“What of the duchess? Your mother-in-law?” Emily had wondered about the woman when Sophia first announced the impromptu party. The full year of mourning hadn’t yet been observed.
Sophia frowned. “She keeps mostly to herself, in the dower house. Ever since Harriette was born…” Silence fell as Emily glanced at the baby’s full head of black hair.
Well, at least she wouldn’t pose any difficulties.
“I do hope this works, Soph,” Emily said with a sigh. And then she glanced out the window. “Oh, no. It’s starting to rain.” And as though to punctuate her statement, a flash of lightning flickered through the windows, followed by the deep rumbling sound of thunder.
Peaches jumped beside Emily and then climbed onto her lap and tried, unsuccessfully, to burrow. Poor baby. Emily gathered the pup safely in her arms as Sophia hugged little Harriette tighter and then pounded on the ceiling.
“The gentlemen cannot ride outside in this weather. We can certainly make room for them, can we not?” It wasn’t a question, really. Sophia’s concern for her husband was real.
After marrying Lord Harold last summer and becoming a widow a few weeks later, Sophia’s hasty wedding to the captain—well, the duke now—had seemed to be one of convenience. But Emily and Rhoda surmised that it was not. Prescott doted on Sophia, and Sophia’s eyes turned all soft and dreamy whenever she mentioned Prescott’s name.
The carriage drew to a halt and after a brief argument with the gentlemen, which Sophia won quite handily, the horses were handed off to the two outriders and the door opened. The wind kicked up and the tiny droplets that had been falling transformed into large splatters.
His grace climbed in first, tucking himself beside Sophia, and Lord Blakely followed. Suddenly, the carriage felt as though it had shrunk down by more than half. Emily cuddled Peaches and smashed herself to her side. Even so, Lord Blakely’s presence overwhelmed her.
She’d never been so affected by any other man. She wondered why it had to be him. He was a rake—no, a rogue—and she ought to abhor him. Especially after the exhibition he’d put on in the Crabtrees’ library last week.
Peaches glared at him and let out a few sharp barks.
“Hush, Peaches,” Sophia said lovingly to her dog over the baby’s head. Prescott’s arm had dropped around behind her. The look he sent in the dog’s direction seemed much more effective at quieting the pup.
“You’ve quite the defender, Miss Goodnight.” Lord Blakely made himself comfortable, his legs sprawled so that one of his muscled thighs brushed up against Emily’s. Glancing at his leg, the recollection of his member intruded, most unwelcome, into her thoughts. Not for the first time, she wondered what it felt like, for him to put it inside… She blushed at such an untoward thought.
Resolutely staring straight ahead, she watched as the duke’s fingers played lovingly with one of Sophia’s curls. An image of the two of them stirred her up even more.
Good heavens! What was the matter with her?
“It’s not a long drive.” Sophia smiled reassuringly.
Emily twisted her mouth into what she hoped looked like a smile. Peaches watched Lord Blakely suspiciously. Emily related easily to the little dog.
“Peaches has always been a good judge of character,” she said without thinking.
Lord Blakely chuckled. “Why, Miss Goodnight, are you implying that I lack character?” His eyes crinkled when he spoke. He’d always treated Emily like something of a little sister. When he’d swived Mrs. Cromwell, his eyes had been heavy-lidded. And he’d not smiled at all. He’d scowled throughout the encounter.
Emily ought to be pleased he’d never tried such tomfooleries with her. And yet, he made her feel hot all over, blast it all!
“I’m implying no such thing,” she answered stiffly. “You’ll have to take up your argument with Peaches.”
He laughed again, and then stretched and placed the arm nearest her along the top of the bench seat behind her. Turning, he leaned against the side of the coach and looked at the dog. “You’d be right to agree with the pup, I’m afraid.” His words were meant to be a joke, but Emily sensed something more behind them.
Sophia laughed, as did the duke, but Emily could not. She bent down and kissed the top of Peaches’ head instead.
When the sleeping baby made a few mewling sounds, Sophia shifted her position and leaned into her husband.
Most definitely a love match.
Lightning flashed again, followed by a sharper clap of thunder
“I do hope the roads don’t turn into rivers,” Emily mumbled. When she’d traveled to Wales last summer, the coach she’d ridden in, one of Aunt Gertrude’s, which had been sent to collect her, had run into one particular storm that had nearly drowned them all. All of her belongings had become drenched, and she and Hettie had been forced to wait upon the side of the road for several hours until help could be fetched to pull their vehicle out of the swirling mud.
Emily had been journeying without either of her parents. Although she’d had her maid with her, the ordeal had proved harrowing.
She turned her back to the window to avoid watching the rain accumulate outside.
Lord Blakely stared back at her.
“No need to worry, Miss Goodnight.” Unlike every other time he’d addressed her, she felt as though he wasn’t teasing. “The storm looks to be fleeting and this road, well-traveled as it is, has always been maintained better than most.”
Emily nodded and then removed her glasses so that she could clean off a smudge. Without them, the interior of the carriage turned into nothing more than a blur of colors and hazy shapes. Another bolt of lightning caused her to jump and sent the spectacles flying.
Peaches was not unaffected by the lightning either and burrowed her cold snout into Emily’s neck. Oh, dear! Where had they gone? She needed her spectacles!
Miss Goodnight, although something of a social nightmare, normally maintained an odd sort of calm. She’d lost it, however, when that last bolt of lightning had flashed, followed almost immediately by clapping thunder.
And with this last bolt, she’d sent those blasted spectacles of hers flying past him. Marcus reached down and located them on the floor only to realize that one of the lenses had fallen out.
“Are they intact?” Oh, hell, she was staring directly at his hands and couldn’t see that the lens was gone. She must be blind as a bat.
He bent down again, searched around, and located the glass piece. “Afraid not, Miss Goodnight.”
“Do you carry a second pair, Em?” the duchess asked sympathetically.
“In my trunk, I think. Not in my reticule.” Miss Goodnight moaned slightly.
Marcus looked up and realized he’d never seen the chit without them. Surprisingly, even with the red mark on the bridge of her nose, she appeared rather lovely. Thick dark lashes fringed curious brown eyes that the spectacles normally kept hidden.
She blinked a few times and then raised one hand to her mouth. “I can’t see without them.”
“Hmm… Perhaps I can finagle something here.” Marcus removed a knife he carried in his boot and after fiddling with the blasted things for a few minutes, popped the glass back in. Using the handkerchief from his pocket, he then rubbed the lenses clean and turned to face her. “Look here, Miss Goodnight.”
He took hold of her face so that she was looking at him and slid the wire contraptions behind her ears. As he did so, his hands brushed the soft hair at her temples, his thumb accidentally brushing her lips.
She raised her hands to adjust the spectacles, but they landed atop his hands instead. As though burned, she pressed herself back into the seat. “Thank you, my lord.” She turned away and secured them onto her person. When he’d danced with her in the past, he’d never paid much heed to her… as a woman.
He’d not realized how fragile she seemed.
With the metal frames once again firmly in place, she pinched her lips and returned to cuddling the ridiculous dog. “I don�
��t know what I’d have done without them.” She glanced sideways at him, almost suspiciously.
He did not understand this girl. Perhaps that was why he’d sought her out on occasion. She amused him with her ever-present outspokenness. She surprised him by often doing and saying the unexpected. Not something he came across often.
He knew she regularly embarrassed her friends, but they remained her staunch supporters.
“You’re most welcome.” And then he decided to make an attempt at gallantry and keep her mind off the storm. “Have you been to Eden’s Court before?”
She nodded. “For the wedding. It was small but one of the loveliest ceremonies I’ve ever attended. Have you had the pleasure?”
Prescott had draped one arm around his wife and his other lay atop the baby. The child was supposed to have been sired by the duchess’ late husband, but one only needed to lay eyes upon her to see she’d been sired by Prescott. She hadn’t inherited those black eyes from her mother, that was for certain.
“I have not. I’m quite looking forward to it.”
Miss Goodnight adjusted the dog on her lap. “Your father has certainly done his utmost to make life difficult for you in London, has he not?” There she went again. Marcus ought not to be surprised at her audacity.
“He has.” What was the use in denying it?
She appeared as though she would say more but then bit her lip.
“Come, now, Miss Goodnight, don’t hold back now. What is it you were going to say?” Apparently, he’d become something of a glutton for punishment.
She chewed her lip for a few seconds more.
“Out with it,” he demanded.
“It’s just that…” She met his eyes and then blushed inexplicably before looking away. “If you have no intention of meeting his demands, you might wish to up the ante. Put him on the defensive, so to speak. Do something to make his life more difficult.”
Marcus’ brows shot up at her words. “You are a devious one, aren’t you?”
She opened her eyes wide, eyes he was now much more aware of. “Well, he thinks that if he causes you some unpleasantness, you will give in to his wishes, but what if you cause him an equal amount of unpleasantness in return?”
Obviously, Prescott had conveyed his situation to his duchess, and the duchess had conveyed it all to her friend. But the chit had a point.
He was surprised, in fact, that he’d not considered this aspect himself. His father had succeeded handily at putting him at sixes and sevens with his manipulation and strong-armed tactics. “And do you have anything specific in mind?” Might as well hear her out. Seemed she’d given the matter considerable thought.
Miss Goodnight shrugged but then furtively glanced toward the duchess and Dev. Ah, so, she would not reveal whatever she’d devised in the hearing of all and asunder. She became more and more interesting with each passing mile. “Oh, nothing specific really.” She yawned and turned her head to stare out the window. The lightning was no longer flashing, and the storm seemed to have settled into a steady drizzle.
Marcus leaned back in his own seat and chuckled. Perhaps Miss Goodnight’s point was a valid one. He’d be certain to seek her out over the next few days. She obviously had some rather interesting thoughts floating around in that brain of hers, and it just might behoove him to explore it.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Dangers of Emily’s Brain
Lord Blakely had been right about the storm. Not thirty minutes later, the sun appeared and the road began to dry. Since Sophia had fallen asleep upon her husband’s shoulder, the gentlemen remained inside the carriage.
The journey was a short one, and Emily did her best to ignore the man sitting beside her. She’d grown all warm and mushy for him, once again, when he’d repaired her spectacles and then, oh, so tenderly, replaced them upon her person.
One minute, she’d been watching an unfocused blur of colors, and the next, she was gazing like a love-struck fool at his handsome face, which was closer to her than it had ever been before. Tiny crinkles edged his eyes, and she could even see the sharp little hairs appearing where he’d shaved earlier. He’d made certain the glasses sat securely when she’d reached up to adjust them herself.
She had placed her hands directly on top of his, which felt as though they were cradling her face.
The moment had felt so intimate as to send a jolt of a different type of lightning shooting through her. She’d had to turn away and focus on anything but the sensations he’d given rise to.
And so, the first thing that came to mind went flying out of her mouth.
Sophia had explained Lord Blakely’s unfortunate experience at White’s and at his other clubs. She’d even told her that many of the hostesses were being “encouraged” to withdraw invitations that had already been sent out to the earl.
His father most certainly was making things unpleasant for his only son.
And that angered Emily.
On numerous occasions since that night in the library, she’d wondered who Meggie was. And if the Duke of Waters had, in fact, murdered this Mr. Thistlebum. If he’d been behind such dastardly deeds, it was no wonder his son refused to do his bidding!
She hated that Lord Blakely was being chased away from London.
She hated it so much that her mind had gone to work, of its own accord, of course, at unraveling his precarious social situation.
Privy to information regarding Lord Blakely as a close friend of Mr. Nottingham’s, Cecily had told them that Lord Blakely had been quite successful with his shipping business. And so, Emily knew the earl did not lack for funds.
Aside from the social ostracism, there wasn’t much more the duke could do to harm Lord Blakely. And so, what if Lord Blakely took actions that would make the duke’s life unpleasant?
What might do that?
And then she knew!
If Lord Blakely married a less than suitable lady, the betrothal the duke had agreed to years ago would become null and void. The duke would be shamed. Ah, that would be interesting indeed.
And furthermore…
If Lord Blakely were to marry an unsuitable lady, in defiance of the Duke of Waters, the scandal would cause all other scandals to pale in significance! And then perhaps the ton would forget Rhoda’s indiscretions, whatever they might be.
Could Lord Blakely be convinced to marry Rhoda?
Although her heart protested, as she considered the plan thoroughly, her head assured her this might be a most excellent remedy.
Emily would speak with Lord Blakely in private. A scheme such as this would require the utmost discretion and possibly haste. The two could travel to Gretna Green and return a married couple.
Rhoda would be a countess!
But Emily couldn’t speak of any of this in front of Sophia and Prescott. Sophia would likely be amenable, but Emily didn’t know the duke all that well.
She would wait until the timing was right.
And, she supposed, Rhoda must be amenable as well.
She returned to musing about whether his father had in fact, ordered a man murdered. Had the matter ever been investigated?
She pursed her lips.
Maybe she ought to look into this as well. Aside from the expected ducal arrogance, he’d not seemed so diabolically evil as all that.
He had come across as quite desperate though.
But why?
Someone ought to verify the facts behind the earl’s feud. Lord Blakley would do well to know the truth.
What if the duke was innocent and their estrangement was due to a misunderstanding? Over the past year, she’d come to believe anything was possible.
Emily had been staring out the window for quite some time, contemplating the Duke of Waters and all possible outcomes of her plan for Lord Blakely when the familiar sights of Kent came into sight.
When Emily had visited Eden’s Court for the wedding a few months ago, winter had still held the world in a tight grasp. The trees had been bare and the flo
wers in hibernation.
But with the arrival of spring, everything was coming to life.
As they turned down the long drive to the majestic estate, Emily couldn’t help but lean forward to peer out at the bursts of colors lining the drive. “Sophia!” Her friend had awakened and was taking the baby from her husband’s arms. “The gardens are absolutely splendid!”
What would it be like to go walking in these gardens with Marc—with Lord Blakely? Emily allowed herself to wonder for only a moment. What was she thinking? She was going to marry him off to Rhoda! The gardens would be the perfect place for a proposal…
Sophia stifled a yawn. “Eden’s Court must have been carved from heaven itself.” She gave a secret glance toward the duke. “We enjoy the gardens almost daily when the weather allows.”
Oh, bother. Being with these two was enough to cause any girl to become syrupy with romantic nonsense. That must be what it was.
Nothing to do with the man sitting beside her.
Nothing at all.
At least she had her spectacles again. That feeling of not being able to see never failed to leave her spiraling inside, as though the world was spinning out of control. Emily reached up and touched the frame near the lens.
“I’m not certain it will hold for long.” Lord Blakely’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I tightened the screw, but it’s stripped.”
She would have to be careful. She’d packed a second pair… somewhere. “Thank you.” She’d love to ignore him, go on watching the passing scenery, but his presence was just so damn… commanding. “Thank you.”
He nodded but then turned his back to her. It was his turn to stare out the window, leaving Emily free to lean forward nonchalantly and inhale his aroma. His hair had dried by now, a little curlier than normal. She hadn’t realized how bronzed his neck was. Must be from all the riding he did. She’d heard on more than one occasion how mad he was for horses.
“Do you think your mount is well enough?” Emily asked, making an attempt at normal conversation. “He does not spook easily in storms?”
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