Lord Hunter (Secrets & Scandals Book 6)

by Tiffany Green

  “’Ere ye are,” Beulah said as Emma heard mugs clatter on the table. “Anyfing else?”

  “No. I’ll call you if you’re needed.”

  “Awwrite.” Beulah turned and gave Lucian a heated smile. Her voice went low and throaty. “Need anyfing, ducks?”

  He beckoned her forward and Beulah saddled up to his side. Leaning down, she listened to his whispered words, the sides of her painted lips curling up.

  Emma could not help but think of waking earlier and kissing Lucian until her body almost erupted in flames. She could still taste him, could still feel the hot-cold tingles invade her middle when they kissed. Her gaze tumbled to the half-eaten bowl of stew before her, wondering if Lucian would kiss Beulah. Would he set her on fire? Make her weak, longing for his touch? Make her crave his heated, open-mouthed kisses?

  Lucian came to his feet and slid an arm around Beulah’s shoulders. “Won’t be long,” he said, his voice gruff. “Stay put, boy.”

  Too surprised to speak, Emma could only nod. She watched Lucian and Beulah disappear into the kitchen. The rumble of men’s voices grated on her nerves. She reached for her mug and sipped the watered-down ale.

  “Has your cousin any news?” Whitehall asked.

  The other man ripped out a loud belch. “No’ yet.”

  “How long does it take to chase down a coach, Donovan?”

  “Murdoch will get the job done, boss.”

  Emma’s hand stilled from lifting the mug. Murdoch? He’s the man’s cousin? Working for Whitehall? Was it the same Murdoch in Sorrington’s employ? She wanted to turn, but dared not. Taking a slow breath, she brought her drink to her lips and continued to listen.

  “He had better. I need that girl,” Whitehall snarled.

  Beulah sashayed back into the room, alone, wearing a cat-like grin. Stopping at the table, the buxom redhead leaned forward and purred, “Yer da said it be yer turn, boy. Come with Beulah.”

  Anger rose, sharp and bitter. Emma was about to tell the woman to go hang when something in Beulah’s gaze, something serious and urgent, gave her pause. Instead, Emma came to her feet and allowed the woman to wrap an arm about her shoulder. Beulah pressed Emma to her side as they walked from the room, almost as though the woman was trying to conceal…

  Relieved, Emma relaxed her stiff shoulders and went with Beulah. Lucian had thought of a way to get them away, not have an assignation with the buxom lady. As soon as they entered the kitchen, Beulah released her. “Yer, ah, da, is waiting for ye, ducks.” She nodded at the open door.

  “Thank you,” Emma said and hurried outside, cupping a hand over her brow against the bright sun. She found Lucian pacing the yard and rushed to him.

  “Come,” he said, taking her hand, almost dragging her in his haste to get away. “Juliet should be saddled by now.”

  A boy of about twelve threw open the stable door and led the unhappy horse out. Emma was about to hurry after Lucian when something within the stone building caught her attention. She jerked to a halt and swiveled toward the door.

  “What are you doing? We have to go,” Lucian hissed.

  Ignoring him, she rushed to the door banging in the wind, unable to believe the triangles, circles, and dashes painted on the wood. A message from Sean!

  Lucian grabbed her by the arm. “Emma,” he whispered, “we have to leave. Now.”

  She pointed to the message. “Look.”

  He turned and gave a start. “What does it say?”

  “It’s a name or a place.” She shook her head. “But I do not know it.” Lifting her hand, she traced the symbols with a finger, making sure she read the word right. “Renfield.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Lucian straighten. “Come, we must go.”

  Emma turned to him. “Do you know this name?”

  He gave a sharp nod then glanced toward the inn. “Let us go.”

  Lucian was right. They did not have time to speak on the matter. Whitehall and his men could leave the inn at any time. Emma nodded and walked with Lucian to Juliet. He lifted her on the saddle and hopped up behind her.

  They raced down the road a while, then Lucian slowed the horse. “We should get off the road.”

  “Good idea,” Emma agreed. The sun beating down her made her head itch beneath the knit cap. Under the canopy of tree branches, within the shade, would help.

  Lucian turned Juliet to the right and made their way through the brush and trees, keeping the ocean to the left to maintain a northern trajectory. Emma could hear the sea and the call of several gulls playing chase in the sky. Would she ever feel a soft bed? They could not get to Bristol fast enough.

  Her mind turned to Sean’s message. Her brother knew she would come looking for him. What was Renfield? A name? A place? She turned and glanced at Lucian over her shoulder. “Tell me, what is Renfield?”

  His eyes dipped. They were black shards of ice and his jaw tightened before he answered. “I know the Earl of Renfield. And he happens to have an estate near Bristol.”

  Emma’s breath caught. “That must be where Sean has gone.” When Lucian’s stormy expression hardened, she placed a hand over his. “What is it? Do you not like the Earl of Renfield?”

  Lucian flashed a smile, one that held not a smidgen of humor. “We utterly loathe each other.”

  Oh, dear, Emma thought with a grimace. That complicated matters. Yet, she could not believe Lucian hated anyone. She patted his hand. “Can you tell me why?”

  His face was a stone statue, and Emma was not sure he even heard her. Then he blew out a breath and glanced down. “Are you always so inquisitive?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Lucian cleared his throat. “Renfield and my wife were lovers for a time.” His brows shot up. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Cheeks burning, Emma swiveled back around.

  Lucian stopped Juliet and brought Emma’s head back around with gentle fingers. His eyes softened and he shook his head. “It is I who am sorry, Emma. I should not have spoken to you like that.”

  She placed her hand over his. “There is nothing to forgive. If someone I loved betrayed me in such a manner, I would be angry, too.”

  Cupping both cheeks with his large, warm hands, Lucian dipped his head and gave her a soft, sweet kiss. Then he leaned back and urged Juliet forward.

  They clopped along for a while. “Do you have any idea how your brother knows Renfield?”

  “None. I never heard of him until today.” She swatted a fly buzzing her right ear. “He isn’t a hunter or even a benefactor to a hunter.”

  “Hmmm. I suppose it’s possible Jonah knew him,” Lucian said.

  Emma shrugged. “Perhaps, although the man never came to Hartford.”

  Lucian stopped Juliet. Emma was about to ask what he was doing when she heard it. Pounding hooves. She held still and watched between the tall trees as four riders raced up the road, coming from the south. As the men passed, Emma recognized them. Whitehall’s men.

  She blew out a slow breath when they moved out of earshot and turned to Lucian. “They are still looking for us.”

  He gave a sharp nod. “We have to be careful.”

  “Do you think they recognized us back at the inn?” She moved a hand over her torso. “Should we get other disguises?”

  “No. I think they are still looking for a lady and an earl.” He wiped away the sweat glistening on his forehead. “They would have poured from the inn the second we left if they knew who we were back then.”

  Emma’s fear receded. He was right. She relaxed her stiff shoulders as Lucian urged Juliet forward. “If they check the next inn, that means we cannot stay there,” she said with a frown. Her dream of a hot bath and a soft bed evaporated in an instant.

  “I’m afraid you’re right. We can’t take the chance of them learning who we are.” Once Lucian quit speaking, his head shot up. “Hear that?”

  She turned to the road and cocked an ear. More riders? No,
this sounded like a coach, she thought, watching four black horses come into view. Squinting as the sun glistened on the polished surface, Emma caught sight of the huge gold crest spanning the door.

  Lucian’s quick intake of breath startled her. “You know who that is?”

  “I sure do,” he said, tapping Juliet to get her moving.

  Emma hung on as they raced to the side of the fancy coach, and Lucian called out to the driver. A footman sat on the other side and reached for something in his coat. With her heart beating in her throat, the wheels skidded to a halt. A pistol appeared through the open window, pointing at Lucian’s head. “I suggest you rob another coach,” came a man’s voice from within.

  Holding on to Juliet’s mane, Emma found the driver and a footman, each pointing two pistols at them. She hoped Lucian knew the man well.

  Lucian surprised her with a chuckle. “What’s the matter, Jeremy? Don’t recognize me, yet?”

  The pistol disappeared inside and the door flew open. A beautiful man with dark blond hair appeared and the footman scrambled down to set the iron steps.

  Lucian helped her to the ground and approached the man, who stood there, grinning. “Lucian, whatever are you doing here, dressed like a vagabond? Shouldn’t you be at Hartford?”

  Shaking his head, Lucian said, “Long story. One that I will happily tell if you will allow us a ride.” He glanced around and leaned forward. “We are in a rush, Jeremy. People are after us.”

  As the man’s hazel eyes sharpened, a woman spoke from inside the coach. “Do let them in, Jeremy. We can discuss this in here.”

  When everyone filed inside, and Juliet was tied to the back of the vehicle, Emma sat on the plush velvet cushion and glanced at the pair across from her. The pretty lady gave her a smile, her brown eyes warm and welcoming. The man leaned forward. “Who is this fetching creature, Lucian, and why is she dressed as a boy? What is going on?”

  Emma’s mouth fell open. How did he know she was a girl?

  With a laugh, Lucian introduced her to the Marquess and Marchioness of Fielding. Then he surprised her by telling them everything that had happened. Was Lucian so good of friends with them? He trusted them, and she relaxed against the seat. She would have to trust them, too.

  The marquess turned to her and smiled. “I met your father a few times in London. His donations to the museum are remarkable.” His smile faded. “I was sorry to hear of his passing.”

  Tears clogged her throat, and Emma swallowed. “Thank you, Lord Fielding.”

  He waved a hand, his fingers long and slender. “Call me Jeremy, pet. All my friends do.”

  His wife leaned forward. “And I am Evie,” she said, her lips curving up.

  A warm rush settled in Emma’s chest. Although she had traveled many places with her father and brother, she made no friends. Hunting for lost treasure left little time for social activities. Jonah had been her last true friend.

  Emma glanced down at her dirty hands clenched tight in her lap. Men were after her, and she was placing the marquess and marchioness in danger.

  Lucian leaned over. “What is wrong?” His hand came down over hers. “We are safe now.”

  Shaking her head, Emma squeezed her eyes shut a moment. “Please, stop the coach and let me out.”

  Jeremy snapped his snuffbox shut. “Now, why would we do that, pet?”

  Blinking her tears back, Emma raised her head. “Do you not see? I am putting you in terrible danger.”

  Glancing to his wife and back, Jeremy gave her a slow wink. “We have been in dangerous situations before.”

  Emma shifted on her seat. “These people are dangerous. They killed Jonah.”

  Leaning forward, Jeremy’s gaze turned serious. “And they will pay for that.”

  Heaving a breath, Emma could only nod. There was something in Jeremy’s eyes that told her he knew what he was doing. She leaned her head against the seat and listened to the conversation.

  “What are you doing in Cornwall?” Lucian asked.

  Evie gave a soft laugh. “I always wanted to see Lizard Head.” She expelled a cheery sigh. “Jeremy indulges me.”

  “In all things, my love,” he purred, leaned over, and nuzzled his wife’s neck.

  Emma couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes grew heavy with the gentle sway of the coach, and she decided to give in to a short nap. Perhaps, when they stopped, she would convince them to let her find Renfield alone. Once she reunited with Sean, things would take a turn for the better.

  As she drifted to sleep, she wondered what Sean would think of Lucian?

  Someone shook her awake. Emma opened her eyes and found the coach no longer moving. She straightened and glanced around in the darkness.

  “Emma,” Lucian said, patting her on the shoulder. “We have arrived. Come. A soft bed awaits us tonight.”

  Rubbing her eyes, she unfolded from the corner of the seat and crawled from the coach. Lucian held her arm and helped her down. She glanced up, her breath catching at the sight of the sprawling mansion before her. The near-full moon lit the gray bricks in a silvery glow. “Where are we?”

  “A manor of Lord Bentwood’s. Jeremy had already arranged to stay here on their way back to London, so he says we are welcome to join them. I could not say no.” He flashed her a smile, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “Whitehall and his men will never find us here.”

  She nodded and followed him up the wide steps to where Jeremy and Evie waited for them at the front door.

  Evie took her hand. “Come, Emma. Did you pack any nice clothes?” She grinned. “Or do they all look like that?”

  Emma drew her brows. None of her dresses looked anything like the fancy silk Evie wore. She shifted her feet, wondering how to answer.

  With a chuckle, Evie pulled her toward the stairs. “Never you mind. We are about the same size. After you take a long soak in the bath, I have a dress for you to wear at dinner. It is perfect!”

  A moment of panic seized Emma. She had no idea how to act at a dinner. Most of her meals were wolfed down on the hunt or pouring over clues and maps. Yet, she could not be rude to her new friends.

  They followed the footman up a marble set of steps that split in two directions and took the stairs to the left. Evie had already ordered baths and chirped about how she missed her friends in the month she and Jeremy had been away.

  Stopping at a room, the footman opened the door and bowed to them. Evie pulled her inside as maids rushed to fill the huge copper tub before the fireplace. “I shall find you a maid to assist with your bath and dressing.”

  “No, no, that is not necessary.”

  But Evie had already dashed from the room. Emma didn’t dare touch anything. She looked at the dirt on her hands and the mud crusted on her boots and sighed. When the last maid filled the tub and left, Emma walked to the doors leading outside. From a crack in the curtain, she could see a balcony glistening in the moonlight.

  Opening the door, she slipped out, breathing in the sweet night air. The cool breeze skipped across her skin and she closed her eyes a moment. The smell of roses made her think of Hartford, the only real home she had ever known, and she blew out a breath. Turning, she found the rose trellis, stationed where she could climb to the ground.

  Wrapping her arms around her body, Emma considered what to do. Should she stay and let her new friends help her? Even though that would mean placing them in danger. Or, should she leave, keep her friends and Lucian safe, and find Sean on her own?

  Knowing the maid would appear at any minute, Emma had but seconds to make up her mind.

  Chapter 12

  Lucian paced the blue salon, glancing at the ormolu clock on his fourth rotation around the room. How long did it take to bathe and dress? He rubbed his shaved chin, then took off for the liquor cart.

  “Pour one for me, too, old man,” Jeremy said from the chess table, slender fingers reaching for a silver knight.

  Evie grinned as her gold queen took the knight and she added it to her gr
owing pile of conquered pieces. “Goodness, Jeremy. Your mind is not on the game this evening.”

  “Perhaps, you’re right, my luscious.” He gave her a wolfish glance. “I do have other thoughts running through my head at the moment.”

  With a chuckle, Lucian poured the drinks. Handing Jeremy his cognac, he turned to Evie. “Does it take this long for a lady to dress?” His eyes skipped to the clock.

  “Usually, no,” she said, moving a pawn. “But a lady doesn’t often look like a stable boy, covered in dirt, either.” She frowned when Jeremy took her rook. “I am sure she had to wash her hair. That can take a while.”

  “She could have taken a nap after her bath,” Jeremy pointed out, moving his queen.

  Lucian nodded and sipped his drink. He would give Emma another quarter of an hour before he went upstairs. With a sigh, he sat on the blue and white striped sofa and took another sip from his glass. The fiery liquid warmed his belly and sanded away the sharp edges from his nerves.

  Lifting the snifter to his lips, the door opened and Lucian jerked to his feet, almost dropping his drink. The footman bowed as Emma walked inside, then closed the door with a soft click. Like a fool, Lucian stood there, mouth agape, staring at the vision before him.

  Wearing an emerald green gown with a square-cut neckline and short, cap sleeves, a goddess could not look lovelier. Her shiny auburn hair had been swept up to the back of her head and curled, leaving a few corkscrew wisps to run down each temple. Rice powder covered the line of freckles across her nose, a rosy glow filled her cheeks, and her pink lips glistened from her nervous tongue swipes, as she was doing now. She took his breath away.

  “Oh, it fits perfectly,” Evie said, popping up from the chess table. She moved to Emma, grinning. “That color brings out the green in your eyes. Isn’t she stunning, Jeremy?”

  “Indeed.” He stopped at his wife’s side and lifted Emma’s hand to his lips. “A most stunning creature, to be sure.” Glancing over his shoulder, Jeremy chuckled. “Quit your gaping, old man, and come greet Emma.”