?”

Adam blinked at her. “What?”

“You were going to marry her, and then you abandoned her in search of profit and advancement, but did you also have to keep her as your mistress?”

“I did no such thing.” Adam kept his voice even. “If she said that, she’s not telling the truth.”

“Then why did she ask me to contact you?” Ruby insisted. “If you aren’t the father, why would she seek you and only you?”

“I don’t bloody know. I swear to you I have never bedded her.”

Ruby’s outraged expression didn’t change.

“Miss Gardner needs to see a doctor. After that, when she is well again, we can discuss exactly who the father of her child is. Agreed?”

Ruby didn’t look convinced, but she managed to nod. “I won’t let you bully her.”

“I have no intention of doing so,” Adam said. “I just wish to speak to her in private for a moment, and then I will go downstairs and await the doctor.”

Adam went back into the bedroom and closed the door, aware that Ruby was standing where he’d left her and would burst in on them if he upset Miss Gardner in any way.

He sat in the chair beside the narrow bed and took her hand. “Eliza, just tell me his name, and I’ll go and find him for you.”

She turned her head to look at him. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice was like a thin thread of frayed silk.

“The man in the militia. The one you used to meet in The George.”

She shuddered and closed her eyes.

“Eliza…” Adam tried to keep his voice low. “If this man is responsible for your present condition, don’t you think he should know about it?”

He held his breath as the silence between them lengthened.

“Ashamed…”

“Don’t be. Just tell me his name,” Adam urged her.

“Algernon,” she whispered. “Algernon Sams.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her cold fingers. “I’ve sent for Dr. Prentice. He’s a good doctor, and he will do his best to make everything right for you.”

He went to rise, and she refused to let go of his hand. “I didn’t go through with it. I couldn’t… and this is my punishment.” She started to cry without sound and Adam gently released her fingers and stepped back.

“I understand. I’ll find him. I promise.”

He left the room, bowed to Ruby, and went down the stairs just as his friend Simon Prentice came in through the backdoor.

“Good morning, Blackthorn. Aren’t you supposed to be at the wedding of the century or something?”

Adam set his hand on the doctor’s arm and backed him into the kitchen. “Listen, I have to go to the military barracks. Please do your best to help Miss Gardner; she’s pregnant and bleeding.”

Emily adjusted her bonnet as she exited the carriage and waited for the footman to help her mother down the step. There was a crowd of interested onlookers gathered around the fenced-in churchyard and a procession of people being set down in front of the church were heading inside.

She looked around, just in case Adam had miraculously appeared, and then gathered herself to go inside. The last time she’d been in St. Mary’s had been for her father’s funeral, and, before that, her own wedding. This time the interior was packed with guests and filled with beautiful flowers.

A blond man dressed in an exquisite coat and waistcoat bowed as they approached him.

“Good morning, ma’am. Bride or groom?”

“Bride.” Emily smiled at him as she admired his aristocratic drawl and the elegance of his ensemble.

“Well, thank goodness for that. I was beginning to think Francis had only invited his ne’er-do-well relations.”

“I believe Mrs. Harding’s family is quite small.” Margaret looked the man up and down as if he were a worm.

“Small is sometimes so much more preferable,” the man murmured. “Please follow me.”

Emily made sure that her mother and the Blackthorns went into the pew before her so she could sit on the end and have a good view of the rear of the church. She had a sinking sensation that Adam was not going to appear and tried to convince herself that it didn’t matter one bit. She’d consciously distanced herself from him over the past few weeks, and now she was paying the price. Perhaps he felt that she wouldn’t even notice his absence?

Margaret elbowed her in the side. “Who was that arrogant man?”

“I have no idea,” Emily answered. “Perhaps we’ll find out at the wedding breakfast.”

The organist started playing as the guests settled into their seats. Emily nodded to several prominent local families who filed in behind them on the bride’s side.

A murmur rose as Captain Grafton, Viscount Wesley, strolled up the aisle looking his usual unconcerned self. He wasn’t wearing military dress, but sported a dark-blue coat, an embroidered silver waistcoat, and crisp white linen. The fair-haired gentleman who had escorted them to their seats was at his side.

The organist struck a chord and then played a new tune, which led to the congregation rising and all eyes fixing on the back of the church. Caroline Harding entered on Mr. Ford’s arm with her two sisters behind her and proceeded up the aisle. She wore a simple gown with the most beautiful overlaid lacework and a small bonnet with a veil. She carried a bouquet of roses and violets, as did her attendants.

Captain Grafton turned to watch his bride-to-be come down the aisle. There was no hint of apprehension in his expression, just a gradual lessening of tension and a smile of definite approval. He looked like a man who’d won the biggest wager of his life.

Emily found herself smiling foolishly as the couple met at the altar, and Captain Grafton took Caroline’s hand in his. Such trust between them… Such love and respect. All the things she’d hoped for in her own marriage.

The vicar stood in front of them and opened his prayer book. “Dearly beloved…”

Adam didn’t even dare look at his pocket watch as he paced the office at the military barracks outside Millcastle. He’d been received with great courtesy, and his request to speak to Algernon Sams on a matter of urgency had not been questioned. As he waited, he was aware that he was exercising his authority as a mill owner more naturally now. He reminded himself not to forget where he’d come from.

He’d hired a gig from The George and driven the five miles to the barracks in record time. Mr. Sams was apparently a sergeant, and not a local man. He had joined as a regular soldier, but recently been laid off on half-pay, hence his current occupation in the militia.

Adam was just reminding himself that the barracks was a big place, and that it would take time to find one person in it, when the door opened, and the man he vaguely remembered seeing at The George came in and saluted him.

“Mr. Blackthorn. How may I help you?”

“You know who I am?” Adam asked.

“I am aware of your existence, sir, yes,” Sergeant Sams spoke rather stiffly.

“I assume Miss Gardner might have mentioned me.”

A look of dislike passed over the sergeant’s face. “That is none of your concern now, sir, is it? You can hardly think she had a good word to say about you.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t, but that isn’t why I’m here.” Adam paused. “Miss Gardner is very ill. I think she would like you to be at her side.”

“Ill?” Sergeant Sams frowned. “Why would you have such information?”

“Because Miss Gardner and I were friends for many years, and she trusted me to find you.” Adam held the man’s gaze. “Please, accompany me back to her house and speak to her before it is too late.”

“You don’t understand.” Sergeant Sams frowned. “She wrote to me about a month ago and said she no longer wished to see me. Why would she have changed her mind now?”

Adam could have enlightened the sergeant, but was more concerned about getting him to Millcastle where Dr. Prentice and Eliza could explain such a private matter to him in more depth.

“Do you still care for her?” Adam asked.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Mr. Blackthorn, but yes I do.” Sergeant Sams scowled at him. “And I’d ask you to keep your nose out of our damned private business.”

“I promise you that if you accompany me to Millcastle, you will never see or hear from me again.” Adam met the soldier’s skeptical gaze. “Please come and see her. She is in desperate straits.”

“I have several days of leave owed to me.” Sergeant Sams nodded. “I will accompany you.”

“Thank you,” Adam said as a great sensation of relief overpowered him. “I’ll wait for you in the gig.”

Emily progressed along the reception line, Margaret right behind her, until she reached the bride, who reached out and embraced her.

“Emily, I am so glad that you came.” Caroline looked past Emily’s shoulder. “Is Mr. Blackthorn here?”

“He has been unavoidably delayed and sends his apologies,” Emily said. “He hopes to join us as soon as he can.”

“That is a shame, but I’m glad you came without him.” Caroline beamed, and touched the arm of the blond man who stood beside her. “May I introduce you to my husband’s best man? Mrs. Blackthorn, this is the Marquess of Hellidon, who I believe is a second cousin of Francis’s mother.”

“Indeed.” The marquess took Emily’s gloved hand in his, and brought it to his lips. “Enchanted, ma’am.”

“A pleasure, my lord.” Emily curtsied, aware that her back was aching and that it felt like a fist was lodged in her stomach. “Did you have to come far to attend the wedding?”

“I was due to visit my uncle who lives up here in the north, so it was no bother at all to foist myself on my cousin.” He released Emily’s hand and turned to Margaret, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.

“May I introduce my sister-in-law, Miss Blackthorn?” Emily asked.

“Ah, Miss Blackthorn,” the marquess said. “How do you do?”

“Very well, thank you.” Margaret was at her most prickly. “Did you enjoy the wedding?”

“It was… interesting.”

“In what respect?” Margaret asked.

“In that I never thought Francis would meet a woman who would meet his impossible standards.” He half-smiled. “My cousin is a complex man, not content to simply marry to continue his bloodline.”

“Mrs. Harding is not a horse.” Margaret sniffed.

“Exactly. He chose a remarkable woman.” He bowed to Margaret and then Emily. “A pleasure to meet you both.” And he glided away to greet the next guest in the line.

Margaret stared after him as they moved onward to where a bevy of footmen were dispensing drinks from silver trays.

“What an arrogant man.”

“The marquess?” Emily turned to her sister-in-law. “I thought him quite charming.”

Margaret snorted. “Charming and useless, I’ll wager. Did you see how soft his hands were? I bet he’s never done a day’s work in his life.”

“Lucky him,” Emily murmured, and surprised a smile out of Margaret.

“Idleness is not something I value, Emily.”

Emily nudged her in the ribs. “But he was so handsome and well-turned-out.”

“Was he?” Margaret had her nose in the air again. “I can’t say I noticed.”

Emily sat through the wedding breakfast and the speeches and repeated her answer about Adam’s non-appearance so many times that it began to lose its meaning. She accompanied Margaret to the ladies’ retiring room, and considered whether she wished to stay for the evening of dancing and music due to start up in the oldest part of the house, the medieval hall.

While Margaret spoke to the maid, Emily went to the window and looked out over the formal gardens behind the house. She’d given up hope of Adam actually appearing. Whatever he was doing was obviously far more important than a mere wedding. She reminded herself of all the very valid reasons why he might have been delayed. Mills could be very dangerous places. Her own brother had found that out to his cost.

The door opened, but she couldn’t see who had entered because she was half hidden behind the curtains.

“Oh, Margaret, there you are!” Ruby Delisle exclaimed. “I am in such trouble with my mother and sisters. I almost missed the wedding because I had to help your friend, Miss Gardner.”

“Eliza?” Margaret asked as Emily froze to the spot. “Whatever was wrong with her?”

Ruby lowered her voice, and the maid discreetly walked away from them. “I found her wandering around in Three Coins. She was barely conscious and bleeding. At first she said she had been attacked, but then, when I managed to get her back home I couldn’t help but notice only her skirts were bloodied.”

Emily raised her hand to cover her mouth.

“She begged me to send for your brother,” Ruby continued as if unaware that Emily’s whole world was crashing around her. “And I must tell you that when he arrived, I told him exactly what I thought of him.”

Emily blundered out from behind the curtain, almost catching her heel in the pooled fabric, and headed for the door past Ruby and Margaret, all too aware of their horrified expressions.

“Excuse me.”

“Oh my goodness,” Ruby gasped. “I am so sorry, Emily. I didn’t know you were there! I—”

Ruby attempted to grab her arm, but Emily shook her off and addressed her sister-in-law.

“I’m going home now, Margaret. Will you tell my mother I will send the carriage right back for her?”

Emily kept walking as pain tightened around her heart, making it almost impossible to breathe. She went into the hall and smiled at one of the footmen stationed by the door.

“Would you please call for the Blackthorn carriage?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stepped outside the house and took some deep, steadying breaths. All the rooms of the old manor house were lit up, and she could see people enjoying themselves through the diamond-paned windows.

“Emily…” Margaret appeared beside her and placed her cloak over her shoulders. “I don’t believe what Ruby is saying about Adam. Please wait until you speak to him before you jump to any hasty conclusions.”

“I am just tired, Margaret,” Emily forced herself to speak. “When Adam returns to the house I will, of course, address the issue with him. I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding.”

She was sure of nothing, but the last thing she needed was Margaret leaping to her brother’s defense.

“Emily, I know my brother.” Margaret grabbed her hands. “Adam cares for you. Please remember that.”

Luckily, the carriage arrived, and Emily didn’t have to answer. Her only surprise was that Margaret had appeared as concerned for her as for her brother.

She arrived home and sent the carriage straight back. She was welcomed by the butler and went up the stairs to her bedchamber. At some point, Adam would come home. He wasn’t the kind of man to avoid his responsibilities. She just needed a few moments to compose herself.

Prudence came into the bedchamber and hurried to Emily’s side.

“I wasn’t expecting you home so early, ma’am. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine.” Emily smiled. “I was too tired to stay and dance.”

“Quite understandable in your present condition.” Prudence efficiently helped Emily out of her dress. “Do you wish to have a bath?”

“No, I think I’ll just put on my nightgown and rest here for a while.” Emily gestured toward the fireplace. “Perhaps you could ask Cook to send me up a pot of tea and some supper?”

“Of course, ma’am.” Prudence took down Emily’s hair and plaited it in one single braid. “I’ll be right back.”

Chapter 15

Emily had eaten her supper and was mindlessly leafing through the pages of a novel when the door opened and Adam came in. He still wore his work clothes, which were splattered with mud, as were his shoes, and his hair was wild. He leaned against the door and slowly exhaled.

“I’m sorry.”

Emily looked up at him, but didn’t respond.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “May I sit?”

She gestured at the chair opposite hers and he sat down, his hands loosely clasped between his knees, his gaze on the patterned carpet.

“I’m aware that you deserve an explanation, but I don’t know where to start.”

Emily considered him. “At the beginning? Ruby Delisle—”

His head shot up. “What the devil did she say to you?” he demanded.

The idea that he expected her to articulate his sins suddenly infuriated Emily.

“From your expression, I assume it wasn’t good.” Adam searched her face. “Would you like to hear my version of the story, or have I already been tried and convicted?”

She raised an eyebrow, inviting him to continue, challenging him to tell her everything.

“I was about to leave for the wedding when I received a note from Mr. Gardner that Eliza was very ill and had asked to see me.” He let out a ragged breath. “I felt… obliged to go and offer my help.”

“Why was that?” Emily inquired.

His brows came together. “I don’t understand your question.”

“Did you perhaps feel responsible in some way?”

“Of course I did. She—”

“Because the child was yours?” Her fingers bit into the palm of her hand.

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Do you really believe that?”

“Why not?” She attempted a nonchalant shrug. “My father had a mistress. It is not uncommon.”

“It is in my world.”

“This is your world.” Emily refused to back down, the anger simmering in her body flowing outward, eager to inflict hurt on the one who had caused it.

He shot to his feet and she flinched away, shielding her face with her hand.

“I’m not going to bloody hit you,” Adam snapped. “I’m not your loathsome father.”

She slowly lowered her hand. “I know that.”

“Then will you at least allow me to explain myself?”

She nodded, and he resumed his seat.

“When I got to the Gardners, Ruby Delisle tried to prevent me from seeing Eliza. She thought…” He winced. “She believed I’d paid Eliza to get rid of my child, and that Eliza was dying because of it.”

Emily pressed a hand to her stomach in instinctive protest.

“And did you?” She was proud of the steadiness in her voice.

“No.” He didn’t balk at the question and continued to meet her gaze. “I’ve never bedded her. We were going to get married. I respected her.”

Emily allowed herself to consider what he was saying, aware that part of her desperately wanted to believe him. The notion he might have bedded Eliza and gotten them both pregnant at the same time was mortifying.

“Why did Ruby think you were the culprit, then?”

“Because Eliza asked only to see me.” Adam hesitated. “We were good friends for many years. She still trusts me, despite everything.”

Emily nodded, even as a thread of jealously curled around her heart. “Go on.”

“The thing is…” Adam twisted his hands together. “I recently became aware that Eliza was… seeing another man. Once I was able to get past Ruby, I spoke to Eliza, and she confirmed that I was right. Eventually, she gave me the man’s name, and I set off for the military barracks to find him while Dr. Prentice took care of Eliza.”

Emily pictured Adam doing exactly that and found it all too plausible.

He rubbed a weary hand over his unshaven jaw. “By the time I found him, convinced him to come back to Millcastle, and made sure of his welcome at the Gardner’s house, it was far too late to turn up to a society wedding, especially looking like this.”

“Is Miss Gardner going to be all right?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know, lass.” He grimaced. “The doctor managed to stop the bleeding, but he’s not sure whether she managed to keep the baby or not.”

“If she went to get rid of it, then one would assume not.”

“She didn’t. Apparently, she woke up at dawn bleeding and rushed out to Dr. Prentice’s house in a panic. She fainted on the way, banged her head, and got lost in the maze of Three Coins. It’s a miracle that Ruby Delisle found her.”

“Indeed.” Emily nodded. “I do hope she recovers her strength.”

Adam waited tensely, but Emily didn’t say anything else.

“Do you believe me?” he asked slowly.

“Everything you have related sounds remarkably credible,” she agreed.

“Then am I forgiven?”

Emily looked down at her interlocked fingers, but she didn’t reply, and his anxiety mounted. He’d had a bloody awful day, and the last thing he needed right now was yet another argument with a woman he cared about. Not that he didn’t deserve her anger.

“What is it?” Adam asked softly.

“I want to forgive you.” She didn’t look at him.

“But you cannot?” He tried to consider things from her point of view. “I know I let you down—that you had to attend the wedding without me—but surely you agree that I had no choice but to help Miss Gardner?”

“I understand why you did that.” She nodded. “She is important to you.”

“If you are suggesting that she is more important to me than you are, you are mistaken,” Adam said firmly. “But you merely had to endure a few hours at a social event while Miss Gardner was in danger of losing her life.”

“Of course, how silly of me.” Emily finally looked at him. “How stupid of me to be worried that there was something wrong with you—that you had been injured, or that one of your mills had been destroyed.” She stood, her voice trembling. “How stupid of me to care.”

“That wasn’t what I was implying—”

“Oh, be quiet!” she spoke over him. “You were attempting to suggest that poor Miss Gardner had a far worse day than I did, and that it was selfish of me to want your company at a social event!”

He rose too, and glared at her. “Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“I wouldn’t dare.” She raised her chin. “My concern for you was obviously a waste of time.”

“I appreciate your concern!” Adam snapped back. “Mine was focused on Eliza!”

“I know!” She looked away, and he caught the glint of tears in her eyes. “Your loyalty to her in her time of need does you great credit.”

“You are suggesting that I value her more than you,” Adam said slowly. “That isn’t the case.”

“I don’t care.” She swung back to face him, her hand pressed to her bosom. “It’s how I feel.”

Adam stared at her helplessly. “You agree that I did the right thing helping Eliza, but you still feel upset by my actions.”

“Yes.” She glared at him. “And please don’t tell me that is quite illogical. I am well aware of it.” She gathered herself. “The thought that you dropped everything to help her makes me feel…”

“Jealous?” he suggested softly.

She blinked at him. “Yes.”

“You are my wife.”

“But you originally chose her.”

“If I’d loved her the way she deserved, nothing would’ve made me give her up,” Adam said. “If I’d defied your father and refused to marry you, do you think he would’ve ended my employment? Do you seriously think I would not have risen on my own, and attempted to wrest control of the company away from your brother? If I’d loved Eliza with all my heart, instead of falling into a relationship with her because we’d spent lots of time together and it was expected, I would have married her.”

“You are an ambitious man.”

“Aye, what of it?” Adam demanded.

“It was easier for you to marry me and take control of the company that way,” Emily stated.

“Yes it was.” He held her gaze without shame. “But if I’d wanted to, I could’ve married Eliza, and I didn’t. I owe her the loyalty of friendship, but I owe you the loyalty of a husband.”

Even as he spoke the words, he realized they came from the heart.

“You didn’t even tell me you were betrothed to her.”

“Why would I?” It was his turn to look confused. “It was in the past.”

“I would’ve preferred not to hear about it from your sisters.”

Adam bit back a quick reply and considered her words. “You’re right, I should’ve told you to your face.”

“Thank you.” She inclined her head a regal inch.

“I’ll do better,” Adam promised her. “You deserve my honesty.”

She folded her arms under her breasts and half-turned toward the fire, which illuminated the rounded contours of her figure beneath her nightgown.

Adam went still. “Speaking of honesty, is there something you wish to share with me?”

She looked down at the swell of her stomach and placed a protective hand on the front of her nightgown.

“You’re expecting my child.” Adam said. “How long have you known, and not bloody bothered to tell me?”

She advanced toward him. “Don’t you dare equate my not telling you this with your current behavior.”

“Why not?” He glared at her. “Don’t you think I had a right to know?”

“Look at me!” Emily exclaimed. “Even though you are barely home, you would’ve noticed eventually.”

“As you just said, I would’ve preferred to hear it from you.” Adam growled and turned to the door. “I’m going to change out of these clothes. Good night, ma’am.”

He slammed the door behind him and then slammed the door into his dressing room for good measure.

He might as well not have bothered because she came right after him anyway.

“How dare you walk away from me as if you are the wounded party?” She was actually yelling now, which was quite a sight to behold.

“I am wounded!” he yelled right back, parroting her own words. “It’s how I bloody feel!”

“Then perhaps you should stop trying to manage every single little thing at the mills, and trust someone else to do it for you, and then you might be home to notice your wife is vomiting and swooning and getting fat!”

“I’m doing this for all of us.”

“You’re killing yourself!” She poked him in the chest. “Are you happy now? Are we even? Because if so, I’m going to bed!”

He brought his hand up, and she ducked as if expecting a blow, leaving him feeling like the worst kind of bully.

“Don’t do that.”

She shuddered out a sigh. “It’s a hard habit to lose.” She looked back at the door. “I’ll leave you to change.”

He slid his hand around the back of her neck and gently drew her against him. “Stay. Please.”

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder as if all the fight had gone out of her, and he gathered her close and just held her until both of them breathed more easily.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he kissed her neck, her cheek, and her forehead. “I’m so damned sorry.”

“Good,” she muttered as she arched against him. “You are a horrible man, and I don’t know why I’m letting you charm me into forgiving you.”

He kissed her very slowly, and then did it again when she responded, until the taste of her and the feel of her against him became everything that was important in his world. She might not realize it, but it had become increasingly clear to him over the past months that she was indeed the perfect woman for him.

“Let me see you,” he murmured. “Let me touch you.”

He lifted her into his arms and walked her back into their bedroom and laid her carefully on the drawn-back sheets. He lit the candles and climbed up beside her, allowing his hands to map and trace the changes in her body, changes he was already ashamed of missing. Her breasts were fuller, her stomach more curved, and there was a lushness about her that made him want to just breathe her in and protect her from any danger.

“May I?” He touched the buttons at the throat of her nightgown, and she nodded. “Thank you.”

His breath caught in his throat as he discovered the changes in her breasts. He cupped his hand under one mound and licked her enlarged nipple, making her shiver.

“Is it too much?” he asked. “Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s just different,” she confessed. “So much more sensitive.”

“Ah,” he breathed over her nipple and then sucked it into his mouth, making her jump and cling to his broad shoulders. He shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat, his mouth lapping at her, unable to stop even as he struggled to undress, needing his skin against hers.

“Help me, lass.”

She set about unfastening his trousers, and he pressed himself into her hand, desperate for her touch. He yanked his shirt over his head, almost strangling himself with his cravat, and shoved aside his trousers and underthings until he was naked. He straddled her, his gaze drawn back to her breasts as he kissed his way up her throat to settle over her mouth. He thumbed her nipples, and she gasped into his mouth, her hips rising until her stomach brushed against the thick column of his cock.

He returned his mouth to her breasts, and let his hand slip lower to settle between her thighs and used his thumb to much better effect against the swell of her bud. Just like that, she climaxed, and he raised his head to look at her in wonder.

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what is happening to me.”

“Don’t be sorry, lass.” He kissed her, replacing her teeth on her lower lip with his own. “You really are sensitive aren’t you?”

She sighed into his mouth and he settled her onto her side, his arms around her and her head on his shoulder. He spread his fingers wide over her stomach.

“When will the baby come?”

“Not for quite a while. Four or five months, I think.”

“What did the doctor say?” Adam asked.

“I haven’t spoken to one.” She met his gaze. “Dr. Pike is also my mother’s doctor, and he would tell her.”

“And?” Adam frowned.

“She had several miscarriages and two babies that died shortly after they were born.” Emily hesitated. “She will fuss over me.”

“Ah.” Adam nodded. “Would you like to see Dr. Prentice instead? He’s a younger man and very knowledgeable about the current state of medicine.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll probably be asking him about what’s appropriate in your current condition anyway.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Appropriate for what?”

“Whether I can still bed you,” Adam explained.

“Oh.” She considered that. “Then perhaps we should both see him, as I would like to know the answer to that question as well.”

Out of habit, Adam woke at five and was out of bed before he realized it was Sunday. He was also ravenously hungry. Leaving Emily to sleep, he gathered up his clothes, went into his dressing room, washed in cold water, and dressed before going down the stairs.

It was too early for the formal breakfast, so he went into the kitchens and helped himself to some of the freshly baked bread and a good hunk of cheese that Cook had left out for the servants. She was used to his presence in her domain and simply pointed at the brown teapot and got back to work.

Within a few minutes, Margaret took some porridge from the pot on the stove and joined him.

“You’re home, then,” Margaret said.

“Aye.”

“Emily was very upset.”

“So I understand, and quite rightly so.” Adam sipped his strong tea.

Margaret lowered her voice. “I told her Ruby’s accusations were wrong, and you wouldn’t be so disloyal.”

“I doubt she believed you at the time, but I appreciate your belief in me.”

“Actually, I was more concerned about reassuring Emily than helping you.” Margaret offered him a pointed stare.

“Well, that’s a first.” Adam drank more tea.

“Emily is not what I thought,” Margaret added. “I have come to respect and care for her. I expect you to do the same.”

“I do respect her. She’s my wife,” Adam retorted. “Now, seeing as she’s forgiven me, perhaps you might consider doing the same?” He met Margaret’s gaze. “Emily’s pregnant. I don’t wish her to be upset anymore.”

“Then perhaps you might change your behavior.” Margaret didn’t sound in the least bit mollified. “The fact you didn’t even notice your own wife was increasing indicates how little time you spend at home with your family.”

Adam set his mug down on the table with such a thump that the tea slopped over the side. “You knew?”

“For goodness sake, Adam.” She raised her eyebrows. “It has been perfectly obvious for weeks.”

Adam considered her in silence as she calmly ate her porridge. She and Emily sounded like two halves of the same coin. Both of them were worried about him, and neither of them were willing to back down over the matter.

“When I’ve got the new mill up and running, I promise I’ll be here more,” Adam said gruffly.

“I do hope you mean that, brother.” Margaret pushed her bowl away. “Emily will need you in the coming months, especially when the baby is born.”

“I thought that was women’s business, and men were relegated to being treated like small boys,” Adam grumbled. He poured Margaret a mug of tea and topped up his own. “Did you enjoy the wedding?”

She smiled for the first time. “I never thought I’d be surrounded by half the landed gentry of Yorkshire, Adam. I even danced with a marquess. Me!”

“Was he nice?” Adam asked, eager to move the conversation away from his failings.

“No, he was remarkably indolent and attempted to be amusing, which did not work well with me.” Margaret nodded. “I set him straight.”

“I’ll wager you did.” Adam hesitated. “Did he behave himself?”

“As in, did I need to slap his face?” Margaret smiled. “No, he was the perfect gentleman—all pretty flummery and no real grit.”

Adam grinned at her. “Perhaps he had hidden talents.”

“He has a title, and I believe he mistakenly thinks that makes him quite important enough.”

“Lots of titles these days, and no money to back them up,” Adam reminded her. “Lots of estates going to ruin while these aristocrats prance around bemoaning the rise of the common man.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Soon we’ll be wealthy enough for you to take your pick of any one of them, sister—mayhap even a Royal duke!”

She looked so scandalized at the very idea that he had to laugh, and after she’d scolded him for doing so, they were back in their familiar routine, which cheered him up considerably. The last person he had expected to take Emily’s side and tell him off had been Margaret. He had to give credit to Emily for standing up to her new sister-in-law and winning her approval—a rare and precious thing.

Emily went down to breakfast and discovered Adam and Margaret chatting happily to each other at one end of the table while her mother and Lottie conversed quietly at the other. She paused in the doorway to accustom herself to the smell of cooked food and realized that for the first time in ages, she was actually hungry.

Adam stood as she entered the room and bowed. “Good morning, Emily.”

She offered him a brief smile—only because she was still intent on not breathing in—and rushed over to the sideboard where the food sat under covered silver salvers.

She sniffed at the eggs and added them to her plate with a slice of ham before sitting down at the table.

“Would you like some toast, ma’am?” one of the footmen asked as he poured her a cup of tea.

“Yes, please.” Emily considered the eggs and ham, scooped up a small amount, and put it in her mouth. Her stomach growled as if asking for more, but she took her time, only to realize that Adam and Margaret were watching her intently.

“You missed a lovely wedding, Adam,” Emily’s mother called out. “Mrs. Harding is now a Viscountess! Fancy that!”

“Indeed.” Adam shared a look with his sister. “I was just telling Margaret that in a year or so she and Lottie will have a big enough dowry to impress a royal prince.”

Margaret snorted and continued to methodically eat her way through a plateful of food while Emily toyed with her eggs.

“Did you meet this marquess my sister danced with, Emily?” Adam asked.

“I did. He was very handsome.” Emily studied Margaret. “I’m surprised that you accepted his invitation to dance. You said he was arrogant.”

“I suspect he asked me as a joke,” Margaret said. “Thus I was determined not to allow him to get away with it.”

“Poor man,” Adam murmured. “In a battle of wits, I’d always back my sister.”

Emily buttered her toast and ate a whole half piece without even noticing. Her stomach seemed more settled today, and she was very grateful for that.

“There’s a note for you, ma’am.” The butler appeared at Emily’s elbow. “It was delivered yesterday, but you were out all day.”

“Thank you.” Emily glanced at the envelope and then slid it into her pocket when she recognized Sergeant Sykes’ name on the corner.

Adam looked over at her, and she smiled calmly back at him. “Do you intend to come to church this morning?”

He grimaced. “I suppose I should, or else everyone will think I’ve disappeared for good.”

“Perhaps we could call on the Gardners on our way home and see if they need anything.” Emily buttered the second half of her toast, aware that the room had suddenly gone silent.

“The Gardners?” Adam repeated, and shared a wary glance with Margaret. “I’m not sure if—”

“If Miss Gardner would be well enough to receive us?” Emily met his questioning stare. “Perhaps we could offer our assistance to Mr. Gardner instead.”

Adam continued to stare at her, and she refused to look away. After a long moment, he slowly nodded.

“As you wish.”

Emily finished her toast. She had no idea why she’d suggested such a thing, but she was tired of being afraid, and more than willing to put the past behind her.

Mr. Gardner rose from his chair, setting his pipe to one side as his visitors entered.

“Good morning, Adam, Mrs. Blackthorn, Margaret. To what do I owe this honor?”

Adam stepped forward to clasp his old friend’s shoulder. “Good morning, sir. We were on our way back from church and decided to come by and see if there was anything we could help you with.”

“That is very good of you.” Mr. Gardner motioned for them all to sit. “Eliza is feeling much better. Dr. Prentice says she needs to rest and eat lots of red meat to regain her strength.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Adam said as Emily made a mental note to ensure that the Gardners had the necessary supplies to do just that. “Was she able to speak to Sergeant Sams?”

“Indeed she did, and he asked her to marry him.” Mr. Gardner smiled. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Emily smiled back at him. “It is.” She glanced over at Margaret, who had decided to accompany them to church and had spent the whole service criticizing the poor vicar. “Do you think we could go up and see whether Miss Gardner needs anything? We’ve brought her some broth.”

“She was asleep earlier, and I didn’t wish to wake her, but she might welcome some company now.”

“Thank you.” Emily rose and allowed Margaret to precede her up the narrow stairs. She assumed her presence would not be welcome, and expected to be sent away immediately, but she had to try.

By the time she reached the open doorway, Margaret was already inside the tiny room helping Miss Gardner to sit up against the pillows. Her skin was almost as white as the cotton, and her hair needed brushing.

Without even looking directly at Emily she asked, “Did you come to gloat?”

“No.” Emily took the seat beside the bed as Margaret fussed around, tidying the room. “I came to see how you were feeling.”

“Why would you care?”

“Because you and Adam have been friends for many years, and I am glad that you thought to ask for his help.”

“That is very… gracious of you, ma’am.”

Emily persevered. “I also wanted to reassure you that as a member of the school board I will be recommending that a substitute teacher is put in place until you are fully recovered.”

Miss Gardner finally turned to look at her.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to worry about such things while you are recovering.” Emily held her gaze. “Your full salary will be paid to you while you are recuperating.”

“You could easily terminate my employment. In truth, that’s what I expected to happen—especially if word gets out that I am carrying an illegitimate child.”

“Mr. Gardner said that you were getting married.” Margaret sat on the side of the bed. “Was he in error?”

“No, we intend to wed once I am better.”

“How wonderful,” Emily said. “Adam will be delighted.”

“And will you?” Miss Gardner asked. “Be delighted?”

“If, unlike me, you are able to choose whom you marry, then yes.” She didn’t look away from Miss Gardner’s skeptical face. “And it would seem to me that your choosing another man means you’ll finally have to let go of mine.”

Margaret gasped, and Miss Gardner went still.

“I beg your pardon?”

Emily shrugged. “Am I being too blunt? You seem to have no objection to being so to me, so I thought I’d answer in kind. You’ll get the man who fathered your child and who loves you enough to marry you, and I’ll…” She paused. “I’ll keep Adam Blackthorn whether he wants me or not.”

“You are not at all how I expected you to be,” Miss Gardner said slowly.

“Good.” Emily rose from her seat and smoothed down her skirts. She’d changed immensely during the year of her marriage, and she didn’t regret it at all. “Now, if we understand each other, I will go downstairs and leave you in Margaret’s excellent hands.”

Chapter 16

Dear Mrs. Blackthorn, I regret to inform you that despite interviewing the remaining members of the Patterson family, and their neighbors in Bell Street, we have been unable to discover the whereabouts of Ronald Patterson, late of Ravenhead Mill, whom we believe killed Mr. Matthew Marsham. We will, however continue to search for him, and are ready to prosecute him to the full extent of the law when he is finally brought to justice.

Yours sincerely.

Sergeant Reginald Sykes.

Millcastle Gaol.

Emily had read the letter so many times that she knew it by heart and was ready to consign it to the flames. Had Adam disclosed the Patterson’s name to the authorities, or had they discovered it by themselves? It no longer mattered. Emily now knew the name of her brother’s murderer and where his family lived.

Bell Street was a narrow thoroughfare that ran along the back of the church and up into Three Coins, becoming rapidly more derelict as it went. In a few weeks all those houses would be demolished and the tenants scattered to the new houses near the mill construction, and across Millcastle.

Emily contemplated the fire as the letter burned to a bright red crisp of curling ash. Even if she did go to the Pattersons’ house, what was she hoping to achieve? Nothing would bring her brother back, but she yearned to understand why Ronald Patterson had murdered Matthew. Surely understanding it would help her heal? Allow her to sleep without having horrific dreams?

It had been almost a year since Matthew’s death, and she was already beginning to forget his face—to only see him screaming and pleading to live in the agony of death in her dreams. As he grew less distinct, her desire to remember him intensified.

She could ask Adam if he could arrange a meeting between her and the Patterson family. She pictured his reaction to her request and knew he would never agree to it. All along he’d been intent on shielding her from something, or protecting those he’d worked alongside in the mill, she still wasn’t sure which.

If she wanted to speak to the Pattersons, she would have to do it by herself.

Adam gave a perfunctory knock on the interconnecting door and came into her dressing room.

“Are you all right, Emily?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She found a smile. “Has Dr. Prentice arrived?”

“Yes, he has. I wanted to warn you before I sent him up.” He paused as he turned toward the door. “Your mother is already quizzing him about his appearance here today, so I suspect once Simon confirms you are with child, you’ll have to tell her.”

“I suppose I will.” Emily threw some more coal on the fire to cover up the burned letter. “Unless I am imagining the whole thing.”

Adam smiled at her. “I doubt that, lass. I’ve never met a woman yet who doesn’t know when she’s breeding.”

“My mother didn’t realize she was pregnant with me until it was almost too late,” Emily countered. “She thought she was too old to have another child.”

“So you were a nice surprise?”

“Even nicer if I’d been a boy, according to my father.”

“Not to me. I much prefer you just the way you are.” He blew her a kiss and went out, whistling as he went down the corridor.

She walked over to the window and considered the view. Perhaps she should simply let the matter go and trust that Adam knew best.

But did he?

A light tap on the door had her spinning around and inviting the doctor in to her bedroom. Prudence stood ready to help Emily if necessary.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Dr. Prentice gave her hand a firm shake. “I am honored to be consulted in this matter. Will you please go and lie on the bed?” He glanced over at Prudence. “And could you please help Mrs. Blackthorn out of her dress and stays?”

Emily paused. “My mother’s doctor never asks us to remove any clothing.”

“Which is probably why he has no idea how a woman’s body actually works.” Dr. Prentice washed his hands with the soap and water Prudence had brought up with her. “I, on the other hand, do.”

Emily did what he requested, and lay back on the bed, feeling rather self-conscious as Dr. Prentice stripped off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and advanced toward her.

She closed her eyes as he touched her very gently, his hands lingering on the slight swell of her stomach.

“You’re definitely expecting a baby,” he confirmed. He leaned down and placed his ear against her stomach, which made her jump. “Just listening in.”

Emily met Prudence’s startled gaze, and they both fought a giggle.

“If it talks back to you, Doctor, I’ll fetch the vicar,” Prudence said, and Dr. Prentice grinned.

“All is well.” The doctor turned back to Emily. “It’s hard to be accurate about the duration of your pregnancy, but if you’ve missed your courses for five months, I reckon you have about another four months to go.”

He laid his hand over her stomach again, as if measuring her. “If there is any bleeding or pain send for me immediately, and put yourself straight to bed with your feet up.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Emily said meekly.

“Rest as much as you can.” He stepped back. “But do not lie around on a couch all day coddling yourself. Moderate exercise is desirable, and your physical relationship with your husband can continue for as long as you are comfortable with it.”

“Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” He smiled and went to wash his hands again before rolling down his sleeves and putting his coat back on.

“Why do you wash your hands so much, sir?” Prudence asked. “I don’t remember Dr. Pike ever doing so.”

“I’m not quite sure of the science of it, but I’ve observed, as have many of my colleagues, that washing my hands between patients leads to less troubling outcomes.” Dr. Prentice buttoned his coat and picked up his bag. “To my mind it seems a sensible and polite thing to do, even if it doesn’t really help.”

He bowed and left the room as Prudence helped Emily get dressed again. Adam appeared briefly before he returned to the mill, leaving Emily to deliver the good news to her mother and await her reaction.

Three hours later, after her mother had finally taken herself off for a nap, an exhausted Emily escaped into Millcastle with Prudence by her side. She asked the coachman to take her to the Methodist Hall, where she was due at a school board meeting. To her surprise, she enjoyed being involved in the running of the school and was secretly proud of the improvements modeled on her work with the mill schools she had pushed through. Being the wife of one of Millcastle’s most successful mill owners didn’t hurt either. She’d learned early from her father that power, money, and influence were the keys to success.

When the meeting ended earlier than she had anticipated, she lingered to speak to Mr. Ford, who was due to teach a class in the hall later that day. Even as she talked to him, her thoughts scurried back to the fact that Bell Street was literally across the road from the hall, and that she could at least walk by the Patterson residence.

She sent Prudence out to the front of the hall to await the return of the carriage and slipped out of the back door, her heart beating so fast that she had to slow down. She drew her plain, black wool shawl over the fancy bodice of her brown dress, and continued up the street until she spied a little girl playing with a ball on the step of one of the houses.

“Good afternoon.” Emily smiled at the child. “Do you know where the Patterson family live?”

The girl considered Emily, the brightness of her expression at odds with the drabness of her worn clothing.

“Who wants them?”

“I was just wondering which house they lived in,” Emily answered, moving to one side as a man with a handcart came down the road.

“Two down from here.” The girl jerked her thumb in the direction the man had taken and then ran off.

“Thank you.”

Emily looked up at the house, which had two windows with drawn curtains, one above the other, and a door that had seen better days. She’d forgotten that at this time of day most of the family would be working at the mill. Suddenly struck by the absurdity and futility of her interest, she turned and walked determinedly past the house.

“What are you doing here, gawking at my house, Miss Marsham?”

She halted and turned slowly. An old women with an apron tied over her frock was regarding her coldly from the now open door, the young girl clinging to her leg.

“I’m not sure,” Emily said quietly. “I apologize for disturbing you, Mrs. Patterson.”

“Come to see if my Ron has come back home, have you?” Mrs. Patterson said. “Well, there’s no chance of it, is there? You’ve seen to that.”

Emily took a step toward the woman as the girl ran off down the street. “If he killed my brother, doesn’t he deserve to be taken up and offered a fair trial?”

“Fair trial?” Mrs. Patterson’s laugh had no humor in it. “You know as well as I do that he’d be convicted and hung in a second.”

“I saw him stab my brother,” Emily stated. “Do I not deserve justice for that?”

“When they’ll be no justice for my daughter? Ron’s sister?” Mrs. Patterson raised her voice, her words echoing down the empty street.

“I don’t understand,” Emily said slowly. “What does that have to do with Matthew?”

She held her ground as Mrs. Patterson advanced toward her. “Are you telling me you don’t know what he did?”

Emily’s gloved hands clenched into fists, and she shook her head.

“Your new husband, a man who worked alongside mine, didn’t bloody mention it?”

The disbelief in Mrs. Patterson’s voice was unmistakable, as was the unforgiving gaze she raked Emily with.

“Your brother was drunk that day, and as he walked through the shed, he thought to fondle my daughter, Matty. When she attempted to stop him, he shoved her away so hard that she fell into the loom. Her hair was caught, and that was that. No justice for my Matty, no charges laid against your brother, even though the workers refused to work that day until something was done.” Her lip curled. “No bloody jury and sentence, just another accident at work, which your brother thought highly amusing.”

Emily pictured Matthew’s smiling face in his last moments as he’d sauntered down to the gates to order the employees to get back to work. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and Mrs. Patterson’s face blurred in front of her. Old Testament justice perhaps? An eye for an eye?

“Mrs. Blackthorn!”

There was a shout behind her and suddenly Mr. Ford was by her side, the girl running ahead of him.

“Come away now, lass,” he said gently. “There’s nothing more to be gained here, is there?” He nodded at Mrs. Patterson. “Ma’am.”

“She says she didn’t know.” Mrs. Patterson was openly weeping. “How could she not know?”

Mr. Ford took Emily’s hand and placed it on his sleeve. “Perhaps you should ask Mr. Blackthorn about that, Betty? This lass is in no fit state to deal with you now.”

He nodded and drew Emily away, down the street at a slow pace as the door banged shut behind Mrs. Patterson and the girl.

“That’s Ron’s daughter. She came to get me because she feared for her grandmother, which was very sensible of her,” Mr. Ford said. “I suspect she and her brothers were the ones throwing stones at you that day.”

Emily nodded, her mind grappling with what she’d heard and constantly recoiling.

“Come and sit down, Mrs. Blackthorn.”

Emily halted at the back door of the hall. “I think I would like to go home. Is the carriage here?”

Mr. Ford frowned. “I’m not sure if that is a good idea, ma’am. You look rather shaken.”

“And I will feel much better when I get home,” Emily repeated doggedly.

“As you wish.” He led her through the hall to the front door where Prudence was chatting to the coachman. He paused out of earshot. “Did you really not know what happened to Matty Patterson?”

“I had no idea.”

Mr. Ford patted her hand. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Yes, thank you.” Emily smiled at him. “I appreciate your concern and your help.”

He handed her into the carriage, and paused for a quick word with Prudence. Emily waited until he had retreated back into the hall before she called out to the coachman.

“Joseph? Do you know which mill Mr. Blackthorn is working in today?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s at Ravenhead.”

“Then will you please take me there?”

Adam ushered his two new managers out of his office and allowed himself a congratulatory smile. They were both ambitious men and eager to outdo each other to gain his approval, which suited him fine. Ravenhead was starting to prosper. The workforce had settled down, and the school was thriving. He would have time to turn his attention to the new mill, and let this one develop under new hands.

He returned to his desk and wrote himself a quick note of all the points he had covered in the meeting. He’d make sure his head clerk sent a copy of the notes to both men so they knew their responsibilities and could be held accountable.

There was a knock on his door, and one of the junior clerks came in.

“Mrs. Blackthorn has arrived, sir. Shall I send her up?”

“Yes, of course.”

Surprised, and somewhat wary, Adam put down his pen and stood as Emily was ushered into the room. Without speaking, she took the chair in front of his desk and sat down.

“Is everything all right?” Adam asked. He had certainly not been expecting to see her.

“Not really.” Emily took off her gloves and folded them on her lap.

“Is it the baby?” Adam came around the desk. “Are you unwell?”

“I met Mrs. Patterson.”

Adam stopped moving. “Did she seek you out?”

“No, it was my fault entirely. I asked Sergeant Sykes how the investigation into my brother’s death was going, and he inadvertently revealed the name of the family and the street they lived on in his reply.”

Adam tried to relate the quiet politeness of her tone with the sheer enormity of what she was relating. He looked at her more closely and recognized her calmness for the façade it was.

“Emily…” He didn’t know if he was warning her to stop or terrified about what she was going to say next.

“I’m not sure whether you were attempting to protect me or the Pattersons, but I would like an honest answer from you,” Emily said.

He nodded, his hand gripping the side of his desk like a lifeline.

“Was Matthew drunk on the day he died, and did he push Matty Patterson into a running loom, causing her death?”

“Yes.” It pained him to say it, but he owed her the truth. “The workers were out of the shed, protesting her death, when you arrived with your mother.”

Emily drew an unsteady breath. “And perhaps, if Matthew hadn’t come down to the gate, smiling as if he didn’t have a care in the world, Ron Patterson wouldn’t have retaliated against him.”

“It’s possible.” Adam sat on the corner of his desk and studied her. “But it doesn’t excuse the fact that Ron chose to end your brother’s life.”

“Mrs. Patterson said there would be no justice through the courts for Matty—that men like my brother would never be held accountable for an ‘accident’ at work.”

“She’s right.” Adam didn’t attempt to lie. “Your father would’ve used his influence to protect Matthew and have the charges dropped.” He glanced down at his feet. “I’ll be honest with you, Emily, if it had happened after your father’s death, despite our marriage, I would’ve made sure that Matthew was at least brought to trial.”

“I understand.” She nodded. “I know you always try and do the right thing.”

“Aye, even when it would’ve hurt you, your mother, and Margaret, who was engaged to him.” He shrugged. “Even though a jury of his peers would probably not have convicted him.”

“So perhaps Ron did what he thought was right?”

“And he still should also be held accountable for taking a life,” Adam reminded her. “If he is ever seen in Millcastle again, I will make damned sure of it.”

“He won’t come back,” Emily said softly. “He has his life, but he’s lost his family, his job, and his sister.” She looked up at Adam. “Perhaps that makes things equal after all?”

“I don’t know, lass. Does it?”

It was a long time before she answered him, her expression so distant that he wondered if she’d ever come back to him.

“At least I know what happened now. The thing is—” Her voice caught. “I still can’t help but love Matthew, even though he did such a terrible thing.”

“I’m sure Mrs. Patterson feels the same way about Ron.” He went over and fell to his knees, framing her face in his work-scarred hands.

“Did you know that I was the one who found my father after he’d shot himself? I hated him at that moment, for being so selfish, for letting us all down. But, in the end, I couldn’t stop loving him, because I also remembered the good days, before he started drinking, and the mill profits started to decline. I had to come to terms with the fact that someone I cared about was also capable of doing unforgiveable things.”

Emily swallowed hard.

“I’m so sorry, love,” Adam said. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to have to live with that knowledge. I wanted to protect you as no one protected me.”

“You can’t protect me from everything,” Emily whispered.

Adam grimaced. “I know, and I’m also aware that you are a strong woman in your own right and would not appreciate being cossetted.”

She touched his cheek. “If I hadn’t married you, I wouldn’t have become that person.”

“I disagree about that, my love, but I’m glad I was lucky enough to marry you.”

“Love?” she whispered.

“You know it in your heart.” He kissed her very slowly. “You are my brave, strong lass, and I don’t know how I managed before I met and married you.”

“If Matthew was alive, things would be very different,” she pointed out.

“You think so?” He smoothed her fair hair away from her face. “Do you have any idea why your father asked you to meet him at Ravenhead that day?”

She shook her head.

“To meet me. He’d already told me that if I wished to advance in his good graces, I’d do him a favor and marry his daughter.”

“He did not.” Emily gasped. “Why, of all the—”

He kissed her again until she stopped spluttering. “And I would’ve done it, lass, courted you all good and proper. Then I would’ve ousted your brother from the business, and made it my own.”

“You are a very determined man, Adam Blackthorn.”

“Aye.” He stood and offered her his hand. “I am determined to be the richest man in Millcastle, and the best husband and father I can be. And to do that, I need you by my side.” He hesitated. “If you’ll have me?”

“I am strong,” Emily said wonderingly. “I will grieve for Matthew and my father, and Matty Patterson, but I will not let their deaths destroy me.” She bit her lip. “I won’t tell Margaret or my mother what really happened, though.”

“A wise choice.” He squeezed her fingers. “So you’ll have me?”

She looked at him, really looked at him without any of her usual masks. “Yes.”

He brought her fingers to his lips. “Will you marry me, Emily Blackthorn?”

“Aye, I will, Adam Blackthorn,” she mimicked his stronger accent.

A sense of rightness flooded through him, and he started for the door.

“Where are we going?” Emily asked.

“Home,” he said. “To bed.”

“But the mill…”

“The mill be damned.” Adam kept moving. “If the owner can’t take the afternoon off, then who can?”

Epilogue

“Adam, wake up.”

He opened his eyes to find Emily shaking his shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Help me get dressed. The baby is coming.”

He rolled over onto his side and lit the lamp. “Get dressed? How will the baby get out if you are in your stays and underthings?”

Emily glared at him. “You think I should be naked?”

“No, just keep your nightgown on, and I’ll fetch your robe.” He got out of bed and rang the bell for Prudence. “Do you want—” He turned and stopped speaking as Emily doubled over, grabbed her stomach, and gasped. “Are you all right, lass?”

“No! It bloody hurts!”

Adam increased his speed, brought Emily her robe, lit all the candles he could find, and scrambled into his own clothes. When he returned to the bedroom, Prudence was helping Emily walk around the room.

“Her pains are quite close together, Mr. Blackthorn,” Prudence said. “You might want to get Dr. Prentice here as quickly as possible.”

“Right.” After one harassed glance at Emily, who was scowling in concentration, he went down the stairs, and into the stables. He woke one of the boys and sent him off with the gig for Dr. Prentice.

By the time he returned to his bedchamber, the place was full of women, and he made a tactical retreat downstairs to the hall to await Dr. Prentice.

It seemed to take forever for the doctor to arrive, and Adam swept him upstairs without bothering with any courtesies. Even as he opened the door into the bedchamber, Emily was doubled over again, her face screwed up in pain.

Dr. Prentice took one look at her, threw his bag to the ground, asked for soap and hot water, discarded his coat, and rolled up his sleeves.

“Mrs. Blackthorn?” He knelt in front of Emily. “How often are the pains occurring?”

She glared at the doctor. “How am I supposed to know? It just hurts!”

Adam suppressed an unexpected chuckle. The transformation of his normally sweet wife into such a ferocious beast was somewhere between terrifying and amusing.

Unfortunately, his lapse in judgment brought his wife’s attention on him.

“This is all your fault, Adam Blackthorn. Don’t you dare laugh! I am never going to let you near me again!”

Dr. Prentice concealed his amusement behind a cough. “Prudence says the pains are less than two minutes apart, so I’d like to examine you.”

Adam stayed by the door as a flock of women descended on his wife and coaxed and cajoled her to get on the bed.

Emily was too far gone to care that the whole room was about to see her nether regions. If Dr. Prentice had attempted to examine her in the middle of Millcastle square, she wouldn’t have objected one bit. She hadn’t expected the pain to grow so fast or to consume her so quickly.

“It’s all right, my darling.” Her mother squeezed her hand, distracting her as Dr. Prentice’s head disappeared beneath the quivering mound of her stomach and between her legs.

“It is not all right,” Emily said irritably. She couldn’t be polite anymore; she didn’t have the energy. All her strength was devoted to the demands of her body to deliver the baby.

Dr. Prentice straightened up. “You’re almost there, Mrs. Blackthorn.”

“Almost?” Emily asked. “I want to push now.”

He held her gaze. “Not yet. You’re not ready.”

“How do you know?”

A quiver of amusement ran over his face. “I’m a doctor. I’ve delivered hundreds of babies. If you push too soon, you’ll damage yourself, and I’ll have to sew you up.”

Emily snorted and then brushed her mother’s hand away as she tried to mop her brow. “Will you all please stop fussing over me!”

And now her mother looked hurt, but Emily didn’t have time to deal with her right now. She looked over toward the door where Adam still stood regarding the fray as if it had nothing to do with him.

“Do you want me to send him away?” Margaret asked. “He really shouldn’t be in here.”

“Why not?” Emily asked. “It’s his fault.”

Adam met her accusing gaze across the room and shrugged. “I’ll go if you want.”

Another cramping pain hit, and she moaned and rocked her way through it, her eyes shut tight, her mind somewhere else as she grappled with the enormity of it.

“Better.” Dr. Prentice’s voice sounded a long way away. “One more of those, and you should be ready to push.”

She might have bared her teeth at him, and she definitely growled because her mother made a shocked sound and started apologizing for her. She had no idea if Adam had stayed or left.

“Do you want to walk?” Prudence asked her. “It might help.”

Emily considered the climb down off the bed. She was afraid to attempt it.

“I’ve got you.” A pair of strong arms closed around her, lifted her from the bed, and set her gently on her feet. “Hold on to me, lass.”

Her mother reached out. “This is hardly seemly, Adam, Emily cannot want—”

“Emily is right that I caused this, so I reckon I should stay and share the experience with her.” He wrapped his arm around Emily’s waist. “Come on, lass, walk with me a little.”

Emily allowed him to help her around the room, doubling up when the pain hit, hearing only his voice crooning to her that it would be all right, that he loved her, that she was his strong lass, that they would soon have a child.

Eventually, he set her back on the bed and Dr. Prentice appeared again. She groaned as the urge to push consumed her.

“I need…”

“Yes, you do. Go ahead, Mrs. Blackthorn.”

She settled into herself, her focus on the inevitable fact that she was about to give birth, whether she wanted to or not. Adam climbed up on the bed to sit behind her, bracing her against him, one hand wrapped around hers.

Even with her determination and Adam’s support, it still seemed to take forever. She forgot about decorum, about behaving like a lady, and just let her body do what God had designed it to do.

“One more push, Mrs. Blackthorn,” Dr. Prentice said.

With a guttural groan, she obliged, and the baby slid free and offered up an immediate indignant wail.

“Thank God,” Adam murmured into her ear. “Well done, love.” He winced as he untangled his hand from hers. “I think you’ve broken my fingers, but it’s a fair price to pay.”

“It’s a fine, healthy boy.” Dr. Prentice cut the cord and presented Emily with the swaddled. baby. “With a powerful pair of lungs on him just like his father.”

While she and Adam gazed in wonder at their child, the doctor and Prudence dealt with everything else. Emily was washed and helped into a fresh nightgown and Adam took the baby around the room to meet his grandmother and two doting aunts.

“You will call him Matthew after your brother, won’t you?” Her mother called out to Emily.

Adam looked back at her, too, his eyebrows raised.

“We haven’t thought about names, yet, Mother,” Emily replied, aware that it was an effort to even keep her eyes open. “Adam and I need to talk about it.”

Adam ushered everyone except the doctor out of the room, and returned to Emily’s side with the baby. He tucked the child in bed with her and smiled down at her.

“What a beautiful sight.”

Emily leaned down and breathed in the baby’s unique scent. His hair was as black as his fathers and his eyes… as if reacting to her unspoken plea he opened them and looked right at her,

“Oh,” she breathed. “It’s you.” She kissed his frowning forehead. “I don’t want to call him Matthew.”

“Then we won’t call him that. What about John, for your father?” Adam suggested.

Emily considered the idea. It would placate her mother and perhaps help her to forgive her father. “John Adam Richard Blackthorn?”

“If you wish.” He kissed her cheek. “Now go to sleep, love. Prudence will stay here, and help with the baby until that nurse we engaged arrives.”

Emily glanced down at the baby. “I don’t ever want to let him go,” she confessed.

“Then you don’t have to.” He stood up, grimacing. “Sleep well.”

She reached out and caught his hand. “Thank you for staying with me.”

His smile was crooked. “You didn’t give me much choice in the matter, lass, what with all that bad language you were spouting, someone had to take the brunt of it and protect the other ladies.”

Emily blushed. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’re a strong woman, Emily Blackthorn, even when—especially when—you cuss like a sailor.” He winked, making her blush. “I’m sure Dr. Prentice has heard much worse.”

“Not much worse,” the doctor murmured, reminding Emily that he was still in the room. “And it’s never the ones you expect.”

Adam bent to kiss the baby and then Emily. “Go to sleep.”

“I will.” She cupped his cheek. “I love you.”

“Aye?” His smile grew and turned into something so tender and powerful that she wished she could stay in the moment forever. “I love you too. Thank you for my son, and for being my wife.”

He left, and Emily relaxed back against the pillows as Dr. Prentice ran through a long list of instructions with her and Prudence and promised to come back that evening.

A year and a half ago she’d been dreaming about the scandalous Captain Grafton and yearning to be free of her father’s house. Now she had a husband, a son, and a fulfilling life with a man who didn’t coddle her and encouraged her to be herself. Out of tragedy and necessity had come something she valued immensely and would never take for granted.

Prudence helped Emily set the baby against her breast. This was her life now, and she considered herself very blessed. She sent up a prayer for her father, her brother, Adam’s father, and Matty Patterson and wished them all the peace in the world.

I hope you enjoy reading Master of None as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you want to know when the next book comes out, please join my mailing list. Turn the page to read an excerpt from Educating Elizabeth, book one in the Diable Delamere series.

Best

Kate

Excerpt – Educating Elizabeth

Diable Delamere series book #1
copyright @Kate Pearce 2012

"Miss Waterstone, there has clearly been a misunderstanding." Gervase held out his hand to her. "I swear I will not touch you again. You must let me help you."

She stumbled to her feet and continued to retreat until she reached the connecting doorway to his suite.

"Don't you dare come any closer, you...you disgusting reprobate!"

As she turned to run through the open door to his suite and into the freedom of the hallway beyond, Gervase gathered himself and made a lunge for her. With a cry, she crashed against his dressing table, knocked the contents to the floor, and went down on her knees. Her fingers closed around a small travelling clock. Straightening, she aimed it right at his head.

Gervase came to an abrupt stop and held up his hands.

"Miss Waterstone, please put the clock down. It is made of solid brass and you might injure yourself if you attempt to throw it. I'm sure we can sort out this very unpleasant situation to your satisfaction."

Her mouth worked and she swallowed twice before she was able to speak. "I'm well aware of how heavy the clock is, Your Grace. I am the one holding it, after all. My brothers taught me how to throw properly when I was a little girl, and I'm quite capable of hitting my target."

Her brave statement impressed him more than he cared to admit. Any other woman of his acquaintance would have been in floods of tears by now, not calmly threatening to brain him with his own clock. He fought an absurd desire to laugh.

"Well, if you wish to throw something at me, please go ahead."

He advanced a step toward her, one hand held out, and then froze as she drew her arm back.

"I don't think I could kill you, even though you deserve it. They would probably behead me at the Tower if I murdered a duke." She eyed him with great consideration as though he were a paper target. "No, I think if I winged you, it would be enough to stop you from following me."

Gervase laughed then and took another step forward. "Stop this foolishness, my dear. Give me the clock and we will talk. You have my word I won't lay a finger on you."

She took aim as he crossed the carpeted space between them and the heavy clock connected with his shoulder, ripping his dressing gown and making him reel backward.

"That," he said with deep appreciation, "was indeed an excellent shot." The shocking pain caught him unawares and he staggered to the side and fell against the marble mantelpiece, striking his head.

Eventually, he heard his valet's worried voice over the roaring in his ears. When Jacques bent over him, Gervase managed to grasp his sleeve.

"Don't let her leave."

Jacques's voice sounded puzzled and increasingly faint. "Who, Your Grace? You are the only person here."

If you enjoyed this excerpt, please check out more here!

About Kate

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kate Pearce was born in England in the middle of a large family of girls and quickly found that her imagination was far more interesting than real life. After acquiring a degree in history and barely escaping from the British Civil Service alive, she moved to California and then to Hawaii with her kids and her husband and set about reinventing herself as a romance writer.

She is known for both her unconventional heroes and her joy at subverting romance clichés. In her spare time she self publishes science fiction erotic romance, historical romance, and whatever else she can imagine.

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Other Books by Kate

Historical Romances

Eden's Pleasure

Antonia's Bargain

The Ties That Bind

Jilted in January

Millcastle series

The Lord of Lost Causes

Master of None

Diable Delamere series

Educating Elizabeth

Redeeming Jack

Loving Michael

Awakening Amelia

House of Pleasure Series

Simply Sexual

Simply Sinful

Simply Shameless

Simply Wicked

Simply Insatiable

Simply Forbidden

Simply Carnal

Simply Voracious

Simply Scandalous

Simply Pleasure

Simply Irresistible

The Sinners Club

The First Sinners

The Sinners Club

Tempting a Sinner

Mastering a Sinner

Sci-fi/Futuristic Romance

Triad Series

The Power of Three

The Power of Persuasion

Viking Unbound

Viking Claimed

The Power of Fate

Valhalla Series

Planet Mail

Secured Mail

Captive Mail

The Tribute Series

Sacrifice

Retribution

Triumph

Tribute

Paranormal Romance

Soul Justice Series

Soul Sucker

Death Bringer

The Tudor Vampire Chronicles

Kiss of the Rose

Blood of the Rose

Mark of the Rose

Contemporary Romance

Raw Desire

Some Like It Rough

Branded, Dirty Sexy Cowboy Shorts

Sexy Shorts

Turner Brother Series

Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?

Roping the Wind

Riding the Line

The Morgan Ranch Series

Once a Seal

The Reluctant Cowboy

The Maverick Cowboy

The Last Good Cowboy

The Bad Boy Cowboy

The Billionaire Bull Rider

The Rancher

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MASTER OF NONE

Copyright © 2018 by Kate Pearce

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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