She needed to set aside her feelings for him and be practical. He had no intention of marrying her despite the attraction they shared. Many people said their vows for practical purposes. She could do the same. All she needed to do was select a man for whom she could grow to care.
For a long moment, she considered Adolphus Vandimer. His wealth would solve all their problems. And even if serving as his mistress was only temporary, wouldn’t that be better than marrying and spending the rest of her life with a man she didn’t love?
With a sob, she put her hands over her face. No. She couldn’t do it. Not with him.
Marriage to a man with whom she could find companionship might work, but she wouldn’t be someone’s mistress. She would try harder with Lord Tagart or Lord Calverton and see what came of that.
As the carriage arrived at her home, she told herself she was relieved she’d made a decision. Now she could focus on helping Tessa.
The day passed slowly with her sister sleeping most of it. Emma felt so helpless. There seemed to be very little they could do to help her. Emma was certain that was what wore on their mother more than anything—simply waiting and hoping.
Half the day had passed before Emma realized she had yet to see Patrick.
“He’s running errands again,” her mother advised her. “He thought the money he’d earn might help pay for the doctor.”
Emma nodded. At least Patrick would feel like he was contributing. That had to be better than sitting here, listening to Tessa’s rattled breathing.
Dr. Barnes arrived mid-afternoon. Emma had never been so pleased to see him. To her surprise, he didn’t mention needing payment. Instead, he focused on Tessa.
“You say she’s been running a fever?” He examined her eyes, then looked in her mouth.
“It started two nights past. She’s been so tired and had little appetite.” Emma’s mother shook her head, her worried gaze watching the doctor.
“It appears as though she’s caught the chills in addition to her other ailment. With some rest and food once her appetite returns, she should recover within the next day or two. Be certain she has plenty to drink as well.”
Her mother sank into a chair with relief. Emma reached out and squeezed her mother’s shoulder, grateful for the good news.
The doctor left a potion in a bottle for Tessa’s cough then bid Tessa and her mother goodbye. Emma walked him to the door.
“Could I come by again and help with your notes?” she offered, hoping he’d permit a trade.
“That’s not necessary,” he said with a smile, “though I do appreciate your help. Your account has been paid in advance.”
“I’m sorry?” Emma was certain she hadn’t heard correctly.
“Viscount Weston asked me not to tell you unless you inquired, but since it’s your account, you have a right to know.”
Stunned, Emma thanked him, pleased when he said he’d be back on the morrow to see how Tessa fared. Just when she’d been certain she could set aside her feelings for Michael, he did something to breach her defenses.
“While the fever she has is certainly complicating matters,” Dr. Barnes continued, “what she really needs for the consumption is a long rest in a sanatorium. Many patients benefit from doing so. That might not be within your means, but I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t mention it.”
After he took his leave, Emma shut the door behind him and leaned against it. He was right in that an extended stay in a sanatorium was impossible at this point.
With a sigh, she stood upright. She couldn’t afford to allow Michael’s kindness and generosity to change her goal. Her family needed her. She needed to continue her pursuit of a marriage proposal and could only pray it was one she could live with.
~*~
“Two men were fished out of the Thames yesterday.” Michael stared out the window of Ashbury’s library, frustration mounting at their lack of success in tracking down the professor. Their former mentor had to be stopped, especially if he’d had anything to do with Berkmond’s murder. Lord only knew what he’d do next.
“And?” Ashbury rose from his desk, his brow creased.
“The detective I spoke with mentioned they had strange burn marks on their bodies.”
“You think it could be Grisby?”
“Perhaps he’s experimenting on people again as he did before to test the electromagnetic devices. This time, he’s not limiting himself to using children.”
“Unbelievable.”
Michael turned to face his friend. “They came from the workhouse. From what the police have been able to discover from their families, they believed they’d found a few days’ work for a scientist.”
“Christ.” Ashbury spun away to pace the room. “He must be stopped. But how? We can’t even find him.”
“Perhaps we should ask Farley to speak with the victims’ families, see if he can discover anything the police couldn’t.” Ashbury’s partner in the gaming hell easily blended in with those who lived near the docks or in the East End.
“He’d be pleased to help. If he could find out where they were contacted or where they were to report to work, that might lead us somewhere. We must find Grisby before he causes any further harm.”
“I don’t understand what his purpose is. How did he go from wanting to use those blasted devices to heal people to this?” Michael ran his hand through his hair.
“I’ve wondered the same thing. Did the accident damage him so much that he is not the same person?”
“If we knew why and what he is attempting to accomplish, we could gain the advantage.”
“To what end does he experiment on...people?”
“If it’s not to heal, then it must be to harm. There is no in between.”
Ashbury looked at him in alarm. “I suppose I never thought of it in quite that way. But for what purpose?”
“I have no idea.” Michael scowled. “Given the size of the devices, I’d hazard a guess it isn’t to use on just one person.”
“Blast it! If Simmons hadn’t died, surely we could’ve convinced him to tell us more.”
A footman opened the door. “Markus to see you, my lord.”
“Send him in.”
Michael watched as Markus, one of Ashbury’s ‘associates’ entered the room. The young lad swaggered in and bowed, his usual grin tempered. Another lad followed him, this one no more than thirteen or fourteen if Michael had to guess. Something about his eyes looked familiar.
“Afternoon, my lords.”
“What brings you here, Markus?” Ashbury asked.
“My companion, Patrick, is one of our newer associates. He saw something the other night I thought you might want to hear.”
Patrick swallowed hard then glanced at Markus who nodded in encouragement.
“You’re in safe company, Patrick,” Michael added, hoping to encourage the lad.
“Two nights past, I—” He hesitated. “I saw a man murdered.”
The hair on the back of Michael’s neck rose. “Who?”
“Don’t know his name. A lord by the look of his clothes.”
Michael turned to look at Ashbury to see if his friend had the same suspicion he did. Then Michael turned back to the boy. “Where was this?”
The boy described the street, matching the location of where Lord Berkmond had been killed.
“Did you see who did it?”
“I didn’t recognize him, if that’s what ye mean. He was pretty tall, thin, wore a bowler hat.” The boy shook his head. “It was dark, so I didn’t see much more.” He shrugged. “I heard voices arguing and went closer to see what was happening. Then I saw the gun and realized what he was about.”
“Did he see you?”
“I don’t think so. I think he saw me move, but I don’t think he had a good look at me. He didn’t chase me or anything.”
“Good.” Ashbury stepped forward to grasp the boy’s shoulder. “You did the right thing. No point would be served by you confronting t
he man. Your personal safety comes first. Always.”
The boy seemed relieved to hear that he wasn’t expected to play the part of hero.
“Patrick, would you be willing to speak with the police? To tell them what you saw?”
“But I didn’t really see him.”
“Yes, but what you tell them might tie into what they’ve already learned or provide enough of a clue that they can continue their investigation.”
He shrugged again. “If ye think it’s important, I will.”
Ashbury offered to have the police come to his home on Park Lane so Patrick didn’t have to attempt to navigate to the police station on his own. He told the boy he’d send word once he’d made arrangements with the police and the boys took their leave.
“It appears as though we’ve just found a witness to Berkmond’s murder,” Ashbury said.
“I haven’t heard of any other lords being murdered in the past two days. It had to be Berkmond.”
“Interesting description of the murderer.”
Michael glanced at his friend. “Because it matches Simmons’ description.”
Ashbury nodded. “Perhaps the professor isn’t the only one who didn’t stay dead.”
~*~
Emma returned to Viscountess Weston’s home after spending the night with her family. Though feeling a bit guilty for abandoning the older woman so abruptly, she’d wanted to allow her mother to have a good night’s rest. Emma had stayed with Tessa in her room, assisting her through the night and helping to calm her restlessness. Her mother looked better for having slept and had promised to send word if she needed anything.
Tessa’s condition appeared to have improved during the night, for which Emma was very grateful. The doctor planned to come by again. While accepting more of Michael’s financial assistance made her uncomfortable, Tessa’s wellbeing was more important. Now she needed to thank him.
Emma found the viscountess in the drawing room with her needlework; a basket of thread sat within reach on the nearby table.
“Good morning, my dear,” the viscountess said with a warmth in her smile that warmed Emma’s heart. “How is your sister?”
Emma sat and closed her eyes for a moment. “She gave us quite a scare.”
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Is she better now?”
How like the viscountess not to inquire as to what had happened. Good manners won out over curiosity.
Slowly, haltingly, Emma shared her sister’s condition, surprised at how difficult it was to speak about such a personal matter. It was so much easier to keep people at a distance to protect herself and her family.
But the viscountess was different. Emma believed that with all her heart and would be sad to lose contact with her once her time here was over.
As Emma expected, the viscountess showed great concern over Tessa, going so far as to ask, “Is there anything I can do?”
“Viscount Weston was kind enough to assist with the doctor’s bill. I don’t know how I’ll ever pay him back.”
“Sometimes, we need to simply accept the help of those who reach out.”
“I just wish there was some way I could return the favor. For everything.” She rose and looked out the window at the garden for a long moment. “I feel undeserving of his generosity. And of yours.” Emma turned to face the viscountess.
She waved off Emma’s comment with one graceful hand. “I’ve enjoyed every moment of your company. While I hope your mission is a success, I’ll be quite lonely when our time together is over.” There was that warm smile again.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Emma walked forward and took her hand. “You have been so kind and gracious.”
“As have you, my dear. Now, we’ll have some refreshments and discuss our schedule for the coming days. With luck, we’ll find a wonderful husband for you, allowing us to continue our friendship.”
Emma smiled and hoped it might be true.
~*~
Michael heaved a sigh as he entered the Larkby’s home later that evening. Musicals were not among his favorite things. In fact, they didn’t even make the list of events he normally attended. Listening to young ladies attempt to play instruments and sing had proven quite painful in the past. So painful that he made it a point to avoid them.
But the message from his grandmother had made it quite clear that his presence was required. Though he longed to spend more time in Emma’s company, he also knew it would be a mistake. Especially after the other night. Watching her come alive in his arms had been something he’d never forget. She deserved happiness with a man who would treasure her, who could—
He caught himself before his thoughts carried him any further down the path. His priority should be Catherine, not Emma.
A tug of guilt had him shifting. He should’ve inquired as to whether Catherine would be present. He’d been remiss in his obligations to his fiancé of late. It bothered him that he hadn’t missed her in the least. Escorting Emma and chasing after the professor had taken up most of his time.
The footman directed him to the music room where the performers prepared. He remained at the back of the room, searching for his grandmother.
The lovely back of a blonde-haired woman standing across the room caught his eye. Emma looked amazing this evening. The graceful line of her shoulders along with the creamy smoothness of her skin held his gaze. Her hair was upswept, revealing an elegant neck which begged to be nibbled. The deep plum of her gown made her glow with health and vitality. All his senses stirred as he watched her.
His breath caught as a strange burning sensation spread through his chest. Christ. Even from the back, she stirred him. When she turned, providing him with a better view, he nearly moaned. The dress fit her to perfection, hinting at her generous breasts and the curve of her hips.
She was so beautiful and now held herself with confidence. As she stepped to the side, he saw his grandmother in front of her. Emma said something, causing her to laugh. Emma had been wonderful to his grandmother, and for that he was truly grateful.
Movement in his line of sight caught his attention and he realized Catherine had indeed attended. He took the opportunity to watch her for a few moments. Odd, but he felt nothing as he looked at her. She was attractive as well, but in his mind, she held no appeal compared to Emma. At least not to him.
As usual, Catherine was dressed in the height of fashion, though the gown carried far too many striped frills for Michael’s taste. And he feared she might fall out of it if she bent forward. The young lady Catherine spoke with smiled shyly then nodded at something she said. Catherine’s gaze moved up and down the lady’s attire as she spoke again. Suddenly, the smile the young lady wore fell away and her eyes widened with hurt.
Michael grimaced. He could only imagine what rude comment Catherine had made. He was convinced that she said such things to make herself feel better, to feel as though she belonged amongst the nobility since she hadn’t grown up in the ton. The comments she’d said to Abigail, Ashbury’s fiancé, on more than one occasion had made him say something to Catherine. But she didn’t seem to understand—or care—if she hurt someone’s feelings. He was coming to realize how very self-centered she was.
Like father like daughter, he thought.
The young lady turned and fled toward the other side of the room, moving past Emma and his grandmother. Emma had apparently witnessed the exchange for she glared at Catherine and caught the young lady’s attention as she neared.
With a smile, Emma greeted her and gestured toward the lady’s gown, offering a compliment if Michael were to hazard a guess. The young lady glanced down, still uncertain. Emma kept her smile firmly in place as she sent one last glare at Catherine who turned away, obviously miffed at Emma’s action. Emma hooked her arm through the young lady’s and turned her toward his grandmother. The three chatted companionably for a few moments before their hostess requested that everyone take their seats.
Doubt filled Michael as he considered what he’d see
n. He needed to put aside his personal feelings toward Catherine in order to ensure the future of his family seat, a responsibility he took seriously. However, the idea of aligning himself with her for the rest of his life caused a knot of unease to form in the pit of his stomach. He’d never concerned himself with being overly nice, but Catherine’s behavior was unacceptable. The question was, what was he willing to do about it?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lord Tagart invited Emma for a ride in Hyde Park the next day. As they left Viscountess Weston’s, Emma eyed the grey clouds which threatened rain.
“I am told by the highest authority that it will not rain,” Lord Tagart said with a smile as he assisted her into her seat.
“That relieves my worries considerably.” She couldn’t help but smile in return.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked as they settled into his landau with the folding hoods left open so they could take in the sights.
“Quite. Thank you.” Emma held his gaze, waiting and hoping for something—a flutter—anything to prove he would make a wonderful husband.
But she felt nothing other than the start of a friendship. Was that enough? In truth, it was more than many married couples experienced. The problem was that she couldn’t help but compare her feelings for Lord Tagart with her feelings for Michael. And the two were as similar as night and day.
He gave a flick of the reins and the pair of matching blacks with white stockings sped into a trot. A groom was seated behind them. The elegant conveyance was well sprung and the interior lush, making the short journey to Hyde Park enjoyable.
“Might I say you look lovely today?” He glanced at her with his customary smile, his warm brown eyes steady on hers.
“How kind of you.” She returned his smile, determined to enjoy herself.
She relaxed back in the seat, drawing a deep breath of fresh air, or rather, as fresh as London air could be. The park was busy, filled with many on horseback, in carriages, and some even on foot. Emma looked about with curiosity and realized others were staring at her. It was an odd feeling, and she straightened her posture in response.
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