Exasperated and shivering from the cold, she sat back on her heels and sighed. She hated to admit it, but the dog had been outwitting her at every turn. "Nigel, dear." She took off her gloves, reaching out her hand. "Give Emily the book."
The dog lifted its wet nose and gave a disagreeable howl. Before Emily could stand, the book was clamped between a large set of teeth, and Nigel quickly disappeared around an old oak.
"Odious beast!"
She threw her hands to her hips, stared up at the sky, and frowned. The warmth of the afternoon sun seemed to come and go, as if it had devised a similar plan with Nigel, taunting her with promises of comfort, then turning on her, changing from hot to cold in mere seconds.
Another chill snaked through her as she dropped her gaze to her wet gown. She fisted her hands in rage. She had bested some of the smartest men in France, and no mere dog was going to make a cake of her. Short of shooting the creature or calling his master for help, she realized that following the abominable canine was her only recourse. But the wretched beast was becoming more annoying than all her brothers put together.
"Dash it, Nigel. I won't hurt you. All I wish is my book." To Emily's surprise, the dog dropped the book and wagged its tail, as if consenting to her plea. Triumph at last. She leaned forward, her slim fingers grazing the cover of the book with the ease of a Captain Sharp at his best game of whist. But before she knew it, a huge ball of brown fur tumbled toward her, shoving her onto her back. The damp ground reached up to meet her. Next thing she knew, the dog swiped the book into his mouth and ran. "Nigel, you come back here this instant!"
Emily jerked upright and stomped her foot as the beast turned the corner of the garden and bounded into the fields. Her eyes narrowed on her enemy. This was no longer a game, this was war. She picked up the pace, striding across the grassy pastures where Nigel had fled. Glancing over her shoulders, she dismissed the overcast sky. Hemmingly Hall, its cozy façade of evergreens stretched at least a quarter mile behind her.
"Nigel, you wretched creature! Give me that book!"
The dog stopped and turned to stare at her. There seemed to be a faint glimmer of humor exuding from those two brown eyes that set Emily's nerves on edge. "Enough of these games, you odious dog. I know what you're up to, and it won't work."
With the book still in its mouth, Nigel gave a whine and made his way toward Hemmingly's overgrown maze ten yards away.
Emily gasped in outrage. "Don't you dare go in there, you beast." The dog defiantly backed up into the maze.
However, Emily refused to be goaded. The maze was said to be the place of Agatha's first kiss with her one and only true love. But since the man's death at the Battle of Trafalgar, no care had been taken to keep up the grounds. Jane had made a point of telling Emily more than once never to enter the overgrown web of vines and trees lest she become lost.
Emily glared at Nigel's mischievous expression. Though many a day curiosity had begged her to investigate the mysterious maze, now was certainly not the time to do so.
"Nigel, I forbid you to go in there with my book!"
Her warning seemed to fall on deaf ears. For as soon as she took another step, the dog spun around and padded into the maze with the bravado of a young bullfighter.
"Nigel!" She hurried forward and ducked her head beyond the tunneled opening into a nest of gnarled vines and overgrown evergreens. Her heart thudded with unease. Nothing.
"Nigel, come here immediately."
A chilling silence filled the air as she waited for an answer. But seconds turned to minutes as the sky thundered above her, bursting forth with a bone-chilling rain. She hesitantly inched forward onto the matted path, the cold droplets falling against her back. Guilt immediately burnt any traces of anger in her veins.
"Nigel, sweeting. Can you hear me?"
A strong wind rustled eerily through the trees, and a small whimper of pain reached her ears. Emily halted. Fear for the dog soon replaced any apprehension for her book. She swallowed and moved forward, her gown snagging on the tangled vines.
"Nigel, sweeting, are you hurt?" Another whimper. "Keep calm, Nigel. Emily will save you." She bit her lip, fought back a wave of hot tears, and hastened forward. Dear heaven, let the poor thing be safe. If anything happened to Nigel because of her, she would never forgive herself.
Chapter Four
"I tell you, Jared, I am more than worried." Agatha sank her plump body into the sofa of Hemmingly's drawing room, letting out a troubled frown. "That sweet girl has not been seen all afternoon."
Jared threw a booted foot onto the hearth, shoving a hand into the pocket of his coat, trying to ignore the alarm that rippled through him. "When did you see her last?"
Agatha rested her parasol against her gown, wincing as a clap of thunder hit the room. "Not since she came home from the vicarage with Jane."
"Jane is with her, then?"
"No, Jane went directly to her room with a headache." Agatha sniffed and pulled out a handkerchief. "This is not like Emily, not like her at all."
Jared placed his hands across the fire and let out a deep sigh. The thought that he might have been the cause of Emily's disappearance made him ill. Still, there was the possibility that the raven-haired beauty had left the grounds of Hemmingly with one of her suitors, escaping the notice of his aides. The very idea made Jared furious.
Were his aides watching the roads in the village, or had they left their posts?
With a grimace, Jared tilted his head toward the window, watching as an eerie blanket of leaden gray rolled across the sky. He shifted his gaze back to Agatha's wary face and frowned. His mind frantically went over the places Emily could be.
"Jared? What have you done?"
His head snapped up. "Nothing." Nothing but break a poor girl's heart.
"Oh ho, do not lie to me. You look like you just poked your finger in Cook's plum pudding."
Jared avoided Agatha's intense gaze and picked up a crystal decanter on the nearby table, pouring himself a small brandy.
Could Emily have slipped through the woods? A meeting perhaps? The notion of a rendezvous with Emily and some stranger suddenly began to gain momentum in his mind like a carriage careening out of control.
Were Roderick's assumptions correct? Could that Fennington fellow have had the audacity to follow Emily to Hemmingly and whisk her away to Gretna Green under his very nose?
Jared's grip on his glass tightened. If that were the case, he would find the couple and shackle Emily to her chambers, then proceed to thrash Fennington and every one of his aides who left their post.
"Jared, are you listening to me at all?"
"Indeed. I intend to look for her, Agatha. But I am not setting out on a wild-goose chase either."
"Goodness, do you think she was abducted?"
The disturbing thought of Monsieur Devereaux came to mind, and Jared's blood froze. Devil take it, he could no longer wait for his people to report to him. He had to go search for Emily himself.
"Has Lady Emily been seeing anybody?" he asked in a sharper voice than intended. "In the years I was not here, perhaps."
Agatha's head shot up in outrage. "Gracious, how can you dare suggest such a vile thing?"
"I am not suggesting," he said in a calmer tone. "I am merely pointing out the fact that there may be other reasons she is not here."
"I tell you, this is not like Emily." Agatha's bottom lip trembled, and sweat began to bead along her brow. "And do you know, last week the groom told me a wolf has been hunting the grounds near the village?"
Worry for Agatha's health made Jared hesitate to leave. "There are no wolves in this vicinity, Agatha. I assure you."
Her eyes blinked back tears. "You have no idea if our poor Emily is lost or perhaps even trapped by some ferocious animal." Agatha paused, her face stiffening with dread. "Good heavens, you don't suppose she ventured into that wretched maze?"
Jared's mind jerked at the thought of Emily ensnared in the tangled vines and he felt a
sinking dread. "The very devil, Agatha. That stupid maze should have been done with long ago."
Watery eyes stared back at him in horror. "What if that wolf..." Agatha's words drifted into nothingness as she blinked again, putting a hand to her ample breasts.
"There is no wolf," he repeated, even though Devereaux and Fennington instantly came to mind.
"Do you really think so? Emily has always adored her walks about Hemmingly."
Jared lifted his aunt's trembling hand and kissed it. "I will find her, never fear." He brought Agatha a glass of brandy and told her to drink it. "But you must promise me, you won't worry. Trust me on this. You of all people know who I am."
She gave him a reluctant smile. "I know I'm acting like a wretched old ninny, worrying about her." She tried to laugh. "Of course, there is always Gretna Green. She does have a large dowry, you know."
Jared hid his grimace as thunder clapped overhead. He brushed his knuckles against his aunt's cool cheek.
"I'm certain Lady Emily has taken shelter somewhere. She is not an idiot."
And for her sake, she best not have run off with that Fennington fellow, because if she dared to do so under Jared's protection, it would be more than Roderick's wrath she would be facing, it would be his, and the lady would not be able to sit for a week. Zeus! Not that he would ever strike a lady!
Shaking his head at the turbulent emotions swirling in his brain, Jared strode toward the hallway, his Hessian boots brushing briskly against the rug. He flattened his lips, sounding a shrill whistle for Nigel.
The dog immediately appeared beside him.
He shot a quick glance toward his aunt falling back against the sofa cushions. A tight knot twisted in his gut. Perhaps something had happened to Emily. Perhaps she had fled because of him. He had been the cause of her pain once before. He would never forgive himself if he were the cause of her pain again.
Emily was most truly and decidedly lost. Her slippers crunched against the muddy pathway as the boom of thunder rumbled in her ears. The eerie whistle of the wind and the spattering of rain were ceaseless.
How long had she been in this absurd maze? Two hours? Three? She had lost all track of time since she had heard Nigel's whimpers. Yet the dog was nowhere to be found. She imagined the worst, thinking Nigel hurt and bleeding, gasping for his last breath, all because she had forced him into the maze.
She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest and sought temporary shelter under a nest of gnarled evergreens. A sliver of sunlight peeked through the slits of the vine-covered roof above her. A mouse scurried across her feet, and she closed her eyes, allowing a shaky, but half-amused breath. She fought to hold herself upright, but her knees began to wobble.
She wondered if anyone knew she had left the house.
For once she could almost agree with her brothers, she needed a protector. Her impulsiveness always seemed to earn her more trouble than she bargained for. Was not the scar on her back evidence enough?
However, secretly working for Whitehall was something she never regretted. As Silver Fox, when she had gained access to a confidential missive from a double agent giving away the location of Black Wolf, she had realized how important her position in the agency had been.
Though she had escaped that night with the missive hidden in her cloak, she would never be able to forget the ball burning into her flesh. The old wound was a ghastly reminder of how close she had come to death that day, and she was determined that a tiresome maze was not going to best her either.
She began to feel her feet going numb and wiggled her toes. She should have worn her boots, but she had no idea she would be chasing a monstrous dog all afternoon. Moreover, her light muslin gown did little to offer her protection against the freezing cold clawing into her bones.
"Nigel?" she called for the hundredth time. "Nigel, sweeting, please answer me." Nothing but the rustle of the trees and the shifting vines.
Fat, cool raindrops plopped onto her nose, breaking through her brief sanctuary. Her lips quivered. Surely she had been in worse scrapes before, had she not?
She stepped deeper into the trees as the rain continued to hammer against the maze. Branches scratched her back and she squirmed into another position, falling into a crouched pose, trying to decide which trail would lead her back to Hemmingly.
"Nigel?" she whispered, feeling miserable. "Where are you, boy?"
The sound of treaded earth met her ears. Her heart banged against her chest. "Nigel?"
"Lady Emily."
Jared? The baritone voice slammed into Emily's senses like a ball of ice, shocking her. Before she could do more than turn around, a powerful hand pulled her to her feet, and she found herself gazing into a pair of cool amber eyes.
"What the devil are you doing here by yourself?" he asked harshly.
She blinked. What was she doing there?
With a muttered oath, he whipped off his dark cloak and placed it about her shoulders, not waiting for an answer. She shivered at his touch, pressing her lips together in both anger and relief.
He towered over her like some Viking king. Biscuit-colored breeches clung to muscular thighs, and with a pair of tanned hands resting on his tapered hips, he appeared more menacing than Roderick when he’d found Mr. Fennington in her bedchambers.
She swallowed, tightening her hold on the cloak. "Th-thank you."
"You're cold." He leaned over, his hand innocently brushing her cheek as he fastened the clip about her throat while mumbling something about infernal gowns.
His warm breath whispered along her neck, and Emily wanted to fall into his safe embrace, seeking the comfort she remembered so vividly. She wanted to ask him why he had left her, why he had broken her heart, but the iciness in his voice brought her back to earth.
"Traipsing into this maze was a stupid thing to do, madam."
Emily knew he was right. It was stupid. But she refused to let him make her feel like a fool again. "Your dog was the one who led me here," she countered back.
His cool, assessing gaze cautioned her not to say another word. "My dog, madam, is the one who found you."
Her eyes widened in doubt. "Nigel?"
The culprit gave a sudden bark, and Emily flinched.
Nigel appeared around the corner, his chocolate brown eyes ogling her as if daring her to dismiss his heroic actions of coming to her aid. She narrowed her gaze on the traitor. The beast! He was wagging that innocent brown tail, looking as sinless as an angel from heaven. It was insufferable!
"Agatha is beside herself," Jared said abruptly. "It would behoove you to take care next time you decide to venture on a little escapade like this again. She does not need a simpering miss to cause her a bout of apoplexy."
Emily raised her chin. Agatha was about the most robust lady she knew in all of England. Apoplexy indeed.
"Forgive me, my lord. How careless of me to put you out. You, of course, have much better things to do than search for such an ungrateful busybody as me."
To her astonishment, his lips curled into a beguiling smile, sending more warmth to Emily's bones than the borrowed cloak. "Independent little piece of baggage, aren't you? What happened while I was gone?"
"You happened," she said, not able to keep back the pain in her voice. His eyes darkened dangerously, but feeling like she did now, she had no patience left with either him or Nigel.
"You left me, sir. You lied to me. Ha. You must have thought me such an addlepated miss to have fallen for the oldest ploy in the world. You led an innocent young girl on a fool's errand and had a good laugh, did you not?"
His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine. Why, she had no idea.
Without warning, he grabbed hold of her shoulders and scowled. "I did not laugh."
A jolt of awareness shot straight to her heart.
"Nevertheless," she looked at his hands, then back to the hard lines bracketing his lips, her face trying to mask the tumultuous emotions swirling in her soul. "Y-y
ou, sir, are no gentleman."
He released her then, and for an instant, his eyes studied her, and she thought for a bizarre moment that the man was going to kiss her. Impossible. The cold must have seeped into her brain, because for a moment, she wanted to kiss him back.
Without another word, he took hold of her elbow and escorted her swiftly through the maze, with the treacherous Nigel leading the way.
Chapter Five
Where was that dratted book? The previous evening Emily had seen Nigel sniffing about the drawing room, and that was exactly where she found herself this morning. She was lifting pillows from the sofa, yanking curtains from their holdbacks, and hoisting skirts from the wing chairs.
Sleep had not come easy for her. Her back ached, and Jared's looming presence at Hemmingly unnerved her to no end. But she would die before she let him know how much that book meant to her.
For a long time she had told herself that Felicia Fairlow had coerced him into the marriage. Yet when there were no letters from him those first few weeks, she began to wonder. And when she visited Hemmingly and met Jane, only to discover that Jared had kept his guardianship of Jane a secret to her, did she begin to believe that he could be capable of deceit.
The light tap of footsteps jerked Emily from her crawling position. She abruptly rose and turned to peer out the window, acting as if nothing were wrong.
Jane strode into the room, her blond hair curling daintily around a heart-shaped face, her concerned gaze focusing on Emily. "Morning, dear. We missed you at breakfast. Are you feeling better?"
Emily smiled warmly. Jane was one of her dearest friends. "Good morning, and yes, I am feeling much better, thank you."
They talked of their trip to the vicarage and how Emily got lost in the maze. Emily laughed and made light of the situation, purposely avoiding any comments about Jane's arrogant guardian and his odious dog. Eventually, Jane pulled out her needlepoint and took a seat by the hearth while Emily began to write a letter to her mother. After a few minutes Emily casually asked Jane if she had seen her book anywhere.
The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks) Page 6