From London with Love

by Diana Quincy

  Russia. The word sliced across her middle like the exquisite little Russian dagger she’d come to treasure, the one Sophie had insisted on tying to her thigh this evening using a strange contraption Emilia was certain most lady’s maids knew nothing about. The blade was a treasured gift from Sparrow. She recalled Mrs. Dubois saying her beautiful jade necklace had been purchased in Russia by an admirer. Ice solidified around her internal organs. The French widow had obviously been Sparrow’s mistress. Perhaps he gifted all of his conquests with exotic foreign trinkets.

  “Have a care.” Edmund swallowed the last of his champagne. “I know he is a friend to your family, and I would not dream of interfering with those bonds, but people have remarked on your association with him.”

  She forced an indifferent tone. “There is nothing between us.” It was both a lie and the truth all at once.

  “And well I know it.” Edmund exuded supreme confidence. Perhaps he should not be so certain of her steadfastness, especially when she barely knew her own mind these days. “Still, he has escorted you to and fro and some have taken note.” He set his empty glass down on a passing footman’s tray. “I suppose it is of little consequence, since we’ll be married and off on our travels before long.”

  “Yes.” Yet, instead of bridal anticipation, she felt the pressure of insurmountable walls closing in on her.

  “There’s Lady Harrington now.” They watched the cool blonde moved graciously through the guests, wearing a beaded silver gown that enhanced her pale coloring, giving her the appearance of a crystalline snow queen. Like Mrs. Dubois, she was uncommonly lovely. But while the French widow had dusky eyes and an earthy appeal, Lady Harrington possessed a cool remoteness. Sparrow’s dalliance with both women was proof enough that he normally gravitated toward great beauties of obvious allure, rather than almost-spinsters with vulgar hair.

  The lady’s attention seemed fixed on something at the top of the three wide marble steps that led to the ducal ballroom. She moved in that direction with obvious purpose, and it soon became obvious why. Sparrow had arrived. He came down the steps and stood by a column, scanning the room, looking incredibly dashing in a deep green tailcoat and a beautifully ruffled shirt that, if Edmund was to be believed, he likely couldn’t afford.

  Lady Harrington went immediately to Sparrow’s side. For the next half hour, they stood together, conversing and occasionally extending their attention to other guests who wandered by and paused to exchange a few words. When they were alone again, Lady Harrington placed a light hand on Sparrow’s arm and whispered something in his ear before he offered his arm and led the lady away. Edmund noticed as well.

  “Ah, perhaps that is the way the wind blows,” he remarked, watching the two leave the room.

  Emilia held herself perfectly still as an unspeakable pain spun through her. She stared at the two of them together. Physically, they were well matched, Lady Harrington’s fair comeliness a perfect foil to Sparrow’s dark good looks. No doubt many would remark upon what a handsome couple they made.

  “Perhaps,” Edmund said, “Vale has opted for beauty and experience as well as the coin.”

  She forced a response despite the fog of misery engulfing her. “She is beautiful.”

  Edmund scoffed. “Any man with eyes will recognize that I have the most beautiful woman in London by my side.”

  It wasn’t true and they both knew it, but she was moved by his gallantry. Gratitude rushed through her. Thank goodness she hadn’t behaved rashly and jilted Edmund, a drastic action that couldn’t be undone. She forced a breath and tried to think rationally. She might feel completely different on the inside now, after being with Sparrow, but on the exterior, nothing had changed. If she wanted, her arrangement with Edmund could still go forward as planned. They could wed and begin a life of travel and artistry, just as she’d always planned.

  “Shall we dance?” he asked.

  She blinked at him and tried to focus. Despite the confusion and uncertainty clouding her mind, she forced a smile. “Yes, let’s do dance.”

  Chapter 19

  “You are naughty,” Amanda Harrington purred when Sparrow closed the door with a decided click, giving them privacy in a small sitting room not too distant from the party. “But I will endeavor to be quiet.”

  He shook his head, eager she not misunderstand his reason for wanting to be alone with her. “I haven’t brought you here to dally.”

  She stilled, watching him with chilly blue eyes, which made him long for Emilia’s warm, open emerald gaze. How had he ever found Amanda’s remoteness appealing?

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

  Because he could delay no longer. As soon as he arrived at the Duke of Arthington’s soiree, he’d scanned the crowd for a glimpse of Emilia. He’d spotted her promenading around the room on Worsely’s arm, a vision in pale violet silk with her radiant hair catching the light of hundreds of candles as she glided across the floor. His gut had tightened at the brilliant smile she gave the man, as bright as any flame in the room. He’d barely had time to drink in the sight of her before Amanda appeared and proceeded to glue herself to his side with more fortitude than any French agent had ever managed.

  Now he moved away from the closed door, in case she wanted to make a quick retreat after he’d said his piece. “I brought you here so we could speak privately.” He’d intended to call on her on the morrow to decline her marriage offer and officially end their sexual liaison.

  He had zero physical interest in her now. Emilia, with her lush body and refreshing, unaffected eagerness, had seen to that. However, since Amanda seemed intent on monopolizing him for the entire evening, he’d decided he couldn’t wait any longer to sever the connection.

  “Well?” she prodded. “Why are we here?”

  He knew by now that the kindest way to end an affair was to do so in a clear-cut manner that left no hope of reconciliation. “I am flattered by your offer of marriage, but I must decline.”

  She betrayed no reaction. She might as well have been carved out of stone. “May I ask why?”

  “I would make a poor husband. I thank you for sharing your company with me these past few weeks.”

  “You are ending our liaison as well.”

  “I am. It is for the best.”

  Her lower lip trembled, betraying her emotions. “And your financial situation?”

  “Has changed.”

  “I see.” Her tone turned to steel. “You have been seen with the St. George chit. She’s worth a vast fortune.”

  “She is betrothed.” Not for long if he had anything to say about it, but that had nothing to do with this.

  “You’ve been noted walking in the park with her, escorting her to the museum, visiting her home.”

  “Her family home. I fence there with her father.”

  “I am not a woman who is easily dismissed.”

  A chill rippled through him. Amanda Harrington could be a formidable enemy. “We had an enjoyable liaison,” he said gently. “Now let us part as friends.”

  “There are rumors about you and the St. George chit.”

  And even if there weren’t, Amanda was threatening to spread them herself, to blacken Emilia’s name.

  A primal urge to protect Emilia coiled through him. “I am not a man to cross.” He infused the words with unmistakable warning. “This is the end of our affair. You would be wise to accept it.”

  Fury flashed in her eyes. “Just like that, you think to dismiss me?”

  “I never promised you anything beyond a few enjoyable romps. It is now over. Leave Miss St. George out of this.”

  Her eyes widened. “You actually care about that frump.”

  He shuttered his expression, although his gut seethed at her casual insult of Emilia, a warm vibrant woman with a thousand times more appeal than this ice queen. Bedding Amanda had had all the warmth of sleeping with an icicle. “Our families have long been friends. There is nothing more between Miss St. George and myself.”


  Her answering laugh was full of contempt. “You might even believe that lie. But I do not.”

  He tried another tack. “Have a care. You wouldn’t want the ton to think the beautiful Lady Harrington was thrown over for another woman.”

  Her answering expression told him he’d hit his mark. Amanda could not spread rumors about Emilia without putting a dent in her own reputed allure. She sniffed. “No one would believe a man such as yourself would prefer a dowd like Miss St. George over me.” She ran a hand down her bodice. “Very well. There is nothing left to say.” Shoulders back, she glided toward the closed door.

  “I’ll escort you back.”

  “That isn’t necessary. I have need of the ladies’ retiring room.” When she paused to turn back to him, her features were perfectly composed, and he saw the ice queen was fully back in control. “Farewell then.”

  He bowed, relief washing through him. “Goodbye, Amanda.”

  He waited only about a minute before following her out the door, because he was eager to keep an eye on Emilia. He’d been gone too long. He couldn’t take the chance that someone might try to harm her again. He looked both ways before slipping out of the salon to head back to the public rooms.

  Someone stepped in his way. Emilia.

  He smiled with true pleasure to finally have a chance to speak with her. “There you are.”

  “And where were you?” she asked lightly. “Taking a few private moments with Lady Harrington?”

  He paused, feeling the flush on his cheeks. He couldn’t stand the idea of her believing he’d just bedded Amanda, or any other female. He would never disrespect her in that way, having left her bed not so long ago.

  “I was on my way to the retiring room,” she explained when he didn’t immediately reply. “I couldn’t help but notice her slipping out of the salon before you.”

  He found his voice. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Isn’t it? She’s rich and beautiful.” She looked at him with cool eyes that shielded her true emotions, so unlike her usual sparkling, clear gaze which seemed to communicate her every thought. “You are drawn to beauty and you have need of money. It seems to me she should suit your needs admirably.”

  He stilled. “What do you know of my financial state?”

  “Enough to comprehend that it is dire.”

  “I see. And who informed you of my private finances?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “That depends on who told you,” he responded. “And what their motive was for doing so.”

  “It makes no difference how I found out. All that matters is that you lied to me.”

  “I most certainly did not,” he said sharply. “I never mentioned one word about the state of my purse.”

  “No, but you drive the best carriage and wear the finest clothes.”

  He frowned. “What has that to do with anything?” Even as he asked, the intent behind her words dawned on him. “You think I deliberately set out to deceive you about my financial affairs? To what purpose?”

  “Seducing an heiress is not exactly a novel concept.”

  He sucked in a breath. “You cannot believe what occurred between us was a stratagem on my part.”

  “It does not matter,” she said with a frostiness he’d never detected in her before. “Whatever it was, it is over between us.”

  “No.” He stepped closer, furious at her baseless accusations and wounded at being dismissed with such finality. “We are nowhere near finished.”

  “Oh? Do tell.” Sarcasm made the words brittle, when her voice was usually lush and edged with merriment. “Is this another proposal?”

  Was it? He couldn’t love her the way she deserved but, thanks to some recently unearthed metal in Dorset, he was no longer a beggared viscount with nothing to offer. “Considering what has passed between us, we should give the possibility all due consideration.”

  “No,” she said flatly.

  “No?” he repeated, uncertain of what she meant. No, she wouldn’t consider it or no, she wouldn’t marry him. Although, any way you looked at it, it was all the same.

  “No.” Contempt laced her words. “I don’t want to marry you any more than you truly care to wed me.”

  He stared at her in disbelief, pain roiling through his innards. She might as well have gutted him with that dagger he’d given her. It was like Marie all over again. He’d only ever mentioned marriage to two women in his life and both had responded by stabbing him in the heart.

  Fury bubbled up through his lungs and into his throat until he spat out the words. “If Worsely hears of what occurred between us, he won’t want to wed you.”

  She immediately understood the poorly veiled threat for what it was. A hard smile curved her lips. “And then we’d be forced to wed. That would work out quite nicely for you, wouldn’t it?”

  “No, it would not.” His words were like a blade, sharp and designed to inflict damage. “At the moment, my life would be complete if I never laid my eyes on you or any other woman until the end of my days.”

  The cool reserve slipped and he glimpsed a blaze of anger in her eyes. “Then allow me to remove myself from your presence.” She marched away, her shoulders back, her chin up. He watched her head toward the double doors that led to the small back garden. And then followed her out.

  —

  Emilia found the darkest corner of the garden before she allowed the tears to fall. The cad. What a liar. Pain filled her chest, emotion twisting her insides.

  “Emilia.” She turned away from him so he wouldn’t see that he’d made her cry. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. A crisp white kerchief appeared over her shoulder. “Here.”

  She sniffed. “No, thank you, I am not in need of that.”

  “So I see.” He held the linen there until she finally snatched it without looking at him and noisily blew her nose.

  “Go away.”

  “Not until we hash this out. I apologize for my behavior just now. It was ungentlemanly and uncalled for.”

  “Which part?” She hiccupped. Damnation. Why couldn’t she cry a little more elegantly? “The part where you threatened to tell my betrothed that we’ve cuckolded him?”

  A beat. “Yes.” She heard the chagrin in his voice.

  She pivoted so she could see his face. “Why do you think we should discuss marriage?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Because you feel you’ve compromised me?”

  He exhaled and spoke carefully, as if sensing this was some sort of test. “And because you are a delight to be with.”

  “But you said very clearly before that you don’t wish to wed me.”

  “Because you deserve better. I am a cold man, Emilia. Once the…physical passion between us fades, you will find me wanting as a husband. I am not a man to give his heart, to share myself with another. I would hate to be the cause of your unhappiness. I will do anything to prevent that.”

  “I see.” It was too late to spare her. She shut her eyes against the pain welling in her chest. Although she loved him unreservedly, he would never feel the same about her.

  “Emilia.” He stepped closer. “I never wanted to hurt you. You do deserve to know the full truth about me.”

  “Are you in debt?”

  “Up to my eyeballs.”

  “You’re a spendthrift.” She’d never have thought it of him. Despite the fine accoutrements, she’d never seen him as a man who cared about material things. Jealousy bit her stomach. “Is that why you are courting Lady Harrington?”

  “I am no longer courting her.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “Yes. I told her this evening. But if I wanted to marry a fortune, Lady Harrington would suit.” He held her gaze. “It would be a business transaction more than anything else. You deserve better than that.”

  But she didn’t, apparently, deserve his love, as much as she craved it. Tears welled again and one slipped down her cheek before she cou
ld control her emotions.

  “Don’t.” He stepped closer and gently wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Do not cry, Emilia.”

  She shook her head, too choked up to utter anything that made sense. Strong arms encircled her, drawing her closer until she nestled into him. She laid a cheek against the firm expanse of his chest, listening to his heart beat beneath the superfine fabric of his evening clothes.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was strained. “I never meant to hurt you. You’re a young girl. Of course all of this would be too much for you.”

  “Don’t.” She forced the words out. “Don’t apologize for finding me unlovable.”

  He pulled back, his expression troubled. “Surely you cannot truly believe that.”

  She avoided his gaze, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, her nose stuffy from crying. “You’ve said as much.”

  “No, you misunderstand.” He frowned. “The fault lies with me.”

  “A gentleman would say that.” She pulled away. She needed distance from him if she was to think straight. “You needn’t lie. I know about you and Mrs. Dubois.”

  She saw the surprise and then the shifting of his expression to hide his reaction. Her heart shrank. She’d been correct. He loved Mrs. Dubois.

  “It must be difficult to juggle so many women at once: me, Lady Harrington, and Mrs. Dubois. Your stamina is impressive.”

  “I am not bedding Lady Harrington, at least not any longer. And as for Marie Dubois, it’s over,” he said stiffly. “It’s been so for a very long time.”

  “That’s why you hate Edmund, isn’t it? Because he stole Mrs. Dubois from you.”

  He had a strange look on his face. “No—”

  “Do you love her?” she interrupted.

  A pause. “I did. Once.”

  Even before he responded she’d known the truth. He was capable of loving a woman. He just wasn’t able to love her.

  “Emilia?” Edmund’s voice sounded from the vicinity of the terrace. “Are you out here?”

  She turned to go, but Sparrow wrapped a large hand around her upper arm, impeding her departure. Electricity bolted down her arm from the place where his gloved hand met her bare skin. “Wait.”