Frost had kept his distance from Emily.
His friends’ ridiculous assumptions that she might have been indirectly responsible for Halward’s actions and Lady Gittens’s daring confrontation at the theater had put a fine edge to his mood.
Emily was upset, and beyond his assurances and charm.
Instead of sulking or staining his fists with Sin’s blood, Frost had chosen a different strategy to thaw Emily’s icy reserve.
Frost had found her sister’s Captain Gladish.
The man was residing just outside London. Frost had already sent one of his servants to the Cavell residence with a polite invitation for Emily to join him on a drive into the country. He would wager everything he owned that no matter how vexed Emily was at him, she would not decline his invitation.
His butler appeared in the doorway. “Lord Chillingsworth, you have a visitor. Are you receiving callers this afternoon?”
Frost admired his reflection as his valet stepped out of view. In her eagerness, had Emily come to him?
“Is it Miss Cavell?”
“No, milord, it is your mother.” The butler appeared aggrieved. “As always, the lady is most insistent.”
He had no time for or interest in seeing his mother. However, like the broken tip of a thorn buried in his flesh, she would fester and torment until he made the effort to dig her out.
“Escort her to the library. You have my permission to ignore all requests. My mother won’t be staying long enough for you to carry them out.”
* * *
Emily fussed with her bonnet for the fourth time as she and Frost traveled northeast of London to call on Captain Gladish. She could not decide if it was Frost’s proximity or her impending meeting with the man who was possibly Lucy’s lover that had her nerves just beneath her skin itching like a rash.
“You look fine,” Frost drawled. “Your fidgeting is disturbing my nap.”
Emily cast a side glance at her companion. His eyes were closed, and for most of their journey she did not think he was paying attention to her.
“I cannot believe you found Captain Gladish so quickly,” she admitted, her hands settling onto her lap. “When I mentioned the letter a few days ago, I thought the search might take years.”
“I had some incentive,” he murmured.
Bewildered, she asked, “Good heavens, what could possibly be an incentive for you?”
Frost opened his eyes. She felt the impact of his turquoise-blue gaze down to her toes. “You. View it as an apology, if you like.”
He had mistaken her silence for anger, she deduced. Emily could not deny that she had been upset the night she had encountered Lady Gittens at the theater. However, she did not blame him for the lady’s actions. He hadn’t lied when he had told her that he had ended the affair.
“You don’t owe me an apology about Lady Gittens,” she said with a sigh. “She is a troubled woman, who believes she is in love with you.”
Frost grimaced as he stretched. “Maryann understood the rules. More to the point, she doesn’t love me. She merely thinks that she does.”
The only rules he valued were his own. “Whether she does or not is unimportant,” she said coolly. “The lady believes her affections are genuine. Dismissing them does not make her pain any less real.”
“Emily,” he began.
“We have arrived,” she said, peering through the glass. “You mentioned that Captain Gladish is residing at his sister’s house.”
Emily pretended not to notice the look of frustration that darkened his expression. Frost was reluctant to let the matter drop, but she had given him little choice.
“Aye, let’s go introduce ourselves to Lucy’s captain.”
* * *
The confusion on the man’s face was to be expected. They had appeared on his doorstep without warning, and there was recognition in his gaze the moment his gaze settled on Emily.
“You must be one of Lucy’s sisters,” Captain Gladish blurted out before a proper introduction could be made. “Is Lucy here?” His gaze moved past them to their coach as if he expected Emily’s sister to stick her head out the window to wave at him.
Was the fellow daft?
Emily must have had similar concerns before she edged closer to him. Frost longed to place his arm around her, but he did not want to press his luck.
“Perhaps we should speak in private,” Frost said, unused to being the sensible one in the room. Or in this instance, the front hall.
Captain Gladish, who for a man who had to be in his early thirties had managed to hold on to his boyish looks, nodded and invited them upstairs to the drawing room.
They were offered tea, but Frost and Emily politely declined.
“Captain Gladish,” Emily began once they were seated. “When was the last time you saw my sister?”
The earlier delight at the prospect of seeing Lucy had faded into wariness. Frost did not blame the man. The news they brought was going to alter his world, and not for the better.
“A little more than five years ago, I believe. Has something happened?”
“Yes.” Emily reached into her reticule and pulled out the letter she had discovered in Lucy’s bedchamber. “I assume my sister hid this because … well, I do not wish to be indelicate, but your letter makes your feelings quite clear. You were in love with a lady who was betrothed to another gentleman.”
Captain Gladish accepted the letter Emily had offered him. Frost noticed the tremor in the man’s hands as he unfolded the letter and skimmed his own words.
“Miss Cavell, you speak as if my love for your sister is in the past. I regret this is not so. A day hasn’t passed when I have not thought of her and prayed for her well-being, even knowing that she chose to marry another man instead of me.”
Emily glanced at Frost, her distress so obvious that he did not give a damn about appearances. He clasped her hand and slipped his other arm around her waist.
“Captain Gladish, I cannot tell you how much I loathe being the one to tell you. My sister did not abandon you because she had married another gentleman,” she said, her voice cracking with sorrow.
Frost tightened his embrace, silently reminding her that she was not alone.
Anguish suffused the captain’s face. “I beg of you, do not say it.”
Emily retrieved her handkerchief and wiped the tears on her cheeks. “Lucy is dead, Captain Gladish. A little more than five years ago, she took her own life.”
“My God, I have killed her,” the man said starkly.
Moved by the captain’s genuine grief, Emily shook her head. “How could that be? You were not even aware—”
Captain Gladish’s face hardened. “Five years ago, Miss Cavell, your sister had accepted my marriage proposal. She was planning to end her betrothal. We were to marry, and she would have joined me on my next voyage. A fortnight passed, and she did not return to me. I wrote her several letters, but all of them remained unanswered. While I was at sea, I had come to the conclusion that Lucy had decided not to break her betrothal but lacked the courage to put her decision in a letter. All of these years … she was dead and I never knew.”
Captain Gladish brought his arm to his face and openly wept.
Emily buried her face into Frost’s shoulder and sobbed. The drawing room was thick with grief as the two people who loved Lucy the most were united in sorrow.
Frost’s throat tightened in sympathy for what Gladish had lost. Emily had been seeking the man who had seduced and abandoned her beloved sister. She had not considered that Lucy had been capable of abandoning the hardworking sea captain who had simply loved her.
* * *
“You never told him about his unborn child,” Frost said, thirty minutes later.
Emily’s tears had dried, or maybe she had shed so many on behalf of Lucy she had nothing left inside her.
“How could I? For five years, Captain Gladish has continued on with his life believing the most honorable thing he could do for the woman he
loved was to let her marry another man. I devastated him by revealing that my sister preferred death instead of fighting for their life together. It would have been too cruel for him to learn that she took the life of his unborn child as well.”
Frost felt helpless. “I’m so sorry, Emily.”
In an absent gesture, she dabbed the already damp handkerchief to her cheek. “I owe you an apology as well. I was so wrong—about you, the captain, even Lucy. I feel like such a fool.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He reached out to touch her, but she slapped his hand away.
“Stop the coach.”
Startled, he stared at her. “Now?”
“Yes, stop the coach.” Emily staggered forward to reach the small trapdoor in the roof. She pounded on the door until the coachman opened it. “Please stop the coach. I need to—please!”
The coachman brought the team to a halt, but Emily was impatient to leave her confines. Without waiting for the coachman to disembark, she flung the door open and almost fell to her knees in her haste to escape.
“Emily!” Frost roared as she raced away from him and the coach. He jumped down and shouted over his shoulder to the coachman, “I’ll go after her.”
She had disappeared into the tall grass, but her trail was easy for him to follow. They were far enough from the road that he could no longer see the coach, but that was not a concern.
Frost was worried for Emily. The captain had suffered a severe blow learning that the lady he still loved was dead. Emily was also hurt, and his longing to ease her sorrow warred with his rising need to throttle her long-dead sister.
He caught her by the arm and whirled her around to enfold her into his embrace. “Emily, you are going to make yourself sick if you continue.”
“Oh, my God, Frost,” she sobbed against his chest. “It hurts so much. I have kept Lucy’s secrets for so long. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”
Guided by instinct, he tilted her head back and said, “You need to purge the poison and grief.” He kissed her roughly, and he felt the sharp edges of her teeth cut into his lip. “Let it out. Use me. Share it with me.”
Frost kissed her again, willing her to respond to the wildness rising within him.
Emily froze at his rough handling, and then suddenly she was blindly pulling at his coat. His hat went tumbling to the ground and her fingers were tearing at his hair as she kissed him with a fierceness that hardened his cock and filled him with unquenchable lust. Without releasing her mouth, he peeled out of his frock coat and let it drop to the ground.
“Christ, Em, I have to have you!” he growled against her mouth as his eyes darted from side to side for a suitable place to take her.
“Here,” she panted as she kissed him again. “Now! I cannot wait.”
Frost groaned as desire overruled common sense.
Emily had wrapped herself around him, limiting his ability to move, but he did not want to release her. So he merely dropped to his knees, pulling her to the ground with him.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, lifting the front of her skirts above her knees.
She grabbed the front of his trousers at the waist, tugging until the buttons popped free from the eyelets. “You won’t. Nothing matters. I need—”
Emily could not articulate what she wanted from him, but Frost understood the emotions roiling inside her. She was hurting, lost, and seeking the blissful oblivion passion could provide.
What he could give her.
Frost freed his fully aroused cock, grabbed the front of her drawers, and widened the slit in the linen with a single tug. This was no gentle claiming. Nor was one necessary. He pushed the head of his cock against her sheath and slid inside her.
Emily was as aroused as he was.
Her next words confirmed it. “More,” she begged, arching against him.
Frost withdrew slightly so he could thrust into her wholly. She gasped and pulled his head down until their mouths met.
“I need you.”
The three words unleashed what little control he had left to offer her. Cupping her buttocks, he pounded his cock into her drenched sheath with a wild abandonment that Emily seemed to embrace. She wrapped her legs around him, silently demanding that he drive himself so deeply she could no longer distinguish where he ended and she began.
He bit her on the shoulder, more than willing to fuck her senseless. Their fierce, desperate rhythm only put an edge to his hunger. Frost wanted to take her in other positions. Heedless of the flattened grass and dirt, he wanted to flip her onto her knees and take her from behind. He wanted to roll onto his back and make her watch as his cock slid into her. He needed to feel her mouth on him, to coax her to take him deeply into her throat and pump into her until she was swallowing his seed.
Emily arched against him and cried out. Her release gripped him by the balls, and he joined her. His groans of pleasure mingled with hers as her muscled sheath milked him of his seed. He held her tightly, pushing cock deeper. He wondered if a man could die from the exquisite pleasure of pumping his seed into a woman’s womb.
If so, he would perish with a smug grin on his face.
Neither one of them spoke. He held her close as he listened to their labored breathing. His cock twitched inside her. He should have been sated, but the damn thing wanted more.
More of Emily.
If he had any sense, he should be worried.
But that was the problem with the stubborn, passionate woman in his arms.
He never seemed to get enough of her.
Chapter Twenty-seven
It took Emily a few days before she could bring herself to send a note to Lord Leventhorpe. He had called on her, but she had been out of the house on that particular afternoon. She did not dwell on what she and Frost had been doing that day while the earl sipped tea with her mother. Besides, what she had to say to the gentleman was not for her family’s ears.
While she would have welcomed the privacy of his drawing room, she could not bring herself to enter his residence without a chaperone. Instead, Lord Leventhorpe had invited her to one of the tea gardens, and she had eagerly accepted the respectable setting.
“This concerns Lucy, does it not?” the earl asked once they were seated.
She lifted her brows in surprise. “I did not realize my intentions were so apparent.”
“My dear, you have yet to learn how to conceal your emotions. The skill will be an invaluable asset if you choose to remain in town.”
Lord Leventhorpe’s mild lecturing tone had her bristling with indignation, but she held her tongue. After this meeting, he would never have to speak to her again.
“My lord, you inquired after some of my sister’s letters.”
“Ah, yes … something to remind me of Lucy.” Satisfaction gleamed in his gaze. “I assume your search was fruitful.”
Instead of replying, Emily took a sip of her tea. “My sister has been dead more than five years, and I have learned more about her in the last few weeks than I did when she was still alive.”
“You have been listening to old gossip. I would not put much faith in half-truths and lies.”
Intrigued by his response, Emily tilted her head as she studied the man seated before her. “I assure you, my lord, I am aware that my sister was not the paragon my family believed her to be.”
Lord Leventhorpe’s mouth thinned in disapproval. “Who told you about her lover? Was it Chillingsworth?”
“No, it was someone else. How did you learn of it?”
“Lucy was not as clever as she thought about her indiscretions. At the time, obligations forced me to leave her unattended for months, and young ladies seek other amusements when they feel neglected. It was not long before people were whispering in my ear that Lucy’s affections toward me had cooled.”
“Did you confront her?”
“Naturally. I had every right. Your father and mother had been neglectful in their duties, and with a little persuasion Lucy confesse
d everything. The little fool had even convinced herself that her lover would marry her once he learned of the child she was carrying.”
“You knew she was pregnant with another man’s child,” Emily said, feeling the world tilt beneath her feet again. “You must have been devastated by her betrayal.”
Lord Leventhorpe slammed his fist against the table, causing her to flinch. “I was furious.” He leaned closer. “I told your faithless sister that I wanted the bounder’s name. She refused, knowing that I was prepared to put a bullet in his heart to appease my honor.”
Emily had lost interest in her tea. “Is that what you did? Did you challenge her lover to a duel?”
“Unfortunately, my threats had little effect on the lady. She begged for my forgiveness, even offering to go through with the marriage to spare me the taint of scandal. Of course, I refused. I had no use for a duplicitous lady with a bastard in her belly.”
The abrupt smile brightening his face was more chilling than his fury. “I have always wondered what Lucy had told you that final night. Your mother told me that you refused to speak of it, so I had assumed that she told you the truth.”
“Does it bother you that I know?” she brazenly lied.
Lord Leventhorpe leaned forward, his expression revealing the malice he held in his heart. “Lucy deserved to be punished for her betrayal. I only took what she had given away for free.”
Emily struggled to maintain her composure. “So you threatened her, abused her, and then tossed her out of your house.”
“I did nothing any other man would not have done when faced with his lady’s infidelity. The only decent thing Lucy did was to take her own life so the rest of us did not have to suffer through the scandal.” He made a soft sound of annoyance. “My dear, don’t look so shocked. Haven’t you done everything possible to keep your sister’s secrets?”
“Out of love.” Emily cleared her throat. “I did it out of love.”
“Then I am not the only one she made a fool of,” he said, without an ounce of remorse that his violent confrontation had driven her sister to take her own life.
Emily had all the answers to the questions that had plagued her for years, and there was nothing she could do to change the outcome. There would be no justice for her sister.
Twilight with the Infamous Earl Page 18