“If we are found out, there will be hell to pay; that is certain,” Darius said. “We will explain that in truth this was not a military mission. It was a rescue mission.”
Darius explained what he meant, and whom they would rescue. If Ambury was skeptical, he did not show it. Tarrington only wanted assurance that his lads could take what they could carry. Kendale, Darius knew, would be glad for the action no matter what it was called.
He sent them off to make plans, then went up the stairs. Emma was awake, lying amid the sheets in the early-morning light.
She appeared so lovely. Her hair fanned over the pillows, silken and bright. Her gaze, as she looked over at him, contained memories of last night and a warmth born of the intimacy they now shared.
She believed her brother was still alive. She felt it, she said. She insisted the letter sent to her had not been a forgery. She knew Robert Fairbourne was alive more surely than he knew most things in his life, except his love for her. Who was he to question what her heart could and could not know?
He sat on the bed and bent low to kiss her, thinking, as he always did now, that she was extraordinary in every way. She may have surrendered to him, but in doing so she had captured him, totally.
“My carriage will come for you in a couple of hours,” he said. “It will take you back to London.”
“Are you coming too?”
“Not yet. There are a few things still to resolve, although the plan worked perfectly.”
“When will you be in London again?”
“A week, perhaps.”
Her arms encircled his neck and she kissed him hard and long. He felt emotion rise in her. She bared her heart in that kiss. Amid her love was sorrow, and even some fear.
He gently released her hold, and brought her hands together where he could kiss them. He stood to go.
“Do not forget that I love you, Emma. Never doubt that.”
Chapter 31
“Lord Ambury still has not reclaimed his ring and taken the earrings,” Cassandra said.
“I believe he has been preoccupied of late,” Emma said. “Is he even in town?”
“I have not seen him about. Perhaps he is not. However, the goal was to turn jewelry into money, not end up with more jewelry, so I hope he settles this soon.”
They sat in the garden behind Fairbourne’s auction house. Emma and Cassandra had stopped by here in order for Emma to meet with Marielle, who had just arrived. Marielle was busy untying the cord that closed a little sack that she had brought.
“Stupid Man is gone,” Marielle mentioned as her long, slender fingers worked at the knot. “Ten days now he has not been visible.”
“Who is Stupid Man?” Cassandra asked.
Marielle looked up, surprised, then turned apologetic eyes on Emma. She returned to the knot.
“A man who was bothering Marielle,” Emma said. She would like to tell Marielle that Stupid Man would never be visible again, but discretion forbade it.
“Oh. I thought she was talking about my brother.”
Emma burst out laughing. Cassandra smiled with naughty pride. Marielle clawed at the string.
Emma wiped her eyes. It felt wonderful to laugh. She had not been in good spirits the last ten days. Southwaite’s absence from her life had left a void. She had not anticipated that, or the way her heart had so quickly resigned itself to living with that void forever.
“Do not forget that I love you. Do not doubt that.” She did not doubt it. Nor did she expect it to make enough difference. There probably would not be a public scandal, but people who mattered to Southwaite already knew what she had agreed to do for Hodgson, and more would learn of it. If his alliance with her continued, his name would be forever compromised.
A week, he had said. It had already been ten days. She had reconciled to it being much longer. At some point a letter would come, and he would explain it all to her, with sincere regrets. She waited for it the way one waited for any bad news, with a sick worry that almost wished it would just happen and be over.
“Ah. Bon.” Marielle finally opened the neck of the sack. She carefully poured the contents on the table.
“Cameos,” Cassandra exclaimed. She lifted one. “They are exquisite. They look very old.”
Emma held up one of the gems. Its tiny relief depicted Dionysus and his entourage. The agate stone from which it had been carved was so thin as to be translucent. “The carving appears antique, but the setting is later. A Renaissance work, perhaps.”
“That is what I was told. The woman who owns it says it was once owned by the king and is very valuable. She will give it to your auction if you have other fine things.”
Cassandra looked up from her cameo through her long black lashes. She gave Emma a quizzical look. “Are you starting to plan for the next auction already? Town is so quiet in the summer. I would have expected you to wait until autumn.”
Emma rubbed her thumb over the carving. “I do not know if I will have another one at any time.”
Southwaite had always wanted to sell Fairbourne’s. She would no longer resist that decision. If by some miracle Robert survived and returned, the proceeds from the sale would be waiting for him.
“Eh, it is always so for me,” Marielle said after a long sigh. “I find a means to eat, and something goes wrong.” She took the cameos out of Emma’s and Cassandra’s hands. “Perhaps that other one, Mr. Christie, will give me the twenty percent.”
Cassandra’s eyelids lowered. She crossed her arms and looked at Emma. “Twenty percent?”
For the second time Marielle realized she had misspoken. She busily stuffed the cameos away. When she was finished, she stood to take her leave. Her attention became distracted however, and she did not move.
“Why is he here?” she asked accusingly. “Like Stupid Man, I thought I was free of him.”
Perplexed, Emma turned and looked at the building. Lord Kendale stood at the building’s garden door. He looked at them, not moving.
Her heart sank. If Kendale was in London, whatever had to be resolved on the coast had been finished. Yet Darius had not called on her. He had not even written since that parting in the cottage.
The sick worry worsened. She knew, just knew, that she would be mourning the end of her first and only love affair soon.
She returned her attention to Marielle. “Do you know him?”
“It is the one who follows me. I told you about him. Handsome Stupid Man.”
“That is a very unkind name for him,” Cassandra scolded.
“The alternative was Very Stupid Man,” Emma said.
“He thinks to frighten me now, the way he stares at me.” Marielle composed herself, assumed her most bored expression, and looked right back at Kendale. Emma kept shifting her attention from one to the other and back again. Marielle kept glaring and Kendale glared back.
Then Marielle’s expression cracked, and the sweetest expression molded her face. A slow smile transformed her even more. Fascinated, Emma looked to see Kendale’s reaction.
His own severity cracked too. He flushed so deeply that Emma could see the tint from this distance. He turned and reentered the building.
Marielle gave her sack’s strings a final pull. “I win.” She pointed to the back of the garden. “There is a gate there? I will go out that way, so Handsome Stupid Man does not follow me.”
“I will walk with you,” Cassandra said. “My carriage is on Piccadilly.” She bent to give Emma a kiss. “I am trying to decide if I should let Kendale know his other name. I think I will save it, in case he ever looks at me with that disapproving scowl.”
As her two friends let themselves out the back gate, Emma considered that she should share with Cassandra that Lord Kendale had his nicer moments. She thought about them, and the gratitude she felt for his help.
He had probably come here today to bring her some message, perhaps word that the adventure was truly over. Maybe Darius sent him, so that Darius would be spared the meeting himself.
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She stood to go and greet Lord Kendale. She turned to the building. What she saw made her gasp.
A brown-haired man stood at the garden door now. He broke into a smile and walked toward her, his strides lengthening with his impatience. She watched him come, immobile from shock.
“Robert!”
Emma broke her long embrace and caught her breath. She examined her brother through tear-filled eyes.
He took her hand and urged her to sit. He appeared so happy, and quite fit. She was relieved that he had not been starved while in his prison.
“How—” she began asking, but emotion choked the words.
He held her hand between his two. “I was rescued. By two lords, no less! They had at least twenty men with them, all armed, and Colonel Leplage was so surprised that not even one shot was fired.”
“Who is Leplage?”
“He is the man who held me. He has taken residence in the manor of some French count not far from Boulogne.” Robert shrugged. “I am not sure what he does there, but people come and go and even sat to dinner with us at times. Army officers and I suspect members of the government. They never spoke of any of that while I was there, though.”
Emma dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. It was startling to discover that Robert had not only not been starving in a dungeon the way she had pictured, but instead had been enjoying fine meals with his captor’s guests in the dining room.
She eyed him again. “I like your hair. That is new.”
He touched the fashionably short brown curls. “Do you? Leplage’s valet did it for me. Everyone else had rid themselves of their queues in France years ago.”
“That is a nice coat too. It becomes you.”
He looked down on it and smiled. “I like it. Leplage has excellent tailors.”
She pictured Southwaite and his friends rushing into that manor house, pistols drawn, and finding Robert in a fine dining room with his expertly tailored coat and finely dressed hair.
“I am relieved that you did not suffer, Robert. And I am touched that those lords risked their lives to rescue you. I will never be able to repay them, nor will you.” Her eyes felt very dry now. “Perhaps, before we are interrupted, you will explain how you came to be a guest of Mr. Leplage to begin with.”
Robert made a face and flushed. “I will explain to you, and I did to Lord Southwaite, but it is too embarrassing to tell the tale to anyone else.”
Somehow, she knew that already. “I promise to be discreet.”
He sighed. “I heard a story that there was this estate not far from Boulogne that had been abandoned by a fleeing count and that it held a lot of paintings. Very fine ones. I suggested to Father that I go and try to get them. He refused. I mourned news of his passing, Emma, but he could be very stubborn and old-fashioned.”
“If objecting to theft is old-fashioned—”
“They were just sitting there, left to rot. We are at war with the French. Is it even possible to steal from the enemy? Well, he would not hear of it. But I am no longer a boy, Emma, and I decided to do it. It would be my first auction, the consignments all brought in by me alone, too. So I found some men to take me over and help me bring those paintings back.”
“Smugglers?”
“I did not ask. I only knew they were men with a large galley, and they promised we could do it all in a day. In return I offered them twenty-five percent of the money made when the paintings were sold.”
“I don’t suppose these men told you the story about the paintings to begin with?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
Emma listened to her brother describe this mad scheme. He had always had a reckless side, now that she thought about it. Just as he had never attended to their father’s lessons as carefully as she had. She had not dwelled on his less-than-stellar qualities while she worried about him for two years and prayed for his return.
“What went wrong?”
Robert took a deep breath. “Those men sold me out. Can you believe it? We arrived at that estate, and it was not deserted. I called those men to help me fight our way out once we were seen, only instead they offered their services to Leplage. I ended up an involuntary guest, and they ended up going back without me. Leplage was decent about it, at least. He said if I pledged my parole, I could move about the grounds freely.”
“At least that made it easier for Lord Southwaite to find you.”
“I suppose so. Although it was raining when he came and he insisted I go with them at once. And he refused to take any of those paintings. Oh, yes, they were there, and very fine indeed. The weather did not let up and we were stuck on the coast, dodging army units, for days. It was terrible.”
“But better than being a prisoner, surely.”
“Oh, yes. Surely.” He did not appear sure at all.
She looked at the building. “Did Lord Kendale bring you here?”
“No. He rode beside us. Lord Southwaite brought me in his carriage. We went to the house first, and Maitland told him where you were.”
Southwaite. “We must go in, so that I can thank them.”
She began to rise, but Robert caught her hand, and bid her sit again. “There is something that I need to explain before you go in there, Emma.”
She did not miss the way he flushed when he said that. She sat and waited.
“I did not come back alone,” Robert said. “While I was in France, I married.”
Fairbourne’s hosted one of its happiest parties that afternoon. No paintings covered the walls, and no music played. The guests enjoyed the last bottles of the smuggled claret, however. If anyone guessed their provenance, nothing was said.
Emma had returned to the hall with her brother as soon as she recovered from hearing about his marriage. As they walked through the garden, Robert had finally expressed some self-recrimination.
“I was young and stupid and a pigeon waiting to be plucked, Emma. I was lured into that scheme to sail to France, I think. I know all about how Father was coerced, and later you too. Southwaite told me about it while we waited for the storms to clear.”
Now Robert strolled through the auction house while Emma watched. He pointed and explained things to a young woman by his side. A wife. That had been almost as much of a shock to her as seeing him walk toward her through the garden.
Southwaite sidled close to Emma, and joined her in observing the young couple. “He married her at the point of a sword, he said. She was a maid in the household of the colonel who held him, and they were found in a compromising situation.”
“I am of course relieved to know my brother did not suffer overmuch during his captivity. He experienced no deprivations at all, it appears.” She sipped some wine. “She seems a pleasant girl. I think that we will get on well.”
Southwaite’s arm swept in an all-inclusive gesture. “You did it, Emma. You preserved it for him, as you wanted.”
“I did, didn’t I? So why am I little sad about that part?”
He looked at her with humor and warmth in his eyes. “Perhaps because you know that you can do it better than he ever will. Do not look indignant at the suggestion. Your brother and I had some long talks about art while we waited for the sea to settle and prayed no French troops found us first. I think you paid more attention to your father’s lessons than he did.”
Probably so. She doubted Robert would ever agree with that, however. Still, there might be a role for her at Fairbourne’s in the future. In the least Robert might let her catalogue the silver.
She stiffened her spine and her composure. “I admit that I will be nostalgic. I will think fondly of my not-so-final final auction, and of the grand success of the last one. However, it is his legacy, and I must step aside and allow him his due.”
“Actually, Emma, only part of it is his. You have a talent for ignoring that I am half owner.” He set aside his wineglass, and took hers away too. “Now come with me. It is too crowded here.”
It was not crowded at all, but she did not
object when he sped her out the garden door and guided her deep into the plantings near the rear wall. He swept her into an embrace and kissed her soundly. “It has been forever, Emma,” he muttered, then kissed her again.
Love poured through her, as fresh and vibrant as ever, making the arousal that stirred her sparkle with joy. “Thank you for bringing him back to me. Thank you for coming back safely too. If you had not—”
The very thought horrified her whenever she thought of it. After telling her about his bride, Robert had blurted all of the danger they had faced. Her stark realization of what she might have lost had dimmed her excitement until she dragged Robert inside so she could see Southwaite hale and fit with her own eyes.
“There was little danger,” Southwaite said. “We let Kendale lead. He is actually very good at this sort of thing.”
She had thanked Lord Kendale and Lord Ambury with all her heart. There had been others, who had not accompanied Robert to London. She needed to thank them too, when she could.
He kissed her again. And again. His possessive caresses thrilled every part of her.
“Southwaite.” The voice spoke calmly, not far away at all.
Darius looked up but did not release her. “What is it, Ambury?”
“We are leaving. Mr. Fairbourne and his wife just departed for home. They took Miss Fairbourne’s carriage.”
“I will see you at Brooks’s tomorrow.”
As Ambury’s boots crunched on the pebble path, the full meaning of the little conversation sliced into Emma’s mind.
Southwaite began to kiss her again, but stopped. “What is it, Emma? You are suddenly very serious.”
“I am thinking about the changes this homecoming heralds, Darius. My brother did not take my carriage. He took his own carriage. He is bringing his wife to his house, not mine. When he seeks a respite from town, he will journey with her to his cottage near the sea. I have no house or carriage now. In fact, I have nothing.”
He smiled down at her while she described her pending poverty. He did not appear nearly as concerned as she thought a friend should.
The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne Page 31