Part 6 (2/2)
It was Hugh's sister who thought of Emma and suggested that Hugh, instead of herself, represent the family at St. Gert's annual Founder's Day festivities. As Emma had served him tea in her office that first afternoon, he'd reprimanded her for taking a phone call from an anxious parent in the middle of their conversation and frowned at the glitter-encrusted necklace she was wearing, a handmade birthday present from one of the seven-year-olds. She couldn't abide him.
He reappeared the next week and the week after that. She made up excuses to avoid him, but one afternoon he caught her in his office and, with a great deal of haughtiness, informed her that he'd decided she would make him a suitable wife. Their engagement would be announced as soon as she resigned her position as headmistress.
Emma was flabbergasted. She had to resist the urge to check her desk calendar to see if she'd inadvertently time-traveled back to the Regency. ”Your Grace, I have no intention of marrying you. We barely know each other. The whole idea is ridiculous.”
Her bluntness was a mistake. He narrowed his eyes, puffed himself up, and told her the matter was settled.
”It's not settled at all!”
”You're a t.i.tled virgin of the proper age with an exemplary reputation and an una.s.suming appearance,” he replied. ”There's nothing left to discuss.”
Hearing herself reduced to such a boring description stung, and she made the fatal mistake of losing her temper. ”I'm not a virgin! I've slept with dozens of men. Sailors, lorry drivers, the school handyman just last week!”
”Don't be infantile. I know that you've never had a serious relations.h.i.+p with a man. If you aren't a virgin, the experience happened so long ago as to be insignificant.” With an expression of disdain, he'd moved toward the door of her office. ”Our discussion is over, Emma. If you aren't intelligent enough to understand the honor I'm doing you, you certainly aren't intelligent enough to run St. Gertrude's, and you'll be dismissed.”
His threat stunned her, and it was a moment before she recovered. ”What difference would that make? If I do as you ask, I'll lose my position anyway.”
The door shut, and she felt as if the familiar room were spinning around her. His threat made her heartsick. She slumped down in her chair and tried to absorb this violent, absurd disruption to her well-ordered life.
When Hugh's sister called the next day to fix a date for the engagement announcement, Emma told her there would be no wedding.
A week pa.s.sed, and she heard nothing. She was just beginning to dismiss the bizarre incident when she saw a surveying crew moving across the school grounds. Heart pounding, she rushed to question them and was informed that they were acting on the orders of the Duke of Beddington.
He answered her call so promptly she suspected he'd been waiting for it.
”Your Grace, tell me at once what's happening. Why did you send surveyors here?”
”Didn't I tell you? It must have slipped my mind. I'm contemplating selling the property to a developer.” He paused to let the words sink in. ”He'd be tearing down the buildings to put up some very expensive homes.”
It took her only a moment to realize he was subjecting her to the most blatant sort of blackmail. The school was the only real home she'd ever had, but her emotional attachment wasn't all of it. Over the protests of Hugh's mother, she'd arranged to have a group of bright, ambitious scholars.h.i.+p students admitted. What would happen to them when they were sent back to schools far inferior to St. Gert's? She remembered how unsteady her voice had been as she'd asked him, ”And if I were to marry you, what would happen to the school?”
”Why, my dear, I could hardly sell off a place so dear to the heart of the d.u.c.h.ess of Beddington, now, could I?”
That was when she decided that he was more than a little mad.
She sat up for two nights before she came up with her plan. The next day she reached him at his office. ”I'm sorry I was so difficult, Your Grace. It was the shock. Of course I'll be thrilled to accept your offer ... that is, if you haven't reconsidered marrying someone so far beneath you.” She waited hopefully.
”Reconsidered? Of course not.”
Hardly able to conceal her distress, she'd told him that the engagement could be announced just as soon as she completed her professional obligations, which included making a trip to the States between the winter and spring terms so she could finish working on a research paper she'd begun for the New Historian New Historian.
She was telling the truth about the paper, but what she didn't tell him was that it wouldn't take her more than a few days to complete her research. The rest of the time she would use for something more important.
Losing her good name.
Her plan was hardly foolproof, but it was the best she could come up with. She had to alarm Beddington just enough so he'd withdraw his offer, but not enough to make him suspect that she was deliberately manipulating him. If that happened, he was vindictive enough to destroy the school for revenge.
Unfortunately, she could think of no plan that would allow her to continue her career at St. Gert's. There was no possibility of him allowing anyone with a spotted reputation to stay on there, but she'd find a new position somewhere. St. Gert's had taken care of her when she was most vulnerable, and now she would do the same.
Chapter 5
As Emma walked into the hotel lobby toward Kenny, she saw that the hard-eyed stranger who'd brought her to the hotel the night before had disappeared and the affable loafer had taken his place. This time, however, she wasn't fooled. saw that the hard-eyed stranger who'd brought her to the hotel the night before had disappeared and the affable loafer had taken his place. This time, however, she wasn't fooled.
For a moment she forgot what a scoundrel he was and simply enjoyed the sight. He'd left his Stetson behind, and his crisp dark hair gleamed in the light coming through the atrium. He wore a faded University of Texas T-s.h.i.+rt, tan shorts, and brown work boots with an inch of snowy white sock visible at the top. Her sanity returned as the corner of his mouth kicked up.
”Mornin', Lady Emma. Glad to see you brought your umbrella. It's sure to rain sometime this year.”
She glanced down at her floral brolly as if she couldn't imagine how it had gotten there, then regarded him with a cheery smile and deliberately jabbed it toward the door. ”Let's be off, then.”
She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes narrow. ”Breakfast first. Then business.”
”I've already eaten.”
He gazed down at her with those lazy violet eyes, then used his slow drawl to whip her into line. ”Now, Lady Emma, don't tell me you've forgotten whose payroll you're on.”
She should have expected this.
”I'm going to have some blueberry pancakes this morning.” His fingers wrapped around her upper arm. ”How about you?”
She considered mentioning her pleasant conversation with Francesca less than half an hour ago and the fact that she could call her good friend back at any moment, but then she hesitated. It would be wise to reserve her Francesca ammunition for bigger battles. Whether or not she ate a second breakfast this morning wasn't that important.
As they settled at a booth in the coffee shop, she thought about what she'd nearly done with this man yesterday and wondered if jet lag had deprived her of her common sense. What had she hoped to accomplish by jumping into Kenny Traveler's bed less than twelve hours after she'd arrived in this country? If she intended to sleep with someone, she should at least have made certain that Hugh had his watchdogs in place. Her impulsiveness was uncharacteristic, and it made her uneasy.
”Just tea for me,” she said as the waitress approached to take their orders.
Kenny beamed his approval at her. ”Good choice. But add some blueberry pancakes to her order, along with a side of bacon, and I believe I'll have the same for myself, except forget the tea and bring coffee instead.”
He was deliberately provoking her, but she simply smiled. ”Change the blueberry pancakes to toast, if you would. And subst.i.tute a bowl of strawberries for the bacon.”
The harried waitress poured his coffee, then rushed off before either of them could further complicate the order.
They had work to do, and Emma had witnessed enough of his nonsense. She took only a moment to enjoy a display of fresh flowers near the door before getting to the point. ”Did you find a tattoo parlor?”
”You are not getting a tattoo. The whole idea's ridiculous.”
”I am getting a tattoo. And I'm doing it today. This isn't negotiable.” She doubted a tattoo alone would put a stop to her engagement, but it should make Hugh begin to question his judgment. She looked around the coffee shop, wondering if any of the men hunkered down behind their newspapers had been hired to watch her. No one looked suspicious, but she didn't for a moment believe that Hugh would allow her these two weeks un.o.bserved. The fact that he'd found her so easily this morning proved that.
”How are you going to face all those little girls you headmistress over with a tattoo?” Kenny inquired.
She wouldn't be facing those little girls, but she wasn't going to tell him that. ”It'll help them relate better to me.”
”If that's all you want, why not go all the way and get your tongue pierced? Or dye your hair purple?”
She'd thought about getting pierced, but she'd worried about infection, and dying her hair some outrageous color would be too obvious. A very small tattoo was as far as she dared to go. Hugh needed to believe he'd misjudged her character, not that she was deliberately manipulating him, or he'd bulldoze St. Gert's. The waitress arrived with her tea, then disappeared.
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