The cold added a damp bite everywhere. Emma leaned back against the plush squabs and stretched. If the horses kept the same pace, she’d reach Portsmouth within three hours.
After her parents left to visit Lady Chelston, Emma met the old Pembrooke coachman, Harry Johnson and Daphne at the smithy’s business. Ever thoughtful, Daphne had provided a packed basket and a velvet coverlet for Emma’s comfort.
Daphne had merely nodded when Emma had asked her to stay hidden for the day. Emma explained that she’d slipped last night and told Somerton that she and Daphne were visiting a friend today. It’d been a poor excuse, but it was all Emma could think of when Somerton had confronted her. If he discovered Daphne at home, he’d know Emma had traveled to Portsmouth.
However, Daphne didn’t hide her dismay when she had discovered Arial hadn’t accompanied Emma. However, with a fever and chills, Emma wouldn’t risk Arial’s health on such a short trip. Besides, with Goodwin’s friends, she’d be perfectly safe.
Only one more stop before she’d arrive at the Ruby Crown Inn. Tomorrow, she’d go and meet the Parkers and examine the coroner’s report. Then, she’d visit Mary. The Parkers had sent word to the maid that Emma wanted to see her.
She examined the silver locket in her hand. Warm from the heat of her hands, the simple necklace glistened with light and memories of Lena. Inside, was a carefully protected lock of Lena’s soft brown hair and a few crushed petals from the first posy Lena had received from an admirer—ordinary items they’d shared as they embraced their first Season together.
She carefully placed the locket in her reticule. Needing to fidget, she caressed the soft dark navy velvet on the seat. Claire recently had the vehicle renovated to match the interior of her husband’s carriage.
Such a waste in Emma’s opinion. If it had been her vehicle, she’d have made the interior fit her own tastes. Cream-colored leather with a green-blue velvet would be perfect. She imagined a handsome man sitting across from her with a playful teasing smile, his eyes matching the interior.
Her vision of perfect transformed into Nick. After their second kiss in Langham Park, she could only think of him as Nick. With a start, she sat up straighter. The man wouldn’t leave her alone even in her daydreams.
The morning had brought Claire’s warning into a new light. With surprising speed, Nick had left her last night to face Claire alone. He couldn’t wait to escape her company and didn’t give her a proper leave. What would a proper good-bye consist of in their situation? How do you say good night after leaving a lady with her mind muddled from kisses?
He’d been masterful at dinner when he took up the proverbial arms and had come to fight beside her against Will. Never would she have imagined Nick willing to assist her as she’d argued vehemently for her belief in a woman’s right to participate equally in politics—all without a hint of criticism or chastisement for her convictions.
He relished his isolation and encouraged society’s opinion of him as an enigma. Granted, his looks were near perfect and his manners gentle and kind, but there was so much more to him than what he allowed others to see. Some considered him nothing more than an avaricious man of trade who raided and plundered others’ inability to make a fair bargain. But his talent to ferret out opportunity while others saw nothing was a true gift. London had ridiculed his purchase of merchant ships to set up trade routes to the States and Lower Canada as the height of foolishness. Yet he had turned it into one of the most profitable businesses ever to sail from London.
Others, particularly women, regarded him as a mystery that begged to be solved.
She saw him for what he was—a treacherous man.
She had always prided herself on the ability to resist the charms of any gentleman. Yet whenever his heated gaze settled on her, she became lost, and her thoughts would scatter like leaves in a fall gust. There was a promise of something in his eyes, as if he held a secret that could shatter her world and highly organized convictions.
When his bold attention focused solely on her, it was deeper than a glance or a look. It reached somewhere hidden inside her heart and mind. He was like a gravitational force, and she was helpless, caught in his orbit. Dangerous was too tame to describe him.
Sweet kisses and gentle caresses were one thing. Without much effort on his part, he could bend her willpower and break it in pieces with one rapacious look. She’d do well to remember that simple fact.
Emma embraced the bright sunshine and closed her eyes. Time to put her thoughts of the Earl of Somerton to rest. She wanted to savor every single moment of her day without any distractions. Everything she hoped to accomplish in Portsmouth was before her.
* * *
The irresistible smell of apples, cinnamon, and butter wafted through the breakfast room of Pembrooke’s town house, and Nick inhaled deeply. Tarts were his weakness. “Are those apple tarts? I didn’t see them on the buffet.”
Alex looked up from his paper. “Daphne’s not here, so there aren’t any. She and Emma left this morning to visit a friend. They’ll return tomorrow.”
A young maid passed by the doorway holding a plate of the hot, fragrant confections. She took the stairs to the family’s quarters, an odd destination since Claire and the nurse had taken Lord Truesdale, Alex’s heir, and Lady Margaret, for a walk.
Nick’s gut tightened. No one else should have been upstairs in the family quarters. Besides, the tarts were Daphne’s favorite.
“I found the pies.” Nick motioned for Alex to follow.
“Your hunt for sweets is a little obsessive.” With a sigh, Alex stood.
Both silently followed the maid upstairs. Oblivious, she entered Daphne’s room briefly, murmured a greeting, and then closed the door sans tarts without passing a glance in their direction.
Alex took the lead and silently opened Daphne’s door. She had her back to the them and sat at her desk with a full breakfast tray and a tower of steaming tarts. Before she brought one to her mouth, Alex intercepted her wrist with his hand.
“What—” Her gaze snapped to her brother’s. “What are you doing here?” Daphne’s face grew deathly pale.
“That’s my question.” Alex elevated one eyebrow. “Think of something else to ask.”
“I’m a little under the weather.” She sniffed.
“I’d not realized tarts were a cure for colds,” huffed Alex.
Her silence screamed things were awry.
“Let’s continue this in my library, now. Somerton, join us?” As he escorted her through the house, Alex held Daphne’s forearm much the same way he grasped his son’s and daughter’s arms to insure they didn’t flee. He released his grip once they reached the library door. With a wave of his hand, Alex invited his sister to enter first. The skirt of her silk dress brushed against her brother’s leg and a spark of static electricity snapped like a portent of the blaze that would surely erupt once the door was shut.
After he clicked the lock, Nick turned and faced the interior of the room. The silent communication between the two siblings held the drama of a well-played card game. Alex raised a haughty eyebrow and stared at his sister, daring her to speak. Daphne matched him, tapped her foot, and added a smirk for effect.
At an impasse, Alex broke the silence. “Does Mother know you’re not where you said you’d be? If she did, I doubt she’d have traveled to Bath today to take the waters. You told us all you were spending the next two days at Miss Cassandra Fuller’s house with Emma.”
As Daphne’s resistance crumbled like last week’s biscuits, she lifted her face to the ceiling and closed her eyes. After a moment, her gray eyes, identical in their piercing color to her brother’s, opened to glare at both of them.
“As a ruse to protect Emma’s travel plans, I was going to stay in my room for two days.” With a heavy sigh, she started her negotiations. “Promise not to inform Mother? Otherwise, I’ll not say another word. She’ll tell the duchess.”
After a tense moment, Alex nodded.
“Emma is on her way to Portsmouth in Claire’s carriage.” With a defiant throw of her head, Daphne crossed her arms. “She plans to spend two nights and be back the day after tomorrow.”
Nick’s unease ignited into a full blaze of anger. “To get the pirate’s diary? When did she leave?”
Alex gave a bewildered look first to Somerton, then to Daphne. “Pirate’s diary?”
“Calm down, Somerton,” Daphne scolded. “What pirate’s diary?”
“The bookshop owner, Mr. Goodwin, told me she was after some diary of a pirate queen named Anne Readington.” His heartbeat drummed in an uneasy staccato rhythm. How could Emma do this after he’d specifically warned her not to try such a folly? “I directed Goodwin to buy it for me. I planned to give it to her in lieu of her traveling to Portsmouth.”
“Somerton…” Daphne’s voice softened as she shook her head. “She’s gone to convince Lady Aulton’s maid to return to London with her.”
“Lady Lena Aulton?” Alex blew out a breath. “That explains some things.”
“Why the maid?” Nick was well aware of the rumors surrounding Aulton and the recent death of his wife, but he’d never given much thought to it after Alex suggested Aulton was ready to marry again.
Daphne clasped her arms around her waist and exhaled. “Emma wants a witness to Lena’s death to come forward. She believes the lady’s maid saw everything. The maid was so distraught after Lena’s death she sent all the countess’s unposted correspondence to Emma as a safe measure. The countess was convinced her husband would likely kill her before the baby was born.”
Nick tilted his head to the ceiling to keep from roaring like a beast. Why didn’t Emma confide in him? If he hadn’t been such an arse about Portsmouth, perhaps she would have trusted him enough to tell him her plans.
Alex pursed his brows. “Does McCalpin know where she is?”
“She wrote to him.” Daphne’s piercing gray eyes narrowed. “Somerton, how do you know about it? She only told me of her plans a couple of days ago.”
“She was at Goodwin’s with only her maid in attendance. When she wouldn’t tell me her purpose, it took little persuasion on my part for Goodwin to spill. Apparently, he thought a fib would lead me off her trail. Our Lady Emma is quite cozy with Mr. Goodwin.”
Alex’s mouth tilted upward in a half smile. “Did I hear correctly? Our Lady Emma?”
Nick waved him off. His ridiculous badgering could wait.
“When did you see her at Goodwin’s?” Alex asked Nick.
Nick propped a hip against the massive oak table that commanded the center of the room. “The day of Lady Emory’s ball. I told her to forget Portsmouth and went so far as to threaten I’d tell the duke.”
In his typical headstrong manner, Alex’s anger erupted like a volcano, always later than expected. “Daphne, you didn’t stop her or tell anyone? My God, Aulton’s home is within thirty minutes of Portsmouth. If he catches wind of her real purpose, he’ll likely do anything to her.”
Daphne threw back her head in defiance. “What could Aulton possibly do to Emma?”
Alex, smooth as a panther stalking his prey, approached his sister, never taking his eyes from hers. Daphne was taller than most women, but Alex towered over her. “In a major thoroughfare of London six months ago, he beat his horse until the poor creature had to be destroyed,” he whispered. “The wretched beast’s only crime? It lost a shoe and stumbled, causing Aulton to fall to the ground. Can you now imagine what could happen if he feels threatened by Emma?”
Daphne paced in front of them. “Don’t lecture me. She’s … alone at the Ruby Crown Inn. Her maid woke extremely ill this morning. Emma wouldn’t hear of taking Arial with her. She said the poor woman looked like death. She wouldn’t take me or anyone else. Just Harry. She thought the fewer people who knew, the less chance of discovery.”
Emma was on her way to Portsmouth, and he needed to make sense of Daphne’s explanation. What if she found herself stranded? What if some disreputable dandy, or worse, Aulton, stopped to offer his help? The instinct to pound his chest and roar his displeasure detonated with a force he could barely contain. He focused on his breathing. Succumbing to such primitive antics would not help now. Later was another story.
“Do you mean she only has that old man for protection?” Alex had moved to the front of the fireplace, and his voice boomed across the room. “He should have retired years ago.”
Daphne retreated to the window. “Harry will protect her. She’s always been a favorite.”
Alex wiped his hand over his face. “Go to the family salon. We’re not finished yet.”
“You’re not my keeper.” Daphne tilted her head and stared out the window.
“As head of this family, what I say is law.” His words echoed off the walls and surrounded them. “Don’t tempt me to find a husband for you this upcoming Season. I promise my choice will not be to your liking.”
“I now understand Emma’s point entirely. I should have escaped with her.” She held her head high and her back straight as she left the room.
The door closed, and Nick broke the tension that blanketed the room. “That was harsh even by your standards. She’s your sister, for God’s sake.”
“Yes, and I plan to keep her and Emma safe. Both believe they’re above all rebuke. Someone has to go to Portsmouth before she finds real trouble and before her father finds out.” Alex continued, “I promised Claire I’d take her to a charity function tonight. Would you mind escorting her? If I leave now, I’ll arrive in Portsmouth before night falls.”
“Let me go after Emma. It would appear odd if you’re not with Claire tonight. Besides, I feel responsible. I should have told you or Langham what I suspected.”
Alex nodded. “I appreciate you jumping into the middle of this. If there’s anything I can do, just name it.”
“Are you going to inform the duke and duchess?” Nick exhaled. Emma’s parents would be livid over her actions. After everything she’d suffered over the last several months, he didn’t want her punished. Yet he feared that would be the case, and he’d be the cause once again.
Alex paused. “No. I’ll send word to McCalpin and see if I can find William with the news. I’ll ask they not get the duke and duchess involved.”
Relieved, Nick would do his damnedest to get her back to London before her parents discovered what she’d done. “I expect to leave within the hour. I’ll keep you informed.”
Alex escorted Nick to the entry hall where a footman gave Nick assistance with his greatcoat. With two steps, Nick was outside, and a groomsman held the reins of his mount.
Impatient to depart, Nick’s black stallion Proteus stomped the ground. When Nick mounted the horse and settled into the saddle, the beast’s gait turned into a full gallop before given a command. Time became a demanding mistress. He couldn’t afford to spend a night from his work, let alone two days chasing Emma. If all went as planned, he’d make it to Portsmouth before nightfall. He’d find her, and they’d return early tomorrow. Then he should brush his hands of the whole affair and the Duke of Langham’s troublesome daughter.
Much to his dismay, the thought brought little or no comfort. The fault of Emma’s travel to Portsmouth lay at his door—all of it. He shouldn’t have left her alone last night until he’d gotten her promise. Her entire travel could’ve been circumvented. More importantly, if anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
Of all the damn things he’d seen in his life, this one topped them all—Emma, alone in Portsmouth, determined to secure a lady’s maid’s testimony to bring a murderer to justice. She was a danger unto herself.
In addition, a danger to his self-control. Claire had almost caught them kissing last night. Strange … instead of the usual prickles of unease at the thought of matrimony, something else had taken up residence, but he wasn’t certain what it was.
Marriage to Emma wouldn’t ruin his life. He’d always found he’d preferred her company to the other Cavenshams, or any woman for that matter. Her gentle laugh and wit drew him to her as if she was a light or a compass designed to help him, and only him, find his way back.
But back from what? He had no idea what the journey was. He sounded like a lovesick fool with his musings. He had everything he needed in life, but he forced himself to face the truth. He wanted her.
The truth was he didn’t think he’d be able to keep her and make her happy.
His father had assured him of that certainty all those years ago.
* * *
After Emma had settled into her suite, a clean and neat sitting room and bedroom, she was ready for her evening. At precisely eight, Harry escorted her across the threshold of the Ruby Crown’s public dining room. Completely mesmerized, her gaze swept over the planked walls. The entire room was crowded with mementos and souvenirs from ships the sea had allowed into port.
She could spend hours studying the intriguing sights and learning more of the inn’s history, but the noise demanded her attention. Boisterous masculine singing rose into a final swell, then quickly dissolved into robust laughter. Shouts for another round filled the dining room.
Crowded with locals, the entire room fell silent when the patrons’ attention fell to her and Harry. Slowly, one by one, all of the men, the few women in attendance, plus the servers turned toward them. Half-full mugs of ale littered the tables, and not a single person uttered a peep. In a moment that felt like years, every single person stared at them.
She had a gift for stopping conversation, but normally it was in a ballroom after she’d shared her views on a woman’s right to invest her own dowry. Not in a public tavern swimming with people she didn’t know.
Harry stood two steps behind her. In a loud whisper, his rough voice carried through the room. “Something don’t smell right here, my lady.”
Two burly men with matching lecherous smiles pushed their stools back and stood next to her. The fetor of week-old sweat and grime wafted toward her, causing her protesting stomach to lurch. Her pulse raced, and the blood pounded in her ears, but she delivered her best haughty look. She would not cower in front of them.
“Well, what do we have here, Jasper? The little lady looks lonely, doesn’t she?” The man identified as Jasper attempted a smile, but all she saw was a mouthful of rotten teeth.
“Ay, Murray. The little dove looks like she could use some consoling.” Jasper leaned close. “She smells good, too.”
Harry swallowed and shuffled forward. “Move along. She’s not for either of you.”
Murray’s beady eyes shifted to Harry. “Old man, we decide who and what we want.” In a flash of movement that defied his hulky size, Murray pushed Harry aside as if he weighed nothing. He and his barrel-chested companion stood side by side and blocked Emma’s path.
Wisdom required she pivot one foot and flee as she considered the chances of successfully escaping the taproom. She stared at the two men while attempting to find the courage to run. It became difficult to judge the passage of time, but finally, the silence broke when the innkeeper, Mr. Fenton, stood by her side.
“That’s enough. Let her and the gentleman through,” he said. “My lady, please join me. There’s room at my table.”
“Fenton, we’re just havin’ fun,” Jasper growled.
“Not at the expense of my guests,” he said in an even tone. Middle-aged, the innkeeper boasted a solid build. Along with his massive size, the crook in his nose and his large hands indicated a man not afraid to toss unruly patrons from his establishment. A veiled expression fell across his face, but his eyes warned of an anger that once released would be difficult to control.
Emma stayed glued to the floor unable to move. Finding ease with Mr. Fenton’s direction, the crowd relaxed in unison and waited to see what Jasper and Murray would do.
“Come on, she ain’t worth it.” Murray tried to pull the other man away. “I can’t afford trouble.”
Jasper stood planted like a thick elm tree. After several moments, he stood down and looked away from Mr. Fenton. With a spit to the floor, he joined Murray and walked to the door. He took one last look at Emma. With a smile that would make the devil cringe, he left the room.
As if it were an intermission between acts of a play, the crowd exhaled in relief and went back to their whoops and roars of conversation.
Emma swallowed her choking knot of fear and turned to Harry. “Are you all right?”
Harry’s complexion resembled a ripe apple revealing his distress at the unsuccessful attempt to convince the brutes to leave. “Yes, my lady. It’s best we eat and retire early.”
“Please follow me.” Fenton waved a hand, then escorted her to his table in the back.
“May Mr. Johnson, my man of affairs, join us?” she asked.
“Of course.” Mr. Fenton held the chair out for Emma and then assisted Harry, who at the pronouncement of “man of affairs” stood tall. With a nod to the serving girl, the innkeeper held up two fingers, signaling the need for more ales and food.
“Don’t mind the locals, they’re a superstitious lot. When some of the men have too much to drink, particularly if they’ve just come to shore, they have a tendency to forget their manners. Not many out-of-towners take their dinner in the ale room.” As if the last several minutes hadn’t happened, he continued genuinely interested, “Mr. Goodwin told me you have business in Portsmouth.”
Emma’s earlier fear began to recede. “Yes, but I have a few places I’d like to visit for pleasure.”
“In my estimation, that’s a perfect combination.” Mr. Fenton studied her, and a smile curved his lips. “I’ve known Goodwin for years. When he asked for my assistance, I was delighted to help. He’s a great admirer of yours, and any friend of Goodwin’s is a friend of mine.”
“That’s very kind. I wouldn’t be here without Mr. Goodwin,” she said. “Thank you for your earlier aid dispatching those two men.” Emma stole a glance at the door the two brutes exited. She’d always considered herself a woman capable of handling any situation, but now she wasn’t so sure. What would have happened if the innkeeper hadn’t come to her assistance? Harry’s age and feeble stature were no match for the two men. “I’m not certain what I would have—”
“My lady, it’s over.” Fenton smiled briefly and turned his attention to Harry.
An easy conversation ebbed and flowed among the three of them. She and Harry erased their gnawing hunger with fresh oysters, haddock, and a delicious potato stew. They devoured the freshly baked bread with homemade jam and butter. The meal ended with hot tea for her and another round of ale for the gentleman.
“Sir, I need to make arrangements for our return.” Harry stood and crushed his well-worn cap between his fingers. “I’d be most grateful if you’d stay with Lady Emma until I finish.”
“My pleasure. She’ll be perfectly safe.” Mr. Fenton nodded as if giving a solemn oath.
The promise was all Harry needed. Quickly, he exited the taproom and left the two of them to finish their conversation.
“The booksellers Mr. and Mrs. Parker are expecting you tomorrow. I have a serving girl, Bess, who is more than happy to act as your lady’s maid. She’s not fancy, but an honest hardworking girl who’ll look after you.”
“Thank you.” A gentle breeze blew through the window’s cracked opening. Emma glanced around the room and inhaled the combination of salt and sea. Lena had described the smell to her millions of times, but Emma never understood the power of it until now. There was a magical quality in Portsmouth almost as if Lena was there—greeting her.
“My lady, if you’ll excuse me for a moment?” The innkeeper stood in response to his wife’s appearance in the public dining area. “The missus must have need of me.”
“Certainly, sir.”
With a nod, Mr. Fenton strode across the room to his wife.
Her disquiet from the earlier confrontation with the two ruffians abated. Like a complicated dance, the servers wove their way through the crowd with trays of food and returned with empty platters. Emma let her attention drift back to the window as the conversations around her melted into a pleasant hum.
“May I join you, Lady Emma?” A familiar masculine tenor swept across the table and stole her newly acquired ease.
Without a glance at the speaker, she gripped the edge of her chair. Otherwise, she wouldn’t stay upright. Every instinct told her to duck for cover.
Without waiting for permission, Keith Mahon, the Earl of Aulton, slid his frame in the chair opposite her. He wasn’t as large as Nick or her brothers, but he towered over her. Emma forced herself to meet his gaze. It was difficult to tell what was darker, his black hair or his midnight-blue eyes. Both reminded her of a murky loch on a Scottish moor.
Aulton surveyed the room as if he were the king and the inn’s customers his loyal subjects. “In this very room, I shared a marvelous meal with my countess shortly after we married. She was always partial to the Ruby Crown’s oyster stew. Did you find the food to your liking, my lady?”
“My lord.” Her voice quavered slightly. “What a surprise to find you here.”
“Really?” he asked. The upward curl of his mouth, more like a sneer, destroyed his serene expression. “Your room is where we spent our wedding night. I do miss my wife.” He sighed as if to convince her he was still mourning.
Emma discreetly glanced toward the door in hopes Mr. Fenton or Harry had entered the room.
“Imagine my surprise when I learned you were visiting Mr. Goodwin. I assigned one of my footmen to follow you. Hiding the carriage at the smithy was clever, but not clever enough.” Aulton leaned across the table as if sharing a secret with her. Entranced with the pine tabletop, he traced a crack in the wood with his forefinger. “My lady, your business in Portsmouth?”
“Is no concern of yours, my lord.” By then, Emma’s heart rate had slowed down to a gallop. She leaned back in her chair hoping to appear unconcerned.
One of the serving girls stood watching their conversation. She whispered something to the man collecting the dirty dishes, then walked out of the room.
Aulton cocked a half grin, though they both knew he wasn’t amused. “Perhaps you might have business with Mary Butler, my late countess’s maid? If so, I should inform you the girl isn’t in Portsmouth anymore. She’s run off to God knows where with some sailor.”
“Politeness requires I thank you for your assistance.” However, the reality she’d ever say thank you to this animal was nil. She’d never suspected that such dark depravity could exist in a man, so dangerously hidden, yet so easily exposed when threatened.
“Well, my lady, I’ll not interrupt any more of your evening.” Without warning, he reached across the table and took one of her hands.
She tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened.
“After Mary Butler left my house, I discovered most of my late wife’s personal effects missing, letters and jewelry to be precise.” His hand slid across hers until he held her wrist. “I’d hate if you were involved in the theft.”
His fingers tightened, crushing her skin against bone. The pain became acute when he found a sensitive area, causing her to wince.
“What are you implying?” she whispered as she twisted her wrist in an effort to escape the pain. Aulton released her hand, but her bones throbbed in response to his grip.
“Nothing really,” he drawled. “It’d be a shame if your good name was sullied any more than it already is.”
“Are you threatening me? My father is not the type of man who allows threats to his family without a sharp reprisal,” she challenged.
Aulton stood. “Consider it constructive advice”—he tilted his head as if giving the matter great thought—“or perhaps personal instruction. If you’re not inclined, then perhaps my employees, Murray or Jasper, possess better persuasion skills than me. I bid you good night, Lady Emma.”
He delivered a mocking bow and tipped his hat. He strolled toward the exit as if threatening a person with bodily harm was of no concern and a part of his everyday routine.
Before Aulton reached the door, her body instinctively released the tight coil of tension in her chest. She started to shake involuntarily from the shock of the encounter. Through her glove, the skin around her wrist had started to swell.
“My lady, Bess fetched me with word that another customer was frightening you?” Mr. Fenton’s eyes were pinched with worry.
“A man thought he’d made my acquaintance, but was mistaken. I’m perfectly fine.” Of course, she didn’t dwell on the fact that Aulton did indeed know her but had underestimated her dedication to having him brought to justice. Composing her appearance, Emma rose from the table. “I’ll retire now, Mr. Fenton. It’s been an exhausting day. I have business at the bookstore first thing in the morning.”
“Bess will accompany you upstairs,” Fenton answered.
She agreed with a stoic nod. The more the merrier in her opinion. Such a dark evening would be best put behind her. She could concentrate on her day tomorrow.
Bess stood next to the table with a glass of brandy in her hand. The smoke-scented fumes invaded Emma’s nose. “My lady, I thought you might need this. Was there anything else I can get you?”
The idea of a pistol, knife, or sword plus a broadax came to mind.