It was true that Sir Henry did not incite any great emotion within her. He didn’t stir her lust or cause tingles to flutter through her core like Mr. Cardiff had done when he kissed her. But that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To have a friendship of sorts with a gentleman, to respect him and admire him, and only after he had promised himself to her completely, only then did she wish to have anything deeper.
Yet, tiny seeds of frustration kept niggling at her, trying to convince her of something else. Each time they did, she mentally brushed them away and reaffirmed her determination to love only after marriage.
Emma tried to reinforce this thought within herself time and again as she and Sir Henry worked with Kingley Sunday afternoon, trying to help him adjust to walking on the leather lead the baronet had fashioned with the aid of the grooms in the stables. It was shorter than what he used with most of the dogs he trained, but he said that should help with Morgan, allowing Kingley to guide her instead of the other way around.
“Stay,” Emma said, tugging gently at Kingley’s lead.
He settled beside her left leg, plopping his bottom down on the ground and looking up at her with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. While everything in her wanted to give him his bite of chicken right away for being so smart, she resisted, just as Sir Henry had repeatedly emphasized was necessary. Kingley must learn that rewards didn’t come immediately—that the best reward was earning their praise.
When he’d sat there happily wagging his tail for at least thirty seconds, Emma glanced over at Sir Henry, raising her brow in question. He gave her a nod, and she instantly bent to reward Kingley with his treat. “Good boy! You learn so well.” He gobbled it up while she scratched behind his ears—easily his favorite thing in the world, until whatever the next favorite might be came along.
She only granted him a moment of her effusive flattery before once again straightening and turning serious. Kingley responded to her change in demeanor, sitting up at attention.
“Walk,” she said, and then waited for him to take off. She wanted to rely on her eyes and guide him around the obstacles that Sir Henry and the grooms had devised—crates here, and barrels there, that sort of thing—but that wasn’t the purpose of this exercise. Instead, she waited for the simple signals that Kingley was to provide.
He moved a little too fast at first but slowed when she refused to allow him such free rein. A moment later, he settled at her side, keeping to her precise pace. But this was the easy portion of the course. Greater barriers lay in wait for them ahead. Indeed, just when she was certain she would have to take over and guide him lest she run headlong into a barrel, he nudged her leg.
She moved to the right, as he’d directed, and they kept walking. Moments later, the two of them drew too close to a bale of hay for her skin not to crawl with trepidation of the impending contact. He tugged her left with the lead just in time, and she went with him.
It didn’t take Kingley long to guide her through all of the obstacles they’d set for him. When he came to a stop at the end, Emma dropped to her knees to deliver him his chicken and a series of scratches. He let out a happy bark before licking her on the cheek, which only led her to giggle like a schoolgirl.
“I think,” Sir Henry said, reminding her that she and Kingley weren’t alone, “perhaps we can put a blindfold over my eyes and see how he does. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he’s ready for that. Kingley has been quite the efficient learner.”
Emma couldn’t help but note the sound of surprise in Sir Henry’s tone each time Kingley exceeded his expectations. A small part of her wanted to shout at him that she’d told him Kingley would be the perfect dog for the task, but such a reaction wouldn’t be terribly ladylike. Not only that, but it would likely eliminate any interest the baronet might have in forming a connection with her.
Instead, she kept her thoughts to herself and smiled at him when she rose to her feet. “And do you have a blindfold with you, sir?”
He pulled an un-starched cravat from the pocket of his coat and started to tie it himself, but he was making a muck of it. After three attempts, he let out a laugh. “I do not know why this is proving such a problem for me.”
Emma held out her hand. “Allow me, Sir Henry.”
“Gladly.” He handed the material over, brushing his fingertips over her knuckles in the process, drawing out the contact more than was proper.
She flushed and hastened to move behind him, making quick work of tying the cravat in a knot behind his head. “There we are.” She stepped away from him rather more quickly than was necessary, but couldn’t seem to stop herself from trying to put as much distance between them as she possibly could.
That was not the sort of reaction she ought to have with a gentleman whom she might agree to marry, should he make such an offer. She bit her lip to stop the thoughts that were racing through her head and trying to make themselves known, such as the fact that there had been none of the friction, none of the heat in his contact that she’d experienced when Mr. Cardiff had touched her.
That thought had no place here. Not now. Not ever.
Sir Henry reached a hand out, groping into the ether. “Miss Hathaway? Might you put Kingley’s lead in my hand?”
But that would mean she had to move closer to him again—and he would have an opportunity to touch her.
Emma bit down on her lip, raced over to take Kingley’s lead, and pressed it hastily into Sir Henry’s grip. Without giving him the opportunity to prolong the contact, she dashed aside to watch the proceedings from a safe distance, trembling all the while due to the lack of—well, anything save panic—she’d felt at the baronet’s mild flirtation.
Kingley safely guided Sir Henry through the course two times in a row before the baronet suggested they rearrange the obstacles and try again. They kept working, praising Kingley when he did as expected and having him repeat when he did not, for another half hour.
Finally, Sir Henry removed the cloth from his eyes and smiled at Emma. “I think he’s ready to attempt the course with Lady Morgan. She’ll need one of us with her, of course, so we can be certain she learns to respond to his guidance and that he’ll respond to her commands…but we’re certainly progressing farther than I’d imagined for this stage of our training sessions.”
With that, Emma couldn’t hold back a giddy exclamation of joy, which only served to have Sir Henry look upon her even more fondly.
“Oh, she’ll be delighted.”
He took a step closer to Emma, fumbling with the cravat in his hands. “There is little in this world I find as delightful as you, Miss Hathaway.”
Her breath caught in her throat when he closed the distance between them more than he already had done. She knew she should be flattered and that she should welcome his attentions—she should even encourage him. But all she wanted to do at that moment was run as fast as she could in the opposite direction because of the lack of charged air between them.
Blast, but she frustrated herself. Why now, of all times, must she compare Sir Henry to Mr. Cardiff? It wasn’t fair to either of them. Each man was something the other could never be. Most of all, it wasn’t fair to her.
Emma forced herself to stay where she was, making sure to keep her eyes focused upon Sir Henry. She would not give in to the temptation to make her escape. She would not ruin this chance, this opportunity, which fortune had seen fit to grant her.
He was a handsome man. His light brown hair curled slightly at the ends, and he had a certain warmth to his eyes that was inviting. She could learn to welcome his attentions, should they marry. Surely with Sir Henry she could learn to feel the same sense of excitement, of need, as she’d felt with Mr. Cardiff. Couldn’t she?
Emma leaned in as he drew closer, bracing herself for the kiss she knew was coming and berating herself for the very fact that she must brace herself for it.
But before Sir Henry’s lips met hers, Kingley let out a growl at her side that made her shiver from the ferocious int
ent behind it.
Sir Henry jerked back and spun around, trying to see what had roused Kingley’s hackles. Emma did not have to look far, however. Lord Jacob Deering was walking across the clearing toward them, all cocksure swagger and sullen defiance. While it had taken Kingley a few days to accept some of the men at Heathcote Park, he had never warmed even slightly to Lord Jacob.
That did not stop the man from attempting to goad Kingley in return. He bared his teeth and growled right back at the dog, which so incited Kingley’s desire to attack that Sir Henry was forced to make a dashing grab for his lead.
Lord Jacob merely laughed. Then he turned to Emma and gave a sardonic bow. “Lady Burington requires your presence at tea, Miss Hathaway.”
Of all the people at the house party, the only one Vanessa would have been less likely to send to fetch Emma than Lord Jacob was Mr. Cardiff. She couldn’t help but wonder what his true intention for coming to fetch her might be, but there was no manner in which to question his motive without rousing his suspicion about her own.
Sir Henry smiled at her and offered his arm. “Shall we? I shouldn’t wish to keep your sister waiting.”
Shaken all the way to her core, and unable to truly explain even to herself why she ought to be, Emma reached out her arm and placed her hand upon his sleeve. She didn’t trust her voice, so she merely nodded and quirked a slight smile.
“Coming, Deering?” the baronet asked, still holding tight to Kingley’s lead.
But Lord Jacob looked out across the expanse of the lawn, staring off into the woods nearby. He let out a sigh and shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I need to go for a walk far more than I need tea.” Without waiting for their response, he took off in the direction he’d been looking, tossing another growl over his shoulder for Kingley’s benefit before he was out of earshot.
“Well,” Sir Henry said when Kingley finally relaxed and stopped pulling against him. “To tea?”
Emma nodded again, despite her sincere doubts that tea would be enough to calm her jangling nerves. Perhaps she could slip into David’s study and sneak a bottle of something stronger, like the apple brandy Mother often gave her, without being noticed. It would certainly be worth the effort to try.
Blast Mr. Deering for being out and about in the corridors before tea. Emma had been on her way to David’s study to borrow a bottle of apple brandy when he’d come upon her and offered, ever-so-kindly, to escort her in to the drawing room to join the rest of the houseguests. He hadn’t really left her with too many options, and so she’d had to try to calm herself without the aid of spirits.
She hadn’t done so effectively.
Not only that, but he had begged out of the tea early, claiming he must see if his cousin, Lord Jacob, was feeling quite the thing yet. Lord Muldaire had accompanied him, and off they’d gone.
It seemed everyone, at this house party, was prone to feigning illness. Vanessa might well think they had an epidemic in the great house.
At least now, she, Morgan, and Serena had made their escape. They were out on the lawn with Kingley…and without a single gentleman there to interfere in their plans. The servants had left all of the obstacles in place.
For the first time since her afternoon lessons with Sir Henry, she could breathe again. It felt as though a great weight had been lifted free from her chest, like it could finally expand and release as normal.
“Should we talk about it?” Morgan asked.
Emma blinked, taken aback. “Talk about what?” she hedged.
Morgan smiled then, kindness etched into the scars around her mouth. “About whatever has you balled up in knots.”
But she didn’t even know how to sort it out in her own mind, let along how to speak with her friends about it all. She bit her lip and glanced over at Serena, who held the same look of concern. Emma took Kingley’s lead and placed it into Morgan’s hand. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s all been sorted out.”
But it hadn’t. Not in the slightest.
Still, this was about Morgan, and Kingley, and teaching the two of them to work together. Not about Emma and her silly problems. Hers were nothing in comparison to what Morgan must face for the rest of her life. One look at her friend was all Emma needed to remind herself of what was truly important in life.
Morgan’s lips turned down in a frown, then, and Serena let out a bit of a harrumph. But they didn’t press the matter any further.
For the next hour, Emma and Serena worked to teach Morgan how to walk with Kingley by her side, how to trust him to guide her through the barriers set up across the lawn and keep her away from harm. Upon successful completion of each lesson, she rewarded him with a bite of chicken. Kingley pranced around between them, yapping happily.
“Shall we try something to test us a bit more?” Morgan suggested after a moment. “We could take Kingley through one of the walks and see how he does with leading me…and how I do with following him.”
The thought was tempting, but Emma felt her uncertainty growing by a wide margin. Shouldn’t they practice more with the current obstacles, making certain that both Morgan and Kingley were well acquainted with what was expected of them?
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Serena said, clapping her hands.
It did. It sounded lovelier than Emma knew how to handle, because the entire purpose of teaching Kingley what they’d been teaching him was to give Morgan more freedom, more ability to move through the world on her own.
Both ladies turned to Emma, and Morgan’s eyebrows lifted expectantly. “Well?”
She opened her mouth, fully prepared to regretfully inform the other two that it wasn’t a good idea for them to push Kingley so much at this point, when the doors of the great house opened and several of the other houseguests came out—Sir Henry at the front of them. Then she snapped her jaw closed again. “Yes, let’s take him for a walk.”
The three of them turned and took off at once, Morgan holding Kingley’s lead in her right hand and letting the animal guide her steps.
Almost immediately, Emma regretted her impetuous decision. Truly, she wasn’t prepared to spend more time in Sir Henry’s company at the moment, because she didn’t like the fact that she felt almost nothing in his presence. But was that a good reason to toss good reason aside and trust that both Morgan and Kingley were ready for the next step in their training? Although, Serena and Emma were both along, too. It wasn’t as though they were sending Morgan and Kingley off on their own with no one to assist should they encounter problems.
They’d been walking for twenty minutes or more, with Morgan and Serena keeping up a constant stream of chatter and Emma trapped within the doubts clouding her mind, when several male voices cut through.
Angry male voices.
Emma put her arm out to the side, and Morgan bumped into it but came to a stop. Serena stopped just as suddenly, and Morgan tugged on Kingley’s lead.
The three of them stood there for a moment, listening.
“If you need more blunt, perhaps you should take up a profession like Charles has,” one of them growled. “You won’t get it from me. Not after—”
“Not again!” The new voice was unmistakable as belonging to Lord Jacob Deering. “You can’t forget that, can you?”
Emma strained her neck, trying to see through the thick tree branches to where the men stood. Her efforts proved fruitless, though. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t see them.
“Why should I, when it was my money? When it tarnished my name?” Once Lord Jacob had been identified, it was easy to conclude that this voice must belong to his brother, Lord Muldaire. “As long as I have breath, you’ll never see another farthing from my estate.”
“Gentlemen, please,” a third voice cut in, leaving no doubt that it must belong to Mr. Charles Deering. “You’re brothers. Must you fight like this?”
A loud crack sounded in the distance, like a great log splintering in two, causing all three ladies to jump. Kingley whined, but it was so quiet, Emm
a doubted the men could hear the sound. Serena met Emma’s eyes, hers wide and fearful.
They should walk away. Quickly. But quietly, too, so as to avoid drawing the men’s notice. This was not a conversation any of them ought to hear, whether they intended it or not.
“You’ll still help Charles, though, when he needs it,” Lord Jacob shouted.
“I hardly see how anything to do with Charles matters in this discussion,” Lord Muldaire said drolly.
“You wouldn’t,” his brother returned. “Care to explain, Charles?”
“I…I…” Mr. Deering’s voice rose in a bit of a panic as he struggled for words.
“There’s nothing he ought to explain!” Lord Muldaire shouted just as another booming crash sounded in their direction.
With that, Emma and Serena acted as one, each taking one of Morgan’s arms while she still held Kingley’s lead, and guiding the lot of them away from the three men as fast as they could go without drawing notice. Emma didn’t even care where they were headed, as long as it was well away from the three men arguing in the woods. By the time they slowed, Emma was gasping for breath and her pulse hammered within her chest—but she doubted it was simply from her exertions. It likely had more to do with what they’d unintentionally eavesdropped upon.
“I think,” Morgan said after a few moments, her eyes as wide as Emma had ever seen them, “it is best if we do not mention what we heard to anyone.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Serena said. She gave an emphatic nod, which made Emma think she was attempting to convince herself as much as the other two. The expression she bore when she met Emma’s gaze was one of sheer panic. “And we ought to get back to the house before we’re missed.”
They couldn’t return soon enough. Emma nodded, then looked around. Their surroundings appeared vaguely familiar, but not really familiar enough for her to have a solid understanding of their location.
“Serena,” she started slowly. There was no need to make either Kingley or Morgan nervous about the fact that they were lost, particularly not if they weren’t truly lost. “Which direction do you think it would be easiest for us to go?”
Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon Page 15