Lord Hunter (Secrets & Scandals Book 6)

by Tiffany Green

  Lucian came around the screen, buttoning his shirt. While Emma slept, he turned to the window, glancing at the slate-gray sea blending into the predawn light. He caught sight of his reflection, the ends of his hair dripping water on his fresh shirt, and his breath caught. He knew the perfect place to take Emma.

  Turning, he watched her sleep a moment. If the little minx would agree. She had no choice. The only person who could protect her better than he was his cousin, Jack, Lord Ravenwood.

  By the time the sun rose, spilling dazzling yellow light in the room, Lucian’s plans were complete. He had already penned a note, sealed it with candle wax, and fished out an exorbitant sum to see it delivered as fast as possible. Having promised Emma he would not leave the room, he had to wait till she woke or until someone came to the door.

  It took another hour to hear the small tap and Lucian blew out a breath as he cracked open the door. A boy of about ten years held a heavy, cloth covered tray. Smells of fresh bread and ham wafted up, making Lucian’s stomach grumble. “Me da said ter bring ye this.”

  Opening the door, Lucian let the boy carry the tray to the table. “A moment,” he said as the child was about to scamper from the room.

  When the boy turned, Lucian held out the letter and a shilling. “Tell my footman to deliver this letter to my cousin, Lord Ravenwood, in London with all possible haste. Tell him to use the horse Gabrielle. Can you see this done?”

  The boy’s bright blue eyes went round, then he nodded. “Oh, aye, aye.” He took the letter and the money, then held up the silver coin in his palm. “Wot’s this for?”

  Lucian turned the child by the shoulders. “It’s for you to hurry. Go. Fast.”

  With a delighted squeal, the boy dashed away.

  “What was that about?”

  Lucian closed the door and swung around. He found Emma sitting on the edge of the bed, stifling a yawn behind her hand. “Is that bread I smell?” she asked, sniffing the air.

  With a chuckle, Lucian went to the table and removed the cloth. Thick slices of fresh bread and ham, clotted cream, and strawberry jam met his hungry eyes, along with a pot of tea and two cups. It was a wonder the little scamp could carry such a heavy tray.

  Lucian held out a chair for Emma, who poured them each a cup of steamy tea while he prepared the plates. Remembering her hearty appetite, he divided the fare in equal measures, and placed a heaping plate before her.

  “Feeling better?” he asked as he took his seat.

  “I will after this,” she said, slathering the thick, gooey jam over her bread.

  They ate in silence a while and Lucian had to smile at the looks of rapture on Emma’s face when she ate something delicious. Which was every bite, to be honest.

  As she consumed the last crumb, Lucian placed his knife and fork aside. Now, how to break the news to Emma? He cleared his throat and she glanced up from the rim of her teacup. “I have set a plan in motion,” he began.

  She lowered the cup and narrowed her eyes. “What plan?”

  He drew in a deep breath. “After last night, I decided you should go somewhere safe. My cousin, Lord Ravenwood, is in London. He will see…” His voice trailed away when she rose, shaking her head.

  “The only place I am going is to find my brother.”

  Lucian pushed back his chair and rose. He should have known she’d be trouble. “I have already sent word to my cousin.”

  Emma flattened her palms on the table and leaned forward. “Then, send him another message to disregard the first.”

  He crossed his arms. “No.”

  Her blue-green eyes flashed. “I will not go to London, Lucian.”

  He rocked back on his heels, wondering how to get through to the stubborn minx. “You were frightened beyond measure last night,” he said, watching the memory flash across her face. “I do not wish further harm to come to you, Emma.” He shook his head. “And I never want to see such fear again. Not from you.”

  She straightened and looped a wayward curl behind her ear. “Merdoch caught me unaware. It will not happen again.” Her right brow arched. “Besides, you will never find Sean. Not without me.”

  Lucian walked around the table. “Why is that?”

  Pulling a scrap of stained paper from her pocket, she unfolded it and held it up. “Because I am the only person in the whole world who can read this.” She waved the note with the triangles, dashes, and circles. “Sean will leave similar notes along the way. Notes that will point us to his location. I must be there to decipher them.”

  His eyes followed the fluttering paper. “How can you be certain Sean will leave notes? He did tell you to get back to Hartford, did he not?” He moved closer. “Surely, he will expect you there and not looking for him.”

  Emma’s hand stilled. “He will expect no such thing, Lucian.” Her lips twitched. “Sean knows me better than that. He will leave notes for me to find.”

  With excitement sparkling in her eyes and making her cheeks bloom pink, Lucian found himself gathering her in his arms. “Stubborn minx,” he whispered as his lips found hers. One taste, he promised himself, just one.

  His tongue swiped across the seam of her mouth, and she opened for him. Ah, damn, she tasted like strawberry jam. His favorite. Lucian held her tight to him, his arms folding around her slight form. His blood rushed hot through his veins, pounded in his ears, and pooled downward to a most sensitive area. Using his tongue to slide against hers, he pressed himself closer, allowing her warmth to cradle his throbbing cock.

  In another minute, he would be lost. So, he drew back and opened his eyes. Her lips, red and glistening from his kisses, parted and his name formed on them, driving him mad with want. Then Emma’s eyes opened, her passion glowing as bright as a flame. And he was a moth about to be consumed.

  Lucian stepped away before he lifted her into his arms and brought her to the bed five short feet away. His hand plunged through his hair as he turned around. Perhaps he had another reason for sending the minx to his cousin. One that involved keeping her maidenhead intact. With a groan, he shook his head.

  She came to his side and placed a hand on his arm. Even through several layers of fabric, her fingers branded his skin, making his muscles jump. “We should be on our way.”

  “I have not yet made up my mind,” he said, trying like hell not to notice how good she smelled.

  “About what?”

  “About you,” he whispered.

  Her hand fell away and he heard her quick inhale. “You are not sending me away, Lucian. I will not go.”

  He closed his eyes, praying one last time he could get her to see reason. “It’s for your safety, Emma.”

  “I will be perfectly safe with you,” she insisted.

  Lucian glanced at her a moment before responding. “After just now, I’m not so sure of that,” he whispered.

  Catching his meaning, her cheeks filled with color. She cleared her throat. “Well, now, we must strive to not let such events happen again.”

  Feeling his brows shoot up, he straightened. “Indeed. And the best measure to take is for you to go to London.”

  She shot him a sour glance. “I told you I must be present to decipher Sean’s notes.”

  Lucian crossed his arms. “You can teach me the symbols.”

  Emma snorted, shaking her head. “That would take weeks, months. We do not have the time.” She gave him a feline smile. “And it would defeat the purpose of your plan. The best option is to take me with you.” Her smile widened. “And you know it.”

  Well. Hell. He tried. With a defeated sigh, Lucian swung around to the small table beside the washstand. He fished around for another scrap of paper and found one small square. What little ink was left in the well was just enough to scribble another note to Jack. He hoped his cousin would not think him mad when receiving both notes, but it could not be helped.

  A knock sounded as he finished sealing the message with melted candle wax and walked to the door.

  “Pardon, milo
rd,” Duffy said.

  Lucian shook his head. “Your timing could not be better.” He held out the note and dug out several coins from his inner coat pocket. “This note must be delivered to Lord Ravenwood in London. Can you see this is done straight away?”

  Duffy’s eyes bulged at the shilling and half-crown pinched between Lucian’s fingers. “Me brother Reginald can deliver the note.”

  Lucian nodded and handed over the money and note.

  As the innkeeper was about to turn away, he stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot. Lord Sorrington is downstairs. He asks for an audience with you, milord.”

  Chapter 7

  When Lucian nodded to the innkeeper and turned, Emma charged forward. She was getting quite good at detecting Lucian’s thoughts. Stopping before him, hands on hips, she spoke first. “I would like to hear what Lord Sorrington has to say.”

  He closed the door and shook his head. “I do not want you anywhere near that man.”

  Emma threw up her hands. “What do you think he will do before an inn full of people?”

  Lucian blew out a breath. “Must you be so exasperating, minx?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  He turned and pulled open the door. “Come on, then.”

  Emma followed Lucian down the stairs. The taproom was not as crowded as she hoped. Three tables still held people finishing their breakfast and two serving girls rushed to clear dishes away. Lord Sorrington rose from a corner table. He was alone. How odd.

  They walked forward and Lucian inclined his head. “Sorrington.”

  The earl’s pale eyes swept over Emma, making her shiver. “I thought you would come alone, Hartford.”

  “What have you to say?” Lucian asked.

  Sorrington’s gaze swung back to Lucian. “In a rush to go somewhere?”

  “No. I merely do not wish to stand here all day, looking at you.”

  Emma bit her lips to keep from smiling. Maybe, if her temper wasn’t intensifying, she would have laughed. A burning rage swelled up her middle, and she gripped her hands together to keep the torrent of words behind her teeth.

  The earl heaved a sigh. “Come and take a seat. There is something I would like to tell you.”

  Lucian held out a chair and Emma sat, then he took the seat beside her as Lord Sorrington settled across from them. The earl twisted the diamond ring on his little finger as he spoke. “First, I had nothing to do with setting the fire last night.”

  Emma snorted and shook her head. Lucian reached out and rested a warm hand over her icy fists clutched together in her lap.

  “It was your man, Merdoch, who was found leaning over the livery owner.”

  Sorrington shook his head. “He and Burke were there to spy, I confess. But they did not hurt anyone. Nor did they set the fire.”

  Lucian leaned back in his chair. “There are two witnesses to place your men at the scene.” He crossed his arms. “Perhaps the magistrate should be the one to sort out if you are speaking the truth.”

  Sorrington’s face went red, his eyes furious. “I am telling you the truth.”

  Lucian’s unfurled his arms. “What about Murdoch coming here and scaring Miss Wickham last night? Was that just her imagination?”

  “No. I sent him to warn her, not scare her.” Sorrington’s fist came down on the table. “Dammit all to hell, others know.” He stopped, glanced around, and lowered his voice. “Know of the treasure.”

  Lucian turned to her, his brows raised in silent question. She shrugged in response. Her father often became excited about new discoveries. She and Sean had to remind him not to speak of them. She drew in a weary breath. It’s what got her mother killed, after all.

  “Who else knows, Sorrington?” Lucian asked.

  The man stopped twisting his ring and ran a hand down his face. “Will Gaffney told me. Said George Wickham boasted of it to him, Bones Brady, and…” He paused to give Emma a meaningful glance. “Thad Whitehall.”

  Emma closed her eyes and lowered her face into her palms. She moaned, “Not Whitehall the Know-it-All.”

  “I am afraid so.”

  “Who are these men?” Lucian asked.

  Lord Sorrington answered. “Gaffney and Brady work at the museum, setting up exhibits when Emma’s father so foolishly donates all his findings.”

  “And Whitehall?”

  Emma lowered her hands to see the distasteful twist on Sorrington’s lips before he answered. “A fat rat with a big mouth. The man couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.”

  Lucian turned to her and eyed her for a moment, his brows drawing low over his eyes, his lips tightening into a grim line. Then he faced Sorrington. “When you spoke of trying to warn Miss Wickham, what did you mean?”

  “Gaffney told me there is a map.” Sorrington twisted his diamond ring as he continued. “He said Wickham was confident his children were hours from deciphering the coordinates. Do you not see? One of them—Whitehall most likely—wants the treasure for himself. He has come for the map.”

  With a frown, Lucian narrowed his eyes. “Yet, the only person I see here is you.”

  As his face turned red, Sorrington rose to his feet. “Are you doubting my words, Hartford?”

  Lucian came out of his chair. “Look me in the eye, Sorrington, and tell me you have no interest in the treasure.”

  The man swallowed and shuffled back a step. “I admit I would not mind having it.” He held up a hand. “But others want it more.”

  Emma stood and crossed her arms. “Samir thinks it was Murdoch and Burke who knocked him unconscious.” She leaned forward. “Your men.”

  Sorrington shook his head. “If what you say is true, I did not give the order.”

  She wanted to say more, but Lucian dropped a hand to her shoulder and spoke instead. “Perhaps it would be best if you returned home, Sorrington. I will protect Miss Wickham.”

  With bulging eyes, the earl glanced from her to Lucian and back. “I see.” He cleared his throat and glanced about the room. “Where is that chaperone of yours now, Emma?” His disapproving gaze swung back to her. “The one who isn’t supposed to leave you alone with a man other than your brother?”

  While Sorrington’s words pricked, white-hot fury surged through her middle, taking away the sting of his condemnation. Emma threw her shoulders back. “Samir is recovering from being bashed over the head by your hired thugs. Now, I suggest you heed Lord Hartford and return home. Because I can assure you, my lord, you will not get any assistance with finding the treasure from me.”

  Unable to stand looking at the man one moment longer, Emma turned on her heel and marched away. Drawing in deep breaths, she went up the stairs, muttering along the way. How could that man be so crass?

  Coming to her room, she reached for the handle and noticed the door ajar. Every hair on the back of her neck rose. Had she left the door unlatched? Who was the last one to leave the room earlier? She could not recall. With her heart beating so hard, she could hear nothing but the blood rushing in her ears. She pressed a hand against the door and pushed.

  Standing in the doorway, Emma saw at once the room was a mess. Her clothes were scattered about the room, mingled with Lucian’s. The bedding had been stripped and lay in a heap in the corner, the feather mattress askew. With her hand at her throat, Emma saw the window open, the curtain fluttering in the ocean breeze.

  “What is this?”

  Emma jumped at Lucian’s voice and turned. “I don’t know.”

  His eyes hardened. “They were looking for something.” He gazed down at her and lowered his voice. “Something like the map.”

  She blew out a breath and nodded. “While we were occupied with Lord Sorrington.”

  He gave a sharp nod. “Convenient, I would say.”

  “Let us pack our things and get out of here, Lucian.”

  He walked into the room and checked behind the screen, then under the bed. Waving her inside, he then turned and closed the window.

  Emma latched the
door and began lifting her things from the floor. “I do not think we should use the coach.”

  Lucian stopped folding a shirt and turned to her. “What do you mean?”

  “It is easily spotted with that huge gold Hartford crest on either side.” She stuffed her folded dresses into her valise. “I do not want anyone to know where we are going.”

  His brows snapped together. “You are right. We should not use the coach.” He turned back to his folding. “Or, send it somewhere empty.”

  She nodded. “That might fool Sorrington for a while. Where should we send the coach? Back to Hartford?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Emma snapped her gaze to Lucian. He was being too agreeable. That worried her. She finished her packing and straightened. “We should make a plan.”

  Lucian set a pair of tan trousers in his bag. “I have a plan.”

  Not liking the sound of that, Emma asked, “What plan?”

  Straightening, Lucian faced her, his dark eyes revealing nothing. “You will pen Sean a note in that strange language of yours and I will send it with the coach to Hartford. When he returns, he will find the note, know you are safe, and pen you back a message.”

  She was shaking her head before he finished. “That is a terrible plan.”

  “No, Emma, it is a safe plan.”

  Stalking to him, she poked a finger at his disheveled cravat. “Sean will not stop until he locates the treasure.” She poked him again. “And he cannot do it without me.”

  Lucian took her hand, anger kindling to life in his dark eyes. “Why will Sean not stop?”

  Tears blurred her vision and she blinked them back. “That was Father’s last wish. To have his greatest treasure found. Sean promised to locate it.”

  Raising a hand, Lucian’s palm rested against her cheek. “What makes you think Sean cannot do it on his own?”