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Simon stared in dismay at Emma’s equally shocked face. When he’d paid a call on Miss Lancaster to learn more about Emma’s list, he hadn’t counted on receiving information about Emma’s current scheme. Once he told Miss Lancaster he was speaking to her on behalf of Louisa, Miss Lancaster had seemed happy to unburden herself to him regarding Emma’s recent escapades.
“Kingsley, whatever are you doing at Mr. Bowles's home?” She moved to the side and waved him in with a broad smile. “Do go in.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “I should warn you that they are all deep in their cups.”
He might have laughed at her bravado, but the seriousness of the situation stopped him. “Miss Drake, I have a carriage waiting outside for you.”
“Oh, there is no need. I came with Oliver, Susan Lancaster’s brother.”
Oliver chose that unfortunate moment to let out a loud snore. Simon’s anger doubled. “I do not believe Mr. Lancaster is in any condition to drive you home.”
“No matter.” She slipped past him. “I shall get a hackney.”
As she attempted to keep walking, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. “I said I would take you home.”
He felt her tremble at his low clipped tone.
She looked at him and nodded as if she finally understood he would not be denied. “As you wish, Mr. Kingsley.”
They descended the stairs in silence. Only the sound of their footsteps on the creaky wood steps filled the air. Once outside, she glanced over at a small phaeton.
“I must get the oranges.”
Oranges?
She pulled him toward the carriage. “Mary will be very disappointed if I forget them.”
“Mary?”
“My maid. The Lancasters’ housekeeper gave her a basket of beautiful oranges. She was very excited about them. Mary that is.”
“Grab the oranges and let’s be off,” he replied gruffly. How had Emma seized the upper hand? He’d arrived furious and ready for battle, but at every turn, she’d outmaneuvered him.
After retrieving the basket, she turned and gave him a brilliant smile. “I suppose I should thank you for the offer of your carriage. I do believe you were right that Oliver was too drunk and to drive home.” She glanced up at the darkening sky. “And it does appear as if the rain may return.”
He walked in silence, still too angry for more than a few clipped words.
When he made no reply, she added, “I can only assume you must have paid a call on Susan. Will you be attending the ball tomorrow?”
“I rather doubt it.” He opened the carriage door and said, “Get in.”
“Of course, how else will I get home.” She took his hand and climbed inside the coach.
God give him patience, he thought. Once settled, he hammered the roof with his fist.
“Would you please explain to me how you ended up in Soho in the company of the disreputable Mr. Bowles?” he asked stiffly.
“Oliver offered to take me. Mr. Bowles was his art instructor when he was younger.” She played with the buttons on her glove. “I am not sure why you are angry. This was your idea.”
“What?” he shouted in disbelief. “How is anything you do my fault?”
“Yes, in the conservatory at Worth Hall. I believe your words were something to the effect of ‘hang those who want to tell you what you can and cannot do because you’re a lady.’” She tilted her head and leveled him an innocent look. “Did I remember that correctly?”
Son of a bitch. Now she was throwing his words back at him. “I suppose that was the point of what I said. But I never told you to go to a man’s home alone to find an instructor.”
“I did no such thing. I went with Oliver, remember?”
“Who is barely twenty and far from a respectable gentleman to accompany you.”
“Well, that is scarcely you either, is it?” she said mockingly. “And Oliver is the son of a viscount.”
“The younger son of a viscount. And you should be thankful it was me and not some stranger intent on raping you,” Simon bit out, barely containing his anger. How could an innocent young lady have so little regard for her safety or reputation?
“Well, I don’t have to worry about you doing that after our last meeting. If I remember right, you wanted no part of being an item on my list to scratch off. Besides, this section of Soho is fairly respectable. I highly doubt some man would attempt to rape me in the middle of the day on Frith Street.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You know nothing about this section of town. I was born and raised only a few blocks from here. There are sections of Soho where rape, even in the middle of the day, is entirely possible.”
And the best thing might be for her to see precisely how reprehensible people could be. He banged on the coach. Once the carriage had stopped, Simon shouted to the driver, “Little Compton to Seven Dials, then back to Hell.”
“Yes, sir.”
“There is no reason for a detour. Please return me home.”
“There is every reason, Miss Drake.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You need to see the danger you put yourself in with your little list of adventures.”
Pale blue eyes sparkled with fury as she held his stare for a long moment before moving her gaze to the oranges on her lap. She lobbed an orange at him, hitting him in the chest. “You have no right to interfere in my business.”
He let out a low growl as a warning to her. “You should behave like a lady,” he replied and then ducked as she tossed another orange at his head.
“Why won’t you just leave me alone!” She hurled the rest of the oranges and the basket at him.
An object speeding toward them caught his eye. He lunged across the carriage at her as oranges flew over his head. Grasping her around the waist, he twisted until she lay across the squab with his body covering hers. She pressed against his shoulders, attempting to get his weight off her.
Realizing he was crushing her, he lifted slightly but continued to stare down at her. “Apparently, I cannot leave you alone, no matter how hard I try.”
For once, she remained quiet. But Simon couldn’t look away from her beautiful eyes lined with tawny lashes. He wished he could kiss her but knew he should not. They stared at each other, and the urge to kiss her became too great to disregard. Slowly, he lowered his head—
“Sir? Are you all right?” the coachman shouted as the carriage came to a stop.
He looked up and then back and forth. “Take us to Hell now.”
“Yes, sir.”
His gaze returned to hers. “Are you all right? No glass hit you, did it?”
Emma looked around in confusion as if she had no idea of what he was even speaking. “I am well,” she whispered slowly.
“Thank God.” He eased off her. Shards of glass fell from the back of his greatcoat, clattering to the floor of the coach. He must have stepped on an orange as the entire carriage filled the fragrant redolence as the scent of her jasmine perfume slipped away.
She sat up and glanced at the broken glass on his seat and the rock which landed near a battered orange. Her face grew pale. “What happened, Kingsley?”
Simon cringed. If he hadn’t lunged at her, she might have been hit by either the glass or the rock. His heart still pounded in his chest. As much as she might frustrate him, he couldn’t imagine what seeing her hurt due to an association with him would mean to him. She was starting to break through to the heart he didn’t think he even had.
“Simon!”
He blinked and glanced over at her again. She straightened her clothing as if this type of thing happened every day to her. “Apparently, someone threw a rock at the carriage. Yet another reason why you should never have come to this part of town.”
She tilted her head and gave him a smirk with her pretty lips. “You can certainly do better than that. We were still in Soho. This area of town is nowhere near as bad as Seven Dials, and even there, few carriages are ever attacked in daylight. And since it is highly unlikely that someone deliberately tried to hurt me, it begs the question, who is trying to hurt, or possibly kill you?”
Damn her for being logical when he least wanted her to determine the truth. He needed the woman who made foolish decisions like introducing herself to Simpson. With a sigh, he muttered, “I have no idea.”
“You must have some thought on this. Who have you angered with your rakish ways?”
“No one in a very long time.”
“Someone who owes you money from gambling at your establishment?”
“Highly unlikely. Most of the men who owe me money settle their debts.”
“Then it begs the question, how would someone even know it was your carriage? There are no identifying marks on it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her gaze on him. “There must be someone who wishes you harm.”
The last thing he needed was her worrying over him. He would not tell her that it was the time of the month that he collected rents in this exact area. Many people knew his schedule. Any of them could have been paid by Park to unnerve him. He shrugged and looked outside as they came closer to St. James and Hell. “I wish I knew.”
“What would you do if you did know?”
Kill the bastard. Simon really shouldn’t say such a thing and frighten her. Still, his heart raced as he thought about what almost happened to her. It brought feelings to mind that he never sought or expected. Seeing the lines of worry around the tight, thin line of her lips made him wonder if she cared even a little for him. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone truly loved him. Not that he needed her love. She was everything he didn’t want; spoiled, eager for a title, and.....
The most moral and correct of all the Drake sisters. At least, until recently. Her antics both frustrated and amused him. Thankfully, other than introducing herself to Simpson, he’d been able to contain her impetuous actions.
“I believe we have arrived,” he said as the carriage rolled to a stop.
“You haven’t answered my question.
“Nor will I.”
“I should return home,” she replied, staring down at her hands.
“Your clothing is still wet. Come in and dry for a while. If your mother hasn’t missed you yet, I doubt she will now.” Someone should scold her mother for the mistreatment of her youngest daughter. Perhaps after Louisa and Tessa's escapades, Mrs. Drake assumed there was no hope for sweet Emma.
He jumped down from the carriage and then held his hand out for her. If she paused again, he would take her home. Instead, she placed her orange-scented hand in his and disembarked the coach. The rain returned with a vengeance.
“Just until my dress is dry.”
“Of course,” he replied with a slight smile. The few steps to the back entrance of Hell had them both wet.
He led her inside as Riley opened the door with a scowl. “Is there a problem, Riley?”
“I just tossed another cheater out on his arse.” He looked over at Emma and added, “Excuse, miss.”
Simon almost laughed at Emma’s expression, not of shock but indignation.
“You did the right thing, Mr. Riley. As I was so elegantly reminded when I was tossed over the devil’s shoulder, ‘cheaters will not be tolerated in Hell.’”
She could remember that but not about asking him for a kiss.
Turning her gaze on Simon, she asked, “Why do you seem to have such an influx of cheaters, Kingsley?”
“I wish I knew.” Simon guided her up the stairs to his private rooms.
“Where are we going?”
“To my private rooms so you can change and let your clothing dry. There is no fire in my office yet.”
She faltered a step and then continued. “I do not need to change. A warm fire and a cup of your wonderful coffee will do.”
He opened the door and waved her into his sitting room. “Come along,” he said, seeing her hesitate. “I will ask Meg to help you out of your wet things and into a dressing gown.”
“No, the coffee and fire will do nicely.” She paused as her brows furrowed. “Meg has dressing gowns here?”
He laughed. “One of mine, angel.”
“Oh.” She walked closer to the dying fire and held her hands out.
Simon knew he should be thankful that she was being sensible about changing while in his company, but he didn’t want to see her ill. He tossed more coal onto the fire. Sparks flickered as the fire consumed the fuel.
“Coffee?” she asked with a smile. “I do so love that blend of yours.”
He nodded. “Of course. I shall ask Mrs. Tillman to make some for you.”
“Mrs. Tillman?”
“My cook and sometimes housekeeper.” After a brief nod, he left her alone while he notified Mrs. Tillman that he needed coffee for two and some biscuits in his room.
“At this hour?” she asked, stirring a pot of something. The older widow cast him a glare. “Don’t tell me you have some woman up there with you.”
“Perfectly innocent,” he said, not certain having Emma in his room could be considered innocent in the least. “The duchess’s sister, if you must know. I ran into her, and she was soaked through. She asked to sit by the fire.”
“Hmm,” the cook replied. “Perhaps you should stay here then and let Meg assist her.”
“No need. Just ask someone to bring up the coffee when it’s ready.” Simon raced back upstairs before Mrs. Tillman could rattle his conscience about Emma being in his bedchamber.
Entering his room, he found Emma still standing by the fire. “Are you warm enough?”
“Oh yes. I am certain I will be dry in no time.” She glanced around the room. “Why do you live here?”
Simon shrugged and sat in the large chair nearest her. “It’s convenient.”
“Yes, I suppose it would be. But not terribly fashionable.”
“I’m not too concerned about being fashionable.”
“I suppose not,” she muttered, sinking into the brocade chair. “So, do you really think that rock was deliberately thrown at you?”
He sighed at her tenacity. “I don’t see how it could have been. I went to Soho to find you. The only people who knew I was going there were Riley and Hood. Riley helped me start this place. I trust him with my life. And Miss Lancaster, of course.”
“And Hood?”
“What about Hood?”
“Do you trust him with your life?” she asked softly.
Did he? “He’s been in my employ for two years. I have never had a reason to doubt his intentions.”
“I see. Highly unlikely it is either of them or Susan. Could either have mentioned anything to one of the employees? Meg, perhaps?”
“It was most likely a prank by some adolescents.” He rose and walked to the fire. Holding his hands out to warm them, he added, “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Emma.”
“I am not jealous of Meg! The woman is a whore.”
“Don’t ever let her hear you say that. She gave up whoring years ago.”
Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh? Then exactly what was she doing on your lap when Louisa and I came to see you that day?”
Simon saw the burning resentment in her eyes. Why would Emma be so concerned about his relationship with Meg? “You know exactly what we were doing. The same thing you offered me.”
“A gentleman would never speak of that,” she retorted.
“And a lady would never mention what she observed that day.”
Emma rose and paced the room. “You did say there would be coffee?”
He smiled. She was a master at changing the subject. “Yes, it should be finished very soon. Come back by the fire and dry off.”
She strolled over and stood next to him. “If you have kitchens, perhaps we should be down there, so no one is forced to bring up coffee for us. I can sit by the fire there as well as here.”
“We would be in Mrs. Tillman’s way.” For a lady who wanted to complete a list which included seducing a man, she seemed nervous. Seeing her tense shoulders, he closed his hands over them, caressing them.
“You shouldn’t be touching me,” she whispered.
“Very well, then.” He turned her in his arms and stared down at her blue eyes.
Her mouth gaped slightly either from his comeback or the sensation of his thumb on her bare skin. The tip of her pink tongue slid across her lips. The urge to kiss her overtook his senses. He bent his head down to reach the target of his yearning. Her eyes widened before slipping closed.
Her mouth tasted like sweetness and sensuality. Simon knew this was foolish. He was supposed to stay away from her, for both their sakes. But he couldn’t stop the desire he felt for her. As her tongue played with his, he lost all common sense. He walked her slowly toward the bed only a few feet away.
He moved his lips over her jaw until he reached her ear. Tracing the shell of her ear, he felt her quiver. “Emma,” he whispered. “Let me unhook your dress.”
She moaned and pressed him away from her. “No. You did not wish to be an item I crossed off on my list.”
Sighing, he said, “You are right.”
With a coy smile, she walked to her seat as a knock hammered the door.
“Coffee’s here,” a feminine voice sounded from behind the door.
“Come in,” Emma replied before Simon had regained his composure.
Meg walked in with a smile and stopped when she spied Emma in the seat by the fire. “Where were you like this, King?”
“On the table is fine. Thank you, Meg.”
She nodded before placing the tray laden with coffee and biscuits on the table near Emma. “Would you like me to stay as a chaperone for the duchess’s sister,” she asked pointedly to Simon.
“Oh, there is no need for a chaperone,” Emma replied. “Mr. Kingsley is a perfect gentleman to his brother’s sister-in-law, are you not, Mr. Kingsley?”
Simon’s hands clenched tightly against Emma’s sarcasm. “Thank you, Meg. That will be all.”
Meg nodded and departed.
As the door closed, Simon said, “Do you think that was necessary?”
“Oh?” Emma reached for the coffee and then poured them both a cup. “I do believe Meg was a little surprised to find me here. Did you not tell her how I tried to seduce you only a few days ago?”
“Enough, Emma.” Simon took the proffered coffee.
She sipped her coffee, ignoring the biscuits on the tray.
“Why does Meg upset you so?” he asked gently. “There is no need. She is nothing to me.”
Her blue eyes flashed in anger. “And the fact that she means nothing to you makes everything better? I doubt she thought so little of your encounter.”
Simon chuckled at her naivety. “It most likely meant less to her than it did me. She thought she was doing a favor for me, relieving a bit of stress.”
Something changed in her demeanor as she placed her cup back on the tray. She rose and then paced the room in an agitated manner. “I am so dreadfully tired of being innocent. Of not know what you are speaking of when you refer to making love. Not understanding why I have these strange feelings for you. I don’t understand why I want to kiss you or do more than a kiss.”
Simon couldn’t abide by watching the frustration wash over her face. As she passed his seat, he yanked her down on his lap until her lips were only inches from his. Tamping down his desire, he whispered, “You are innocent because that is what a gentleman expects on his wedding night.”
“It’s not fair.” She drew her hand down his jaw. “I want to know what to anticipate. Why is it so wrong for a lady and yet not for a man?”
He clasped her wrist and brought the palm of her hand to his lips. “I don’t know, angel.”
He steeled himself from the temptation that she wrought. She only wanted him to complete some damned list. Besides, she was innocent and would wish for marriage. Emma Drake was far too good for a scoundrel like him. No matter how badly he wanted her.
She was forbidden fruit.
That, of course, had to be the answer because the other thought rolling through his mind was almost laughable. He was not falling in love with Emma Drake. The idea was outrageous.