“Thank you for coming so promptly, Miss Browning,” Mr. Braun said. He cleared his throat loudly. “Please, do sit down.”
With a questioning look, Isabella complied with his request, taking the seat directly across from Mrs. Braun. After Isabella was seated, Mr. Braun joined his wife on the settee. Isabella shifted her gaze back and forth between the two, from the grinning face of Mrs. Braun to the somber continence of Mr. Braun, trying to read from their very opposite expressions what was happening.
“Now then, Miss Browning, I would like to ask you—” Mr. Braun began, but he was cut off by a loud gasp of astonishment from Isabella.
Isabella could scarcely believe she had missed seeing the third occupant of the room until this very moment. He was leaning casually against the wall, a glass in his hand. When their eyes met, he flashed a slow and tantalizingly wicked grin. Everything else seemed to recede into the distance as Isabella stared in appalled silence at the rude man who had accosted her in the park.
She was conscious of a sudden feeling that the room had shrunk in size. There was something infinitely more unsettling about having to face this strange man in closed quarters. Instinctively she wanted to flee, but she had far too much common sense to allow herself to act in such an irrational manner in front of her employers.
The stranger’s larger-than-life presence dominated the room. He was staring intently at Isabella, and when he caught her eye again, he gave her a mocking bow. Then he spoke.
“As you can clearly see, Mr. Braun, this woman knows me,” he stated in an arrogant voice.
“Is this true?” Mrs. Braun asked. “Are you acquainted with the earl?”
“I have seen him before,” Isabella admitted slowly, her mind whirling in confusion. An earl? This strange man who had spent the morning stalking her through the park was an earl. But what was he doing here? Was he a friend of the Brauns?
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Braun exclaimed breathlessly. “I am afraid we owe you an apology, my lord.” She turned a jaundiced eye to Isabella. Mrs. Braun looked properly scandalized. “You must believe we had no idea who she really was when we hired her.”
“Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Braun,” the earl replied in . an even tone. “I found it equally baffling to discover Emmeline was in your employ. And doing such a credible job.” He shot Isabella a hard, challenging look.
Isabella gulped, trying to marshall her thoughts. It was obvious the earl had followed her to the Brauns’ home to tell them his ridiculous story about her being some woman named Emmeline. Isabella took a steadying breath and attempted to assert a measure of control over the situation.
“Mrs. Braun, Mr. Braun, I can assure you this is all a bizarre misunderstanding,” Isabella began imploringly. “When I said I had seen this gentleman before, that is precisely what I meant. Yes, I have seen him. I did not mean to imply that I know him. The one and only time I have ever laid eyes on him was this morning, during my outing with the children in the park. He stared at me for a considerable length of time before approaching me. He then addressed me as Emmeline and insisted he was acquainted with me. Naturally, I told him he was mistaken. As to why he has followed me here, I cannot even hazard a guess.”
Isabella finished speaking and stared intently at her two employers, trying to read their reactions to her explanation. Mrs. Braun’s round face held a closed look, but her husband appeared to be wavering. Isabella addressed her next comments to him.
“I am not certain what the . . . umm, the earl has said about me—” Isabella began calmly.
“He told us you were his wife,” Mrs. Braun bluntly interrupted.
“What!” Isabella’s eyes flashed and she jerked her head up to look at the earl, who was still standing on the far side of the room. “My God, this man is obviously some sort of lunatic!”
“Really, Miss Browning,” Mrs. Braun admonished. “It is hardly necessary for you to insult his lordship.”
“Insult his lordship?” Isabella sputtered, unable to believe Mrs. Braun was defending the earl. “This ... this man spent the better part of the morning stalking and harassing me, following me around a public park calling me Emmeline, which I might add, is not, nor has ever been my name. He now has somehow managed to track me to my residence and place of employment, and you have the audacity to imply I have insulted him. I strongly doubt he even possesses the wit necessary to be insulted!”
“That is quite enough,” Mrs. Braun huffed. She turned to her husband in annoyance. “George.”
Mr. Braun’s expression revealed his shock at Isabella’s angry response. In all the months she had worked for them, he had rarely seen her raise her voice to his children, let alone speak to anyone in such a passionate manner. The quiet, self-contained governess he knew appeared to be unraveling before his eyes.
“Did the earl hurt you this morning, Miss Browning?” Mr. Braun inquired. “Or threaten you in any way?”
“Not exactly,” Isabella answered truthfully. “But he did try to prevent me from entering the carriage when we were leaving the park.” She stared pointedly up at the earl.
He slanted a steely gray gaze in her direction and took a long swallow of his drink. His face gave no indication of his emotions other than the hint of amusement she saw in his eyes before a shuttered look took its place. It made Isabella furious.
“So the earl did not harm you,” Mr. Braun stated reflectively. He was certainly in a very delicate position. Since she was his employee, Mr. Braun felt he owed a measure of loyalty to Isabella. After all, she was an unprotected female living in his household and clearly his responsibility. However, Mr. Braun was not unaware of either Damien’s fierce reputation or his social stature. The man was an earl, and although he had a somewhat tarnished reputation, he was still a member of the English aristocracy.
True, Mr. Braun had heard about the mysterious death of the Countess of Saunders several years ago, but he also remembered hearing about Damien’s obsessive insistence that his wife was not dead. Then there were all the wild rumors inferring that the countess had committed suicide, while some of the more sordid stories even hinted at murder, with the earl as the chief suspect.
Mr. Braun considered all that ancient history at the moment. Damien St. Lawrence had stated his case this afternoon, before Miss Browning had been summoned, in a very calm, very persuasive, and very civilized manner. It truly did not matter if Mr. Braun personally thought the idea that his children’s governess was the missing wife of an earl was completely preposterous. He was certainly not about to disagree with a man who by every account was his superior. Mr. Braun had not earned his vast fortune by being a fool.
“As you can plainly see, Mr. Braun, my wife has reacted precisely as I predicted she would when I first explained this bizarre situation to you,” Damien stated smoothly. “I ask only that you allow me to escort Emmeline to Lord Poole’s house in Grovesnor Square. After she has seen and spoken to her brother, I believe she will be more reasonable.”
The room remained silent as Damien pressed on. “Afterward, Emmeline will naturally be free to return here, if she wishes.”
“That seems very fair, my lord,” Mr. Braun replied slowly, pleased the earl had given him an easy choice. It was a reasonable request, asking Miss Browning to accompany him to Lord Poole’s. And it left room for the possibility, if the earl was somehow mistaken, then Miss Browning would be free to return, although nothing in Damien St. Lawrence’s attitude or tone suggested there was even a remote possibility he was wrong.
“Fair?” Isabella repeated in a voice that sounded far too loud, even to her own ears. “You honestly think this man has devised a fair solution to this absurd situation?”
“The earl is only requesting your cooperation for a few hours,” Mr. Braun insisted. “It can do no harm for you to visit Lord Poole this afternoon. He will be able to verify your identity.”
“I don’t need anyone to verify my identity,” Isabella replied tensely, unable to believe what she was hearing. She s
at very still while she considered the best course of action. Belatedly she realized her hands were trembling. She folded them in front of her. “I am sorry, Mr. Braun, but I must refuse to accompany the earl anywhere.”
A charged, furious silence greeted Isabella’s announcement. She could feel the resentment of both Mr. and Mrs. Braun, but it was the earl’s fury that truly frightened her. His face was a taut mask of controlled anger. His steely gray eyes glittered with terrifying intensity and the whiteness around the edges of his mouth testified to his barely restrained emotion.
“You will accompany me, Emmeline.”
Isabella flinched at the cold-blooded tone of the earl’s deep voice. “I will not,” she declared stoutly.
“I think it would be best for all concerned if you do as the earl requests, Miss Browning,” Mr. Braun injected.
“I have already made my feelings quite clear about this,” Isabella insisted softly. “And I must add that I would not feel comfortable working for someone who had so little regard for my personal feelings, Mr. Braun,” Isabella added a trifle recklessly. She knew it was a gamble, but she also knew her only chance to avoid being hauled away by the earl was to convince Mr. Braun to support her.
Isabella waited tensely for Mr. Braun to make his decision, beginning to experience a ray of hope when he did not immediately answer.
“If that is truly the way you feel, Miss Browning,” Mr. Braun said with a regretful sigh, “perhaps it is best if you terminate your employment with us.”
Isabella’s heart sank at his announcement, but she listened to his answer with stoic acceptance. She was used to having her feelings and opinions disregarded; it had been that way for most of her life. But she had foolishly hoped it would be different this time.
Isabella sighed. For a brief moment, she thought she might have persuaded Mr. Braun to take her side. She rose regally to her feet and faced the Brauns. There was a hint of tension in the way she held her shoulders, and the hurt in her eyes was evident.
“Are you absolutely certain you wish to terminate my employment?”
Mr. Braun had the grace to look embarrassed. Before he could reply, his wife intervened. “We believe it is best for all concerned if you leave,” she insisted.
“I’ll go upstairs and pack my things immediately.” Isabella turned and walked slowly toward the drawing room doors. It was over. She had just lost her fourth position. What would she do now? She felt dazed and a little sick to her stomach.
When her hand touched the door latch, the earl spoke. “I will await you in the front hall, Emmeline.”
At the sound of his voice, Isabella’s knuckles went white around the brass handle, but she forced herself to remain calm. She tried to reply, but her throat was too dry. She had to swallow a few times before answering.
“As you wish, my lord,” Isabella replied in a wry tone. She shut the door quickly behind her and hurried up the stairs to her room, silently vowing she would beg on the streets before accompanying that dreadful man anywhere.
Chapter Four
Isabella wrenched a plain brown dress off its hook and flung it onto her bed. She swore vehemently and reached into the wardrobe for another gown. She yanked out the remaining three garments and cursed again. Then she pulled out her worn satchel from the bottom of the empty oak cabinet.
Growing up in an all-male household did have its advantages, Isabella decided, repeating a favorite curse of her eldest brother, the exact meaning of which she did not fully understand.
She kept her anger fueled by alternating her cursing and throwing, and within minutes all her clothing was scattered on the bed. After all her meager belongings were assembled, Isabella quickly gathered them up and stuffed them into the satchel.
Normally she would have carefully and methodically folded each and every garment before packing it, but Isabella was not about to take the time to pack neatly. It was imperative she vacate the house quickly, and neatness would be a deterrent to that goal.
Isabella embraced her anger, knowing it was buffering her from the true reality of her situation. If her anger left, it would be replaced by fear. Cold, unmitigated terror at the prospect of once again being without a job, without a home, without any security at all. And worst of all, the maniacal earl, the cause of all her recent distress, awaited her downstairs. Above all else he must be avoided.
Shuddering with emotion, Isabella jammed her straw bonnet on her head and hastily threw on her coat. She pulled too hard on a button and it went flying, but she did not take the time to search for it. Better to lose a button than lose a chance at escape.
You must hurry, you must hurry, Isabella repeated methodically to herself as she lifted her satchel. She paused briefly in the hallway outside her door, toying with the notion of saying good-bye to the children but rapidly discarded the notion. She could not afford to waste the time it would take to walk to the schoolroom at the opposite side of the house. Let the Brauns explain to their children why their governess had left so suddenly.
Quietly, efficiently, Isabella strode down the hallway to the servants’ staircase. When she reached the first floor, she cautiously edged her way across the short hallway toward the kitchen at the back end of the house. She strongly suspected the earl had positioned himself at the bottom of the grand staircase in the front of the house, but if he moved to the side of the foyer, there was a slight chance he might see her at the back entrance.
Thankfully, Isabella reached the kitchen without incident. For once the busy room was deserted, except for the cook, who was sitting in a large rocking chair in front of the fireplace, snoring softly.
Isabella could scarcely believe her good fortune. She had neither the time nor the desire to exchange lengthy farewells with the household’s servants and now it appeared she would escape the house without anyone seeing her at all. Silently she lifted the kitchen door handle and gingerly stepped outside into the small courtyard facing the rear of the house.
Isabella paused a moment, debating which direction to take. She would have preferred going straight ahead, walking through the Brauns’ formal gardens, crossing the neighboring property, and emerging onto the street behind the Brauns’ house. But a rather high fence divided the two properties and Isabella was uncertain she could scale it.
Instead, she turned to her right and rapidly walked along the shortest section of the house, crouching low to avoid being seen through any of the windows. Turning again, she followed the narrow brick footpath along the side of the mansion, heading toward the street front. She struggled for a moment with the iron latch on the gate guarding the entrance to the Brauns’ yard but successfully swung it open on her third attempt.
“Going somewhere, Emmeline?”
Isabella was so startled by the earl’s voice that she dropped her satchel. She jerked her head around and saw him standing in front of the house only a few feet away. He was leaning casually against the brick facade, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked very pleased with himself.
Drat the man, must he be everywhere? Isabella bent down to retrieve her satchel and slowly stood upright. She simply stared at the earl for a few minutes, feeling completely lost. His superior attitude grated on her nerves. She gritted her teeth and considered a variety of actions. Isabella glanced briefly down at the earl’s strong, muscular legs and knew for certain she could never outrun him. Perhaps it was possible to outwit him.
“Ahh, I can almost see the wheels turning in that devious head of yours, Emmeline.” The earl pushed himself off the wall and took a step toward her.
Isabella decided it was time to take a stand against him. She thrust her chin in the air.
“I give you fair warning, sir. If you do not allow me past you, I shall scream. Very loudly.”
“You will?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” The earl stroked his chin thoughtfully. He appeared singularly unimpressed by Isabella’s threats. Desperately, she tried again.
“I am not going w
ith you, sir.”
“You are going to do precisely what I tell you to do, Emmeline.”
“For the last time, I am not Emmeline!”
Isabella shrieked loudly, but the fight soon left her. She brought her hand to her head and rubbed her temple vigorously. It was no use. No matter how many times she shouted the truth at this man, he would not relent. He would never relent. He would hound her until he got his way.
“What do you want from me?” she finally whispered.
Damien’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he observed her abrupt change of attitude. She had dropped her defiant stance and her eyes were lowered in classic feminine submission.
“Accompany me to your brother’s house, Emmeline. I want to see his face when I confront him with you standing by my side.”
“If I do as you ask, will you then leave me in peace?”
“Yes.”
“Even if it does not turn out as you anticipate? Do you promise, do you swear to me on your word of honor, you will leave me alone?”
“I have already stated that I agree,” Damien growled softly. “And I, unlike yourself, abide by my word.”
“All right,” Isabella sighed in defeat. “I will accompany you.”
The earl gave a masculine grunt of satisfaction and moved forward to grab her arm. Isabella neatly sidestepped him and hurried toward the impressive carriage parked in front of the Brauns’ house. She blinked resentfully at the coat of arms boldly emblazoned on the door of the shining black vehicle. It reminded her of the carriage her grandfather rode in.
A young servant dressed in elegant blue and silver livery eagerly jumped down from his position on the back of the coach when he saw them approaching. The servant respectfully opened the door, and against her better judgment, Isabella allowed him to assist her inside the coach.
His Wicked Embrace Page 4