David dropped a key on the table just inside the door, and then he was gone.
Emma rushed down to the drawing room at midmorning the next day, reminding herself to walk at a decorous pace once she got close enough to the entryway that someone might see her. She’d allowed Fanny to construct a new coiffure to go along with her lovely periwinkle walking dress, but she wouldn’t have agreed to it if she’d had any idea how long it would take to dress her hair in such an elaborate manner.
Despite all of Fanny’s efforts, Emma must still wear a bonnet while outside, so it wouldn’t matter anyway. Not in the grand scheme of things. What gentleman who might wish to form an attachment with her would see this fashionable coif while it was buried beneath straw and fabric and ribbons and flowers? Taking the time to let Fanny do her business had been a grand miscalculation on Emma’s part.
By the time she rushed into the corridor leading to the drawing room, everyone else was already on their way out. In fact, a good half of the other houseguests had split off into smaller groupings and had made their way to the grand entryway, and now they were heading out of doors.
Serena Weston moved past Emma on the arm of Lord Muldaire, alongside Lord Trenowyth and a very frothy young brunette—Miss Selwyn, if memory served. Turning to look over her shoulder, Serena mouthed, “I’m sorry,” before they were gone. Her eyes had been quite pained. Understandable, given the circumstances. While Mr. Weston was intent upon making a match between his daughter and Lord Muldaire, Serena had other ideas.
Still, she was sorry? Why? About what?
Vanessa and David came out into the corridor from the drawing room alongside Lady Portia and Lord Roxburghe, interrupting Emma’s ruminations. The expression on Roxburghe’s face turned sour at the sight of Emma, but Vanessa smiled as brightly as the sun.
“There you are. Lord Jacob?” she called over her shoulder to Lord Muldaire’s perpetually sullen brother. “I promised she would arrive momentarily, and she has.” Then Vanessa faced Emma again, her eyes bright and cheerful with the anticipation of taking a promenade through the grounds on the arm of her husband. “Since you were late, everyone else is already paired off. I’m sure you won’t mind walking this afternoon with Lord Jacob, Lady Morgan, and Mr. Cardiff.”
Emma felt her jaw drop, but quickly set it to rights. Spending the morning with Morgan would be no hardship, and while she wasn’t entirely certain how she ought to feel about Lord Jacob and his grim visage, she was certain she could manage. But Emma had no intention of willingly placing herself in the path of Mr. Cardiff. Not when he still sent fiery glares in her direction at every opportunity he was given. Not when he could hardly bear to say a civil word to her. Not when he was so bound and determined to treat Morgan as though she were completely inept and unable to do anything by herself.
But then again, he had seemed to respond favorably to her outburst at supper, and until Kingley had come along while they were painting, she’d imagined he might be doing a portrait of her.
Blast, why did the man have to present her with such a conundrum?
Without giving her the chance to argue, Vanessa and David kept moving. When they reached the door leading outside, Mr. Cardiff and Morgan had appeared at the threshold coming from the drawing room.
Lord Jacob stood in the hallway, his ever-present glower darkening his already dark features.
Goodness, this was shaping up to be a very dissatisfying morning. Emma hadn’t thought anyone capable of being more brooding and irritable than Mr. Cardiff until she met Lord Jacob. Now she was beginning to rethink her previous assumptions.
Lord Jacob held out an arm to her. “Shall we?”
There really was no option left available to her. Emma reached to take his arm, but Morgan somehow got there first, wrapping her hand deftly into the crook of Lord Jacob’s arm and giving him a pleasant smile. He merely scowled down at her in return, proving yet again that he was as impenetrable as a London fog.
“Please don’t force me to spend the entire day on my brother’s arm,” Morgan whispered quietly, but vehemently, to only Emma. “He hardly lets me out of his sight as it is. He wouldn’t join anyone else today…”
“Of course,” Emma said in response, though on the inside she wanted to scream her frustrations from the rooftops. She had no more desire to spend the day with Mr. Cardiff than his sister did.
Lord Jacob started off with Morgan at his side, leaving Emma and Mr. Cardiff in their wake. Tentatively, she looked up at him. His lips jerked downward in response, but he silently held out his arm.
And what choice did she have? Emma took hold of his proffered arm, biting down on her tongue in the process to avoid saying anything untoward. Although on second thought, letting Mr. Cardiff hear a few of her somewhat less-than-friendly thoughts might not be the worst thing that could happen today.
He followed after his sister, moving with an intensity of purpose that left her shuffling her feet along hastily in order to stay with him.
Indeed, he didn’t slow at all until they were a scant two steps behind Morgan and Lord Jacob, within a short enough distance that they could hear every word spoken between the two. Not that they were saying much at all. For that matter, Mr. Cardiff seemed perfectly content, at least for now, to spend the morning without saying a word to her.
It certainly wouldn’t hurt her feelings if she didn’t have to hear him deride her for some misstep or another.
“Tell me, Lord Jacob, where are you leading us?” Morgan asked sweetly after they’d been walking for nearly ten minutes. Her tone made it seem as though she were unaware that she was on the arm of a man more frosty and less congenial than even her brother. Could the inability to see into his eyes have so thoroughly clouded Morgan’s judgment? “My feet don’t seem to recognize the path we’re on.”
Only then did Emma chance a look at her surroundings. She’d been too caught up in her discomfiture over having to spend the morning with Mr. Cardiff that she hadn’t paid even the slightest bit of attention to their direction.
Good heavens.
Lord Jacob had led them off in a direction Emma had never before traveled at Heathcote Park, so there was little wonder that Morgan didn’t recognize it. The trail they’d taken was woody, thick with maples, willows, poplars, and birch. The trees lining the path were overgrown, as though the path itself hadn’t been in use for a great many years—but occasionally, they’d pass by a large limb that seemed to have been freshly broken off. Someone must have been along here not too long ago. What their purpose might have been remained a mystery. Emma couldn’t imagine what anyone would do out this way, so far from the great house. So far from anything of use to the civilized world. Why, there were hardly even any animals about—birds and the like. Just how deep into the woods had they gone?
“I’m not entirely certain,” Lord Jacob said in response after a few moments. For that matter, he didn’t sound as though he cared in the slightest where they were going.
Still they stumbled along, never slowing or stopping, and certainly never coming across anyone else. Emma couldn’t imagine that any of the other groups had gone in this direction. Surely, if they had, they would have turned back long before now.
With each step she took, the tension in Mr. Cardiff’s arm grew. The strong, corded muscles beneath Emma’s fingertips clenched tighter and harder, yet never released. He was as wary about their journey as she was, and yet he did not put a halt to it. Why wouldn’t he say something? Why didn’t he stop Lord Jacob?
Wasn’t he concerned about Morgan’s safety, with the uncared-for path and the deep woods surrounding them and Lord Jacob leading them with no clear direction in mind? The man was infuriatingly persistent with hovering over his sister at every opportunity which presented itself. So why now, when there could truly be a problem, was he ignoring it?
Emma could well imagine he had no such qualms about her safety and, perhaps, might even hope something untoward might overcome her. But he was always so overprotective
of Morgan that she couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t insist they turn back.
Where could they possibly be going? If they didn’t stop soon, they might just walk all the way to London or some other equally as unlikely place.
When the path narrowed further, and the trees grew so thick there were only faint traces of the sun’s light peeking through the branches, and still Lord Jacob led them on in monotonous silence, Emma finally had had enough.
She planted her feet where she stood, causing Mr. Cardiff to jerk to a sudden and unexpected stop. He rounded on her, his eyes flashing with steely determination in the dappled light, giving her a moment of hesitation.
“What is the problem?” His tone made clear the impatience she sensed in the tic along his jaw line.
Emma refused to cower beneath his glare. She’d allowed him to intimidate her far too much in this lifetime already. No more. Not when Morgan’s safety could be hanging in the balance. “Where in God’s name is Lord Jacob leading us?” She loosed her grip upon his arm and crossed both of hers over her chest. “This path clearly is not in use and hasn’t been for some time. I cannot imagine where he thinks to take us. You can’t truly think we should keep going.”
Mr. Cardiff pierced her with his scowl before turning to look over his shoulder. When he faced her again, his jaw was working in frustration. “I don’t know where he thinks he’s going, but he’s got my sister with him and they’re still moving.” He again looked over his shoulder toward where Morgan and Lord Jacob were disappearing into the woods. His brow furrowed, and a single muscle flexed along his jaw.
“Feel free to go with them, sir. I’ll make my way back to the main house alone.”
Emma spun around to do precisely that, but he gripped her on the upper arm, halting her escape.
“Unhand me,” she demanded.
“You’re putting me in a truly impossible situation, Miss Hathaway.”
For the first time that she could remember, Emma felt slightly sorry for him. He sounded utterly miserable, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of allowing her to walk back on her own…as though it were equally as impossible a thought to him as leaving Morgan alone with Lord Jacob.
How laughable.
Were he any other gentleman, Emma might believe such a thing to be true. But she had no such delusions where Mr. Cardiff was concerned.
Were she any other lady, she might think him less a cad and more concerned about her welfare. She knew better than to harbor such lies within her heart. She’d seen the truth of his feelings for her in his eyes.
“I can’t imagine it is as impossible for you as you imply,” she said coolly. “Go make certain your sister is well. I’ll do just fine on my own.”
Again she tried to leave him, yet his hand remained improperly and firmly attached to her upper arm in an unyielding grip. He tried to pull her along with him, dragging her despite her desire to go back.
Emma tugged against him until once more, he jerked to a stop.
He spun to face her, his eyes flashing with ire. “It is unsafe for you to be out here alone, Miss Hathaway.”
“Pardon me.” The acidic tone dripping from her tongue was unfamiliar even to her. Good heavens, Emma didn’t recognize herself in the slightest. It was bound to be his fault. No one else could possibly rouse such negativity from her, not in all the three-and-twenty years of her life. Yet she was powerless to stop it. “I never thought you to be concerned for my safety before. Indeed, I never thought you to be concerned for anyone save yourself.”
“Myself?” he barked back at her, his jaw grinding his teeth together unnaturally. “In all the time of our acquaintance, you think I’ve been concerned for myself? When have I ever done anything that was not for Morgan?”
“You can’t possibly think you’re helping her. You smother her. You never allow her to do anything for herself. We all do, everyone in her life! How is that helping her?”
Mr. Cardiff took a menacing step toward her, tugging her closer by the arm he still grasped. “And you think you know better? Better than her relatives, her blood?”
Despite her every inclination to back away, her stomach flipped about from his proximity. She wanted, irrationally, to be closer. Good heavens, what was coming over her? Emma took an involuntary step toward him as well, crossing her free arm over her chest as though to place some sort of barrier between them. “Yes, I do. You’re hurting her by trying to help her so much.”
A muscle in his cheek jerked. His eyes darkened, and his lips pressed tightly together, and for a moment she thought he might do something more completely mad than even he had done before, like kiss her. But then his grasp lessened just enough that she could pull her arm free.
What was she thinking? Mr. Cardiff, kiss her? Perhaps she was the mad one of the two of them. She certainly didn’t want him to kiss her. Did she? But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t stop staring at the thin line of his lips and wondering how it would feel to have them pressed against hers. Oh, blast, what was happening to her? She took two quick steps away, needing desperately to put more distance between them so she could clear her thoughts.
He reached as though to stop her again, but froze in place at the sound of a dog’s bark.
Emma spun her head in the direction of the bark to find Kingley bounding toward her, his tongue lolling from his mouth. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the dog was actually grinning. But dogs couldn’t grin—could they? She didn’t think they could. But then again, perhaps she just didn’t know they could.
He didn’t stop until he was at her feet. Emma bent down to scratch behind his ears, and he yapped happily.
“You’ll be as flea-infested as that beast is if you don’t stop,” Mr. Cardiff grumbled.
But Kingley’s arrival had come at precisely the right time. A moment longer, and she feared she would have done something incredibly stupid like kiss him instead of wondering if he wanted to kiss her.
“I suppose we can discover if you’re right, Mr. Cardiff. I’ll walk with Kingley back to the main house, and you may chase after Lord Jacob and your sister.”
Emma didn’t give the boor an opportunity to stop her. She patted a hand against her thigh a few times and took off. Kingley trotted at her side as though he had walked with her thus every day of his life, never moving too far away from her. He was the perfect companion.
Certainly far more perfect a companion than Mr. Cardiff. It was too bad gentlemen couldn’t be as agreeable as canines.
When he’d finally returned Morgan to her maid that afternoon, thereby ensuring that she was no longer in the clutches of Deering and his madcap schemes to take them on a seemingly pointless journey through the woods, Aidan stomped through the corridors of Heathcote Park until he found an empty room in which to brood until luncheon.
The only positive to come from the jaunt was that they’d come upon the hermitage where David had set up a studio for Aidan. And, as promised, it was well off the main path. No one would possibly come across him there, if he were to choose to sculpt again. Well, other than perhaps Lord Jacob Deering.
And why in God’s name did Deering want to go out there in the first place? What was his intention? In all likelihood, Aidan would never learn.
The entire morning, he had felt the necessity to protect not only Morgan from Lord Jacob’s aimless meanderings, but Miss Hathaway as well. If there was one person on this earth he had no desire to ever purposefully protect, it was Emma Hathaway. Yet, with her on his arm as they tromped through the woods, he’d been unable to stop himself from feeling the need to turn them all around and return both ladies to safety, post haste.
It was maddening. Infuriating, even. Particularly since he didn’t know what it was about Deering that set his teeth on edge. True, the man was more sullen than even Aidan by half, but what had he done to engender such anxiety for the ladies’ safety. He’d never had a violent outburst. The worst he’d done was to challenge Roxeburghe to a duel.
Far mor
e troublesome, however was the compunction Aidan felt to see to Emma’s safety.
None of it made any sense, least of all the strange urge he’d felt to kiss her at the very moment she was suggesting he was handling Morgan improperly. She’d stared up at him with the same flash of brilliance in her eyes as she’d had when she defended Morgan at supper the first night of the house party, and he’d been taken aback by her gumption. Nevertheless, how would she possibly know what was best for his sister? She was hardly more than a mere slip of a girl, a lady who spent more time in the fictional world of her books than she did in the real world around her. What could she know about how best to aid Morgan and to help ease her back into society? What could she know of his sister’s needs?
What Morgan needed was her family around her. She needed to know they loved her. She needed guidance and assistance as she learned to live life again without the use of her sight. She needed people to protect her from all the cruelty that could and would be heaped upon her by the heartless world of the ton—those who would see her scarred skin and blind eyes, and choose to mock her for them.
Anyone could see that was what he was trying desperately to give her. Anyone could see he only wanted what was best for her. It irked him to no end to have Miss Hathaway, of all people, try to tell him he was doing his sister a disservice by assisting her in every single way he could.
Hardly more than two minutes had passed since he’d closed the door and flopped down in an elegant silk brocade armchair before the door opened. Aidan scowled as he looked up, and his scowl only intensified when he saw his brother standing in the doorway.
“I thought that was you I saw skulking through the house and coming in here,” Niall said. He pulled the door shut behind him and then moved through the room, taking up the matching armchair across from Aidan. “Why did Miss Hathaway return alone?”
Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon Page 9