“Come, Arial.” With her maid falling in step, Emma crossed the distance from the carriage to Goodwin’s Book Emporium.
The autumn sun broke through the gray clouds over London, a positive omen for her success. Emma grasped the shiny brass doorknob and stepped into the shabby little bookshop. The tinkle of a bell heralded her arrival. She stopped beside a towering stack of leather-bound books, but her skirts continued the forward motion as if coaxing her farther inside the mysterious worlds each volume offered.
A thin, middle-aged shopkeeper sprang from behind the counter much like a jack-in-the-box. He sketched a bow. What little remained of his hair fell forward revealing the bald crown of his head. “Good morning, my lady.”
“Truly a glorious morning, isn’t it, Mr. Goodwin?” She couldn’t hide the hope that colored her voice.
Carefully stepping around a stack of boxes in the middle of the aisle, Goodwin smiled, then walked the short distance to the back of the shop. He swept a ragtag curtain aside, creating an opening to the back storage room. “My lady, after you.”
“Wait here, Arial. I’m not certain how long we’ll stay,” Emma said.
“My lady, this is highly improper. There aren’t any other customers.” Her maid’s normally pleasant voice turned guttural, much like the growl of a cat when irritated—or fearful. Her sharp foot taps echoed through the shop and added a unique rhythm to the room’s acoustics. “What if the duchess finds out?”
“Shh! No one will discover we’re here. I’ll hurry.” She left her maid at the shop entrance and dared not dwell on the disapproving frown. The woman’s gift to inflict an air of censure was a true tribute to her Welsh upbringing. However, the effort would not dissuade Emma from today’s business. Failure was not an option.
At the doorway to the back room, she stilled. Her stomach dropped as if trying to find a way to escape. She had never ventured beyond the visible shop area. Drawing a deep breath and relying on her bold confidence—unfortunately, a trait declared unbecoming throughout the ton—Emma brushed the unease away much like a piece of lint on her sleeve and followed Mr. Goodwin. She was close to success. No amount of trepidation would ruin the day.
The musty smell of books hung heavy in the air while shadows loomed like highwaymen waiting for their next victim. She expected to hear the cry “Stand and deliver” any moment. With a tight tug of her gloves, she banished the image from her mind. Her insatiable habit of reading gothic novels late at night had to stop.
“Your assumptions were correct. I sent an inquiry to friends of mine. Mr. and Mrs. Parker own a bookshop in Portsmouth. They’ve connections in that part of England similar to mine in London. They’ve verified Mary Butler recently returned to Lady Aulton’s childhood home. Her brother, the Earl of Sykeston, is still abroad fighting in France.” Mr. Goodwin’s forehead shone with little pebbled beads of perspiration, making the pockmarks on his face prominent.
“And your colleagues? Will they help me?” Emma ignored the dust motes that floated through a lone sunbeam’s path and focused on the shopkeeper.
“Indeed.” When he smiled, the effort narrowed his eyes until he resembled a mole. “They’re looking forward to meeting you. I have your lodging secured at the Ruby Crown Inn. The innkeeper, who’s also a friend of mine, has reserved a room for your stay. He’s expecting you the day after tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” Emma said. Truly, she couldn’t have asked for better timing as her parents and brothers were due to travel within the next several days.
A twitch appeared underneath Goodwin’s left eye. It gave the appearance he was repeatedly winking at her. “While Lord Sykeston is away, his library is undergoing a renovation. Mr. and Mrs. Parker have access to the house as they inventory the library’s collection. The Parkers are perfectly situated to watch the house, and Mary’s comings and goings. They’ll also secure a copy of the coroner’s inquest findings. Since Lady Aulton died at her husband’s home, it was relatively easy to acquire the information since Aulton Court is within four miles of Portsmouth.”
“I don’t know what I would have done without your help.” Emma searched her reticule for coins. “Thank you. Allow me—”
“Please, my lady, no thanks needed.” Mr. Goodwin actually blushed. “It’s a delightful task to help a fine young lady as yourself.” He leaned toward her as if sharing a great confidence. “You remind me of my missus. Always ready for an adventure and willing to help others.”
Emma’s heart fluttered at the kind words. “An adventure” was a mild understatement. It was only natural she’d approach Mr. Goodwin. His connections throughout England were legendary. Within weeks of her request, he’d verified Mary’s location.
“You’re too kind, Mr. Goodwin,” she said. She searched his face for any hint of disapproval or doubt, but found understanding.
“One other thing. The innkeeper, Mr. Fenton, has made arrangements for your trip to the cliffs at sunset.” Mr. Goodwin picked up a package. “It’s a wonderful way to remember your friend. She was lucky to have you.”
“She was special in so many ways.” Emma had promised herself she’d not become maudlin. Lena would have hated it. “Please arrange the remaining details.”
“Yes, my lady. I’ll send word.” The shopkeeper beamed as he held out a wrapped package tied with twine. “I think you’ll enjoy these novels on the trip down.”
“Thank you.” Little took her by surprise anymore, but today marked one of those rare occasions. Mr. Goodwin was truly a thoughtful and very sweet man. “I must be going.”
The chime of a bell joined the noise of Arial’s perpetual foot taps. The package in her hands would be the perfect peace treaty to diffuse her maid’s ire. Arial loved to borrow her books and would have something to while away her time as Emma finished her plans for travel.
She made her way to the front of the shop between the narrow aisles while thoughts of her journey percolated. She bowed her head and traced the creases of the neatly folded brown paper surrounding the package in her hands.
“Arial, I have news—” Before another word escaped, she rammed headfirst into a brick wall.
“Ow!” She raised her hand to soothe the pain radiating from her poor nose and tried to take a step back, but an iron grip thwarted her effort. Instinctively, she pushed against the obstacle. Her fingers collided with a warm, felt waistcoat accompanied by a rich scent of bay rum cologne and leather.
Somerton.
Her eyes watered, but Emma lifted her head to ascertain if her suspicions were correct.
Blast it. She gritted her teeth to keep from swearing aloud. Never for one second did she think this catastrophe would happen. Now, she’d never make it to Portsmouth in this lifetime or the next. She shook her head in annoyance at her own negativity. She was going to Portsmouth.
“Are you all right?” A familiar, low rumble greeted her. The concerned look from an exquisite pair of turquoise eyes made Emma stop her retreat. His large hands slid down her arms to steady her.
“Yes, I believe so.” Her eyes still teared in rebellion from the lingering sting.
Of all the people to run into, she was mortified to find Lord Somerton before her. She bristled as the earl’s look of concern transformed into curiosity.
If the floor wasn’t so filthy, she’d have melted into the wooden planks. Somerton would want to know her business. Then he’d tell Pembrooke, who would tell Claire. If her parents got a whiff of her plans, she’d have a greater chance of wearing the crown as the next queen of England than of making it to Portsmouth. It was humiliating. She was twenty-five years old and still subject to her parents’ whims and concerns for proper chaperones.
Bother.
Emma might as well take out a full-page advertisement in tomorrow’s The Midnight Cryer. It would have the same effect.
She should be used to his presence by now. As godparents to Alex and Claire’s twins, they interacted quite frequently. At family events, he always seemed to be included. After their infamous kiss three years ago, he hardly gave her any notice, which was fine, as she hardly gave him any either.
Liar.
Her traitorous gaze quickly surveyed the length of his body. What was a woman to do when a golden-haired Adonis stood before her? Dressed in a tight-fitting black morning coat that framed his broad shoulders and gray breeches that molded every well-toned muscle of his long legs, he was perfection incarnate.
If she were the Queen of England, maybe she’d command the handsome earl to follow her to the royal yacht in Portsmouth. She’d make him strip to his lawn shirt and work the rigging while she watched his muscles swell and flex.…
With a deep sigh, Emma imagined Lena laughing at her antics. A grin tugged at her lips. Somerton leaned close, and a hint of mischief blazed from his eyes, layered with an unwelcomed inquisitiveness.
She wasn’t a queen and had better think of a plausible reason why she was in a back-alley bookshop with only Arial as her escort. Perhaps she could borrow a portion of a queen’s majestic bravado, though.
She boldly surveyed his body again. There was no padding in his clothing, much to her delight. The view was quite spectacular.
“Are you finished with your examination, or shall I turn around so you can study my backside?” Somerton challenged her with a raised eyebrow.
“If it wouldn’t be a bother? I’ve had my fill of the front.” She dared to stare straight into his eyes. It was madness to bait him this way, but she had to protect her travel plans from becoming public knowledge. Any sign of discomposure on his part would help shift their conversation away from her reasons for being at the bookshop.
He wasn’t offended as evidenced by his sudden slight grin. “Lady Emma, what a surprise to find you at Mr. Goodwin’s this morning. Did anyone accompany you besides your maid?”
“I won’t trouble you with the boring, banal details.” The situation had turned into one she fervently hoped to manage, but it was doubtful. Designed to strip away her defenses, his sudden infectious smile turned blinding. She enhanced her grin into what she prayed was an enchanting smile. Somerton clasped his hands behind his back and slowly scrutinized her. A tingle crept up her spine like a slow, meandering spider, but she refused to succumb to her unease. She raised her chin and straightened to her full height.
The earl stepped closer and motioned to an isolated corner in the bookshop. “I’d like a private word.”
Somerton’s demand for a tête-à-tête did not bode well for a quick exit. With shoulders squared, she was determined to meet her fate with as much aplomb as a ship’s captain walking the plank.
He maneuvered her into a corner with a natural grace. “You shouldn’t be in this part of town”—he closed the distance between them—“or a shop of dubious repute such as Goodwin’s. When I walked in, you spoke to Arial about news. Whatever is this news you wanted to share with your maid?”
Her grin melted as she juggled the package of books in her hands. Her smile hadn’t had any impact. He towered over her with an expression she couldn’t quite identify. Clearly, he was immune to her charms—what little she possessed. Perhaps he was irritated she’d discovered him at Goodwin’s.
“I’m merely shopping. Arial is always interested in my books.” She presented the parcel in her hands as if evidence to clear her of any wrongdoing. With a quarter turn, she took a step, but he blocked any means of escape with his long, lean body and one arm resting on a bookshelf. Trapped and forced to make conversation, Emma met his gaze. “I understand you’ll be at Langham Hall next week for my mother’s dinner party.”
“Don’t change the subject.” His breath caressed her cheek. The delicious scent of cinnamon and coffee wrapped around her. “What are you doing here?”
She leaned forward until she was less than an inch from his warm body. If his words weren’t so bothersome, she’d stay in this spot all day. Nonetheless, she was close to accomplishing everything she needed for Portsmouth, and no random meeting would stop her. “Let’s not mention we saw each other here.”
His chiseled cheeks and brow remained frozen much like the marble statue of Apollo that lorded over the entry hall of her home. His lack of agreement left her little choice but to raise the stakes.
“Otherwise, I’d hate to start the rumor you’re showing interest in me. You visit my home often enough.” When he flinched at the words, she didn’t ignore the opportunity. “Good day, Somerton.”
With a quick movement she had mastered years ago when she needed to escape from her two older brothers, she ducked under his arm and walked to her maid. The fiery heat of his gaze bored into her back. “Come along, Arial.”
Her threat would have the intended effect. Somerton avoided the ton and its social events for fear they’d think he wanted to wed. She experienced no shame in using every weapon in her arsenal to win an advantage.
Before she reached the door, Somerton was by her side and gently clasped her arm. “One more thing, Lady Emma.” A devilish gleam flared in his eyes as he commanded Arial, “Wait for your mistress outside.”
The maid hesitated. “My lady?”
Emma nodded her assent. It was better to end this dreadful conversation sooner rather than later. Her derring-do won out over her fluttering heartbeat. When the shop door closed, she stepped closer him. Two could play at his game. “Hmm, yes, my lord?”
His left brow raised a mocking fraction of an inch while his gloved hand reached for hers. In an even motion, he traced his thumb back and forth across her knuckles. The silken touch was a shot-across-the-bow attack on her composure. She swallowed the cannonball lodged in her throat. His audacious move left her unbalanced, and she couldn’t pull away—nor was she certain she wanted to.
That was the problem with Somerton. He possessed an uncanny knack for turning her insides upside down. He was like a ride on the fastest horse in a steeplechase—thrilling but dangerous.
“Please, what more can I say to convince you?” If she told him her business, she’d most likely find herself on a permanent hiatus at Falmont.
“Make no mistake. I’ll discover your purpose for shopping here from Goodwin.” His rich cadence was soothing like a cup of hot buttered rum, but his eyes flashed with a quick jolt of humor. The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. “When I do, I shall not be averse to sharing my newfound knowledge with others.”
His threat broke whatever spell he’d cast over her. She snatched her hand from his.
“Somerton, we share family, friends, and our joint responsibility as godparents. However, that doesn’t mean we share everything.” She’d had enough and didn’t wait for his reply. “Are my private matters worth starting a war between the two of us?” She dismissed him with a terse nod. “Good day.”
His laughter followed her all the way to her carriage.
Insufferable cur.
* * *
Humored by the whirlwind in front of him, Nick chuckled at the first volley of attack in her declared war. Lady Emma, the one and only daughter of the powerful Duke of Langham, sashayed her way to the carriage. Even in this rank part of London, her demeanor never changed. She acted as if she owned the very city itself.
He couldn’t remember when he’d had this much pleasure in a conversation with a woman. Quite possibly, the last time he’d seen her.
She’d always been comely when she was younger. Now, she could strike a man mute. Her plump red lips demanded to be kissed, and the glow of her pink cheeks was irresistible. Not to mention, her lush curves and graceful movements demanded he pay attention, which was never an issue. He could watch her for hours.
Something about her was different. When his gaze lingered on hers, her normal brilliance and incomparable confidence seemed shaded by a hint of reticence. The relaxed ease in her stance was missing, replaced by a stiffness, almost a wariness. He shook his head. Clearly, he was overthinking her reasons for being here. From all their interactions, Nick had firsthand knowledge of Emma’s first love—books. She’d already confessed that she shopped here occasionally. That fact alone should make it reasonable he’d find her at Goodwin’s.
With a deep breath, he turned from the shop window. Word had it that the Earl of LaTourell was boasting he’d gotten the official nod from the Duke of Langham to court her. The earl had spouted some nonsense that the duke and duchess had grown weary of their daughter’s perennial unwed status.
The news rankled Nick’s normally calm reserve and caused an unexplainable tightening in his chest. The cad wasn’t good enough for Emma. Besides, the earl was a known fop who overindulged in sweetmeats and blancmange.
Perhaps he should throw his hat into the ring. One day, he’d need an heir.
Damnation, where had that come from? He blew out a breath and squelched the wayward thought.
Marriage wasn’t in his future. His work was a most demanding mistress, leaving him little time for others. He kept his evenings free to scour the streets of London for information about ships, sailing routes, and treasures. With the gathered facts, he’d pick his investments, decide which merchant ship in his fleet to send abroad for the most lucrative trades, and buy cargo shares from the Orient. He enjoyed his life and planned to keep it simple without the added complication of a woman, even one as lovely as Lady Emma. He was so close to surpassing his father’s wealth, he could taste victory.
As her carriage pulled away, he couldn’t quash the nag that demanded attention. What possible reason would she have to visit Goodwin? His instincts warned that it couldn’t be just books. The titles Goodwin carried were old, but certainly not rare. Why would she purchase books here without checking other more reputable establishments closer to her home in Mayfair? What about Nick’s own library? He’d made the offer to her before and encouraged her to borrow anything that caught her interest.
He made his way to the counter and rang the bell. Before it stopped vibrating, the shopkeeper emerged from behind the filthy curtain.
“Good morning, my lord,” the shopkeeper crooned as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his arm. “Always a delight to help my favorite customer.”
He nodded in acknowledgment. “What have you discovered?”
Goodwin cleared his throat. “The ship landed last night, and the crew unloaded part of the cargo. At the captain’s direction, the rest tomorrow.”
“Anyone take inventory?”
Goodwin displayed his front teeth in a smile that made his round cheeks look like red moons. “The captain hired my brother, Rodney, on recommendation of the port-master. Her Splendor enjoyed quite a successful voyage. Rodney will provide a full accounting shortly.” The man leaned over the counter and lowered his voice to a whisper. “The routes were safe with no sign of enemy ships. With favorable winds, Her Splendor arrived weeks ahead of schedule.”
“Excellent.” Nick thrummed his fingers on the counter. The little tidbit was the final piece he needed to make the decision to purchase Her Splendor. It would make a profitable addition to his fleet. Pleased with the news, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a purse heavy with coins. “There’s an extra guinea if you provide some additional information.”
A look reminiscent of a hungry dog waiting for a butcher’s bone spread across the shopkeeper’s face.
Nick studied the bag and came to the sobering conclusion he wasn’t much different from Goodwin. They both craved money and its alluring promise of power—a grim thought that left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.
“Why did Lady Emma come to see you?”
The change in Goodwin’s expression from a warm, friendly face to one of feigned innocence was immediate. “She’s a customer looking for a book.”
He had little patience for Goodwin’s false acts of sincerity. This interlude kept him from work. “Might two guineas help your memory?”
The shopkeeper’s words tumbled like a waterfall. “There’s a book in Portsmouth she seeks to acquire.”
“Why does she want it?”
The shopkeeper winced. “I don’t know. She collects private journals. Please, she’s fascinated by the pirate queen Anne Readington’s history.”
“A pirate queen?” Every inch of his skin prickled in awareness. “Who has the journal?”
The shopkeeper’s whisper wheezed into a hoarse gasp. “A private collector who owns a bookshop in Portsmouth.”
Claire and Alex couldn’t be aware of her latest whim, or he’d have heard mention in passing. Where were her brothers in all of this? “Is anyone else interested in the acquisition?”
The shopkeeper’s eyes grew wary. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Anyone else accompany her when she visits?”
“Only her maid,” Goodwin replied.
“How much is she paying you? Perhaps I’ll double it.” As in incentive, Nick juggled the bag, causing the coins to jangle.
Goodwin’s dubious glare wasn’t the expected response. “My lord, sometimes helping a lovely lady is payment in itself.”
“You certainly charge me for everything,” Nick challenged.
“We have a business relationship.” Goodwin didn’t even blink. “Besides, I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Which is?” Nick asked.
“I’m somewhat of a favorite among the ladies.”
Nick rolled his eyes and threw the purse in the air. “Inform me of her plans. It’ll be worth your while.”
Goodwin caught the purse in one hand. “Of course, my lord.” With a wink, he sketched an elaborate bow.
Nick paid little heed to the rest of Goodwin’s hijinks. With quick steps, he made his way out the door. He could hardly fathom why Emma would be brazen enough to attempt such a trip.
As he inhaled the cool morning air, it cleared the tangle of revolving thoughts in his mind. He must remember this was Emma. The same woman who had risked her safety and her family’s wrath to acquire a book of essays several years ago. He’d never seen a woman so resolute in her actions or convictions. Whatever she deemed important, she went after with an enthusiasm that made most gentlemen appear cowardly.
Just like the kiss she gave him in Langham Park. Over the years, he’d fondly reminisced about that event. He always found a lightness in his step for hours afterward.
Lady Emma Cavensham was simply the most magnificent creature he’d ever laid eyes on.
There was only one solution. He’d acquire the diary and then present it to her. With one transaction, he’d put her pirate-queen-seeking nonsense to a stop. It would eliminate her need for travel to Portsmouth, and keep her safe and her reputation intact.
Perhaps, he’d find a little entertainment along the way and tease her about a bloodthirsty pirate queen’s diary. Her rose-colored cheeks deepened to the reddest scarlet when she was agitated.
A tinge of doubt took ahold and wouldn’t let go. What right did he have to intrude upon her business?
He dismissed the thought. He was saving her from herself.
Maybe he’d get another kiss for his efforts.