Chapter Sixteen
THEY had come full circle. Brett gritted his teeth to keep from lashing out at Emily as he fell into step beside her. Once the introductions were finished, Drummond had made his excuses and slithered away like the snake he was, but not before tossing Brett a triumphant look.
What the bloody hell had he meant by it?
Brett vowed to find out, even if he had to shake the information out of Emily. She had promised him. Had given her word that she would not investigate matters alone. That should include clandestine meetings with bastards like Drummond, a would-be embezzler, murderer, or just plain slithering snake. Something twisted in his gut. The betrayal was all too familiar.
Like a hapless fly stuck in a web, he wondered if he had once again become entangled with a woman he could not trust.
“Stop scowling. You will scare the ladies—not that you do not already do so,” Melody grumbled. “I mean really, it was not like I had disappeared into the shrubbery with the man. We had gone for refreshments in full view—”
“Yes, Melody, so you have explained,” Brett said with strained patience. “And I have explained, while I trust you, that does not mean I trust every gentleman here.” He gave Emily a pointed look. “I warned you about the wolves. You cannot let fashionable dress and a posh accent deceive you.”
Emily flushed and her jaw tightened, but she made no response.
Melody sputtered out a laugh. “Please. Lord Phillips is harmless,” she quipped to Miranda beneath her breath, “but I wouldn’t mind him nibbling on my . . . neck.”
Brett whirled on Melody. “I heard that!”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. There is something sour in your punch. Perhaps you should try the champagne. I hear it does wonders in lightening one’s mood.”
“Leave him alone,” Miranda said, intervening. “Abandoned to his own company, he will eventually annoy even himself. Maybe you can cheer him up, Lady Emily. Brett’s mood always improves when conversing with a beautiful woman. At the very least, it will force him to be civil.” Miranda ignored Brett’s growl and caught Melody’s arm to draw her ahead to join Julia and Daniel.
The silence stretched taut as he and Emily trailed the group, but Brett would be damned if he would break it. She owed him an explanation.
They approached the terrace where more couples had congregated outside to savor the balmy temperatures. Snippets of conversation and laughter drifted over them, while red-coated footmen balanced trays with tall, crystal flutes.
“Melody is right. Champagne is needed,” Emily said and gestured to a footman.
“A drink will not improve my mood—”
“No? Well, perhaps it will soothe mine.” She thanked the footman as she collected a brimming glass of champagne. “But I doubt it.”
For the first time, he noted the pallor and the shadows clouding her eyes. A slight tremor shook her hand, and she spilled some champagne before she steadied the glass and brought it to her lips. Whatever Drummond had confided, it had shaken her. Some of his anger shifted from Emily and onto the bastard.
He itched to curl his hands around the whoreson’s slimy neck and squeeze.
Emily finished a sip, and met Brett’s gaze. “I understand you are upset to find me with Drummond, but I encountered him with Julia, and I could not rudely dismiss him when he asked to have a word with me. Julia was nearby at all times and it was in a public venue. You must understand that after your behavior toward him at Lakeview Manor and again at Dayton’s—”
“My behavior?” he scoffed. “You cannot be serious! You are taking me to task for my behavior? After the way that man was mauling—”
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed in warning, casting a furtive look around.
He swore as he noted the curious glances directed their way. “Wait a few minutes and then follow me.” Without obtaining her consent, he strode from the terrace. He took the steps to the lawns at a brisk pace, then turned down a path that led into a hedge maze adjacent to the main yard.
While not as elaborate as the maze at Hampton Court, it turned and twisted in an elaborate spiral. Luminous mythological statues carved out of white marble were placed in strategic pockets throughout the maze. Flickering torches interspersed in the yews helped to light the dirt paths as daylight waned.
During one of his school holidays, Brett had spent a drunken evening stumbling around the maze with Sutton’s son, Daniel, and Drew. It gave him the advantage over other couples seeking a clandestine refuge within its natural walls. He knew the location of most of its secret haunts.
He stood just inside the entrance, waiting for Emily. When she entered the shadowy enclosure and cast a wary glance over her shoulder, he caught her arm. She swallowed her cry upon recognizing him, and did not resist his towing her along, moving quickly lest they be seen together. “It took you long enough,” he muttered.
“Will you stop! I cannot just disappear. Julia would worry. I had to let her know my whereabouts. I told her I was going to view a new statue with you and Lady Eloise. But where, pray tell, am I going? Are you mad?” she hissed at his back.
“Undoubtedly.” But one could not very well discuss murder and embezzlement amidst a prying audience.
It was a dangerous game they played, but hearing the giggles, rustles, and twitters emerging from the maze, they were not the only ones who dared to risk scandalous consequences. “Heed your own advice and keep your voice down.” He neared a statue of a goddess in a flowing Grecian gown, wearing a formidable helmet and holding a staff. She reminded him of the heroic Athena, and he found it fitting that they seek refuge with her. He pulled Emily around the statue and into the intimate space carved out behind her. “Who is Lady Eloise?”
“The only woman nearby whom I recognized,” she said impatiently as she eyed the area, and then arched a delicate brow. “This definitely crosses the boundaries of complicated and moves deep into dangerous.”
He shrugged. “As I said, we did that when you visited my bedchamber. Then again when you ducked into the shrubbery with that—”
Emily tossed her champagne into his face. “You go too far!”
He snatched his handkerchief and furiously swiped at his face. Blinking, he caught a flash of lavender as Emily moved to sweep around him. He bit off a curse, grabbed her arm, and hauled her back. He crushed her close, cinching his arms around her slim waist. The impact of her soft body against his had every thought draining from his head—but one.
Her breath hitched and her eyes dropped to his lips, and then he closed his mouth over hers. The touch was like striking a match to tinder. The mixture of tension, rage, and frustration that had simmered within him burst into flames.
Her lips were velvet soft and melded to his. She tasted of champagne and Emily and he practically inhaled her. He took and took some more, desire coursing through him.
Her glass slipped from her hand and dropped unheeded to the ground as she curled her arms around his neck and arched her body into his. A moan escaped her, and she slid her fingers into his hair as her tongue parried with his.
He savored the feel of her breasts crushed to his chest, the warmth of her body seeping into his. Holding her settled his temper far better than the richest champagne. Their ragged breaths mingled as he kissed a pink cheek before returning to claim her mouth.
A distant cough snapped him back to his senses. Horrified, he released her and stepped away. Christ.
He may not trust her, but by God, he wanted her. His body cried out in protest, his loins aching. While he yearned to snatch her back into his arms, he refused to let desire lead him astray again. He shook his head to clear it of its lust-driven haze and, with unsteady hands, he returned his handkerchief to his jacket pocket.
Emily regarded him warily, her breathing ragged.
He straightened. “You gave me your word, and you broke it. How am I to trust
you—?”
“You talk of trust? You wrote to Daniel and Julia behind my back. After I asked you to keep them out of things. How am I to trust you?”
“That is not the same thing! I told you, I made a mistake. I tried—”
“As did I . . . of sorts.”
That gave him pause. Against his will, his lips twitched. “Of sorts?”
She tossed up her hands in exasperation. “As damning as it appears, I had no desire to speak with Drummond alone. But as I have explained, I could not very well refuse his request to speak to me—not without making explanations to Julia that I am not ready to make. And truthfully, he would not have spoken as freely as he did with your black scowl accompanying me. Lawrence Drummond thinks you are rude and boorish, and has warned me to avoid your company lest I be judged no better. In light of your recent behavior, he may be right.”
“My behavior? Again, it is you who disappeared—”
“Will you stop?” she hissed. “A few kisses shared with you does not make me a light skirt that couples in the shrubbery with every man that I meet. You are the only man I have kissed, let alone looked at, since Jason.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do not make me regret it.”
The warning in her tone distracted him, and it took a moment for the import of her words to hit him. Stunned, his lips parted and he studied her jutting chin. Damned if her confession did not take another bite out of his anger, and like a ship cut free of its mooring, he floundered.
And then he blinked. Damn, she was good. “You are trying to distract me. The fact is that you met with Drummond when I expressly asked you not to—”
“I did not go alone, Julia accompanied me. I had but to say her name, and she would be at my side.”
She had a point, despite his reluctance to concede it. She was tying him up in knots, making him want to thrash her one minute and kiss her the next. It was little wonder he could not think straight. He blew out a breath. “Fine, but that does not mean I have to like it,” he grumbled.
“I do not expect you to.”
He heard the amusement in her voice, and sighed. “So what did he have to say for himself? Did you learn anything new?”
“Oh, yes,” she said and lifted her chin to stare him straight in the eye. “I learned you were right about Lawrence Drummond. I learned that he is a lying, traitorous bastard, and I intend to find the evidence that implicates him in embezzlement and—” She hesitated briefly before adding, “Perhaps murder.”
His eyes widened. Whatever the hell Drummond had said, it had been damning. “Is that all?” He couldn’t suppress his wry smile. “You plan to accuse a friend of your fiancé, who has family connections to the Earl of Dayton, of slander, embezzlement, and potentially cold-blooded murder. Is that your plan?”
“It is.” She frowned. “I am simply confirming all you believed, while I defended the man. Are you having second thoughts? Because I assure you—”
“No. I have no doubt the man is a lying bastard. And if guilty of these charges, I hope he hangs until he rots. But hoping and having it happen are two different things. Until we procure evidence implicating him in anything, we have nothing.”
“I will find it.” She fisted her hands at her sides. “He dared to tell me that Jason was an opium addict. That Jason was lonely and sought solace in the drug. Drummond claimed to be his friend.” She sneered the word. “No friend of Jason’s would utter such slanderous lies.”
Damning indeed. A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes, sparkling in the twilight. He enfolded her in his arms, feeling the tension vibrating in her rigid frame before she relaxed against him. He pressed his cheek to the crown of her hair and spoke softly. “I am so very sorry, Emily. Such betrayal is unpardonable.”
They stood in silence, and he breathed her in, marveling at her determination and resolve.
She tilted her head back to meet his eyes, blinking back her tears. “He will pay. He will not get away with it. For Jason’s sake, I will not give up.”
He had no doubts that Emily would keep this vow on behalf of Jason, and he almost pitied Drummond.
He stared into her fierce expression and admiration swamped him. That was what he sought from a woman. Unwavering loyalty. Faith forged in steel and that withstood friends, foes, or any other force that sought to bend or break it. Something sliced through him. The long-taloned claws of a green-eyed monster.
Jealousy.
He was jealous of a man dead and buried nearly four years. It was a sobering thought. Jason had been a lucky man, and Brett was merely his substitute. A warm body to warm a grieving heart. A partner to assist in a murder investigation.
He stepped back, needing the distance between them. “So we find Patricia and the portfolio, which she hopefully will be able to retrieve from Jason’s trunk.”
“Yes. She should be arriving tomorrow,” Emily said, eagerness lacing her words. “Do you think it could be all over then? That the ledger and Jason’s diary will be incriminating enough? That we can bring them to Lord Roberts? Have you had a chance to speak with him?”
“I hope so. And no, I have not had a chance to speak to Roberts. But I will. Perhaps he is here, because half of London appears to be.”
“Lord Sutton’s house parties have always been popular with the ton. Invitations to his events are coveted.”
“I have an idea as to why.” Unable to resist, he drew her back into his arms. He heard the worry and uncertainty in her voice despite her attempt to hide it, and he wanted to distract her as she did him. To give her all she wanted from him.
He dipped his head to the slim column of her neck and pressed his lips to the throbbing pulse there.
“Why?” she breathed, tilting her head to the side to give him better access.
He laughed softly and lowered his voice to a seductive murmur. “He has an elaborate maze, and rumor has it that those who dare to enter never emerge the same. I spent a school holiday here once.” He spoke between the nibbling kisses he rained along a rounded shoulder. “Sutton warned us that all sorts of dangers lurked in its hidden corners and crevices. He said they emerged only after dark, so we boys best stay clear of it when the sun set. And you know, he was right.” He kissed the silken curve of her breast where the lace décolletage teased him. He inhaled deeply, smelling the subtle fragrance of lilacs.
“Yes, I believe he was.” She arched back against his supporting embrace.
He lifted his head and caught her lips in a plundering kiss. As his mouth devoured hers, he pressed his body full length to hers, easing her backward until she was braced against the marble base of Athena. He leaned in and deepened the kiss, savoring the sweet taste of her.
He liked the fashion of the new gowns with their straight lines, lack of hoops, and thin-layered petticoats. He eased off his glove, needing to touch her skin to skin. To feel the heat that radiated from her body. To feel her passion. He drew up the embroidered hem of her lavender satin gown, sliding it up a silk-clad calf to cup his hand below her knee. He lifted her leg to his waist, moving his hand along the strong muscle of her thigh, squeezing and caressing.
She drew a ragged breath as his hand slid further. “This danger of which you speak . . .” Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her voice breathless. “Did . . . did you heed Sutton’s warning and avoid it?”
“Of course I did.” He smiled, resting his gaze on her swollen lips. “As a boy,” he added and lowered his mouth to the curve of her ear, his breath stirring the soft tendrils of hair. He finished in a whisper. “Then thankfully, I grew up.” A groan escaped her when his hand closed over the juncture between her legs, cupping the moist center of her.
Her lashes lowered as his fingers moved intimately against her.
He slid aside her silken pantaloons, separating her moist folds and slipping a finger inside.
Gasping, she gripped his shoulders. “Yes, well . . . Oh lord, you
do have a way with . . . with danger.”
He laughed, the sound husky even to him, for his mouth was spit dry, parched from the need of wanting her. He closed his lips over hers as he pleasured her. Soft strokes that teased and taunted. She pressed herself against him, moving in rhythm to his thrusts.
He struggled to ignore his own pulsating need that was near the breaking point.
When a soft whimper escaped her, he swallowed the sounds with his mouth. She broke their kiss and tossed her head back in her abandon, lost to the desire sweeping her. Good lord, she was exquisite. Passionate. Responsive. Exotic.
Her body eventually shuddered and then sagged against him. He gently removed his hand and caught her about the waist, supporting her limp body.
It was a while later that her words, barely audible over the pounding of his heart, drifted to him.
“I think . . . I think it was wise you did not venture into the maze as a boy.”
He grinned. “Alas, there would not have been much of interest to me then. No toy soldiers or guns.”
“Yes, but lots of intense engagements and some clever swordplay.” She slid her hand down and pressed her palm against his arousal that strained against his pants.
“Too true.” He smiled and leaned toward her just as a loud, hacking cough erupted and shattered the moment. With a groan, he reluctantly removed Emily’s hand and stepped back, allowing her to regain her footing. “Alas, that skirmish will have to wait.”
She straightened her skirts with an unsteady hand. “Yes. We should vacate the area before we are discovered. I . . . I will go first.” She tucked a loose curl into her coiffure, and nodded to his head. “Your hair is standing on end. Best see to yourself before you depart.” She then slipped around the statue, and in a flash of lavender skirts, disappeared.
Nonplussed, he blinked at the space where she had stood. Sutton had been right. One who entered the maze did not exit the same. An unfilled hunger tugged at him. He raked his hands through his hair and regretted that he could not heed Emily’s advice further and take a moment to see to himself. To find his own release.
The Daughter of an Earl Page 17