by Julia Byrne
He’d been up here before, of course, first when he was hunting for the cause of the unpleasant odor wafting through the house, and again after Monsieur Maurice had shown an interest in the place. A search of the smaller rooms had not only turned up the dead rat left by Jenkins, but also convinced him that no papers or files were hidden in the servants’ quarters.
However, he hadn’t yet made an extensive search of the two large front rooms that Emily wanted him to clear of junk.
Luke opened the first door he came to and walked into the room. His path was immediately blocked by an old couch, the stuffing of which was exploding energetically from a tear along the seat. A quick examination told him that the tear had been caused by extreme old age, not by someone wishing to hide something.
He straightened and surveyed his surroundings. Light from the two windows overlooking the street fell on a small mountain of trunks and portmanteaux to his right. Various boxes were stacked against the wall to his left. What looked like several decades’ worth of discarded furniture and household items littered the remainder of the floor. He couldn’t even see the lower half of the far wall from where he was standing. It would take him a week to search the place.
And the entire exercise would likely prove useless. Hiding places abounded, but the servants were the only members of the household with a reason to be on this floor during the day. A night-time foray was also unlikely since the room was directly above Emily’s bedchamber. It would be impossible to move about silently even without the risk of colliding with something. He could just imagine the furore that would ensue if that mountain of portmanteaux collapsed.
However, the place still needed to be searched. He might be convinced of Emily’s innocence—despite all the evidence to the contrary, every suspicious action on her part had a perfectly innocuous explanation, from her compassion for the divorced mother, leading to her midnight visits, to her solitary walks along the beach. She had even spoken with unaffected humor about the state of her bank account when they’d shared a brandy that first night. But it would take more than that to convince Gibbs.
It all came down to who had access to the information used by the blackmailer and where those papers were hidden. If it wasn’t Emily, it had to be someone close to her or who had regular access to the house. He still didn’t see how anyone from outside could have found the files in the first place, but, regardless, he would have to continue the search. And that included a visit to Quadling’s and Maurice’s lodgings.
He was just contemplating the benefits of remaining at the school for another week or so, when he heard a footfall on the stairs. He turned toward the doorway.
Charlotte Haymes pushed the door wide. Her face was set in stern lines, but at sight of him her eyes widened.
“Oh, it’s you, Lucas. I heard someone up here but assumed it was one of the girls. They’re not allowed on this floor.”
“Sorry if I startled you, Miss Haymes,” he said. “Since I had a free hour I thought I’d make sure there isn’t a rat’s nest up here. We don’t want any more nasty odors, do we.”
“No,” she murmured. “I hope you haven’t found a nest.”
“Not yet,” he said, studying her. She had relaxed a little at his explanation, but was still stony-faced. “But it’s hard to search with all this junk around. Miss Proudfoot wants me to clear it out.”
“Oh? She didn’t mention it to me.”
Luke raised his brows as if to ask why Emily would mention any order she gave him.
Charlotte’s lips compressed. “However, that is neither here nor there. I am very glad to hear we are free of rats.”
“So far,” he said. “But they’re cunning little beggars, aren’t they.”
“Indeed. I shall speak to Mrs. Starling about getting a cat. That should solve the problem.” She indicated the door. “In the meantime, I believe Miss Proudfoot requires your attendance in the hall.”
“Why? Is Harbury getting out of hand again?”
Charlotte’s expression congealed. “Mr. Harbury,” she replied in frigid accents, “is a gentleman. I do not expect you to understand what that means, Lucas, but you will kindly remember that he is above your criticism.”
Luke smothered a grin and motioned to Charlotte to precede him from the room. She maintained a frozen silence all the way down to the ground floor, which suited him perfectly. He was too busy marvelling that she and Emily were such good friends to bother with further conversation.
*
That evening Emily sat curled up on one of the drawing room chairs, listening to Tibby play the piano. When the piece came to an end, her erstwhile governess sighed and reluctantly closed the piano lid.
“That was lovely, Tibby. You don’t have to stop. I know how much you enjoy playing.”
Tibby turned around on her stool. “I’m grateful to have the opportunity, Emily dear, but it’s getting late. There’s always tomorrow.”
Emily smiled. “There is indeed. I’m so glad we bought the piano. Do you remember the time in Spain when we gathered every piece of paper we could find, glued them together and drew a full-sized keyboard on them? I’m sure the landlady thought we were quite insane when we pretended to play while humming the music.”
“We could hardly drag a piano around the Continent,” Tibby said. “And it was one way of teaching you your notes.”
“What about the girls? Do they show any promise?”
Tibby nodded. “Priscilla Harbury plays exceptionally well. She has real talent, but I doubt Mr. Harbury would allow her to take to the stage.”
“I agree, even for something as unobjectionable as a piano recital.” Emily sat bolt upright as a sudden notion occurred to her. “Perhaps I should tell him about Mama treading the boards. That might discourage his advances. Then again—” she sank back “—he would probably remove Priscilla from the school and spread the word among the other parents.”
“I think you might be too sensitive about your mother’s profession, Emily, dearest. I know your grandparents told you, quite unkindly in my opinion, that you could only expect an offer of marriage if they provided you with a large dowry which they had no intention of doing. But not every gentleman is so cold-blooded. When you meet a man who falls in love with you, he won’t care that your Mama was an actress, or think it reflects badly on you.”
“You speak as if I can still expect to meet such a man, Tibby. But since I haven’t in all our years of travelling, I doubt he’s out there anywhere.”
Tibby rose and walked to the door. “You never know, dear. He might be closer to home than you think.”
“What on earth do you mean by that? Tibby, I hope you’re not referring to Harbury, because I can assure you—”
“Good heavens, no! That wouldn’t do in the least. Now, don’t worry about a thing, dearest. I’m sure everything will turn out for the best. Good night.”
Emily stared after her former governess in astonishment. Surely Tibby didn’t mean Lucas! Impossible. It was more likely she was referring to Rupert Quadling or Monsieur Maurice, both of whom had attended the afternoon tea. They were, after all, closer to her in station. Not that she cared about that, but it was more than could be said for a former soldier who had done nothing except this and that since leaving the army. Why, there was no guarantee that Lucas would even stay around longer than a few weeks.
But perhaps that was because he’d never found a reason to stay anywhere.
Emily huffed out a breath and got to her feet. She went around the room, snuffing out candles before opening the drapes and letting the light from a three-quarter moon throw a silver path across the carpet. Then she sat down on the windowseat and gazed out at the moonlit street.
She didn’t want to go up to bed just yet. For one thing, she had a sneaking suspicion that Charlotte was waiting to talk to her again. For another—she needed to think about Lucas. In particular, she needed to think about the fact that she’d been enjoying her skirmishes with him and responding to his touch
in a way she’d never imagined she would respond to any man, without stopping to think about where their encounters were leading her. Or if she was leading him to believe he could make improper advances to her. Like that kiss this morning.
Of course, it had been a rather chaste kiss, so perhaps it was merely the impulse of the moment.
Then again, the look in Lucas’s eyes afterwards had not been chaste at all.
Emily shivered as a delicate little frisson of sensation rippled through her. It wasn’t the first time her nerves had made themselves felt today. Since her dawn encounter with Lucas they had resumed quivering in expectation every time he was in the vicinity. Thank goodness the afternoon tea had kept her busy.
And thank goodness Lucas had behaved himself. He’d even ushered Harbury out of the house without tossing him onto the street, although Harbury had been pontificating on the standards expected of a butler at the time.
She grinned suddenly at the memory of Harbury standing on the footpath, hat in hand, blinking in surprise when he’d realized he was no longer inside the house. Priscilla, who had been standing in the hall, waiting for her father to wind down, had possessed the presence of mind to dart out of the house, seize Harbury by the arm, and lead him home.
Lucas had played the part of a well-trained butler to perfection. In fact, dressed in his respectable clothes, he looked more like a professional man-of-business than a disreputable man-of-all-work. She had been so pleased by the success of the afternoon that, after supper, she’d helped the girls push some of the chairs out of the way so they could practise their dancing while Tibby played the piano for them. And because the numbers were uneven, she had joined in so everyone was partnered. It had been fun.
Smiling to herself, Emily rose and held out her arms to an imaginary partner. She loved to dance, loved being caught up in the rhythm of the music, the movement, the graceful steps.
Unfortunately, having refused her grandparents’ grudging offer of a Season in favor of opening her school, she had closed off any opportunity to dance. But in the quiet privacy of a moonlit night, she could pretend she was at a ball.
Humming softly, she began a gentle waltz around the drawing room. As she passed the doorway a shadow moved silently into the room. Without a word, Lucas pushed the door closed, turned her into his arms and waltzed with her. Emily’s steps didn’t even falter. It was like this morning, she thought, enchanted. A moment of magic while time stood still. Lucas’s hand was warm and firm at her back, his other hand clasped hers, not out to the side as was the custom, but tucked against his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart through the shirt he wore.
When they reached the window again, he stopped in the moonlight, but held her still, his gaze on her face.
“What is it about you?” he asked very low. “That makes me want to be with you, just to talk to you, to touch your hand, to see you smile.”
“Was I smiling?” she whispered, afraid to speak too loudly in case she broke the spell.
“A sweet, soft, very private smile.” He released her hand to cup her face.
Emily’s heart began to pound. He was going to kiss her again, she knew it. And she also knew she shouldn’t allow it.
“Lucas,” she breathed. “You shouldn’t—”
“I know what I shouldn’t do,” he growled in a rough voice that had all the strength going out of her legs. “But I’m going to do it anyway.”
He bent his head and kissed her with a hunger that demolished any lingering protest. The power of it stunned her. Her fingers dug into his arms in an attempt to brace herself, and as though sensing her shock, he gentled, drew back, but only to trace the seam of her lips with his tongue. A small, startled gasp escaped her and she felt his body tense, turn iron-hard against her, before his mouth covered hers again.
But now…
Oh, now his kiss was slow and sweet and tender. He kissed her as if he needed something that only she could give him. As if he hungered, as if he craved. She parted her lips without thought and felt her body go limp when he stroked his tongue into her mouth. Thrilling little arrows of pleasure darted straight to a place deep inside her. His arms tightened; he slid one hand down to her hips to hold her firmly against him, and she trembled in response to the male power in him. His strength seduced her, called to everything that was female in her. She longed to yield, to soften, to give.
When he finally broke the kiss, he was breathing hard and any strength Emily could claim had left her. She could barely stand.
“Emily,” he whispered, against her lips. “What the devil am I going to do with you?”
It was clearly a rhetorical question because Lucas started kissing her again. He stroked one hand up her back, easing her slightly from him. She wriggled in protest, trying to get closer. She loved the feel of his body pressed to hers, wanted the heated pleasure it aroused. Then the question no longer mattered because he covered her breast with his hand, pressed gently, cupped the soft flesh beneath her gown and stroked his thumb across a hardening tip.
Emily made a shocked little sound as pleasure swamped her senses. The feeling was so intense she almost couldn’t bear it. She froze in his arms, every particle of her being suspended in that endless moment, torn between retreat and response, incapable of either.
“Hush,” he soothed. He moved his hand away and simply held her again. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to take you that far.”
Trembling now, Emily passed her arms around his waist and leaned against him. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her breast, feel the tension rippling through his body as he reached for control.
“You mean I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get carried away,” she muttered, trying to regain some control of her own over the situation. She was supposed to be in charge around here for goodness’ sake.
Her attempt at authority obviously didn’t work because she felt Lucas smile against her hair.
“Just give me a minute,” he said, “before we start arguing about who was responsible.”
Almost absently, she patted his back in agreement. She needed a minute, herself. She wasn’t sure she could trust her legs to support her. And the warmth of his body was so incredibly enticing. She could have stayed where she was for a very long time.
Which was a shocking admission in itself.
Emily moved her hands around to his chest, ready to push herself away, only to have her breath catch when her fingertips touched the line of raised flesh that curved around his ribs. He went very still.
“Lucas? What—”
“Hush,” he said again. His eyes glittered in the moonlight, but he pushed her gently away from him. His voice was a low growl of command. “Go up to bed, Emily.”
She shook her head. “Who are you?” she whispered. “What are you?”
“I’m a man-of-all-work. We should both remember that.”
“You could be more,” she said softly.
His brows went up. “What the devil do you mean by that?”
“You could be…a man-of-business, perhaps.”
“Oh, Emily.” He reached out and stroked her cheek gently. “That wouldn’t suit me at all.”
“Why not?” she demanded, suddenly incensed. She felt as if Lucas had just dumped a pail of ice-cold water over her. “Do you intend to drift about from one employer to another for the rest of your life?”
“We’ll talk about that some other time. Now you should go upstairs.”
Annoyed, chagrined without knowing why, Emily went to turn away, but Lucas seized her arms, holding her in place.
He bent his head and kissed her, a quick, hard, possessive kiss that sent heat rushing through her.
“This discussion isn’t over,” he said roughly, releasing her and turning her toward the door. “But this isn’t the time to finish it. Good night, Emily.”
He’d slammed an invisible door in her face, she realized. And she couldn’t force him to open it. Indeed, she, too, needed some
time to herself. Time to think, time to absorb the wonder of what had happened, and to wonder what it might mean. Because she knew she could never go back to a more formal relationship with him.
“If that’s what you want,” she said, and walked away from him.
He didn’t speak until she reached the door.
“It isn’t what I want, Emily. It’s the way it has to be.”
She turned her head. She could barely make him out in the darkness, and knew she was only a dim shape to him also. “For tonight,” she said softly, and left the room.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Two hours later, Emily was still awake and brooding over the fact that Lucas appeared to have no thought for the future beyond the current moment. He’d certainly been quick to dismiss her suggestion that he be a man-of-business instead of a man-of-all-work. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d asked him to be her man-of-business.
Just as well, she thought darkly. If she offered Lucas the job and he accepted, she would have her work cut out preventing him from taking over the entire place. Already he didn’t behave like a respectful employee—and she didn’t mean that interlude in the drawing room. There was simply too much authority in him to be subordinate to anyone for long. He kept it under control—his years in the army had probably taught him that—but even Harbury sensed the power in him, hence his attempts to put Lucas in his place. But was a meek, obedient man-of-business what she wanted?
No, she thought. The only man she wanted around the place was Lucas. But in what capacity? As an employee? A friend?
A lover?
Emily held her breath, convinced that divine retribution would surely follow such a shocking notion.
No thunder claps or bolts of lightning shattered the quiet of the night, but just to be on the safe side, she curled up, making a smaller target of herself.