Marrying The Major

Marrying The Major
Joanna Maitland

Guilt Tore Away At His Soul…Surrounded by callous fortune hunters, beautiful Emma Fitzwilliam despaired of ever finding a man who truly loved her. Until she came face-to-face with the man who'd once been the object of her girlhood fantasies.Returning from the Peninsular War, Major Hugo Stratton was nothing like the lighthearted young man Emma remembered. Scarred and embittered, his reputation in tatters, Hugo believed he had nothing to offer her. But as she caught glimpses of the man she once knew and felt the heat of his desire, Emma knew otherwise. Though it wasn't until a desperate situation forced Hugo's hand in marriage that Emma got her chance to discover if that were true. But what would it take to bring back to life the man she'd never stopped loving?

Emma knew she had behaved like a wanton. What would he think of her?

She turned to flee the room, but Hugo was before her.

“There is nothing to fear. Pray believe me that I would never hurt you. You have no need to run from me.”

Emma turned away. She was afraid of what she might see in his eyes.

“I will go,” Hugo said quietly. He sounded strained. “I had hoped you would come to accept me, but I can understand how difficult it must be for a beautiful young woman like you, forcibly married to such a wreck of a husband. Perhaps, in time—”

Guilt engulfed her. “You are wrong, Hugo,” she said in a low voice. “I am not afraid of you. And you are not—” In a whisper she continued, “But I am afraid of the way you make me feel.”

Marrying the Major

Joanna Maitland

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Prologue

1805

Emma Fitzwilliam settled herself high in the branches of her favourite oak, glancing only a little ruefully at yet another tear in her cotton pinafore. She was not usually so clumsy. She would be well scolded for that when she returned to the house, but her punishment would be much worse if they discovered she still climbed trees. Her old governess was still trying vainly to make a lady of her. And Papa—dearest Papa—had lately said one or two things to suggest he was less than totally happy with the way she behaved.

Dearest Papa. For him, if he asked, she would try to become a lady, but it would be terribly difficult—and terribly boring. Ladies had to walk sedately instead of romping around the estate, they were never allowed out without an escort, they certainly could not go swimming in the lake, or fishing, or climbing trees—and they weren’t even supposed to laugh out loud. Emma frowned at that last thought. Gentlemen were allowed to laugh—and frequently did—but ladies were supposed to smile demurely or, at most, give a melodious tinkle to signify amusement. It wasn’t fair. Nor would it be fair to make her spend all her time at ladylike pursuits. Emma could play and sing pretty well, and even set a neat stitch, but she could not imagine doing so all the time, with only slow, boring walks for exercise, accompanied by a stony-faced groom. Ugh.

She wriggled about until she could reach into her pocket for her book and her apple. Then she settled down to read, munching blissfully. This was one of the pleasures of not being a lady—and she would not give it up.

‘Young Lord Hardinge and his friend have called to see Miss Emma, sir,’ intoned the butler gravely from the study doorway, ‘but…no one is quite sure where she is. Shall I—?’

‘Show them both in here, Godfrey,’ said Sir Edward Fitzwilliam, rising from his deep wing-chair with a welcoming smile already on his cheery features. ‘No doubt my daughter will appear soon enough. She seems to have some kind of sixth sense about welcome visitors—and unwelcome ones, too.’ He laughed at his own wit, wondering, none the less, how it was that his mischievous daughter was never to be found except when it suited her. For Richard Hardinge, who was like a big brother to her, she probably would appear. She had been trailing him for years, after all, and Richard had never once rejected her, no matter how demanding she had become. Soon, it would all have to stop. Emma was fast maturing into a young lady—and young ladies did not cavort around the estate with male friends, no matter how trustworthy they might be, nor how indulgent her father. No—soon it would be necessary to find a proper female companion for his only daughter, to give her the polish that a young lady required, the polish that her dear mama would have provided if only she had lived.

Sir Edward sighed slightly at the sad memory, but assumed a polite smile when the door opened again to admit his two guests. The young men were remarkably alike, both tall and dark-haired, with open features and merry eyes. They seemed to have been laughing at some shared joke.

Richard Hardinge bowed politely to his host. ‘I collect we have lost her again, sir,’ he said with an ironic shake of the head. ‘And Hugo was so anxious to make his farewells in due form, too.’ Richard grinned at Hugo, who seemed to be unmoved by his friend’s sly jibe.

‘I suggest you both sit down,’ said Sir Edward placidly, nodding in the direction of the old-fashioned sofa on the opposite side of the huge fireplace. ‘She will appear, sooner or later.’ He turned to Hugo Stratton. ‘But I’m sorry to learn that you are leaving, my boy. I had understood from Lady Hardinge that you were to remain at Harding for a month or so yet.’

‘That was so, sir,’ said Hugo. ‘Lady Hardinge was kind enough to invite me to stay for the summer—until my commission came through. The thing is…well, sir, the fact is that my regiment is ordered to Deal next week—the rumour is that we are preparing for embarkation for north Germany—and unless I join them now, I’ll have to wait for months, besides missing the chance of a crack at Boney.’ His grey eyes were shining with enthusiasm as he spoke. ‘I really do have to go, you see, sir. I’m leaving for home this afternoon.’