“Nonsense. It’s from my library. I’ve read it. You’re more than welcome to it.” He stood close and peered down as she opened the cover.
Was he serious? This was a treasure.
“I’d like for you to have it.” He grinned at her, and his face transformed from slightly forbidding to irresistible. “Come now, my best friend and your cousin are married. That makes us practically—”
“Friends,” she finished for him.
Truly, he was unique from other men she’d met. He’d actually paid attention to the book she’d coveted. Discreetly, she raised her gaze and appraised him. Last night, his full bottom lip fascinated her. In the light of day, it was magnificent. The curve of his top lip deserved no less than a full evaluation. What would it feel like to touch lip to lip? How would he taste? There was only one way to find out.
She should offer a kiss for payment. Emma clasped the book tightly to her chest for courage. “I must pay you. You prefer fair exchanges, value for value, so to speak?”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“I’ll take it in exchange for a kiss.” The breathy softness in her voice surprised her. She was flirting! She’d never done anything like this before, but to leave for Falmont with the experience of her first kiss would make the trip tolerable.
The hint of laughter rumbling through his chest startled her. “A kiss?”
Before he could say another word, she stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Her face burned from the touch, and a pleasurable tingling slowly started in her toes and moved to her legs. It continued its upward path to her chest until he moved.
He pulled away, the shock evident on his face, and mumbled something.
Did he say she tasted sweet, or was it he’d make a fast retreat?
With her bad luck, why did she even try? He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, and she’d just stolen a kiss. Stung, she turned away to hide her embarrassment. This whole encounter was horrifying, and she’d just made it doubly so. Whatever his response, it made little difference at this point. He found her kiss disgusting.
Suddenly, he spun her around, and the unmistakable warm softness of his lips met hers. His hands cupped her face. Gently, but firmly, he tilted her head and moved his mouth back and forth along the curve of her own. All thought drifted to oblivion. His kiss became everything, the only thing she craved.
An uncontrollable need to touch him in return caused her to twist her hands in his hair. Silky strands, a lighter gold than hers, slipped through her fingers. Her hands settled on his wide shoulders, and his muscles bunched under her tentative touch.
“Is this the first time you’ve been kissed?” His low voice mesmerized her. A ripple of excitement swept through her, but a sting of mortification soon replaced it.
Was it that obvious? “Yes.…”
“Good.” His tongue lightly pressed against her lips. Her willpower floated away, and with a sigh, she opened to him. It was heaven. He gentled his movements and enticed her tongue to play with his. This time it was deeper, wetter, and hotter. She could barely believe he was kissing her this way. Exploring her. Teaching her. His teeth grazed her lower lip as if feasting on it. She gripped tighter in an effort to get closer to him.
All too soon, the pleasure stopped.
Emma opened her eyes to discover his brilliant turquoise ones assessing her. His lips, full and wet, drew her attention and made it more difficult to calm the riot of emotions surging through her. However, it didn’t stop her from memorizing every feature. A square jaw line and sharply angled cheekbones framed his face. He resembled a Viking king with his tall build.
However, his most striking feature was his captivating blue-green eyes. Whenever his gaze captured hers, she understood the power he held. Women of the ton vied for his attention whenever he made a rare appearance at some society event, but it hadn’t escaped her notice that he preferred his own company. He never seemed to crave female companionship.
He blinked and shook his head gently, then stared as if she were a strange creature he’d discovered on a jungle expedition. “Last night when I intercepted your coach, you possessed a passion that I’d never seen in anyone before.”
“My family would refer to it as recklessness.”
“Perhaps from their vantage point. But from mine? It’s a thing of rare beauty.” He cleared his throat.
She responded as taught when receiving a polite compliment. “Thank you, Lord Somerton.”
“For the kiss or the book?”
Her gaze shot to his. The playfulness he’d exhibited when he first approached her on the bench had returned along with the sparkle in his blue eyes.
“Both,” she whispered.
“No thanks needed. The pleasure was all mine.” He extended his palm.
Unsure, she reached for his hand. Instead of the perfunctory bow over her clasped fingers, he shook hands, as a gentleman would take his leave of another.
Her heart skipped a beat at the gesture. His eyes were full of hope, and he smiled with a candor she’d never seen on his face before. Emma bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. It was a perfect way for them to part—equals, not adversaries.
“All of this for a book.” He bent and whispered into her ear. “It was your good fortune I stopped you last night. No telling what trouble you’d have found.”
Emma squared her shoulders. Under no circumstance would she suffer through another lecture from a squirrel or an English lord—particularly one she’d just kissed. “Thank you for your concern, but there was no need. I know how to handle awkward situations.”
Somerton glanced over his shoulder, then delivered another blinding smile. “I might have other books that will interest you.”
Was he trifling with her? The man had never taken any notice of her before, and she’d been out in society for four and a half years. Emma drew a shaky breath. “It would depend upon the subject matter.”
“Trust me, I have exquisite tastes.” His sensual drawl made her heart speed up again.
“As do I,” she replied. His voice was too exciting for her own good.
“Well…” Somerton glanced down at his boots as if he didn’t want to leave. “When you return to London, perhaps you’ll give me a tour of the park?”
The slight uncertainty in his voice surprised her. “That’d be lovely.”
“I enjoyed your company. Until the next time, sweet Emma.”
As the words drifted away, he was gone. She turned for one last glance at her park. How she’d miss its beauty during her banishment.
With a decisive swirl of his tail, the squirrel rotated his tufted ears and dropped an empty walnut shell. He darted to the nearby oak. There was nothing else to see.
Emma strolled to the house. It was time to pack every book and memoire she’d collected over the years for her trip to Falmont. She’d have more than ample time to read them again as she suffered through her expulsion. Bentham’s Essays and Angela Tarte’s Memoire of a Courtesan would travel with her in the carriage.
Books could take you on the grandest of adventures.
Chapter Two
A few Years Later
Langham Hall
Emma rolled the leaded crystal paperweight between her hands, the rub of the cut edges soothing in her palms. With each movement, reflected light bounced from the crystal and cast rainbows that darted from one end of the library to another. She wasn’t certain how long she’d been sitting at the mahogany table, but long enough for the hall clock to have struck the hour at least three times.
Papers and favorite books covered every inch of the surface. Today’s issue of The Midnight Cryer, the most popular gossip rag in all of London, lay open before her. Two lines on the second page had stopped her cold. Keith Mahon, the Earl of Aulton, sought a new countess after three months of mourning.
The words lit a blaze of loathing inside of her.
She ignored the clutter surrounding her and concentrated on the letter she’d received from Lena�
��s lady’s maid, Mary Butler, three months ago after Lena’s death.
Dated July 8, 1813, the letter was from Lady Lena Aulton, the previous Countess of Aulton, to her unborn child. She had written every conceivable piece of wisdom and life lesson she thought would protect her child from the harsh reality of life as a woman.
And certain she was delivering a baby girl, she’d named the child Audra.
My dearest Audra,
Our time together may be measured in minutes or years. Fate never reveals her hand. However, over the course of months as my belly has swelled, you’ve become a part of me that is as vital as the air I breathe. If I never have the chance to hold you in my arms, know that you’re loved.
If I’m robbed of that joy, there are things I must share with you. Lessons designed to teach you that a life lived to its fullest is a life worth living. With a determined mind and an uncompromised spirit, you can rule the world.
Tired of the grief, Emma skipped to the second page before she lost her battle against the barrage of tears that threatened.
I have a dear friend who epitomizes this spirit. She inspired and taught me about the joy and glory of womanhood. Lady Emma Cavensham is my inspiration. Try to find your Emma, too.
As you travel through life, you will need a purpose. Help women who need protection, or perhaps friendship. You’ll receive great rewards for your efforts.
Carefully choose a husband. Otherwise, you risk all freedom. A wife’s position is tenuous in this world. The truth is harsh. If a husband tires of his chosen bride, he can cast her aside in some remote cottage on the edge of the Outer Hebrides without any repercussions. If he doesn’t want to feed and clothe her, that’s his prerogative. A rabid dog receives more respect than an English wife. Remember, only you have your best interests at heart. I’ve set money aside so you can more easily live the life you are destined.
The only disgrace in fear is not facing it. It’s a strong ally, for it whittles down wants to needs.
Raising her head, Emma stared blindly at the wall. Her friend’s haunted words echoed her own thoughts. Why should she marry—ever? Why be subjected to a life where she might be considered nothing more than a piece of property or a nuisance, or worse yet a punching bag? She’d seen enough in her life, even before Lena’s death, to confirm the truth. A woman subjected to a hard-hearted husband was a fate worse than spinsterhood.
Today’s announcement that Aulton wanted a new bride demanded immediate action. Emma couldn’t wait anymore and neither could Lena. Her friend would receive retribution, and who better to serve it up than a woman like herself, a woman who planned to never marry. Over the months, she’d sought information and made plans. Several years ago, Lord Somerton had informed her Mr. Goodwin’s real profession was selling information. The revelation had been invaluable. Over the last month, with Goodwin’s help, she had discovered that Mary Butler, Lena’s maid, still worked for the Earl of Aulton. Once Emma brought Mary to London to testify against him, no other woman would suffer at his hands.
“Mind if I join you?” Emma’s cousin, Claire, stood before her with a book clasped to her chest. With auburn hair and dark green eyes, she favored her late Scottish mother, the previous Duchess of Langham. To Emma, Claire was more than a cousin. The word didn’t adequately describe their relationship since they were as close as sisters.
“Please.” Emma moved some journals and books from the chair closest to her. Relief at having company, particularly Claire’s, lifted Emma’s mood—a little.
Increasing for the second time, her cousin sat gingerly. The baby would be Claire’s third child. She and her husband Alex were the proud parents of twins.
Precious and perfect, the children could do no wrong in Emma’s eyes. Of course, as their godmother, her ability to notice any misdeeds or wrongdoings was severely hampered. The rest of the family shared the same affliction, too.
Emma reached over and squeezed Claire’s hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Besides wonderfully happy and quite large? My life is perfect.” Claire caught Emma’s hand and pressed it against her belly. “The baby just kicked. Do you feel anything?”
She shook her head. How do you politely tell a mother-to-be that her baby feels like a round rock?
With an innate sense of humor, Claire grinned. “I suppose it doesn’t feel like much to you, but to me? It’s nothing less than a miracle.”
“I’m thrilled for you and Alex. You’re marvelous parents.”
Claire laid her book down and surveyed the table.
Letting out a silent but long-suffering sigh, Emma waited. Her cousin’s ability to ferret out problems was uncanny, particularly when it came to her. Her Bentham exploit three years ago was proof. Claire had been the one to discover she’d gone to buy the book.
“How are you?” Claire asked. She picked up the paperweight and carefully put it out of Emma’s reach. “That’s to keep you from fidgeting. I understand you’ve been sitting here for hours.”
She nodded, fearful if she disclosed anything, she’d collapse into a watershed of sobs that would have them both crying. But it was unlikely. She’d hardly cried at all over Lena’s death. What kind of a friend didn’t shed tears at such a loss?
One who found it hard to look in the mirror every day.
“Darling, don’t you think it would help to talk about it?” Claire had leaned so close, the worry lines etched around her eyes were clearly visible.
Perhaps it was time to share a little. Or a lot. She wasn’t certain what, if anything, could lift the constant cloud of melancholy and guilt that followed her. She suffered as much now, if not more, than when she first heard of her friend’s death.
Emma took a deep breath for fortitude. This wouldn’t be easy, but when she discussed Lena’s death and her own duplicity, she deserved the pain.
“I … I don’t know where to start.” Without the paperweight, all she could rely on were her fingers. Before she tangled them into knots, Claire took her hand and laced their fingers together.
“Use me for strength?”
Emma nodded. Claire would help her get through this and steer her in the right direction. “Whatever I say to you stays between us. I must have your word, or I can’t start.”
The open honesty of Claire’s face almost blinded Emma in its purity. “Em, not even Alex?”
“Will he tell Father or Mother?” she whispered. Though Claire was trustworthy, she would always take the path she thought right. Her actions the night of the Bentham fiasco proved that point clearly.
Claire shook her head. “Alex won’t say a word if I ask him. I won’t know if I’ll need his advice until I hear what you have to say.”
“Fair enough.” She took in the view of Langham Park out the library windows. It always provided succor, a peacefulness Emma found nowhere else. Today, it stood as her support, a fortress she desperately needed. “I suppose it’s best just to lance the wound as they say.”
Claire smiled affectionately as if she knew how excruciatingly painful this was for her.
“Lena directed her maid to send me all her correspondence before she passed.” Emma waved at the pile of letters in front of her. “There’s one for her brother, my letter, and one to her unborn child, Audra. When Mary Butler, Lena’s maid, posted them to me, she included her own note. She didn’t say it per se, but I could read between the lines.”
She glanced at Claire, who nodded for her continue.
“Aulton murdered Lena. I don’t know the how or why, but I know he did it. He’d been beating her, Claire. I saw the bruises myself when I visited.”
“I thought Lena fell down the steps and the baby was stillborn?” Claire squeezed their hands together, encouraging her.
“She was the most graceful person I’ve ever known. I can’t believe she’d have lost her balance.” Instead of lessening, the pain increased with each word she spoke. Still, she couldn’t cry.
Maybe she never would. That’s how empty she’d become.
“A week before she died, she invited me to visit. By then, she was close to delivering. I received her letter three days before the Langham annual garden soiree. When I asked mother if I could go, she said ‘after the party.’ She needed me here.” Emma found enough courage to look Claire in the eye as she confessed her sin. “Lena never said outright, but I think she feared Aulton. She wrote that she needed me by her side. I believe she knew he was going to hurt her. She was in fear for herself and probably terrified for the baby.”
“Oh, Emma.” Claire’s shock was evident, but she didn’t let go of Emma’s hand.
She needed her cousin’s strength as she tried to purge the rest of her misery.
“I didn’t go. I stayed here. I had a chance to save her, and I didn’t.” She stole one last glance at the park. “Mother’s party was on a Wednesday. The next morning, we received word of her death.”
Claire gently pulled her into her arms. Still, the tears refused to come.
“It’s perfectly reasonable you’d feel that way, but I don’t agree with it.” Claire’s voice held no judgment. “It wasn’t your responsibility.”
Emma shook her head emphatically. “She couldn’t leave him without me. Where would she go? Her brother Jonathan is in France fighting the war. If she left by herself, Aulton would have hunted her down.”
Pensive, Claire studied her. “What could you have done if you’d been there? You could have been his next victim.”
“I don’t know. Nothing maybe. Nevertheless, perhaps I could have stopped him or brought her here. Father would have protected Lena.” Her father and Claire’s uncle, the Duke of Langham was renowned for his political acumen. No one, not even Aulton, would dare challenge him.
“I don’t know if it would have made any difference.” Claire examined their entwined hands and took a breath. “You’re not going to like what I have to say—”
“Please, just say it.” She closed her eyes, ready for the condemnation that was surely forthcoming. She deserved it and so much more.
The Bride Who Got Lucky Page 3