"You’ve been very quiet this morning, Em. Is everything all right?”
The soft query brought Emily out of hermusings, and she looked up from her contemplation of a nearby patch of violets to meet her companion’s concerned gaze.
“Of course, Adam,” she said, forcing a note of lightness into her voice that she was far from feeling. “I was just daydreaming, I’m afraid.”
The viscount shifted in his saddle, his expression unconvinced. “You’ve hardly said a word since we left Knighthaven.”
Emily bit her lower lip and swiftly looked away. It was true, but what could she possibly say to explain her preoccupation?
It had been a need to clear her head and a large dose of guilt that had led her to accept when Lord Moreland had dropped by the house early this morning to ask her to accompany him for a ride about the estate. After having turned down his previous invitation for an outing, she’d felt she couldn’t say no without further widening the rift between them.
But things had been awkward, and for once she found herself at a loss as to what to say to him. He’d always been so easy to talk to before, but now that he seemed to have set his sights on her as a wife, she was afraid anything she said at this point could be construed as encouragement.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked especially handsome today with his golden-blond hair tumbling over his forehead in a rakish manner, his muscular form clad in close-fitting buckskin breeches and a bottle-green coat that outlined the width of his shoulders.
Why was it that the idea of wedding Adam filled her with a sudden desire to bolt for the hills with all due speed? Perhaps marriage wouldn’t be such a bad thing to consider, especially to someone she liked as well as the viscount. She felt comfortable with him and they got along well. Of course, according to gossip he had a bit of a weakness when it came to the gaming tables, but no one was perfect, and there were certainly much worse faults to be had than a penchant for wagering.
But there was no spark between them, no attraction, no matter how much she might wish there was. If she was going to tie herself to someone for life, she wanted it to be someone who affected her both physically and emotionally. Someone who made her head spin and her heart beat faster.
Someone like Peter.
Emily’s jaw tightened. She’d made up her mind she wasn’t going to allow Peter Quick to cast a shadow over her time with Adam, but she was finding it difficult to keep exactly that from happening. Even when she wasn’t in his company, he occupied her every thought. She couldn’t seem to forget the feel of his hands smoothing over her skin, his mouth on her breasts…
Shivering, she took a deep breath and shoved him from her mind once again before turning back to Lord Moreland with what she hoped was a placating smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit troubled and haven’t slept well lately, so I suppose I’m just tired.”
“Troubled by what? Does it have anything to do with this Quick fellow?”
At his question, she started and couldn’t help giving an inward groan. It seemed even in innocent conversation with another man, she couldn’t escape Peter.
They had halted their horses next to a stream at the edge of the Ellington property, but needing to distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions that swept through her at the mention of Peter, Emily prodded Artemis forward into a walk and the viscount followed suit on his mount, falling in next to her.
She studied him over her shoulder. “What makes you ask that?” she queried, keeping her tone nonchalant.
Adam’s chiseled mouth turned downward. “I don’t like the way he looks at you. And he seems to put you on edge when you’re around him. I noticed it the other day at breakfast.”
Well, she couldn’t deny that, Emily had to concede. And Lord Moreland was much too observant. More observant than she’d given him credit for.
Searching for some way to excuse her behavior, she shrugged and waved a careless hand. “Mr. Quick and I tend to put each other’s backs up. We’ve had some…disagreements in the past, but we’ve come to terms with it and now we have an understanding of sorts.”
That was true, as well. In the last few days since the incident in the abandoned cottage, she and Peter had somehow managed to continue to work together. She had accompanied him as he had questioned each of the people on the list of dinner-party guests Lord Fulberry had provided, and though their interaction had been strained at first, his investigation and her determination to keep him from finding out the truth had soon taken precedence.
And they hadn’t spoken of what had passed between them again.
Adam’s brow furrowed in obvious disapproval. “I’m certain that you believe that, Em, but I don’t trust the man. He is a former pickpocket, after all. And to have him staying in your home with you…well, I can’t imagine what Lord Ellington is thinking.”
Emily took immediate exception to the viscount’s condescending attitude. “He is a former pickpocket who is now an officer of the law. And my brother is thinking about the people of Little Haverton and catching this thief before he causes any more devastation.”
“Of course.” Lord Moreland looked suitably chastened, though something still lurked in the depths of his hazel eyes that tugged at her uneasiness. “I apologize. But you must understand, I’m just concerned.”
She nodded, but found herself unable to reply. The man’s criticism of Peter had angered her more than it should have, and that disturbed her. More than she was ready to admit.
At that moment, they trotted into the stable yard at Knighthaven, and Emily had to restrain a sigh of relief. Always before, she had enjoyed being with Adam, but today she was most anxious to part company with him. Had her friend always been so dictatorial, so arrogant? So proprietary where she was concerned?
It seemed Peter’s return had opened her eyes to several things she’d once been blind to.
She started to slide down from her saddle, but the viscount appeared at her side before her feet could even touch the cobblestones and grasped her waist, lowering her next to him. Instead of letting her go once she was on the ground, however, he maintained his hold, staring down at her in a disconcerting manner.
“Why, Adam, whatever is wrong?” she asked, attempting to keep her tone light and amused. “Do I have a spot of dirt on my cheek?”
To her surprise, he let go of her waist to reach up and gather her hands in both of his. Oh, dear. Was he actually about to declare himself?
“Emily,” he began earnestly, “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about something rather important. I’m certain you must know how I feel about you, and I—” “I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?”
At the sound of the deep voice, Emily glanced up to find Peter lounging in the entrance to the stables, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in silent inquiry. The sight of him had her heart giving a queer flutter in her chest, and she felt a surge of relief as she pulled her hands free from Adam’s grip and took a step away from him. There was no mistaking the look of displeasure that crossed the viscount’s face, but she could only be grateful for Peter’s timely arrival. “Of course not, Mr. Quick. Lord Moreland and I were just…talking.” She forced a smile. “Did you need something?”
He straightened and ambled toward them, his strides long and fluid. “As a matter of fact, Lady Emily, I was looking for you. I plan on going to see Baron Caulfield in a short while and was hoping you would have the time to come along.”
“Certainly.” A crony of Emily’s father from long ago, Baron Caulfield had been one of the victims on Jack’s list of marks. A stuffy, posturing man in his middle years, he had an attitude of preening arrogance that had made Emily feel a bit less guilty about the part she had played in the robbery of his home—though only a bit.
A slight sound drew her attention to Adam, who stood where she’d left him, a frown marring his handsome face. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Emily. Why should you need to accompany Mr. Quick to see Lord Caulfield?”
It was Peter who answered. “Lady Emily has been of great help to me in my questioning of the victims of the Oxfordshire thefts.”
The viscount’s mouth fell open and he sputtered for a moment, as if lost for words. When he finally managed to speak, his tone dripped with righteous indignation. “Quick, do you mean to tell me you’ve actually been allowing Lady Emily to take part in this investigation of yours? Do you realize what sort of danger you could be putting her in? Is Lord Ellington aware of this?”
Peter’s countenance hardened and he took a step toward the other man. “Lord Ellington is quite aware of it, Moreland. In fact, his wife is the one who suggested Lady Emily might be of assistance. And I would never do anything to place her in any sort of jeopardy.” He lifted his chin. “Never.”
His voice was so fierce, the look in his eyes so challenging, that Emily feared fisticuffs might be imminent. Stepping swiftly between the two bristling adversaries, she placed a calming hand on Lord Moreland’s arm. “Really, Adam. There is no need for this. I’m in no danger. It’s not as if I am out chasing the thief down. I simply go with Pet—um, Mr. Quick—when he questions the victims and witnesses. They know me and my presence seems to put them at ease.”
The viscount tore his gaze from Peter and folded his arms across his chest, giving her a belligerent scowl. “I still cannot approve of this, Emily. Not at all.”
That did it. Emily’s own temper flared to life and she fixed him with a stern glare. “It is not for you to approve or disapprove of anything I do, Adam,” she informed him coolly. “Kindly remember that in the future.”
For a long, awkward moment, no one said a word. Then, close enough to her ear that the warmth of his breath on her neck caused her to shiver, she heard Peter whisper, “Bravo.”
She felt her cheeks heat in response.
It was obvious that Lord Moreland heard him as well. But other than sending another glower over Emily’s shoulder in Peter’s direction, the viscount didn’t deign to reply. He merely gave a stiff bow, his pale lashes lowering to veil his eyes, effectively hiding his thoughts.
“Of course. I do apologize. It seems I’ve overstepped my bounds once again. But you are a good friend, Emily, and I can’t help but worry.”
“I appreciate your concern. But there is no reason for you to worry. I am quite safe in Mr. Quick’s hands—er, care.”
The slipup was telling, and Peter’s soft chuckle had her seeing red. He would enjoy seeing her flounder like this!
“Yes, well, I suppose I’ll just have to take your word for that.” Seeming oblivious to Emily’s discomfiture, Adam captured her hand again, raising it to his lips for a fervent kiss. Behind her, she could almost feel Peter stiffen. “I suppose I should take my leave now. But I do hope we will have a chance to finish our conversation later?”
She nodded, though the mere possibility of his proposing to her tied her stomach in knots. “I shall look forward to it.”
As she and Peter watched, the viscount climbed on his horse, inclined his head to them, and cantered out of the stable yard.
After a second or two, Emily turned to face Peter, unable to help wondering if he could tell how glad she was that Adam was finally gone. The thought seemed disloyal somehow. “Well, if you don’t mind waiting, it shouldn’t take me long to make ready, and then I’ll join you for the trip to Lord Caulfield’s.”
Peter examined her thoughtfully for a second. Then, shoving his hands in his pockets, he gave a casual shrug. “I don’t mind waiting at all. If you’re sure you want to go. Your Lord Moreland didn’t seem to care for the idea.”
“He’s not my Lord Moreland, and as you heard me say to him, he has no authority over how I choose to spend my time. I’ve agreed to accompany you and I intend to do so.”
As she finished speaking, a young groom came forward to take Artemis, but Emily waved him on his way. She needed some time alone, she decided, to rein in the chaos in her head. And taking care of her mare was always a soothing task that required little concentration on her part. Thank goodness. “It’s quite all right, Tad. I’ll get her settled.”
“If you’re certain, m’lady.”
“I am.” As the lad loped off, she wrapped the reins around her hand and cast Peter one last glance. “I’ll be ready within the hour.”
With that, she led Artemis into the darkness of the stables.
Once inside and out from under Peter’s watchful eye, Emily felt herself relax, and her pent-up breath escaped her in a rush. It had been a trying morning, and she could only hope the day ahead would get better. Surely it couldn’t get any worse.
Dutifully, Artemis allowed her mistress to lead her to her stall in the far corner. And it was only after Emily had removed the mare’s saddle and bridle and turned to reach for the currycomb that she realized Peter had followed her. He stood just inside the stall, watching her with a quiet intensity.
Comb in hand, she froze mid-motion. She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy to escape him.
“You know, nothing has changed.”
His soft words had her narrowing her eyes in puzzlement. “Oh?”
“You always did like the stables. I can remember you used to come here whenever you were angry or upset.”
That was true. The stable had been one of her favorite escapes for as long as she could recall. With its scents of hay and old leather, its sounds of horses snorting and snuffling in their stalls, it was a place of warmth and safety, somehow comforting to her senses.
“And I can remember the day your brother brought you Artemis.” Peter crossed the stall to join her. “It was your sixteenth birthday. I don’t think I’d ever seen you so happy.”
He seemed more relaxed than he had since he’d returned to Oxfordshire, and his easy manner had Emily letting down her guard the slightest bit. Smiling in reminiscence, she ran the currycomb over the mare’s side in a long, smooth stroke. “She was the first gift Tristan ever gave me after he returned home. The first real gift, other than impersonal, little-girl things. It meant a great deal to me. She means a great deal to me.”
“I know.” He reached up to give the horse’s muzzle an affectionate rub, and Artemis whinnied in response, nudging his palm. “And I have no doubt she’d gallop through fire for you.”
There was a beat of silence, then Peter’s laughter floated through the space between them.
“What?” Emily eyed him askance, one hand going to her hip. “What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking about the afternoon you and I took some of the younger boys and girls from Willow Park on a picnic in the woods close to Knighthaven. It was soon after the earl gave you Artemis, and you brought her along. I think she enjoyed the experience as much as the children did.”
Her own laughter mixed with his as her mind went back to the afternoon in question, picturing the way Artemis—who had been little more than a filly at the time—had frolicked and gamboled about, basking in the children’s attention and making them squeal with delight at her antics.
“She was rather entertaining, as I recall,” she agreed, meeting Peter’s gaze.
“That she was.” He paused for a moment, then went on, his tone introspective as he studied her upturned face. “I remember something else about that day, as well.”
“Really?”
“Mmmm. It was the day I kissed you for the very first time.”
Emily froze, his words catching her off guard. Why on earth would he bring up such a thing now?
A sudden energy seemed to crackle in the air around them, and she had to swallow several times before she could speak past the lump in her throat. “W-was it?”
Peter nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “We were wading in the stream while the children were eating, and you slipped and lost your balance.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward in an almost lazy grin. “I caught you, and when you looked up at me with those big violet eyes, I couldn’t resist. Your mouth was practically begging to be kissed.”
And what a kiss it had been, she thought dreamily. Slow and sweet and tender. Everything a first kiss should be. And the memory of it had the power to cause her heart to skip a beat even now.
But she had no intention of letting Peter know that.
Raising her chin, she struggled to keep her countenance as blank as possible. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t remember that.”
His smile widened and he leaned forward until less than an inch of space separated them. Devilish sparks danced in those piercing blue eyes, stealing her breath. “You, Lady Emily, are a terrible liar.”
She certainly was.
At that moment, the sound of someone clearing his throat had Emily drawing back in haste, her cheeks heating. Glancing up, she found Miles standing at the entrance to the stall, his expression apprehensive.
Oh, dear. What was wrong now? “Yes, Miles?”
“A lad just stopped by to drop off a message for you, m’lady.” He took a step forward and held out a small, folded scrap of paper.
“A message?” As Emily met him halfway to take it from his grasp, she couldn’t help but notice the troubled shadows that lurked in his usually merry eyes. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. If Miles was so disturbed, this couldn’t be anything good.
She unfolded the scrap of paper and read the nearly illegible scrawl with growing horror: Tomorow nite!
It seemed Jack had decided the time had come for the Oxfordshire Thief to strike again.
Crumpling the note in her fist, she gave Miles a wan smile. “Thank you, Miles.”
The stable hand nodded, his face full of a concern he couldn’t quite hide, then spun on his heel and left the stall.
“A message from Lord Moreland?”
Peter had approached so quietly that she hadn’t been aware he was standing right behind her until his query next to her ear caused her to give a cry of surprise. She spun to face him, her heart pounding fit to burst from her chest.
He studied her with hooded eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” All of the warmth that had vibrated between them just moments ago was gone. He gestured to the paper still clenched in her hand. “A message from Lord Moreland?”
Emily had just opened her mouth to deny it when it occurred to her that it was more than likely for the best if she let him go on believing that. After all, what was she going to tell him instead? That it was a note from their old friend Jack Barlow, letting her know it was time to put on her thief’s cap and break into their neighbor’s home?
Taking a deep breath and injecting a deliberate touch of coyness into her voice, she gazed up at him from under lowered lashes. “Perhaps.”
She couldn’t miss the shadow that passed over his features at her reply. “The two of you seemed rather cozy out there a little while ago. Are you certain I didn’t interrupt anything…important?”
“Not at all.” Some imp of mischief snapped at her heels, causing her to add questioningly, “Would it matter to you if you had interrupted something?”
“Only if he was trying to convince you to meet him for another midnight tryst. In which case I would feel it was my duty to point out to you that you’ve been advised not to leave the house or grounds after dark. So I would suggest you restrict your assignations with the viscount to daylight hours.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door of the stall in a negligent pose. “After all, I would hate to have to stand guard beneath your window all night.”
Oh, the nerve of him! He would, too. Emily barely restrained the childish urge to stamp her foot in frustration. So much for their earlier camaraderie.
Well, better that things remained this way for now, that he continued to believe she was attracted to Adam. As long as the two of them were on their guard with each other and she continued to keep her emotions at bay, she might at least come out of this sorry business with her heart intact.
She straightened her shoulders and faced him with disdainful hauteur. “I shall be sure to inform Lord Moreland of your dictates. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go change or I won’t be ready in time to travel with you to Baron Caulfield’s. And I certainly wouldn’t want to deprive you of the pleasure of my company.”
Leaving her final words hovering in the air, she whirled and marched off, feeling Peter’s eyes burning into the back of her head the whole way.