Pretty Poison

by Lynne Barron

  “Now Margaret,” his father grumbled. “Best not to impugn the boy’s kissing talents.”

  “I’m sure he’s a wonderful kisser. He’s your son, after all,” Margaret soothed.

  “Just so,” his father replied.

  “My point is that Emily would only be compromised if she were found out, if she was discovered in your bed, or you were discovered in hers,” she explained.

  “Or if she decides to marry and the poor sap discovers he wasn’t the first upon their wedding night,” Nick pointed out.

  “If she doesn’t marry you, she won’t marry at all.” Margaret’s spoke the soft words as if they were a certainty. “She’ll journey home with a heart full of regrets and a mind full of what ifs. She’ll tell herself she made the right decision, that you would not have loved her, would not have been true. She’ll wrap that rationalization around her shoulders like a warm shawl and throw herself into the raising of her brother and sister and into the running of Charlie’s stables until one day she’ll wake up and realize it’s too late, that she’s a lonely old woman who let a good man slip through her fingers.”

  “Lord above, my lady bird, what a maudlin tale,” his father whispered.

  “So, Nicholas, are you up to the challenge of saving a damsel in distress?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Nick answered softly.

  “If Emily hasn’t been swayed by your kisses or the possibility of Lady Bernice stealing you away, you’ll have to seduce the girl. And you’d better make it good, Nicholas.”

  Nick only stared at Margaret in surprise.

  “What?” she demanded. “Silly young ladies are forever confusing a good rogering for true love. No reason to suspect Emily will be any different.”

  “Just so,” his father agreed with a hearty chuckle. “It’s how I landed you all those years ago!”

  “So you did, love, so you did,” Margaret agreed happily before turning back to the subject at hand. “We’ve a storm blowing in to hear Her Grace tell it. Let’s hope Miss Endicott and Lady Dillon and the others arrive ahead of the snow. With any luck we’ll be house bound for days. Then we’ll see how things shake up.”

  “What others?” Nick asked in alarm. “For Christ’s sake, I can only manage so many ladies on my own.”

  “Which is precisely why I’ve invited the rest.”

  “Who’s coming, dove?” Viscount Talbot asked.

  “Lady Dillon’s brother, James Kildare. He was born on the wrong side, but they are quite devoted to one another. He’s a solicitor, just beginning to make a name for himself. He has no fortune, but as Lord Kildare’s acknowledged son all doors are open to him.”

  “Poor bastard,” his father replied with a hearty laugh.

  Nicholas chuckled at the obvious joke so typical of his dear old dad.

  Margaret patted her love on his cheek before saying, “We’ll see if the Nasty Baggage can resist Mr. Kildare.”

  Nicholas sighed at the mere possibility that Veronica might turn her cold eyes toward the unsuspecting solicitor

  “And Mr. Endicott, Mary Endicott’s father,” Margaret continued. “He’s a widower, the second son of the Earl of Shrewsbury. He’s a young man still. Just past forty I think, and a fine specimen of scholarly masculinity. A gentleman and a gentle man.”

  “For Miss Davis,” his father explained. “She’s such a happy sweet girl, that one. She needs a kind man to have a care of her.”

  “Precisely. And just to muddy the waters, I’ve invited Lord Jamison and his cousins.”

  “Jamison?” Nick laughed at her audacity. “And the Parker brothers? Oh, this should be interesting.”

  “I like Parker One, and I can tolerate Two. Those two young bucks are exactly what this party has been lacking.”

  “And Jamison?” Nick asked. “Is Lady Bernice aware you’ve invited him?”

  “She’ll know soon enough,” Margaret replied. “If the lady is as smart as I think she is, she’ll keep her gaze firmly on you and give Jamison something to think about.”

  “And you expect me to somehow seduce Emily in a house full of snow-bound people?”

  “Did I forget to mention the connecting door?” she asked with a sly grin. “Your bed chamber and Emily’s were once a suite of rooms. They’re still connected through the dressing rooms. I’ve only to unlock the door between them.”

  “Thinks of everything, my pretty porcupine does,” his father said.

  “So she does,” Nicholas agreed.

  Margaret smiled at him before turning to the Viscount. “Andy, my darling, I must have a word with Nicholas alone.”

  “Of course, precious one.”

  Margaret waited until Viscount Talbot had closed the door behind him. “Before we go any further, there is one other thing I must tell you.”

  “This sounds ominous.”

  “Oh, it is. Should you be successful in winning my niece’s hand, you will remain faithful to her for all the days of your life.”

  “Of course,” Nick agreed without hesitation.

  Margaret continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “If you think there is even the remotest possibility that you will be unable cleave only unto Emily, say so now and I will send out letters far and wide to every heiress in the country, and the continent as well, and spend every last shilling I possess to provide you with a ballroom fool of potential brides to choose from.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I have always intended to be a faithful husband.”

  “I never thought otherwise,” she replied. “But understand this, if you ever take another woman to your bed, if you shame and humiliate Emily in that fashion even once, Nicholas Edward Avery, I will slice off your bollocks with a rusty knife and toss them into the Thames.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emily stepped out onto the porch that fronted Margaret’s stately country house to watch the first flurry of snowflakes drift from the gray sky. She’d seen the two carriages and three men on horseback from the window of her father’s bedchamber. They should be rounding the bend in the drive any minute now, making their way to the gray, stone manor house. And just in the nick of time, too. If the Duchess of Martindale was correct in her predictions, they were in for a doozy of a snow storm.

  She was curious to see the additional ladies who were to join their group, even more curious to see how on earth her aunt intended for Nicholas to entertain them all. He was having the devil’s own time as it was, what with Bernice following him around like a calf to water and Veronica lying in wait for him around every corner.

  Yet, for all Emily had admonished him to quit following her around snatching kisses, he’d still found time to pull her into closets and dark corners, to ravish her mouth, to caress her breasts through muslin and silk.

  She’d been thinking that perhaps she should just give in and marry the man. While the image of him wed to Veronica Ogilvie was a bitter pill, the idea of him wed to Bernice was even harder to swallow.

  Not that Lady Bernice would not make Nicholas a fine wife. She would. She was beautiful and intelligent, warm and vivacious. They would make an ideal match and likely live happily together, producing big strapping sons and beautiful buxom daughters.

  But Emily was finding that she was a mean-spirited lady when it came right down to it. Emily did not want Nicholas to be happy. Not with any other lady, at least. She did not want him siring children with any lady but her. Emily did not want him whisking any other lady behind trees or hedges, did not want him pushing any other lady up against closed doors, did not want his great big warm hands on any other lady’s waist, bottom, or breasts.

  Emily was coming to realize that she very much wanted the man for herself. Might she take her chances with him? Entrust her heart into his hands for safe-keeping? Trust that he would care for her and respect her enough to remain true to her?

  And scariest of all, could she bear to share her darkest secret with him? Could she risk telling him of her fall into a pretty blue bottle?

  Th
e first guests appeared on the drive. Three men on horseback, all bundled up against the biting cold wind in tall hats and long, dark great coats.

  The door behind her opened and Lady Bernice appeared at her side, a soft lavender shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “I don’t believe it.

  “Is something amiss?” Emily turned to find her staring at the riders.

  “What could she have been thinking?”

  “Oh, no,” Emily murmured as she watched every last drop of color disappear from Bernice’s face. “Is one of these gentlemen Lord Jamison?”

  “The tall one in the lead.”

  Emily studied the man as he jumped from his horse, handed the reins to a stable boy and started toward them. He was tall and lean with a ruddy complexion and eyes so dark they appeared black. He whipped off his hat, rapped it against his leg, and she saw that his hair was black with a dusting of silver at the temples and cut short to hug his head.

  “Lady Bernice,” he murmured with a sardonic lift of his lips. “What a surprise.”

  “Lord Jamison, I had no idea you would be joining us,” Bernice replied, her voice so unnaturally cold and clipped that Emily glanced at her in surprise.

  Jamison’s eyes flicked over the lady before coming to land on Emily. He lifted one dark brow in question, that twist of his lips firmly in place.

  “Miss Calvert, allow me to introduce Baron Jamison.” Bernice made the introductions in the same cool tone. “And those two ruffians are his cousins, Parker One and Parker Two.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Emily replied with a small curtsy. The two Parkers were as dark as their cousin, with the same chocolate brown eyes, but none of the cynicism that lurked around his mouth.

  “Lady Bernice,” the Parkers chorused. “Miss Calvert.”

  “They’re twins,” Bernice said unnecessarily. “Don’t bother trying to tell them apart. They’ll only play games with you as soon as you think you’ve figured it out. My advice to you, Em, is to steer clear of the lot of them.”

  “I’ll second that,” Nicholas said as he stepped to Emily’s side, laying a proprietary hand on the small of her back. “Jamison. One, Two.”

  Three pairs of dark eyes followed the movement of Nicholas’s hand before rising to his face. Emily looked up to find him staring down at the three gentlemen with a warning look in his eyes. Without thought, she took one small step nearer to him, one tiny shuffle of her feet that put her flush against his side, forcing his arm farther about her back until it was around her, his hand hard and heavy on her waist.

  Lord Jamison’s lips tipped up in what was almost a smile.

  Parker One, at least she thought it was One, winked at her.

  The carriages arrived, spilling ladies and gentlemen onto the lawn, as Margaret and Viscount Talbot came from the house to greet the newcomers.

  “I didn’t realize we had so many people joining us,” Lucinda Davis whispered when she joined Emily on the long settee in the front parlor some thirty minutes later.

  “Neither did I.” Emily watched Margaret making introductions for those who did not already know one another. Her aunt had kept Emily in the hall with her as everyone had filed in, introducing her to the Lady Dillon, Lord Kildare and the Endicotts.

  “Miss Endicott is a lovely girl,” Lucinda murmured as they both watched the vivacious girl, really she could not be a day over eighteen, flit about the room laughing and chatting with all the guests. She stood out like a wildflower in a rose garden with her long ebony curls and her flashing hazel eyes.

  “Lady Dillon seems a bit lost,” Lucinda continued. “She’s a widow, poor thing. She lost her husband last year to some sort of fever. He left her with a child on the way, a boy, thankfully.”

  “Why is she here?” Emily asked. “She’s not in need of Nicholas’ title.”

  “I don’t know,” Lucinda replied. “Perhaps she needs a husband to keep her grasping in-laws from stealing her inheritance right out from under her. Already her mother-in-law is trying to have the boy placed in her care, and the fortune that goes with the poor babe.”

  “Surely her brother will help her,” Emily protested. Mr. Kildare seemed very careful of his sister as he wrapped a shawl around her narrow shoulders. They were a handsome pair, with nearly identical chestnut brown hair and warm brown eyes.

  “A powerful husband will help more,” Lucinda replied.

  “Mr. Endicott’s an attractive man,” Emily pointed out.

  “Oh, yes,” Lucinda agreed. “I’ve met him a number of times in London, at the museum most often. We share a fascination for Greek statuary.”

  “Do you?” Emily asked with a smile.

  “Don’t make it into something it’s not, Emily. He looks at me quite as a father would, I’m sure.”

  “He’s not your father.”

  “No, but really I’m only a few years older than his daughter.”

  “I’m off to find a spot of warmth,” Emily said as the gentleman in question made his way toward them.

  She rose and wandered around the room until she came to stand before Bernice and Nicholas who were whispering by the fire. “What are you two in cahoots about?”

  “We’re just discussing what an awkward position your aunt has placed us in,” Bernice replied with a forced smile and a shake of her head.

  “Inviting Lord Jamison, you mean?” Emily asked, her eyes on Nicholas and the frown on his face.

  “I chased the man for so long it’s bound to come as something of a shock when he realizes I have set my cap elsewhere,” Bernice said with an elegant toss of her head.

  Nicholas winced at her words, shot Emily a rueful look.

  “Yes, I see how that might be awkward,” Emily agreed.

  “The man’s had years to offer for me if he wanted me.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m nearly twenty-three, practically on the shelf.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Emily replied on a huff of laughter.

  “All the years I wasted. For what? He was never even remotely interested in me.”

  “You know that’s not entirely true,” Nicholas argued.

  “Oh, what? So he paid me a bit of attention my first year out. It came to nothing. Just as all the years since have come to nothing.”

  “If you are truly ready to give up on him, perhaps you should go over and speak with Mr. Kildare,” Emily suggested. “He’s a handsome man in need of your fortune.”

  “Why should I do that?” Bernice asked.

  “Draping yourself over Nicholas won’t get you over Jamison. You can’t marry him. If on the other hand you intend to keep trying to win the man, by all means, you can borrow Nicholas to make him jealous. Just be sure you return him unharmed when you are finished with him.”

  “Why can’t I marry Nicholas?” Bernice asked.

  “Return me?” Nicholas asked.

  “Oh give over already, Bernice,” Emily said with a smile. “You know perfectly well you never wanted him, you only latched onto him to spite Ronnie O.”

  “To spite—” Nicholas began.

  “Perhaps, but we’d make a good match,” Bernice replied, her voice rising in agitation. “And it would serve Jamison right to have to see me with Nick for the rest of his miserable life.”

  “And who’d be more miserable?” Emily asked. “Jamison seeing you every time he came to visit his friend, or you seeing him?”

  “Nick could make me forget him,” Bernice insisted desperately.

  “To be sure, if any man could, it would be my Nicholas,” Emily agreed.

  “Your Nicholas?” he asked.

  “You said you didn’t want him,” Bernice pointed out.

  “That was before,” Emily replied with a negligent wave of her hand.

  “Before what?” Bernice and Nicholas asked as one.

  “Before I realized that I’d have to step in and save the poor man from the lot of you.”

  “In that case I think I will go over and make eyes at Mr. Kilda
re.” And off she flounced, red ringlets bouncing as she made her way to the handsome solicitor.

  “Emily?” Nicholas whispered and there was an odd light in his eyes. Hope, maybe.

  “Don’t go calling the banns, Nicholas,” she warned, stepping forward so that she was close enough to feel his heat, close enough to lay one hand on his coat lapel, to straighten an already perfect seam. “I’m only allowing that mayhap I ought to permit you to begin courting me.”

  “To begin courting you?” he repeated, his beautiful mouth tipping up into the boyish smile she loved so well. “Just what do you think I’ve been doing the last week?”

  “Oh, is that what you’ve been about, pulling me into every dark corner in this great mausoleum? Courting me?”

  “Emily, love,” he murmured.

  “You’ll have to do better than that to win me, Mr. Avery. I’ve a fortune and a treasure trove of useless knowledge to bestow upon you. What are you offering to make this a fair trade?”

  “A fair trade?” he asked around a bark of laughter.

  “Just so. How am I to praise you if I don’t know what talents you bring to market?”

  “You’ve a saucy mouth on you, Emily Ann Calvert.”

  “You like my saucy mouth, Nicholas Avery,” she purred.

  “Ah, what you do to me, Em,” he replied on a groan.

  “It’s the same for me,” she whispered as heat raced through her blood from the fierce look of desire on his face that he did not attempt to hide from her.

  “Enough of that,” Margaret admonished as she joined them, giving Nicholas a gentle shove that had him stepping back. It was only then that Emily realized how close they’d been standing, how near his lips had been to hers, how she’d been wishing he would kiss her right there in the crowded front parlor. “The two of you are likely to start a fire over here.”

  “Your niece is going to marry me,” Nicholas stated, his gaze fixed on Emily.

  “Is that so?” Margaret asked with a sly grin.

  “I didn’t say that,” Emily replied quickly. “I only said I’ll consider it.”

  “Oh, you’ll marry me, Emily,” he replied, his voice dark and throaty, sinful.