Marrying The Major. Joanna Maitland

And, however much you love the country, my dear, even you have to admit that it is not exactly awash with potential suitors.’ He looked sadly down at her, counting off the names on the fingers of his left hand. ‘Richard is married. Kit Stratton is a reckless young ne’er-do-well with much too fine a face. And Mountjoy is barely out of leading strings. Apart from the old widowers—who are not for you, I sincerely hope—no other eligible man has put in an appearance in this neighbourhood for years. So…much as you may prefer the country, m’dear, I’m afraid it has to be London.’

      Emma was silent for several heartbeats. Then, in a very small voice, quite unlike her usual confident tones, she ventured, ‘You did not include Major Stratton in your list, Papa.’

      Her father’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘No, of course I did not,’ he said brusquely. ‘The Major may be a very fine man. A hero, too, perhaps, I dare say. But he is not…’ He put a heavy hand on his daughter’s arm and warned sharply, ‘Emma, he is scarred and crippled. He may not even be a whole man.’ He reddened slightly as he realised what he had said in front of his unmarried daughter, but he was clearly too angry and too concerned to stop. ‘He is no fit husband for you, Emma—nor for any other young lady. You must not give him another thought. Indeed, I doubt he is marriageable at all. It is a pity, I admit, but there is nothing to be done.’

      Emma was staring at her slippers, trying to make sense of the tumbling, whirling thoughts that her father’s words had provoked. She wanted to reestablish her easy friendship with Hugo Stratton, that was all. She had never thought of him as a husband. At least…when she was a child…but those were only a child’s romantic daydreams and long ago forgotten. Besides, the man who had returned from the wars was nothing like the fantasy she had fashioned in the schoolroom. Nothing like. With a flash of insight, Emma now saw that Hugo believed himself to be unfit for marriage. He would never propose to any woman of his own free will.

      She swallowed hard. Her father must be right. He had her best interests at heart, as always.

      She was about to say that she would do as he asked, when another picture of Hugo rose in her mind, a picture so vivid that he might have been before her—Hugo’s laughing eyes as they had once been. Could they not be so again? There had been a moment during that walk in the wood at Harding when he had been so close to his former self… Must he remain a bitter recluse just because he had been wounded in the service of his country? It seemed so very unfair.

      ‘Emma?’ Her father was now beginning to sound more impatient than angry.

      Emma smiled sweetly up at him, waiting until the last remnants of his anger had melted away. ‘No doubt Aunt Augusta is right, Papa. London in the Season is the place for suitors—and fortune hunters, too, alas. I will go back and join the throng. Will that content you, Papa?’

      ‘Aye,’ he smiled. ‘You were ever a sensible lass, Emma. You know it is for the best.’ He sounded relieved.

      Emma’s smile dimmed. ‘Oh, Papa—but what about the Derby? You said you planned to go. But if I am in London with Aunt Augusta… Surely you would not deny me the chance to see Golden Star run? You always said you named him for me.’ Her face was set in a picture of childlike innocence as she gazed hopefully up at him.

      He plucked at his ear. ‘Well…’ he said, looking again at the letter in his hand. ‘I suppose it might be possible to make up a party, if your aunt agreed. I’d have to take a house nearby, of course. Too far to go otherwise. Might be a goodish notion, though,’ he mused abstractedly. ‘We could all see the race then. And your Aunt Augusta could ensure that a few eligible young people were invited to join us at the same time.’

      Emma groaned inwardly at the thought of a houseful of young ladies, all carefully schooled by their matchmaking mamas, and Aunt Augusta’s choice of eligible gentlemen. But, at least, it would be a change from the interminable London round. After so many full Seasons, that was beginning to pall.

      Her papa seemed to have convinced himself. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’ll write to your aunt today. And I may tell her that you will be returning to London immediately, Emma?’ His raised eyebrows demanded a precise answer.

      ‘In a day or two, Papa,’ Emma said. ‘I should like to spend a little time with Jamie before I go.’ Her eyes lit up with sudden mischief. ‘If I try really hard, I might even persuade her to join your Surrey house party, Papa. Would that not be delightful? It was so clever of you to think of it.’

      Papa—who had a very soft spot for the lovely Countess—agreed that his daughter might remain in the country for a few days more, in hopes of adding the Hardinges to his guest list.

      Emma kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you, Papa,’ she beamed. ‘I had better ride over to Harding at once to begin to work on her, do you not think? And, before you mention it, I will take a groom. I am resolved to prevent you from worrying about me any more.’

      Sir Edward sighed contentedly and patted her arm. ‘Thank you, m’dear. You are a good girl.’

      Emma left the room before he could remember that any visit to Harding must provide yet another opportunity to meet the unmarriageable Major.

      ‘Good morning, Miss Emma.’ The butler beamed at her. ‘You will be pleased to know that my lord has driven over to the Dower House to visit his lady mother.’

      Emma’s spirits lifted at the news. The Dowager Countess had been almost like a mother to Emma for as long as she could remember. Emma resolved to ride on to the Dower House as soon as she left Jamie. It would be a happy duty to welcome Richard’s mother back home.

      ‘That is splendid news, Digby,’ Emma said. ‘I will go to pay my respects to her ladyship this very day.’ She picked up her trailing skirts, turning to make for the stairs and Jamie’s sitting room.

      Behind her, Digby coughed discreetly. ‘I believe her ladyship is in the conservatory, Miss Emma.’

      ‘Oh.’ Emma turned quickly on her heel. ‘Yes, of course. It is such a lovely spot when the sun is shining. Don’t trouble to announce me, Digby. I know my way very well.’