| |
“Happy birthday, Emma!” Louisa said with a bright smile as she held up her champagne glass.
The others around the table followed Louisa’s example and saluted her. Emma smiled, held up her glass, and then said, “Thank you.”
The small dinner Louisa had planned only included Tessa and her husband, her mother, Louisa and Harry. Emma sighed with relief that Simon hadn’t been invited. It was a week ago that she’d stood in that bedchamber and slowly removed his clothing. Kissed his body. Caressed his—
“Emma, I think the champagne is going to your head,” Tessa remarked. “You look very flushed right now.”
Emma blinked and returned her concentration to the duke's home's elegant dining room and not the bedroom of an inn. “It’s a tad warm, is all.”
Many around the table murmured their agreement until a footman opened a window for a refreshing breeze. Now she just had to keep her thoughts on the dinner. She took a bite of the delicious pheasant and glanced around the table. Her family seemed quite happy with their lives, even her mother, whose own reputation depended on her “dead” husband staying dead in Cornwall.
A loud rap at the front door made everyone’s head turn toward the corridor.
“Who could be here at this hour?” Louisa looked askance at her husband.
“It’s nearly eight,” Harry replied. “It cannot be good news.”
“You certainly don’t need to introduce me, Jenkins,” a male voice said as his footsteps approached the dining room.
No! Louisa had said he wouldn’t be here!
“Is that—”
Before Louisa could even finish her question, Simon entered the room with a low bow to the duke and duchess.
Emma’s fork dropped out of her hand with a loud clang as it hit the fine china. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “You were not supposed to be here.”
Simon rose slowly from his bow and looked about the room. Turning his attention to Louisa, he said, “Excuse me, Duchess. I did not realize you were entertaining family.”
Emma couldn’t keep her gaze from him. He wore black trousers and a matching jacket with a snowy white shirt and cravat. The only source of color was a brilliant burgundy waistcoat. With his charcoal hair and blue eyes, he was even more handsome than she remembered. And it had only been a week. He stared back at her with a hungry look that made her insides tremble with desire.
God, she couldn’t want him still. She refused to accept that she did.
“I apologize for interrupting your family dinner.” Simon turned toward Harry and said, “Please send a note when you’re available. I need your advice.”
Harry glanced around the table and finally said, “What exactly is going on?”
“What do you mean, dear?” Louisa asked in a far too innocent voice.
“Why wasn’t Simon invited tonight? I’d assumed you had invited him, and he had declined.”
Emma couldn’t take any more of the looks of pity from her sisters. She placed her napkin on her plate, scraped back her chair, and muttered, “Please excuse me, I feel slightly ill.”
She headed for the door opposite Simon. Reaching the threshold, she heard Harry say, “Well, that explains it.”
After running to the library, she closed the door and sat by the empty fireplace. She wiped away the tears that fell. She’d told herself that she could do this, see Simon again. But she wasn’t ready.
The door creaked open.
Emma spun around to see Louisa enter the room and lock the door behind them. Why hadn’t she thought to do that? “Louisa, I would prefer to be alone.”
“I know, but I also think you and I need to talk.”
“There is nothing to talk about,” she whispered.
“You love him.” Louisa sat on the sofa next to Emma.
“I will get over it,” Emma said, staring into the cold fireplace.
“No, you won’t. Just like I never would have gotten over Harry, or Tessa over Raynerson. We are hopeless romantics.”
Emma’s lower lip trembled. She had to get over Simon. How could she live like this? Not wanting any other man in her life, not wanting anyone to touch her so intimately except him. There had to be a way to make these feelings fade.
“You need to tell him how you feel.”
Emma shook her head. “He doesn’t love me.”
Louisa drew her into a tight hug. “I was wrong about Simon, Emma. I wanted to keep you two apart because I didn’t believe he could ever love you in return.”
“You were right.”
“No, darling. I was dreadfully wrong. Did you not see the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep? Did you notice the way he couldn’t keep his gaze off you? He loves you, Emma.”
She desperately wanted to believe her sister. To have Simon’s love would fulfill her in so many ways she’d never thought possible. But as much as Louisa felt she knew Simon, Emma knew him better. “No, he only desires me, Louisa.”
“There was so much more than desire in his eyes. Have you told him how you feel about him?”
Emma drew back appalled. “Of course not!”
“Tell him.”
“Did you tell Harry that you loved him before he admitted his feeling for you?”
Louisa bit her lower lip. Finally, she answered, “No, but I should have. We would have settled things far quicker that way.”
“I cannot,” she whispered.
“Would you rather be alone for the rest of your life?”
A month ago, Emma might have replied yes. But something had changed. After being with Simon and now spending time away from him, all she wanted was to talk to him, comfort him, be wrapped in his warm embrace.
“I don’t think I do,” she whispered.
Louisa smiled. “This will all work out. In the meantime,” she pressed a slip of paper into Emma’s hand. “Happy birthday!”
Emma unfolded the note and stared at the name and dates on the paper. “I don’t understand.”
“Mrs. Antonia Davenport is an artist of some renown. She paints mostly in oils and has agreed to work with you at my home two days a week at ten in the morning.”
Emma’s hands trembled. “This is the best gift you’ve ever given me.”
Louisa hugged her. “There’s the front door, so I’m certain Simon has left. We should enjoy the rest of your birthday.”
#
“EXCUSE ME, I SHALL take my leave,” Simon said once Emma had run out of the room as if the mere sight of him made her ill.
“It appears dinner is over,” Harry commented. “We might as well have that talk now.”
They departed to Harry’s study. Once ensconced in the room, Harry turned and stared at him. “Have you lost your bloody mind? Emma!”
Simon sank into a chair. “Yes, I’ve lost my mind. There is no other excuse.”
Harry sat down opposite him. “Well, there is one other excuse.”
“And what might that be?”
Harry chuckled and then moved to pour them both a brandy. “You love her,” he replied as he handed the drink to Simon.
“It truly doesn’t matter if I do.”
“Why is that?” Harry returned to his seat and then sipped his brandy.
“I am not the type of man a lady of quality marries.”
Harry shrugged. “I agree. But Emma is hardly a lady of quality, as you well know. Her mother likes to keep up the pretense, but Emma is only the great-niece of a baron. Hardly good Society. And then there is that whole mess with her father, which only a few people are even aware exists.”
“Well, her mother made it quite clear that I am not good enough.”
“Her mother is a damned fool, caring only for her own welfare.”
“Perhaps, but Emma never disagreed with her disparagement of me and my background.”
Harry swore under his breath. “When did this happen?”
“Last week,” Simon explained what happened without going into detail, but it was enough that Harry understood.
“You have to marry her, Simon.”
“She won’t have me,” Simon replied bitterly. “And Mrs. Drake despises me.”
Harry shook his head with a deep scowl. “That woman is a troublemaker. She loves to do what she can to convince her daughters to marry peers, except when one was me, of course. I wasn’t good enough because a union with me meant more gossip.”
“At least I am in excellent company,” Simon commented. “How did you convince her?”
“I didn’t. Louisa told her in no uncertain terms that she was marrying me.” Harry chuckled. “And the fact that she might have been with child at the time made a case for urgency.”
A long sigh escaped Simon. “I won’t know about that for a few weeks yet. And I’m not certain even that will make a difference.”
“Have you told her you love her?”
Simon closed his eyes against the ache stabbing him in the heart. Telling her meant risking rejection. He wasn’t sure he could handle that again. “No. At this point, I don’t think she cares. I was just an item to scratch off her list.”
There was no point discussing this any further. “This is not what I called on you for tonight.”
Harry tilted his head. “Oh?”
“When you mentioned I sell Hell, did you have a buyer in mind?”
Harry shrugged with a smile. “Perhaps. Did Ainsley speak with you?”
“Yes, he did. I wanted to know if you were speaking of someone else.”
“Ainsley approached me inquiring if you had any desire to sell. He said it would be him, Stanton, and Blakely.”
“Blakely? I thought he was getting married.” Simon couldn’t help but wonder why these three had such an interest in his gaming hell. While Ainsley might need the funds, Simon had heard of no such talk regarding Blakely.
“The poor man. Evidently, Louisa wasn’t the only lady to reject him. Only this lady waited until they were standing up in front of the vicar. The unfortunate affair has the gossips wondering what is wrong with him.”
Poor man, indeed. Perhaps he needed a respite from Society’s fickle ladies. “I want them to include Riley.”
“Does he have the blunt for a quarter of Hell?” Harry asked before taking another sip of his brandy.
“He could afford to buy the entire thing but would prefer not to take on all the responsibility.”
Harry whistled. “Perhaps I should come work for you.”
Simon laughed. “Perhaps you should.”
“What will you do after you sell?”
“I will take over the management of the estate in Kent.” Simon knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep him busy. “I might even think about MP at some point.”
“Oh, that is an excellent idea. Think of the debates we can have over the issues.” Harry leaned back and gave Simon a look of approval. “Now, you really must get Emma to marry you. With her at your side, no will care what you say as long as they can get a glimpse of her.”
Simon placed his brandy snifter on the desk and rose. “Thank you for the information, but I should leave now. I don’t want to ruin Emma’s birthday.” He pulled a small package out of his coat. “Would you give her this, preferably when you can catch her alone?”
“Of course.” Harry rose and then give him a look of understanding. “You could stay. It might be a nice night to tell her how you feel.”
“Not here. Not now.” Not ever. She deserved better than a bastard like him.
#
IT HAD TAKEN EMMA THREE days to open the package Harry gave her and five seconds to know she couldn’t keep it. Her brother-in-law didn’t need to tell her it was from Simon. Slowly, she opened the small box again, revealing a set of dangling diamond earbobs. They were beautiful. As the sunlight had refracted a rainbow of colors in her room yesterday, she wanted to try them on.
But she didn’t.
If she put those earrings on, she would want to keep them even more than she already did, and that was an impossibility. Why would he have sent something to her? He couldn’t afford such luxuries. And he didn’t want to marry her.
Guilt.
He must feel some amount of guilt for making love to her. Which seemed mad since everything that happened between them could only be blamed on her. Her list. Her foolishness.
It had taken her a day to figure out a plan to escape the house. Her mother was watching her like a hawk stalking a mouse. But tonight, with Almack’s open, Emma knew her mother would not go out unless someone asked whom she couldn’t refuse.
Thankfully, when Louisa heard where Emma needed to go, she invented a reason for Mamma to visit in the evening without Emma. She would owe her sister for ages after this.
The hackney hit a rut causing the earrings to almost bounce out of her hand. She quickly placed them back into her reticule. Glancing out the window, she noticed that twilight had created rosy shadows on the buildings of St. James. As the carriage slowed to a stop in front of the old church, her heart pounded erratically.
She paid the man and then walked up the steps to Hell. The old wooden church doors opened, and Mr. Riley yanked her inside.
“What the devil are you doing here tonight?” he demanded.
Emma wondered why he emphasized tonight unless Simon had plans. Was he meeting a woman here? She closed her eyes against the pain that brought to her heart. “I need to speak to him for a moment. You can tell him it won’t take long.”
Riley shook his head. “He is going to be furious you are here, Miss. Drake. Perhaps you should return tomorrow.”
“I cannot,” she hissed. “It was most difficult to arrange leaving my home tonight. Tomorrow will be impossible.”
“Very well.” Riley sighed. “Why don’t you play roulette while I see if he is presentable?”
Emma nodded. “As you wish.”
Presentable! Hah! Her mind shifted to a day a year ago when she and Louisa interrupted him. Anger and pain warred inside her. She wanted to hate him. Her heart wanted only to love him.
She walked into the gaming room and nodded at Melissa. Meg frowned at her but brought over a whisky.
“Is this still your drink, Miss Drake?”
“Thank you, Meg.” She put her money down on twenty-three for her age and waited for the ball to fall. As the ball circled, she glanced up toward his office window, but the room appeared dark from here. Perhaps he had already left for the evening.
He must be here.
She needed to get this over, return the gift, and leave before her heart weakened any further. If she couldn’t marry for love, then there was no reason to marry at all. She didn’t need protection when she had a duke for a brother-in-law.
“Twenty-three!” the croupier called out.
Emma turned her attention back to the table.
“Why am I not surprised,” a deep voice said from behind her.
Her hands trembled as she collected her winnings. “Thank you,” she said to the croupier before rising to face her personal demon. “Good evening.”
She tried not to drink in the sight of him but lost. It had only been a few days since she’d seen him at Louisa’s. Tonight, he looked different. Stiff. Angry. And so damned handsome that all she wanted to do was put her arms around his neck and kiss the fury away.
“What are you doing here again, Miss Drake?” he whispered harshly. “Unless you’ve already come to tell me something of vast importance.”
His gaze dropped to her belly.
“It’s hardly been enough time to know that,” she retorted. “May we speak in your office? Privately?”
“No.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Emma scanned the room and noticed a few people blatantly staring at them. Airing their disputes in public would give the gossips more to discuss. Perhaps she could goad him into a private discussion. “Afraid to be alone with me, Kingsley?”
His jaw tightened as his lips drew into a straight line. “No, Miss Drake. I have a guest coming tonight and would like you to be on your way.”
A guest.
A lady, no doubt.
For a short time, she’d wanted to believe that rakes can change. She’d been wrong. “Very well,” she reached into her reticule and pulled out the small box. Handing it to him, she said, “Thank you for the gift, but I cannot accept it.”
“It was a birthday gift, nothing more, Miss Drake.”
Her cheeks flamed. She’d never thought there was any other reason for the gift until he’d put the idea in her head. “Oh,” she whispered.
“Emma,” Simon murmured. “Take the gift and leave. We can discuss it tomorrow.”
“I cannot discuss this tomorrow.” She shoved the small box at him. “Please just take it. They are beautiful, but I mustn’t accept.”
“Well, there ye are, King,” A rough voice boomed across the room. “With the prettiest doxy in the room.”
Simon swore softly.
Emma glared over the man at the threshold of the room. He wore brown woolen clothes that barely fit his overstuffed frame. A thin cigar hung from his mouth that seemed to defy gravity by staying there as he spoke.
“Don’t say anything. And for the love of God, do not do a thing,” Simon whispered harshly in her ear. “I will explain later. As soon as he’s distracted, get out of here.”
“Come on, King. You can fuck the girl later. Or I will.”
Emma shivered in disgust.
Simon didn’t wait for her reply. He walked across the room with an obvious, at least to those who knew him, fake smile on his face. She stared in confusion. Whoever this man was, he was not one of the usual customers that Simon accepted into Hell.
“Park, good of you to accept my invitation,” Simon said, holding his hand out.
“Curiosity got the best o’me,” he muttered but accepted Simon’s handshake.
“So,” Simon drawled. “I heard you were interested in buying me out.”
Park’s mouth gaped, but the cigar didn’t move. “I ain’t so sure ‘bout that.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Simon continued. “I heard you are trying to expand to St. James and thought my establishment would be yours for the taking after your cheaters wiped me out.”
Emma’s gaze darted between Riley and Hood, wondering if they felt the room thicken with tension. Riley stared at Park while Hood seemed to scan the room for trouble. Why didn’t Simon have more burly men here? She sensed something dreadful would happen at any moment.
Park laughed in a low, gruff manner. “Seems to be working. This place is near empty.”
This time Simon laughed. “Well, Park, that is why you would never be successful in this part of town. You need to know when the Society functions happen. Tonight happens to be Wednesday, which means Hell will be busy after ten for all the men who avoid Almack’s, and then again after one when those forced to attend will be set free.”
“I knew that,” Park said quickly. Glancing around, he seemed to notice the number of men who had taken an interest in their conversation.
“Hell is not for sale,” Simon stated. “And should something happen to me, everyone in this room now knows who to suspect first.”
“Bastard!” Park snarled. “Do you really think that will stop me?”
One of the men behind the hazard table where Park stood reached for his pocket and pulled out a small pistol. Before anyone could move, he gave the gun to Park, who aimed and shot Simon. Emma's eyes widened as Simon crumpled to the floor. Riley and Hood attacked Park. Several other men raced to Simon.
And Emma’s world went black.