The bright sun slipped through the window, hitting Nick full in the face. He turned to escape the rays, but the sun wouldn’t retreat. Then it all came rushing back—last night holding Emma in his arms. If she’d asked him to make love to her last night, he had no idea what he would have done. He’d always prided himself on being a man of honor and proving his father’s opinion of him wrong.
But Emma Cavensham made him forget. She’d tempted him from the first time they’d kissed in Langham Park. He inhaled deeply and caught her scent. No, she’d captivated him the night he’d found her on her way to the public inn.
He avoided any hint of scandal, purposely steering clear of women and men who found impropriety courted them. He’d worked too hard to allow gossip to jeopardize his business ventures. Yet with Emma, he’d gladly throw his convictions out the window. Whether her allure was his salvation or damnation, he couldn’t decide, nor was he even sure it mattered. In her presence, Nick found his carefully crafted persona, not to mention his resolve, nipped away, bit by bit, like a fish teasing a baited hook.
The worse part? It didn’t seem to matter to him.
It was heaven to hold her, a perfect fit of two bodies. Never had anything felt so natural. This morning, he’d gladly forgo everything for one more moment with her in his arms. Before he could talk himself out of it, he damned the consequences and reached for her.
The other side of the bed was cold, and the room stood still as if sworn to secrecy. His mind snapped fully awake. Where would she go this early in the morning?
His momentary panic receded. She was probably downstairs in the common room eating with Harry by her side. Nick rose and gathered his shaving kit. As he sharpened the straight edge against the leather, the normally calming sound of the thwack, thwack seemed to scream fool, fool.
What she asked last night would cause a saint to sin, and he was certainly no angel. In the wee hours of this morning, the image of possessing her had taken him hostage. Tormented by her soft body curled around his, he’d pulled her closer and caressed the curve of her hip. Instead of protesting, Emma had moaned as if in the midst of a sensual dream and nestled closer with her soft breasts pressed against his chest.
When he woke drenched in sweat, he couldn’t dispute the truth any longer—he was fast losing his resistance to her charms.
He raised the sharpened blade for the first pass against his neck when a note on the washstand drew his attention.
Somerton,
I’m breaking my fast with Harry. I’m planning on taking a walk to the bookshop this morning, then I’ll find Lena’s maid. I didn’t want to wake you as you slept so soundly. Tea and bread are on the tray by the fire. I’m not certain how handy you are with preparing a cup. Have a go. If I was successful with the endeavor, I have complete faith you’ll succeed. Harry and Bess are escorting me through town as I go to my appointments. Don’t worry.
If you find yourself with free time on your hands, I’d welcome your company. I’ll watch for you.
Thank you for last night. It meant the world to me.
E.
He let out a sharp breath. Who in holy hell had time for tea and bread? He had to find her before she found real danger. This was a naval seaport, one of the toughest, nastiest places in all of Britain. Harry would provide little protection if the two ruffians found Emma during her appointments. Everything within him stilled. What if Aulton found her again?
Alex would kill him if she was hurt. Not to mention Langham would flay him alive. He released a deep breath and counted to five to subdue his exasperation.
If Emma’s family couldn’t control her, he would. He was through with her shenanigans.
Who exactly was he fooling with that proclamation? If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
She’d woven herself through every fiber of his being. He didn’t want the constant niggling need to hear her voice. He didn’t want the ache that took up residence in his chest when she wasn’t near him. He didn’t want her—period.
Perhaps if he repeated it enough, he’d start to believe it.
* * *
Customers and street venders selling their wares and goods littered the Portsmouth streets. You could purchase anything from pots to parrots. Emma’s carefully chosen brown dress and matching pelisse blended nicely with the crowd and the late autumn day. She didn’t look like a duke’s daughter nor did she feel like one today.
Earlier, Emma had left the bed she shared with Nick, carefully untangling her limbs from his embrace. One final glance at his prone body had brought a heat to her cheeks, but his face had stolen her breath. In sleep, he looked younger. None of the usual wariness marred his fine looks. Instead, in a rare unguarded moment, he appeared at peace with the world and himself.
Even though she’d invited him with her, he’d never accepted. In hindsight, it was perfect. Emma couldn’t risk him insisting they leave for London as she had too much to accomplish today. It was far safer to leave him to his sleep and venture out with Harry and Bess as her escorts.
She would have never dreamed of last night’s events—Nick appearing in her room, her convincing him to stay, and then falling asleep in his arms. The thought of his embrace had consumed her this morning. Last night proved sleeping alone would forever be a desolate experience.
She couldn’t continue to daydream as the morning slipped away. Her only stop prior to calling on Lord Sykeston’s home was the single bookstore in town. Behind her, Bess and Harry dutifully followed her into the small shop. She’d verify Mary Butler’s presence at Lord Sykeston’s, gather the coroner’s inquest findings, and then visit Mary.
The shopkeeper greeted them with a nod before turning back to his other customer. Surprisingly, the store stocked a great many books and novels. She could lose herself in such surroundings for hours and did just that until the customer’s transaction was finished.
“Good morning, miss. How may I help you today?” The shopkeeper, a short middle-aged man, round in the middle with a full head of long, white hair, greeted her.
“Mr. Parker, good morning. Mr. Goodwin sent me. I’m Lady Em—”
The shopkeeper turned his attention to a staircase and shouted, “Mrs. Parker! Lady Emma Cavensham has arrived. Hurry, my dear!”
The boom of his voice across the small shop startled Bess. She took a step back and stumbled into Harry. Sheepishly, she apologized and moved beside Emma.
“Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Lady Emma.” The shopkeeper examined her through gold spectacles. His beaming face immediately made her feel welcome. “The missus and I have been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
“I’m delighted to be here. I’ve been searching—”
“Mrs. Parker! Did you hear me?”
“I’m on my way, you old fool.” A voice from above drifted down. “Don’t keep the lady waiting. Ask her to sit.”
His round countenance took on a quizzical expression before his warm brown eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry, my lady.” His proffered hand indicated a sturdy oak chair next to the counter. “Would you care to sit?”
“Thank you, but no—” Before Emma could finish her answer, a woman descended the stairs.
“My lady, welcome to Portsmouth. I’m Mrs. Parker,” she said with a respectable curtsy. Her command of the store was immediate as Mr. Parker took a step back to make way for his wife, a petite woman with gray hair and brown eyes that snapped with intelligence. “I have a lovely sitting room where we can visit.”
Without waiting for Emma’s acceptance, Mrs. Parker proceeded to a small door behind the counter. Emma followed and crossed the threshold. Before her was a beautifully decorated sitting room perfectly sized to accommodate two chairs and a small table in front of a welcoming fireplace.
Harry stood in the doorway and glanced around the room. “Lady Emma, I see you and Bess will be here a while. Down the street, there were meat pies for sale that made my mouth water. I’ll go and get us some. Then I’ll watch the bookshop entrance for you.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Emma answered.
After Harry left, Bess cautiously entered the room. “My lady, I’m not certain where I should go.”
Mrs. Parker took the girl by the arm. “Why don’t you have a cup of tea, my dear, while I put Mr. Parker to work? There’s a lovely window overlooking the bay I think you might enjoy. I have a bright reading area that’s comfortable. You take your time.”
Whatever Mrs. Parker had to share, she didn’t want anyone to overhear their conversation, and that suited Emma perfectly. The less people who knew her business, the quicker she could gather Mary and return to London.
“Do you read, Bess?” Emma asked the question softly so as not to embarrass the young woman.
“Yes, my lady. The local vicar’s wife taught me.”
“Would you like a book?” Emma offered.
The serving girl’s face transformed into a vision of joy. “Oh, thank you, my lady.” She immediately blushed. “I don’t have any money—”
“Please, allow me. It would give me such pleasure to purchase a book for you.” Emma leaned forward and confided in a conspiratorial whisper, “Reading gives a woman power.”
Mrs. Parker nodded vigorously. “Lady Emma is a dashingly clever woman.” She took Bess’s hand and led her to her husband. “Mr. Parker, young Bess wants to find a new book.”
“Miss, what are your interests?” Mr. Parker wiped his hands on his apron and escorted Bess down a row of books. “Have you read Hobbs’ Leviathan? The man was literally born in fear. I myself prefer Locke’s Two Treatises of Government. Oh, have you read Machiavelli’s The Prince? Everyone misunderstands the text.”
As the two wandered the shelves, Mrs. Parker closed the door and sat down next to Emma. The fire popped twice, much like the snapping of fingers, an omen that they needed to conduct their business before the shop got any busier.
“Now, my lady, let’s proceed.” Efficiently, Mrs. Parker poured two cups of tea and handed one to Emma.
Taking a sip of the perfectly brewed cup, Emma leaned back into the chair and relaxed for the first time since she rose this morning. “What can you tell me about Mary Butler? Is she safe?”
Neat and trim, the gray-haired woman moved with an assured confidence as she nodded. “Very much so.” Her eyes grew pensive. “However, she never leaves Lord Sykeston’s house. She’s frightened.”
“Of Lord Aulton?” Emma asked as she set the cup down on the table between them.
Mrs. Parker added cream to her tea. “He hasn’t dismissed her per se and has allowed her to return to Lady Aulton’s childhood home here in Portsmouth. The young woman is convinced he’ll come and take her back to his ancestral seat one day.”
“How many servants are there in the Sykeston house?” If there were prying eyes in the household, Emma needed to be aware it. “Anyone I should take special notice of?”
“No, my lady. It’s a skeletal staff. Only the trusted servants who’ve been in employment for years. Some are from families who have served for generations. Every one of them is extremely trustworthy.” Mrs. Parker handed a piece of paper to Emma. “Here’s what we’ve discovered.”
Emma sucked in her stomach, preparing for the horror of what was written on the summary of the coroner’s findings.
It was worse than she’d imagined.
The coroner had described Lena as a twenty-five-year-old woman who had recently delivered a stillborn female child. For a moment, Emma’s throat threatened to close, the words too sickening to read, but she forced herself to continue. The loss of both her friend and the baby made her heart break into a million sharp pieces, and each one gouged her conscience. The first wave of nausea exploded through her gut. She swallowed to keep from retching.
She forced herself to continue reading. The coroner listed Lena’s cause of death as a severe trauma to her body due to a fall. There was added language that the smell of spirits was distinct on the countess’s body. Not a single mention of Aulton or his responsibility for the two deaths.
She sighed and stared at the fire. There was no hope for justice in these words—only blame against Lena for her own death and the death of her child. She tightened her fists and welcomed the pain of her fingernails cutting into her palms. Emma forced a deep breath. She wouldn’t collapse at the findings, or the lack there of—not today.
“The countess didn’t even drink spirits. They made her ill,” she whispered. Desperate for some warmth—desperate for comfort, Emma walked to the fireplace and held out her hands.
Mrs. Parker gently nodded in understanding.
The fire offered little solace. Many battles loomed before her. For a moment, Emma considered shirking her promise and returning to London. It’d be so easy; she’d done it before when Lena needed her. But she wasn’t a coward anymore, so she squared her shoulders and returned to sit by Mrs. Parker. “Was there a finding for the baby?”
Mrs. Parker shook her head. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the coroner in these parts … well, he can be influenced, you see. Whatever Lord Aulton says is law.”
“I’m sure,” she answered. A man’s word is never challenged, particularly if they’re a peer—no matter how black the heart.
Mrs. Parker shook her head. “The coroner is an old drunk about seventy give or take a year. But I must warn you to be careful, Lady Emma. Lord Aulton suffers from a horrid reputation, all of it deserved. He may have someone watching Lord Sykeston’s house—”
“I don’t care who you are.” From the shop, Mr. Parker’s voice rose in warning. “You can’t barge through our private quarters.” As if the bookstore suffered a sudden invasion from enemy troops, the door blasted opened with a racket.
Emma stood and turned to see the cause of the commotion. Mrs. Parker followed at a slower pace.
Handsome to a fault, a resolute Nick stood in all his glory. His stance revealed a sheer stubborn determination. Her heart stumbled in its regular rhythm, always the same effect when she saw him. However, today, the fierceness lining his face was breathtaking. He reminded Emma of an archangel prepared to slay every enemy in his path.
When his gaze fell to hers, the storm of fury that swirled around him immediately calmed to an unusual air of haughtiness. He inspected the room quickly before his attention once again returned to her. “Lady Emma, was there a misunderstanding? I believe we were to converse first thing this morning.”
“My lord,” Emma whispered. “I—”
“I informed Lord Somerton that the pirate’s diary is wrapped and waiting for him.” Mr. Parker wrinkled his nose with displeasure and a hint of smugness. “Apparently, he’s not done browsing our selections.”
“I’m not here for a bloody diary, or any other damn book,” Nick growled.
“Mr. Parker, he’s with me,” Emma added quickly to diffuse the confrontation. “Thank you for your concern, but I invited Lord Somerton to join me this morning.”
Mr. Parker waited until Mrs. Parker nodded her head. “It’s fine, Henry.”
At his wife’s reassurance, Mr. Parker stood down, and everything seemed to calm at once.
“Are you ready, my lady?” Nick asked, his voice smooth but detached. The warmth and friendship they’d shared last night seemed a distant memory next to this imperious man and his frigid demeanor. With a hardened gaze, he inspected her.
At this point, it made little difference whether he found her lacking or not. Her own confidence had already plummeted. She nodded and gathered her things. She couldn’t blame him for his bitter regard, but this distance between them hurt worse than she cared to admit.
“Mrs. Parker, your information has been beneficial.” She grasped the woman’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you for everything.”
Mrs. Parker dipped her head in answer. “I hope to see you again, my lady.”
Emma walked to Nick’s side. He held his arm to escort her as if it was a command. No matter how difficult, they had to address his disturbing mood before they went to the Sykeston home. She couldn’t let either of them alarm Mary Butler.
“Where’s Bess and Harry?” Emma allowed Nick to lead her into the shop area.
“I sent them back to the inn.” He bit out the words.
“I have to settle my bill with the Parkers.” It was doubtful she could gracefully handle an obviously angry Earl of Somerton and keep the slim tether on her own composure. It was stretched to its limit from the revelations in the coroner’s findings. She reached into her reticle and retrieved a coin.
“I’ve already taken care of it. Come, let’s go,” he demanded. He took her elbow and led her out toward the door.
“I’ll reimburse you.” Under no circumstances would she be beholden to him—not today. Her efforts had to be under her own resolve and resources. She owed that to Lena.
He shook his head. “No, consider it a redress for my behavior.”
“It’s obvious you were worried.” She chanced a glance at his face. By the tight line of his lips, he was furious.
“No, you misunderstand,” he answered. “It’s for my future behavior.”
Before she could ask what he meant, Mrs. Parker interrupted. “My lady, one more thing. Lord Aulton’s housekeeper is Mary Butler’s mother. She’s still at his estate.”
Emma clenched Nick’s forearm to keep from falling to the floor.
Mary still had ties to Aulton.
* * *
Nick’s relief at finding Emma had collapsed the anxiety that had built a fortress inside his chest. Finally, he could breathe easy. Every place he thought to find her this morning had turned up with nothing. The bookshop owner, Mr. Parker, had been deceptively helpful, but explained he hadn’t seen her departure. Nick left the store and scoured the docks to see if she’d stopped there. He’d even knocked on Sykeston’s door, but there had been no answer. He’d circled back to the bookshop. Once inside, he heard her dulcet tones through the door and realized she’d been there the entire time.
The bloody shopkeeper had sent him on a wild goose chase. The deception had sent his anger spiraling. Images of her hurt or accosted had caused him to suffer a blinding headache. When he saw her standing beside Mrs. Parker, his turbulent world settled, and magically, his headache had disappeared. However, his anger still smoldered.
The street crawled with venders selling everything from roasted chestnuts and wine to apples and tarts. His stomach growled at the lack of breakfast. They stopped before one vender’s cart, and he purchased two cherry tarts, a fair consolation since the apple tarts had sold out hours before. When Nick offered Emma one of the pies, she shook her head politely.
With one bite, he demolished half of the first pastry. Emma rewarded him with a smile so uninhibited he would have sworn the entire street grew quiet at the sight. The only thing he heard was the blood swooshing through his ears. However, if Emma thought the gesture would insure she escaped his wrath, she’d underestimated him.
“You didn’t dine on tea and toast this morning? I thought my note would encourage you to master the fine art of cooking for one’s self,” she quipped.
Nick swallowed the last bite of the first pie before he choked on her sweetness. Her innocent provocation piqued his already simmering anger. “I had more important matters on my mind. Namely, finding you.”
She bent her head, and a slight blush colored her cheeks. He steered them to a quiet alley away from the bustle of the people attending to their everyday business. He towered over her, forcing her to lean against the wall in retreat.
“You promised me we’d discuss what happened with Aulton last night. I wake up and you’re out for the day? You could’ve found real danger, and I had no way of knowing what kind or who would be after you.” He stepped closer until a hand’s breadth separated them. “To me, a broken promise is akin to a breach of honor.”
Her eyes narrowed, and a slight tick appeared below one eye.
“You slept so soundly. I asked you to come with me last night, and you didn’t answer. I assumed you didn’t want any part of my plans,” she offered in protest.
“That was before I discovered you were hurt,” he snapped. “You should have waited for me before you paraded and flitted your way across town.”
The normal creamy pink of her cheeks darkened to a startling crimson color. “For your information, I don’t flit, frolic, parade, or even gambol when I have important matters to attend. Can I help it you need your beauty sleep?” Her critical gaze perused his body from his boots to the top of his head. “Perhaps you should have stayed abed for another hour or so.”
“Are you mocking me for trying to keep you safe? Your family sent me to bring you back.” He’d laugh if he wasn’t so angry. She was deliberately annoying him and, much to his chagrin, succeeding. “What are you trying to prove? You’re the grand Lady Emma Cavensham who can have any man quaking in his boots? Well, your wiles won’t work on me.”
By now, their respective outrage had them both breathing hard. Almost nose to nose, she stared straight through him. Enhanced by flashes of her ire, Emma’s eyes had darkened into an extraordinary color that reminded him of malachite.
“Fine. You want me to tell you about Aulton? Last night, Harry went to attend the horses and the carriage after dinner. I waited for him in the taproom. Aulton appeared out of nowhere after the innkeeper chased away his ruffians.” Her fury high, she continued without a breath. “If I didn’t stay away, he threatened to bring stealing charges against me and Mary for the letters she’d sent me after Lena’s death. As a farewell, he grabbed my wrist and twisted, thus causing the bruises. Now, if you think I’ll leave that poor maid vulnerable to that man, then you don’t know me very well. Further, I’m not going home until I’m ready.”
“Fine,” he mimicked. “You don’t have to go home to Langham Hall. Go to Pembrooke’s. Either way, you will not stay here. Your little party is over. The inn is full, as they say. You can either walk or ride back to London. I don’t care if you’re seated on a horse or sitting in a carriage. You’re going back to London. Now.”
Without realizing it, he was pointing at her with the remaining tart, using it in lieu of his finger. She grabbed his hand and forcefully bit the tart in two. The act of defiance was so blatant he could only stare.
“It’s still warm.” The little vixen closed her eyes and moaned at the taste.
If in that moment, the heavens had opened up in a rainstorm, he’d wouldn’t have noticed. The expression on her face bewitched him. That simple joy from the taste of the tart transformed her from an angry, beautiful woman to a Greek goddess. Her moan invaded every part of him. As a mere mortal, he had no defense against her assault. It was the most sensual act he’d ever witnessed. As if he needed to suffer further, a spot of cherry filing clung to the beauty spot above her lip.
“Allow me.” He took off his glove and with his bare thumb wiped the sweetness from above her mouth.
Her breath caught at his bold touch, and she eyed him warily. Then in typical Emma Cavensham fashion, she did the unexpected. She brought his thumb to her mouth and sucked the fresh fruit off his finger. Her tongue, hot and wet, slid against his skin. Immediately, every nerve in his body went on alert. Gently, she let him go while her eyes captured his. Her simple act caused an unwelcomed chain reaction as his throat tightened and his cock thickened to attention. This had to be what it felt like to be hit by a bolt of lightning—aware of your surroundings but completely unable to move or speak.
His mind wrestled enough control from the renegade response of his body to sweep a glance at their surroundings. Not a single person had frozen in shock or seemed aghast at her action. No one had given them any notice at all—a complete surprise since the volatile antipathy between them could have started a war.
“Well, I think we’ve accomplished quite a lot, don’t you?” Her meek and docile tone would have disarmed most men to think the storm had passed.
He knew better.
“We’ve established you’re a proper, not to mention honorable, unmitigated arse,” she announced.
Without waiting for his reply, she executed a brisk turn, one that would have made any infantryman envious, and then marched away. Her brown wool pelisse snapped like a flag caught in a high wind on the battlefield. Nick couldn’t help but admire the ramrod straightness of her posture and smiled at the feminine sway of her hips. It completely ruined her performance.
With a deep breath that flared his nostrils, he closed his eyes in an effort to gain control. It didn’t calm matters when his mind reeled with thoughts of sex and Emma at the same time. Once back in London, he planned to carry her in his arms and dump her in the nearest chair once he entered Pembrooke’s study. Let her family deal with her. He’d had enough of Emma Cavensham to last him a lifetime.
Once he grappled his comportment into a calm state, he followed. The furious pace of her stride was no match for his long legs, and he caught her before she turned the corner at the end of the street. With little surprise, the Ruby Crown was in the opposite direction.
“The inn is that way.” He gently grasped her arm to turn her direction south.
“You may think me an addlepated virago, but I’m aware of the inn’s location.” With an evasive move, she stepped away from his reach. “I’m going to Lena’s.”
Again, he took her arm, but this time he turned her to the east. “Lord Sykeston’s home is this way.”
“Oh.” She stumbled, apparently flustered. “Thank you.”
All he could manage was a nod. With her mood, he’d follow her anywhere.
Just in case she found the shore, he had little doubt she’d walk to France under water.