Chapter 6

 

“I wish to apologize for any hurt or insult I might have caused you earlier today,” a voice spoke softly behind Emma as she perused the sheets of music on the piano in the Harper’s large and ornate Reception room. The other guests had gone into another room to enjoy refreshment during a short break in the evening’s entertainment.

Emma’s spine stiffened when she recognized that voice, and she drew in several steadying breaths before turning to face Lord Alexander Stirling. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she recalled that earlier today he could not have helped but see her exposed breasts as his brother made love to her. 

To add to her discomfort, Alexander looked far too like his older, impossibly arrogant brother this evening, in his black evening clothes and snowy white linen.

Emma have been speechless with anger earlier, after reading the abruptness of Hawkwood’s letter. Before then being rendered equally as furious by the arrogance of his postscript.

As if Emma had any reason—any reason at all—for obeying that autocratic gentleman.

Admittedly she had decided to attend the Harper’s musical soiree, after all. But that had been to placate her father rather than anything Hawkwood might have written to her; she had yet to tell her parent of her decision not to accept the duke’s proposal.

At least, that was the excuse Emma had given herself earlier this evening as she bathed and dressed for going out. If she also had opportunity this evening to tell Hawkwood exactly what she thought of his duplicity, and those arrogant instructions in his letter, then all the better.

If he attended the soiree, of course. His instruction for her to attend did not mean that he also intend being here himself. The man was arrogant enough to feel a perverse pleasure in ensuring she did as he instructed, without feeling the necessity to attend himself.

Emma certainly had not expected, nor had any intention of, engaging in conversation with Hawkwood’s brother. “On the contrary, my lord, I believe I should thank you for having alerted me to the real reason for your brother’s recent interest in me,” she dismissed with a coolness she inwardly congratulated herself in achieving.

“You are kind as well as beautiful.” Stirling picked up and placed a light kiss upon the back of her hand, flirtatious green gaze deliberately gazing up to meet hers. “My brother on the other hand, has made no secret of the displeasure he feels about my untimely interruption.”

“The duke is neither kind nor beautiful,” she came back tartly. 

And not altogether truthfully, Emma admonished inwardly; Hawkwood possessed a wholly masculine beauty it was impossible to ignore.

Stirling chuckled. “Kindness was definitely not the emotion he demonstrated after my interruption earlier today.”

Emma smile lacked humor. “I have no interest in anything to do with your brother, but most especially his feelings regarding having had his duplicitous behavior exposed.”

“Until two evenings ago I had believed one was presumed innocent until proven guilty.”

Emma gave Alexander Stirling an accusing glare before turning to face the Duke of Hawkwood, sure Stirling must have known of his brother’s presence this evening. The two might even have traveled here in the same carriage.

Seeing the brothers together in such close proximity only made their similarities in appearance all the more noticeable; both dark-haired with swarthy good looks, their shoulders wide in their perfectly tailored evening clothes.

Those similarities caused Emma to feel justified in having mistaken Alexander for Adam two evenings ago. “Not when that one was quite literally found standing over the body with a smoking gun in his hand, Your Grace,” she answered him coolly.

“Indeed?” Adam arched dark brows before allowing his glance to shift to where his brother still held one of Emma’s gloved hand. “I believe you may release her now, Alex.” He stared coldly at his brother until he did exactly that.

“If you will both excuse me?” Emma didn’t wait for a reply from either brother before turning and walking away with a swish of the silk skirt of her cream evening gown.

“There is much more to her than the prim and proper Miss Emma Harris she presents to Society,” Alexander murmured beside Adam with obvious admiration.

The two brothers had not spoken again after Adam left his study earlier in search of Emma. A search that had proven fruitless; the Harris’s carriage was still waiting outside Hawkwood House, and enquiries showed her maid was still below stairs there, leaving Adam with no indication of where Emma might have disappeared to, or how. 

Rather than chase her all over London, or calling at Langdon House on the off-chance she might have gone to visit her friend, Adam had written her a note. His hope being that Emma would attend the Harper’s musical soiree if only so that she might have opportunity to tell him exactly what she thought of him and his arrogant letter. 

The satisfaction Adam had felt, upon seeing Emma the moment he entered the Harper’s Reception room a few minutes ago, was totally nullified the moment he recognized his brother as the man standing beside her holding her hand.

He turned to face Alexander. “Whatever your reason for being here this evening I advise you to have a care in your behavior where Emma is concerned.”

“Or?” his brother challenged.

His gaze narrowed. “Or you might find you have overstepped the line with the wrong woman. Or gentleman,” he added softly.

Alexander raised speculative eyebrows. “I have never seen you behave in this…possessive manner, toward any woman before.”

Adam’s mouth thinned. “With such an unconcerned chaperone as Harris someone must protect Emma’s reputation.” He had seen the older man in the drawing-room taking refreshment when he arrived, with Emma nowhere to be seen. Harris, in conversation with their hostess, had waved a hand in the direction of the adjoining Reception room when Adam made enquiries as to Emma’s whereabouts.  

“Your interest in her did not look in the least fatherly earlier today,” Alexander mocked.

Paternal was the last thing Adam felt toward Emma; as now always seemed to be the case, his cock had engorged to attention the moment he set eyes on her again this evening. A persistent arousal that did nothing to improve his temper. “Stay away from her, Alex,” he growled in warning before striding away to look for wherever the hell Emma had disappeared to this time.

 

“He is only playing with you.”

Emma had escaped to the ladies retiring room after leaving the Stirling brothers, hopeful that Hawkwood, if he should feel inclined to seek her out and continue the conversation, would never follow her in here. Knowing the arrogance of the duke that was not a certainty!

A glance about the room showed there was only herself and Lady Juanita Millbrook still present, telling Emma the second half of the musical program must have now started. 

Meaning that scornful remark must have been addressed to her? “I beg your pardon?” she enquired lightly.

The beautiful Juanita Millbrook’s Spanish heritage, on her mother side, was evident in her dark hair and eyes. The sneer on her lips belonged completely to her. “I thought you should know I am not in the habit of sharing my lovers.”

Considering the other woman was married, and had been so for some years, her possessiveness, in regard to a lover, was disgusting.

“I have no idea what or who you are talking about.” Emma had enough to concern herself this evening, with Hawkwood’s arrival, without being subjected to another woman’s jealous temper.

Although, taking into account what Emma had witnessed two evenings ago during the Wainwrights’ ball, it was not too difficult to guess that Lady Millbrook’s words of warning were in regard to Alexander Stirling.

“Alex is simply trying to make me jealous by showing you attention,” the other woman scornfully confirmed that assessment. “As if I would ever feel jealous of someone like you!” Her hard blue gaze swept over Emma dismissively.

A set-down Emma had no doubt was meant to hurt. “All evidence to the contrary.” Her chin rose proudly. “Considering you have felt it necessary to issue me such a warning.”

Juanita Millbrook’s nostrils flared as her temper rose. “Do not get clever with me!”

“I am merely being myself, madam,” Emma assured stiltedly. “As I believe Lord Stirling is being himself by flirting with every woman he meets,” she added ruefully.

The older woman gave a dismissive snort. “You do not have the experience to ever hope to hold the attention of a man as sensual as Alex for long.”

The same, Emma accepted heavily, could be said about her and Adam Stirling, the Duke of Hawkwood. “Then it is as well I have no interest in attempting to do so,” she dismissed curtly.

Lady Millbrook gave a haughty inclination of her head. “As long as we understand each other.”

Emma gave a falsely sweet smile. “Oh I believe I understand you only too well, my lady. But perhaps you should look closer to home for the reason you are unable to keep your lover’s interest.”

“Why you little—!”

Emma had no warning before long fingernails scraped down the side of her exposed throat, her gasp a mixture of surprise and the sudden pain as she raised a hand instinctively to cover her throat to prevent the other woman from attacking her a second time.

Dark eyes glittered with dislike. “You will stay away from Alex in future if you do not wish to receive more of the same.” Juanita Millbrook turned on her well-shod heel and marched from the room.

Emma was so shocked she could not move at all for several minutes, and when she did it was to remove her gloved fingers from her neck and see there was blood on the cream lace. She moved on shaky legs to the mirror so that she might inspect the damage to her neck.

Three long gouges raked down her skin, all slightly oozing blood.

Three very noticeable gouges.

So much so that Emma knew she could not return to the rooms where others might see those scratches and ask questions she would rather not answer. Luckily the other guests would all now be listening to the music, which would allow Emma to collect her cloak before sending a message to her father with one of the footmen. She would tell him she had accidentally spilled a drink down her gown and was returning home early because of it. That excuse would suffice until her father saw the scratches on her throat at breakfast in the morning. If they had a cat she might have blamed the injury on that, but as they had no pets she would have to come up with some other excuse.  

Emma had no doubt Adam Stirling would assume she had left early this evening because of him, but for the moment she could not concern herself with what that gentleman thought, of her or anything else.

It was unfortunate then that the duke should happen to be standing outside when she stepped into the hallway. 

Emma’s quickly lifted her hand to cover the gouges on her throat and kept her head turned slightly away from him. “I have nothing more to say to you, Your Grace.”

He smiled tightly. “But I have several things I wish to say to you.”

“Can they not wait until tomorrow?” Reaction to Lady Millbrook’s attack was definitely setting in now, Emma aware her whole body was starting to shake. She was also doing her best to hold back the tears stinging her eyes, but she feared she would not be able to continue doing so if Hawkwood delayed her for much longer. “I am feeling rather…fatigued, and intend to leave early.”

Adam, sensing a lack of Emma’s usual fire when she spoke to him, now studied her between narrowed lids. Her face was extremely pale, and she was not looking at him directly. “What has happened?” he demanded.

“Nothing has happened.” She kept her face turned slightly away from him. “I am simply tired, as I have already stated.”

“No, that is not it,” Adam said slowly as he approached her. “Tell me—” He broke off as he saw the cream glove resting against her throat was no longer pristine but appeared to be covered in— “Who the hell did this to you?” He gently moved Emma’s fingers aside so he could see three long scratches down the right side of her neck. “Who?” Now that Emma had raised her head he was able to see the glitter of tears in her eyes.

“I accidentally caught—”

“Do not attempt to tell me these are anything but deliberately inflicted wounds,” Adam grated.

“They hardly merit being called wounds,” Emma mumbled.

He was not fooled for a moment; the scratches looked both red and sore, and were deep enough to have drawn blood. He had been standing in the hallway for some time waiting for Emma to leave the retiring room, and the last person to leave had been— “Lady Millbrook did this to you,” he stated not asked.

Emma’s throat moved as she swallowed. “I am sure it was an accident—”

“What possible reason could she have for doing this to you?” Adam bit out through gritted teeth. “The truth, Emma,” he demanded as she once again avoided meeting his gaze.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I believe she took exception to your brother talking to me earlier.”

Adam closed his eyes briefly in an effort to gain control of his temper. A temper he rarely, if ever lost, and yet had done so more than once in the past three days. The difference being this time it was in defense of Emma rather because of her.

He took a light grasp of her arm. “I shall escort you to my carriage, where you will sit and wait while I return to the house for a few minutes to collect your cloak and inform your father you are leaving.” He also intended to speak severely to Alex about his ex-mistress, tonight if possible but tomorrow if not. But Emma did not need to know that. “Do you understand?”

Her eyes flashed. “I am neither deaf nor stupid.”

Adam smiled at hearing some of the fire return to her tone. “No, thank God, you are neither of those things.” He sobered. “I shall only be a few minutes.”

Emma leaned weakly back against the plush upholstery after Hawkwood had collected her cloak and she was seated in his carriage; she suddenly felt as exhausted as she had earlier claimed to be. The tears that had threatened since Juanita Millbrook’s attack also began to fall.

And to think, just three days ago Emma had thought her existence dull and uninteresting. Since Hawkwood’s advent into her life she had been made love to by a duke, flirted with by a lord, and physically attacked by a lady who had revealed herself as not being a lady at all.