Lady Folbroke′s Delicious Deception
Lady Folbroke's Delicious Deception
Christine Merrill
A marriage of convenience…Lady Emily Longesley married the love of her life and hoped that he would learn to love her. Instead, he upped and left their country estate for London. Suffering the snub with dignity, three years on Emily has had enough! …or passion?Confronting her errant husband, she sees that Adrian, Earl of Folbroke, has been robbed of his sight and doesn’t know her at all! Emily longs for her husband’s touch. If she plays his mistress by delicious deception, can he finally learn to love his wife?
Adrian had changed, of course. But not so much that Emily could not recognise him.
He still had shockingly blue eyes, though they gave her little more than a sidelong glance. And there was the roguish smile that he shared with other women more often than he did with her.
She could feel her nerve failing now that he was close, and the growing desire to sink into him, soaking in the warmth of his body as though immersed in the bath.
And then he kissed her. On the mouth.
The suddenness of it shocked her. She had expected a distant greeting, and the slight frown with which he usually favoured her—as though even as he was saying hello he was thinking of ways to say goodbye. But he was kissing her. They were really kissing. And it was like nothing she had experienced before …
About the Author
CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons, and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their email. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ballgowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.
Previous novels by Christine Merrill:
THE INCONVENIENT DUCHESS
AN UNLADYLIKE OFFER
A WICKED LIAISON
MISS WINTHORPE’S ELOPEMENT
THE MISTLETOE WAGER
(part of A Yuletide Invitation)
DANGEROUS LORD, INNOCENT GOVERNESS
PAYING THE VIRGIN’S PRICE*
TAKEN BY THE WICKED RAKE*
MASTER OF PENLOWEN
(part of Halloween Temptations)
* Regency Silk & Scandal mini-series
And in Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBooks:
SEDUCING A STRANGER
TAMING HER GYPSY LOVER
AUTHOR NOTE
I went into this story wondering why more people didn’t have blind heroes. By the time I was halfway through writing I knew.
It had seemed a simple enough thing at first. But after a few days of writing I noticed how much of what we put into a book relies on the sense of sight. Removing the visual cues from my story made me learn to use my other senses to feel what my hero was feeling. And I needed to remember the dimensions of my imaginary rooms, just as he did, to navigate my way through them, one pace at a time.
And then there was the illusory idea that blind might not mean totally blind, and that there were situations where a little sight was almost as bad as no sight at all. My eye doctor told me that the type of blindness I had given my hero would make him lose all sense of colour, even if he could still distinguish some light and shadow.
And after a little research I found that many of the great advances in dealing with the loss of sight were several years in the future for Adrian. There would be no Braille until 1821. And, though it would come as a result of the very war that Adrian had fought, it would be meant to help the French defeat the English. The majority of education available to him in his own country would be vocational in nature, and far beneath his station.
For a man of Adrian’s temperament, who had expected to control his world and his destiny, the adjustment would have been difficult. If he learned to accept his condition, his first reactions to it would leave him with much to apologise for.
Fortunately for him, I gave him Emily, who is a very patient woman.
LADY FOLBROKE’S
DELICIOUS
DECEPTION
Christine Merrill
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Dr Eugene Swanson and his helpful staff.
Thanks for taking care of my eyes.
Chapter One
While Emily Longesley could say with truth that she did not dislike many people, she had begun to suspect that she hated her husband’s cousin Rupert. There was something in the way he looked at the manor when he visited that made her think he wished to measure it for furniture.
It was all the more annoying to know that he was entitled to his feelings of possessiveness. If she remained childless, the title fell to Rupert. And as the years had passed since her husband had abandoned her, Rupert’s visits had grown more frequent, more intrusive, and he’d become more generally confident in the eventuality of his inheritance. Lately, he had taken to giving an annoying smirk as he’d asked after the health of her husband, as though he were privy to some bit of information that she was not.
It was even more bothersome to suspect that this might be the truth. Although her husband’s secretary, Hendricks, insisted that the earl was well, he was equally insistent that Adrian had no desire to communicate with her. A visit from him was unlikely. A visit to him would be both unwelcome and out of the question. Were they hiding something, or was her husband’s dislike of her as transparent as it appeared?
Today, she could stand it no longer. ‘Rupert, what is the meaning of that expression on your face? It almost appears that you doubt my word. If you suspect that Adrian is ill, then the least you could do is pretend to be sympathetic.’
Rupert looked at her with a smug grin that seemed to imply he’d caught her at last. ‘I do not suspect Folbroke of illness so much as I begin to doubt his existence.’
‘What utter fustian. You know perfectly well that he exists, Rupert. You have known him since childhood. You attended our wedding.’
‘And that was almost three years ago.’ He glanced around him, as though the empty air were some recent discovery. ‘I do not see him here, now.’
‘Because he resides in London for most of the year.’ All of the year, in fact, but it would not help to bring that to the fore.
‘None of his friends has seen him there. When Parliament is in session, his seat in the House of Lords is vacant. He does not attend parties or the theatre. And when I visit his rooms, he is just gone out and not expected back.’
‘Perhaps he does not wish to see you,’ Emily said. If so, she had found one point of agreement with her absent spouse.
‘I do not particularly wish to see him, either,’ Rupert said. ‘But for the sake of the succession, I demand to see some evidence that the man still breathes.’
‘That he still breathes? Of all the ridiculous things you have said, Rupert, I think that this is the worst. You are his closest living relative. And his heir. If the Earl of Folbroke had died, you would have been notified of it immediately.’
‘If you chose to tell me.’ He was looking at her with a suspicious cat’s gaze, as though he was sure, if he stared long enough, she would admit to a body buried beneath the floorboards.
‘Of course I would tell you if something had happened to Adrian. What reason would I have to conceal the truth from you?’
‘Every reason in the world. Do you think I cannot see how you are left in charge of this property when he is absent? The servants take their orders from you. I have seen the steward and the man of business come to you for their instructions, and caught you poring over the account books as though you would have any idea what to do with them.’
After all the time she had spent reading them, she knew perfectly well what to do with the accounts.
And her husband had no problem with her taking them on, even expressing his approval of her management in the few curt communications that had come to her through Hendricks. ‘Since you are not yet the earl, why should it matter to you?’
Rupert’s eyes narrowed. ‘Because it is unnatural. I do not wish to see my inheritance squandered through the mismanagement of a woman. I have written to Folbroke frequently with my fears. Yet there is no sign of him coming to take control of what is rightfully his. He is here so seldom that he might as well be dead. And perhaps he is, for all you seem to care. You have arranged the running of the place to your own satisfaction, have you not? But if he has passed and you think can maintain a charade that there is a master here, you are sorely mistaken.’
Emily gathered her breath, trying to remain calm in the face of the bombardment. Rupert had always been a bit of a pill, but she had done her best to be kind to him, for the sake of her husband. Her even temper had been wasted on both Adrian and his ridiculous cousin, and her patience had reached its end. ‘Your accusations are ridiculous.’
‘I think not, madam. The last time I visited his rooms, the servants claimed he was indisposed. But when I forced my way in to search for him, I could find no trace.’
‘If you abuse his hospitality and bully his servants, then no wonder he does not wish to see you. Your behaviour is beyond rude. The fact that you have not seen him does not indicate that I have not. How do you think papers of business for this estate are signed? I cannot sign them myself.’ Actually, she found her forgeries quite credible. And what could not be forged was passed through to her husband’s secretary and then returned to her. Though she knew Hendricks to be as devoted to her husband as he was helpful to her. While there was no proof that these papers were forged as well, she sometimes had her suspicions.
But Rupert had no faith at all. ‘On the contrary, I have no doubt that you could and do sign documents. Should a miracle occur, and I receive a letter from your husband, I will have no proof that his hand was the one that wrote it.’
‘And I suppose you do not believe me when I say that I have contact with him regularly.’
Her cousin laughed. ‘Of course I do not. I think it is a ruse to keep me from what is rightfully mine.’
His surety in the emptiness of her marriage had pushed her temper to the breaking point. ‘This estate is not yours. None of it. It belongs to Adrian Longesley, the current Earl of Folbroke. And after him, to his son.’
Rupert laughed again. ‘And when are we likely to see an heir from your invisible husband?’
The idea struck suddenly, and she could not help but express it. ‘Quite possibly in eight months. Although it is just as likely to be a girl. But Adrian assures me that in his family the first child is almost always male.’
This seemed to deflate Rupert, who sputtered his next answer. ‘You are … are …’
‘Increasing. Yes.’ Now that the first lie was out, it emboldened her to continue in it. ‘I did not mean to be so unladylike to broach the subject of my condition, but since you insist on trying me with baseless suspicions, I have no choice. And I would think carefully, were I you, to speak what is probably in your mind and hint that it is not my husband’s child at all. If I hear so much as a breath of that, I will tell Adrian how you speak to me when he is away. And he will think nothing of family connections and run you through for spreading salacious rumours about me. He was in the army, you know. He is still a crack shot, and a dab hand with a sword. And very sensitive of my feelings. He would not wish me to be hurt.’ The last was the biggest lie of all. But what did it matter, next to her imaginary baby?
Rupert’s face was white mottled with red, and his lips twitched as though she had pushed him so close to apoplexy that his speech had failed. Finally, he managed, ‘If this is true, which I sincerely doubt it is, then I hardly know what to say of it.’
Emily smiled, turning his sly looks back upon him. ‘Why, my dear cousin Rupert, that is simplicity itself. The only thing you must say to me is “Congratulations.” And then, “Farewell.” Women in my condition tire easily. And, alas, I have no more strength to socialise with you.’ She gripped him by the hand in a way that might appear fond were it not so forceful, and gave a forward tug, propelling him past her to the doorway of the salon and allowing his momentum to carry him out into the hall. When he was clear of the door, she shut it quickly behind him and leaned her shoulders against the panel, as though that were all it would take to block out any further visits.
It had been bad enough, at the beginning of the interview, when she had feared that she would have to produce her wayward husband. But now she would be expected to produce both him and an infant—and get Adrian to agree that he had fathered the child, whether he had, or not.
Or not. Now there was an interesting possibility. At the moment, she had no admirers to encourage in so passionate a way. And while she did not think herself unattractive, she suspected that there were some things that even the loyal Hendricks would not do in the name of maintaining the status quo.
But if Adrian had any interest in her continued fidelity, than he had best get himself home at least long enough to prove his good health, if not his virility. She had not heard a word from him in almost a year. Although the servants swore that they had seen him, they did it with the sort of worried expressions that told her something was seriously amiss. And they followed their avowals with equally worried assurances, similar to Hendricks’s, that there was no need for her to go to London to see for herself. In fact, that would be the worst possible thing for her to do.
It was a woman, she suspected. They were trying to shield her from the fact that her husband had taken up permanent residence with someone else. He was willing to let his own wife and the chance at a family go hang for a mistress and a brood of bastards.
She tried to tell herself she was being both ridiculous and overly dramatic. Most men had arrangements of some kind or other, and wives who were content to ignore them. But as months had turned to years, and he paid no attention at all to her, it grew harder to pretend that she did not care.
And at the moment, her problems were concerned less with what he might have done, and more with what he had not. While it was difficult to be the object of such a total rejection, it became untenable when it damaged her ability to stay in her own home. In her three years of residence here, she had come to think of Folbroke Manor as rightfully hers. And if the fool she had married was declared dead because he could not be bothered to appear, she would have to yield it to that oaf, Rupert.
It would result in inconvenience and bother to all concerned.
Emily glanced at the desk in the corner, and thought of composing a sternly worded letter on the subject. But this matter was far too urgent and too personal to risk exposing it to another’s eyes. If, as she expected, Hendricks read all of my lord’s mail, she did not wish him to know that she had resorted to requesting sexual congress in writing.
And it would be even more embarrassing if the answer came in someone else’s hand, or not at all. Or worse yet, in the negative.
All things considered, it would be far better to make a sudden appearance in London, camp out in Adrian’s rooms, and await his return. Once the servants saw that she was in earnest, they would accede to her perfectly logical demand for an audience with her own husband. When she saw him, she would tell him that either he must get her with child, or tell the odious Rupert that he still breathed so that the man would leave her alone.
Then they could go back about their business of leading separate lives. And he could pretend she didn’t exist, just as he obviously wished to.
Chapter Two
For the first time in ages, Emily was in the same city as Adrian Longesley. Scant miles apart—possibly even less than that. Even now, he might be in residence behind the closed door, just in front of her.
Emily fought down the wave of terror that the prospect aroused in her, placing her palm flat against the rain-spattered window glass of the carriage, willing herself to feel as cool as it did. The nearness to Adrian was a palpable thing, like a tug on a string tied to something vital, deep inside her. Although she had felt it for most of her life, she had learned to ignore it. But it grew stronger as the carriage had reached the outskirts of London, an annoying tightness in her chest, as though she could not quite manage to catch a full breath.
With that lack of breath would come the weakening of her voice, the quiet tone and the tendency to squeak without warning. And, worst of all, it would be impossible to talk to him. When she tried to speak, she would stammer things out, repeating herself or pausing inappropriately in the middle of a thought, only to have the words rush out in a jumble. Even if she could manage to stay silent, there would be the blushing, and the inability to meet his gaze.
And since she was sure that he felt no answering pull on this magical bond between them, her behaviour would irritate him. He would think her an idiot, just as he had from the first moment they’d married. And he would dismiss her again, before she could explain herself.
When dealing with Adrian, she found it much easier to express herself with written communication. When she had the time to compose her thoughts, and the ability to toss any false starts and missteps into the fire, she had no troubles making her point.
And in that she was the very opposite of her husband. He had been clear enough, when he’d bothered to speak to her. But the few letters she’d received were terse, full of cross hatching, and in a hand so rough as to be practically illegible. She suspected it was drink that caused it. While easy to decipher, the latest ones came with a brief preamble, explaining that my lord was indisposed and had dictated the following to Hendricks.
She glanced at her reflection in the watery glass. She had improved with age. Her skin had cleared. Her hair was better dressed. Despite her rustication, she took care to outfit herself in the latest styles. While she had never been a pretty girl, she counted herself a handsome woman. Although she did not agree with it, it flattered her that the word beauty had been applied by others. She had also been assured that her company was charming, and her conversation intelligent.
But to the one man she’d always longed to impress, she could not manage to behave as anything other than David Eston’s troublesome little sister. She was sure that it was only out of loyalty to his friend and family that Adrian had been willing to saddle himself with such a dull and graceless creature.
Before her, her own image dissolved as the coachman opened the door and put down the step for her, holding an umbrella over her head as he rushed her to the door, knocking for her.
The door opened and her husband’s butler greeted her with an open mouth and a breathless, ‘My Lady Folbroke.’
‘No need to announce me, Abbott. If you can find someone to take my cloak, I will make myself comfortable in the salon.’
When no footman appeared to help her, she untied the neck and stepped forwards out of the garment, letting it drop from her shoulders.
Abbott reached forwards, hurrying to catch it before it struck the floor. ‘Of course, my lady. But my Lord Folbroke—’
‘Is not expecting me,’ she finished for him.
At the end of the hallway, her husband’s secretary appeared, took one look at her, and then glanced behind him as though he wished, like a rabbit meeting a fox, to dart back under cover.
‘Hello, Hendricks.’ She smiled in a way that was both warm and firm, and pushed past the butler, bearing down on him.
‘Lady Folbroke.’ Hendricks looked quietly horrified to see her and repeated, ‘You were not expected.’
‘Of course not, Hendricks. Had he expected me, my darling Adrian would have been shooting in Scotland. Or on the Continent. Anywhere but sharing London with me.’ She tried a light laugh to show how unimportant it was to her, and failed dismally. She ignored the strange, sharp feeling in her stomach and the ache in her heart that came from knowing she was not really wanted.
The secretary had the courtesy to look shamed by it, but made no effort to deny what she had said.
‘I suppose it is too much to hope that he is here at the moment.’
‘No, my lady. He is out.’
‘That is the same story you give to his cousin Rupert, who has been tormenting me endlessly on the subject of Adrian’s whereabouts. I have had enough of it, Hendricks.’ She stopped to breathe, for while her tone had sufficient volume, she did not want it creeping into shrillness. Then she continued. ‘My husband must accept that, if he cannot deal with his heir, he will have to deal with me. It is unfair of him to avoid us both. And while I am quite willing to shoulder the responsibility of land, tenants, crops and several hundred-odd sheep while Adrian gallivants about the city, the added burden of Rupert is simply too much, Hendricks. It is the last straw to this camel.’
‘I see, Lady Folbroke.’ Hendricks had replaced his hunted look with an expression of neutral courtesy, as though he hoped that his silence would still her questions.
‘My husband is still in the city?’ She gave the man a critical look.
He squirmed and nodded.
She nodded in reply. ‘And how long might it be until he returns here?’
The secretary gave a helpless shrug.
‘Honesty, Hendricks. You know more than you are saying, I am sure. All I require of you is a simple answer. I intend to wait as long as is needed, in either case. But it would be nice to know if I should request a light meal, or send for my trunks and prepare for an extended stay.’
‘I do not know, Lady Folbroke.’ There was a kind of hopelessness in the statement that made her almost believe the man.
‘Surely he must tell you his plans when he goes out.’
‘When he bothers to make them,’ the secretary said, revealing a bitterness that smacked of honesty.
‘If he sets an agenda, he rarely keeps to it. Sometimes he is gone for hours. And other times days.’
‘Then he must be letting rooms elsewhere.’
‘This may be true. But I do not know where, for I have never visited them. And when he returns?’ Hendricks shook his head, clearly worried.
‘I suppose he is foxed.’ She gave a disgusted sigh. It was no less than she feared about him, but the confirmation did nothing to improve her mood.
‘If that were all. He is …’ Hendricks struggled to find a phrase that would not give up a confidence. ‘Not well. Unhealthy, my lady. I doubt he eats. Or sleeps. When he can bring himself to come home after one of these excursions, he collapses for days at a time. I fear he will do himself an injury through self-neglect.’
‘His father was around the same age when he lost his life, was he not?’
‘Yes, my lady. A riding accident.’
It was gently put, as was everything Hendricks said. The man was a master of understatement. But she remembered the circumstances quite well, for the severity of the last earl’s injuries had been the talk of the neighbourhood. Adrian’s father had been the worse for drink, and riding hell for leather through the woods, taking jumps that other men would not have risked while sane and sober. The fall had killed both man and horse in a way that was neither quick nor painless.
Her brother had said nothing of his friend’s reaction when the accident had occurred. But she could remember clearly the solemn darkness of the young man on the neighbouring estate, and the way it had both frightened and intrigued her. ‘Perhaps it preys upon his mind. And all the more reason that I should be here to put a stop to it.’
The secretary looked both doubtful and hopeful, as though he could not decide where his loyalty might lie.
‘Summon the coachman who took him when he departed, so that we might learn his destination. If we can find his normal haunts, then I will search them until I find him.’
‘You cannot,’ Hendricks leaned forwards, and she knew the situation must be serious for the taciturn man was clearly alarmed.
‘I mean to do it, all the same.’
The man stared into her eyes, as though to gauge the strength of her resolve. Then he sighed. ‘I will accompany you.’
‘That is hardly necessary.’
Hendricks squared his shoulders, doing his best to look formidable. ‘I am sorry, Lady Folbroke, but I must insist. If you mean to continue on this unadvisable course of action, than I cannot leave you to do it alone.’
‘And who gives you the right to question me?’
‘Lord Folbroke himself. He has been quite clear to me in his instructions, with regards to you. I am to assist you in all things, trust your judgement and obey you as I would him. But first and foremost, he trusts me to keep you from harm.’
The sentiment brought her up short. After a year of silence on his part, it had never occurred to her that her husband thought of her at all. And certainly not for a sufficiently protracted time as to concern himself with her safety. ‘He worries about me?’
‘Of course, my lady. He asks after you each time I return from Derbyshire. Normally, I assure him there is no reason to be concerned. But in this case?’ He shook his head.
Emily dismissed the momentary feeling of warmth at the picture of Adrian asking about her. ‘If my welfare is his foremost desire, perhaps he could have seen fit to share it with me. Or he could make an effort to stay out of low haunts himself. Then it would not be necessary for me to seek him in a place he did not want me to go.’
Hendricks was frowning at the twisted logic of her statement, trying to find a rebuttal, so she allowed him no more time. She turned to the butler. ‘Abbott, have the carriage brought around. Mr Hendricks and I will be going out. We will be returning with Lord Folbroke.’
She glared at Hendricks. ‘Whether he likes it or not.’
‘You are sure this is the place?’ The building before her gave every indication of being just what it was: a villainous hole that was well below the genteel debauchery she’d expected.
‘Yes, my lady,’ Hendricks said, with a grim smile. ‘Of late, the servants bring him here. He finds his own way home.’
She sighed. There was a sign swinging above the battered door that appeared to be a woman of limited virtue, and even more limited clothing. ‘What is it called, then?’
‘The Whore’s Left …’ Hendricks coughed as though he could not bring himself to finish the name.
‘Is it a brothel?’ She peered out the window at the grimy glass panes in front of her, trying not to show the curiosity she felt.
‘No, my lady. A public house.’
‘I see.’ It was nothing like the rather conservative inn in their village. But things were very different in London, she was sure. ‘Very well, then. Wait in the carriage.’
‘I most certainly will not.’ It was a moment before the secretary realised how completely he’d overstepped his bounds in his effort to protect her. Then he said more softly, ‘I have been through doors like that one, and seen the clientele inside. It is a dangerous place for Lord Folbroke and even more so for a woman alone.’
‘I do not mean to be there long enough to experience risk. If he is there, he will think the same as you, and though he might choose the place for his own entertainment, he will be forced to escort me out of it. But I do not mean to leave without him.’ She set her chin in the way she did, to let the Derbyshire servants know that she was brooking no more nonsense, and saw the secretary weaken before her.
‘If you find him, he might not be willing to go.’ Again there was a delicate pause as he searched for a way around her orders. ‘You might need my help.’
It was perfectly true. She had no reason to believe that her husband would listen to her entreaties, if he would not answer her correspondence. ‘Would you remove him by force, if needed?’
Hendricks paused again. To take her side when in the presence of her husband would seem close to mutiny. He had been Adrian’s aide-de-camp in the army, and had the fierce loyalty of a soldier to a superior officer to match his dedication to a friend and employer. But then he said, as though the confession was a thing he did not want to share, ‘If the instruction came from you, and it was meant for his own good, I would do it. There are reasons for his aberrant behaviour, which you will understand soon enough. But if he is no longer able to act in his own best interests, then someone must do it for him.’
Emily touched Hendricks’s shoulder to reassure him. ‘Do not fear for your position. I promise you will come to no harm for doing what is right. But we must be agreed on this before we begin. I will ask him to come. And if he does not, you must help me remove him.’
‘Very well.’ He nodded. ‘Let us do the thing quickly, now that we are decided. The situation cannot stand as it does much longer.’
They walked through the door together, Hendricks close at her shoulder. And Emily stepped back into him as she took in the room before her. The sound of drunkenness hit her first: laughing, fighting and ribald song. And then the smell—urine and vomit added to the smoke from a blocked chimney and burned meat to make the room even more unpleasant. She had expected to find Adrian in some normal gaming hell where the play was deep and the women were not ladies. Or perhaps a whorehouse where the play was of a different sort entirely. But she had assumed it would be the sort of place where lords went, when they sought to amuse themselves outside polite society.
There was no sign of even the lowest members of their set in evidence. This was a rough place full of even rougher men who had come to enjoy their vices with no care for the law of God or man.
Hendricks put his hand on her shoulder. ‘We will take a table in the corner, out of the way of this mob. And I will enquire after him for you.’ He led her to the corner, and a barmaid brought two mugs to the table with a sneer on her face. Emily glanced into hers to see that it was already filled. She smelled juniper.
Hastings placed a hand over her glass. ‘The strength of the gin will not make up for the dirtiness of the glass.’ He tossed a coin on the table. As the barmaid reached for it, he caught her by the wrist. ‘The Earl of Folbroke. Do you know him? Is he here?’ The girl shook her head, but he did not release her. ‘Do you know an Adrian Longesley?’
‘Addy?’ She gave a single nod, and he let go of her arm, but his action had drawn the eyes of others.
The men who rose from the nearest table were hulking brutes, looking for any reason to fight. ‘Here now, stranger. You have a dollymop of your own, do you not?’ The one who spoke gave Emily a toothless leer.
‘Aye,’ said another. ‘If you wish to share our Molly, then you must share as well.’ Behind her, a man leaned close, and she inched her chair away.
‘Now, see here.’ Hendricks’s gaze was steely, and his shoulders broad. Though she thought him timid when compared to Adrian, he had been a captain in the army, and she had no doubt that he would defend her honour to the best of his considerable abilities. But with so many against him, she doubted that his strength would do them much good.
And as she feared, when Hendricks started to rise, a fist to his jaw knocked him back into the chair.
She gave a little shriek of alarm as one of the men crowding the table reached for her. This had been a dreadful mistake. The place was horrible, the men were horrible, and what was likely to happen now would be the fault of her own stupidity. Even if her husband was here, she doubted she wanted to see him. If he were part of the crowd around her, he was most likely beyond redemption.
And then, as she gave another cry of alarm, a hand reached out through the press of bodies around her chair, seized her by the arm and pulled her forwards until she was crushed against the body of her rescuer.
Chapter Three
‘Can’t you see that she does not wish your company?’ A silver-headed cane shot out, rapping one man upon the head and another across the knuckles. The men who were struck gave sharp cries of pain, and grumbled as their fellows laughed at their distress.
Emily wrapped her arms about the waist of the man who held her to keep from swooning with relief. She recognised the voice of her husband, and was more gratified to be close to him than she had been at any time since the day of their marriage.
‘And you think she wants you instead?’ a man called. There was a chorus of laughter from around the room.
‘How can she not?’ Adrian called back. ‘I am the only gentleman amongst you.’
More laughter in response.
‘And she is clearly a lady of discerning taste, if she has the sense enough to reject you.’
There was yet more laughter to this, and she could not decide if it was directed to Adrian, or to the fact that she had been called a lady.
There was a pause, as she wondered if he meant to answer the insults to her with anything more than jests. Then he turned her to face him.
He had changed, of course, but not so much that she could not recognise him. His coat was of good quality, but ragged and dirty. His neckcloth was stained and his dark brown hair needed combing. But he still had shockingly blue eyes, though they gave her little more than a sidelong glance. And there was the roguish smile that he shared with other women more often than he did with her. His body was just as strong and solid as it had ever been, so muscular that she felt dwarfed against him as he held her close. Frightened of being crushed, and yet still protected.
She could feel her nerve failing now that he was close, and the growing desire to sink into him, soaking in the warmth of his body as though immersed in the bath. What was around them did not matter. She was with Adrian. She would be all right.
And then he kissed her. On the mouth.
The suddenness of it shocked her. She had expected a distant greeting, and his customary slight frown, as though, even as he was saying hello, he was thinking of ways to say goodbye.
But he was kissing her. They were really kissing. And it was like nothing she had experienced before. He tasted of gin and tobacco, smelled of sweat, and his cheeks were rough with several days’ beard growth. It was a sensory onslaught: a strange combination of the pleasant and the unpleasant. Joyful. Abandoned. And wet.
His kisses of the past had been unmemorable. Reserved. Flavourless and without texture. And much as she had wanted to feel otherwise, she had not liked them very much. He had been so careful to give no offence that he could not have enjoyed them either. Even in consummation, he had set himself apart from her, allowing no loss of self-control.
But today, in a crowded tavern, without asking her leave or showing a care to the men watching them, he devoured her mouth as he might a piece of late-summer fruit, giving a low hmmm of approval at the ripeness, the juiciness. He clutched her bottom through her skirts, and eased a leg between her parting thighs, giving her a small bounce there, to make sure that he had shaken her to the core.
And for a moment she forgot her anger with him and her fear. All the feelings of hurt and betrayal disappeared, along with the shyness she felt when she was with him. After all this time, he had decided he loved her. He wanted her. And if she could have him back, just like this, everything would be all right.
Then he pulled away and whispered in her ear, ‘Here now, love. Nothing to be frightened of. Let us leave these brigands behind. Come and sit on my lap.’
‘I beg your pardon.’ The happy thoughts froze in her head, and cold logic returned to its proper place. The request was odd, and delivered in a way that showed a strange lack of feeling for his friend and servant, Hendricks, struggling back to consciousness in the chair in front of him.
Adrian gave her another small hug and a quick kiss on the lips to coax her. ‘You may help me with my cards tonight. There will be a shiny sovereign for you, if you are good.’ He said it as if he were talking to a stranger. There was no trace of recognition in that voice. No hint that this was to be a shared joke, or a lark or that he was trying to protect her from the ruffians by hiding her identity.
Was he honestly so drunk that he did not know her?
‘Help you with your cards?’ she said. The last haze of desire cleared from her mind. If he did not claim her as wife, then just who had he thought he’d been kissing? ‘I should think you could manage them without my help, just as you normally do, my lord.’
The censure in her voice did not seem to register. ‘You would be surprised, my dear.’ He was whispering in her ear. ‘It seems I need more help by the day.’ He kissed her on the side of the head, as though to confirm to the others that he was whispering endearments, and then said more loudly, ‘Since we are to be fast friends, you may call me Adrian.’ And then he pulled her away from the crowd, stumbling back towards a gaming table on the other side of the room.
Emily struggled against him, trying to catch her breath long enough to argue that this behaviour was an insult worse than any she had yet borne. But he conquered her easily and sat down on a chair with his back to the wall, drawing her into his lap. And all the time he continued to kiss the side of her face and her neck, as though he could not get enough of the contact.
The feel of his lips, hot on her skin, made her anger seem distant and unimportant. If he could not overcome this sudden desire to touch her, then why should she? His body knew her, even if his mind did not. She arched her back and pressed her cheek against his lips, vowing that while they had differences to settle, surely it could wait a while longer.
And then he whispered in a calm voice, unaffected by the nearness of her, ‘They will deal a hand to me, and you must read the pips on the cards into my ear. Pretend it is merely affection, just as I have done to you. Help me to know the cards that are played. And as I promised, you shall have your sovereign.’
‘Pretend?’ Was that all this was to him?
‘Shh,’ he whispered, lips still against her jaw. ‘A guinea, then.’
Her anger returned. He was nothing more than she believed him to be: a drunken reprobate who could think no further than his own pleasure. And she was a fool who could not conquer the fantasies she had created around him, no matter how many times he showed his true face to her.
And with the anger came curiosity. He still did not know her. But it seemed his seduction was just as much a sham for the stranger he thought he held. He seemed to care more for the cards than he had for the kisses. And if that was true, his actions made no sense at all to her. So she did just as he had requested, hoping the motive would become clear with time. He held her close as the hands were dealt, and she whispered a description of the play into his ear.
Emily watched the men across the table from her, certain that they must have some idea of what was going on, for they kept their eyes on her, and their hands tilted carefully towards them, as though fearing that she might be attempting to read what was concealed there.
But her husband did not seem to notice the fact, nor care what the others might hold. He greeted each new hand with a vacuous and unfocused smile, head tilted slightly to one side so that he might concentrate on the words she whispered in his ear.
As she watched, she began to suspect that it was not his smile that was unfocused. It was the look in his eyes. He looked not on her, or the cards before him—not even the men across the table. It was as though he were peering through the space around him, a little to the left, at some spot near the floor, expecting an invisible door would open a view to another place entirely. Was he drunk, or was it something far worse?
Despite his strange behaviour, his mind was still sharp. After a single recitation of information, he had no trouble keeping his hand straight, nor with bidding or points. He won more than he lost. And then he ran his hands once over the winnings heaped in front of him, conscious of any move to cheat him out of what should rightfully come to his side of the table, reaching for his cane and tapping it sharply on the floor to emphasise his disapproval, if what he found was not to his liking.
She saw the wary look that the men around them gave to that stick and its heavy silver head, and the speed with which they put an end to any mischief when Adrian reached for it. They seemed to view it and her husband not with fear, but with a sort of grudging respect, as though experience had taught them he was an opponent who would not be easily bested.
After a time, Adrian seemed to tire of play, shifting her on his lap as though he grew restless. ‘Enough, gentlemen,’ he said with a smile, pulling the money before him to the edge of the table and into a purse he removed from his coat. He gave a theatrical yawn and turned his head to hers again and said, ‘I am of a mind to retire for the evening.’ And then, ‘If you would be so kind as to accompany me, I will give you the coin I promised.’
He pocketed the purse and his hand went back to her waist, and then up, stroking the underside of her breast through the fabric of her dress.
She gave a little yelp of alarm, embarrassed by his forwardness, and slapped his fingers away. ‘Please do not do that.’
The men around them laughed, and she kept her eyes firmly on the table, not wanting to see what Hendricks thought of this public affront upon her person.
Nor did she wish him to see the flush of excitement on her cheeks. Though she did not want to feel anything from it, her husband’s touch was arousing her. It was probably just as well that he did not know her. If he had, he would have stood up, spoken politely and taken her by the arm instead of the waist. Then he would have rushed her back to the country so that her presence in London would not have spoiled his fun.
Instead, she could feel the hardness beneath her bottom, and the way her denial of him had made his response more urgent. He buried his face in the hollow of her throat, inhaling deeply and licking once at her collarbone. ‘I cannot help my reaction. You smell wonderful.’
‘And you do not.’ She shook him off, sitting up straighter, angered by his weakness and her own.
Adrian gave a sharp laugh, and it was honest mirth, as though he had not expected to be matched in wit by a doxy. He gave a sniff at his coat, as though gauging his own unpleasantness. ‘Once I get out of these clothes, you will find I am not so bad.’
Although she doubted the fact, she nodded. It would be better to hold her temper for just a little while, for there was much that needed to be said, and she had no wish to do it in front of this rough audience. If she could get him to leave the place willingly, it would achieve her ends, and would be easier for both of them when difficult revelations had to be made.
He cocked his head to the side, not acknowledging her agreement, and so she said, ‘Of course, Adrian. Lead the way.’
He pushed her bottom and slid her out of his lap, then stood and reached for his stick. And she noticed with a grim certainty that he did not lean upon the cane for support, nor swagger with it, as though it was a mere ornament. Instead, he used it to part the crowd around the table, letting it tap idly along the ground as he walked. And instead of going towards the front door and freedom, he walked farther into the tavern, towards the stairs at the back of the room.
Emily pulled on his sleeve and said through clenched teeth, ‘My lord, did you not wish to leave this place?’
He took her arm, pulling her along with him. ‘I have let space here. It is easier, after a long night of play.’ He kissed her again, thrusting his tongue once deep into her mouth, until her mind went blank. ‘And much closer.’ When they reached the steps he put his hand on the rail, sheltering her body between his and the wall. As they started to climb, she turned back to Hendricks, who still sat by the door, giving him a helpless look and hoping that he had some wisdom or explanation to offer.
Instead, he gave a small shrug in answer, as though to tell her that this was her plan, not his. He would wait upon her orders to decide the next action.
So she shook her head and held up a staying hand, hoping that he would understand that she meant to follow Adrian, at least for now. There was no point in explaining her identity to him in this crush. It would be embarrassing enough when they were alone.
It was then she saw a body breaking from the throng below, running for the stairs. An angry loser from the gaming table had waited until Adrian’s back was turned and was coming after them, his arm raised in threat.
Her husband cocked his head at the sound of running footsteps on the treads behind them; without a word, he switched his stick to his other hand, turned and brought the thing down on the head of his adversary. Then he gave a shove backwards with it, knocking the other man off balance and sending him down the stairs.
‘Idiot,’ he muttered. ‘I shall take my play elsewhere, if this is how they wish to behave here. What he thought to accomplish by that, I have no idea. He should know damn well that I am blind, not deaf.’
Chapter Four
‘Blind?’ She should not have been surprised, for it had been obvious as she’d sat with him that he could not read the cards in his hand, nor recognise his own wife, though she sat in his lap.
He smiled, not the least bit bothered by it. ‘Not totally. Not yet, at least. I can see shapes. And light and dark. And enough of you to know that you are a more attractive companion than that blighter I just knocked down the stairs. But I fear that cards are quite beyond my scope.’
‘But how?’
‘You are a curious one, aren’t you?’ He climbed the rest of the stairs with her, opening the door at their head and leading her down the gloomy corridor behind it. ‘It is a family condition, aggravated by a war injury. There was a flash, you see. And I was too close. Without that, I might have lasted a good long time with these tired old eyes. A lifetime, perhaps. Or perhaps not. Not all the men of my family have the problem. I understand that it can take some time before the world begins to go dark.’
‘But I never knew.’ And his family had lived beside hers for generations.
‘A blind man?’ He smiled, and turned suddenly, pushing her against the wall and pinning her hands above her head with his ebony walking stick. Then he kissed her again, more ardently than he had at any point in their brief time together. His lips were on her mouth, her cheeks, her chin, her throat. And she felt the delicious loss of control she’d felt when he kissed her below stairs, and nothing had mattered but the moment they were sharing. He sagged against her so that he could suck and bite at the tops of her breasts, where they were exposed above the neckline of her gown, as though he could not wait a moment longer to bare them, and take the nipples between his lips. It made her moan in frustration, arching her back, struggling against the wood that held her in place and kept her from giving herself to him. It did not matter that he could not see who he was kissing. It was Adrian, and he wanted her. And, at last, she would have him the way she’d always imagined, the way she had wanted him for as long as she’d known the reason for kissing.
He gave a slight buck of his hips so she could feel what their kisses had done to him. And she felt her own wet heat rising in response at the memories of hardness and length and welcome penetration, and the panting eagerness to be so possessed.
And then he said in a voice that was not nearly flustered enough, ‘It is only the eyes that are the problem. The rest of me is quite healthy, I assure you. Once we snuff the candles, you will find me much like any other man.’
Like any other man? For her, there had never been another. But what was happening to him was so common he was barely affected by it. Her eyes flew open and she stared past his shoulder, aware of their shabby surroundings and remembering the reason that she had come looking for him. He had treated her abominably since the day they had married. And now, after a few kisses she had forgotten it all, willing to be used in a public hallway like one of his whores. ‘Let go of me. This instant. Release my arms, you beast, or I shall scream to bring down the roof.’ She struggled against his lips, against his body and against the stick that stayed her hands.
He stepped back and lowered his cane, a slight puzzled frown upon his face. ‘Are you sure? There is a private room just down the hall. The door locks, and only I have the key. We will be all alone, with no fear of interruption.’ He paused, and then his lips twitched into a coaxing smile. ‘I can give you the guinea I promised. There is more than enough from the table tonight. You should know for you saw it. I can tell money well enough, one coin from another,’ he assured hurriedly, as though assuming this might be the problem. ‘They feel differently in weight and size. And as for the rest of it?’ He stepped close again. And when she did not pull away he dipped his head and began to kiss her again, slowly working his way down her throat to settle on the hollow of her shoulder. Then he moved just enough so his lips were no longer touching her, then spoke and let his breath do the teasing. ‘I have been assured that the reliance on other senses has made me an unusually observant lover. I particularly value touch in these moments, and use it to good advantage. And taste.’ He licked with just the lip of his tongue, as though he were sampling her flavour.
Emily gave another dizzy shudder; she could swear that she felt that single lick to the very core of her body, making her imagine he was kissing her in a place that was most unlikely and very improper. And she wondered, would he be shocked if she suggested such a thing?
Or had he been doing that, and worse? He had been assured of his prowess, had he? Assured by whom? She buried her fingers in his hair, trying to pull him away, focusing on the last three years, the doubt, the loneliness, the anger. Had he been going blind, even from the first? Had he known when they married? Had he hurried to marry a foolish woman who was oblivious to his disability?
And what had he been doing since he left her?
Adrian gave a small grunt of pain from the tugging on his hair and lifted his face as if to gaze at her, but in the same sidelong way he looked at everything that told her he could not really see. ‘The coin I offered is still yours, for services rendered at the gaming table. But now that we are above—’ he gave a small shrug ‘—if you do not think it sufficient, I am open to discussion on the subject.’
She balled her fist and gave him a clout upon the ear. ‘I am not a whore, you cloth-brained drunkard. And even if I was, I would not lie with you for all the money in the world.’
The blow did not faze him at all. And the insults made him laugh. But he released her with a bow. ‘Then I apologise for my mistake, though I can hardly be blamed for it. If you are not a whore, then what are you doing in a place such as this?’
It was a fair question, and even she did not know the whole answer to it. At last she said, ‘I was searching for someone.’ She stared at him, willing him to recognise her. ‘For my husband.’
‘And I assume, since you are alone here with me that you did not find him?’
‘No, I did not.’ For the man before her, although right in appearance, was as far away from the man she’d thought she married as was possible. A little bit of her anger gave way to disappointment. And then she felt the growing heat of embarrassment. If he was already amused, how hard would he laugh to realise that he had wasted kisses on his own wife?
‘I should have recognised that you were a lady of breeding earlier by the tone of your voice.’ He sighed, and tapped his forehead with the head of his cane. ‘Perhaps the gin has finally addled my brains. But when you came upstairs with me, I was under the impression …’ He cleared his throat and grinned, allowing her to fill in the rest.
‘You might not be able to see where you gamble, but I have the misfortune of two good eyes. I foolishly blundered into a place that was not safe for me. You came to my rescue, and I thought that, unlike the other men here, if I got you alone it would be possible to reason with you. Which I am doing, now.’ Though he could not appreciate the fact, she reached to straighten her hair and clothing, trying to erase the signs of her earlier compliance.
‘Well. Never mind what I assumed.’ He gave another little clearing of the throat. ‘The less spoken of that the better. I was wrong, and I am sorry if I have given offence. If there is a way I can be of assistance, then, please, tell me.’ It was as if, with a few sentences, he thought to regain his honour and pretend the last few minutes had not occurred.
Emily did not know whether to be angry, or impressed by the transformation. From beneath them, she could hear the men in the tavern growing louder, angrier and possibly more dangerous. Perhaps now was not the best time to tell her husband what she thought of his behaviour, and his quick about-face turn on the subject of her virtue. ‘If you wish to help me, then take me away from here. It is a bad place, full of violent, drunken men. Is there some back stairway that we can use to escape?’
He shook his head. ‘The only way out is to go back the way we came.’
‘You allowed us to be trapped upstairs?’ This was certainly not the sharp military strategy she had expected from a former officer of his Majesty’s army. ‘Whatever were you thinking to take a room here? You might be able to fight them tonight, but some day the ruffians you gamble with will catch you unawares and make an end to you.’
He shrugged and fumbled to pat her on the arm. ‘Of course, my dear. I fully expect that to be the truth.’
She stared at him in amazement, and then realised that her shocked expression was useless as a way to covey her emotions. ‘Then why are you here?’
‘Because soon, the last of my vision will go, and I will be of no use to the world. Better to go out doing things that I enjoy, than to put a bullet in my head at the first sign of trouble. That is the way, in my family. My father died on horseback.’ He grinned. ‘Or just off it, actually. A snapped spine and a crushed body. But he loved to ride. And up till the end, he was sailing over jumps that he could no longer see. My grandfather was a crack shot. Until the day he missed, at least.’ He grinned as though it were a point of admiration. ‘Killed in a duel. Over a woman, of course.’
And hadn’t that been what she had always known about her husband and his family? But her brother had assured her that Adrian was wild like all the Folbrokes. But with a good heart, Emily. A very good heart.
‘And you?’
‘I am a soldier,’ he added. ‘And well used to drinking and gaming in rough company. If the night ends in a scrap? I like nothing better. When the odds are bad, it gets the blood flowing in the veins.’ He seemed to swell a little at the thought as though readying himself for battle.
‘And now, because of your foolish desire for self-destruction, I will end my night at the mercy of the gang below.’
He stilled, and then something in him straightened, as though he could cast off the inebriate as easily as throwing off his coat. And for a moment, in the dark, he was the dashing young man who had gone off to war, only to return and break her heart. Then he smiled. It was the old smile, too, unclouded by gin or lust. Brave. Beautiful. And a little sad. ‘Have I not proved to you already that I am still capable of taking care of myself, and you as well? Or is another demonstration in order?’
Although he could not see, he looked at her with such intensity that the pain inside her did not seem to matter. There was something in that gaze and that smile that said any action he might take was likely to be a great adventure, and that it would be his pleasure to share it with her. It made her heart flutter in the way it used to, before he had married her, and before she had learned what a mistake it was all likely to be.
‘Perhaps it would be better if we wait in the room you mentioned, until it is safe to depart.’ She could hear her nerve failing again, and her voice becoming weak. The old hesitant Emily was returning with her husband’s gain in sobriety.
He laughed. ‘I have done nothing yet to earn such intimacy from you, pleasant though the offer might be. But if you stay just behind me as we descend, I can get you to safety. Hang on to my coat tails and leave my hands free, for I may need to fight.’
‘But you cannot see,’ she said plaintively.
‘I do not need to. I know the way out. And I intend to hit anyone who stands between me and the door. Those that mean us no harm will have the sense to get out of the way.’
Emily had no answer for this, having no experience with fighting one’s way out of a tavern. So she took his coat tail in her hands, and followed close behind him down the stairs. As they breached the upper landing, she could tell from the sounds below them that the crowd had grown worse. There was more chanting, a raucous edge to the singing, the scuffling of boots and fists, and breaking furniture.
Adrian paused, listening. ‘What do you see before you? Quickly, love.’
‘Two men are fighting on a table to the right.’
‘Very good.’ He continued down the stairs, hugging the wall as he worked his way towards the door. As the fight spilled off the table and into his path, he struck out with the cane, just as he’d said he would. The first blow was a glancing one, causing the man in front of him to yelp and cringe back.
But the second man surged forwards as though willing to fight both his supposed enemy and any other that might stand against him. Adrian forced the stick forwards quickly, jabbing into the man’s midsection.
The drunkard retched, and then flailed out, trying to strike. Adrian brought the stick down upon the man’s back so hard that, for a moment, Emily feared the wood had cracked.
He stepped over the man’s prone body, reaching back to steady her. But the momentary distraction over her safety was enough to make him jeopardise his own. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of a raised hand, and saw the man that had accosted them on the stairs throw a bottle up and out from the throng in the middle of the room.
Before she could get out a warning, Adrian had been struck, and was staggering backwards, clutching his temple. His body went limp in her arms as she tried to catch him.
Chapter Five
Then there was a flash toward the ceiling and the sound of a warning shot. Her husband’s secretary appeared out of nowhere to pull Adrian forwards again, and off her. In his usual quiet way, Hendricks said, ‘I apologise for not intervening until this delicate juncture. But I am sure that my lord would have preferred it thus. And now I think it best that we make a retreat while we are able.’ He pressed a second pistol into her hand. ‘I doubt this will be necessary now that I have frightened them. But it is better to be over-prepared.’
He pushed her husband back against the wall for a moment, and then slung the limp body over his shoulder, staggering towards the door to the street.
Emily held the pistol in front of her, hoping that she did not look as frightened by it as she felt. But it appeared to be effective. The man who’d hit Adrian had been preparing to strike again. At the sight of the gun he took a large step back, his anger dissolving into submission.
Hendricks lurched through the door and towards the waiting coach. When he saw them, the coachman rushed forwards to help his unconscious master up and into the carriage.
As they set off, poor Adrian remained slumped against the squabs, rendered insensible by the combination of violence and gin. It was not until they were nearly back to his rooms that he surged suddenly back to consciousness, throwing a hand out as though searching the air in front of him. ‘Hendricks?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘There was a woman in the tavern with me. I was trying to help her.’
‘She is safe, sir.’
He relaxed back into the seat, with a sigh of relief and a grimace of pain. ‘Very good.’
Once they arrived at the flat, she followed behind as the men helped him up the stairs. She noted the looks of alarm on the faces of his servants as they saw her appear from behind him. Clearly, the jig was up and they expected punishment from her for concealing the state of things, or from Adrian for revealing them.
As she passed them, she shot them glares that would warn them to silence.
Hendricks gave her a helpless shrug, opening the bedroom door and putting his arm around the shoulders of his employer. ‘The valet will help him from here, mmm—ma’am.’ He struggled a moment to choose an honourific, as though remembering that he apparently did not know the name of the woman who had come home with them. ‘I will find someone to see you home.’
When she was sure that her husband would see the shadow of her head, she nodded in approval. Then she backed from the room and shut the door.
‘Hendricks,’ she kept her voice low, so that it would not carry to the bedroom, but used a tone of command that had served her well when dealing with employees who thought, even for a moment, that they owed more loyalty to her husband than to the woman standing in front of them.
‘My lady.’ She saw his spine stiffen instantly to full obedience.
She glared at him. ‘You did not tell me.’
‘That he was blind? I thought you knew.’
She was his wife. She should have known that about him, if nothing else. But what was one more regret on a very long list? But now, Hendricks mocked her ignorance.
Then, as a sop to her feelings, he said, ‘The servants are not allowed to discuss Lord Folbroke’s indisposition. He pretends it does not matter. Often it does not. But he acts as if the careless things he does pose no greater risk to him. He is very wrong.’
She had to agree, for it was quite obviously true.
‘Between the drink, and the loss of vision, he did not know me.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ Hendricks did not seem surprised. But she felt some gratification to see that he looked ashamed of his part in the state of things.
‘It will save us both embarrassment if that is the way this night remains. You will inform the servants that, no matter what they might think they have seen, he was brought home by a stranger. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Lady Folbroke.’
‘When I have had time to think on this, I will have some words with him. But it must wait until my husband’s mind has cleared itself of blue ruin.’
The secretary’s reserve broke. ‘While I have no doubt that you will achieve the first half of the statement, the last may be beyond all of our control.’ Then, as though he could mitigate the forwardness of the statement, he added, ‘My lady.’ And then he gave her a desperate look as though it pained him to betray the confidence. ‘He is seldom sober any more. Even during the day. We who have served him for most of his life are at our wits’ end as to what can be done.’
Emily thought of the man in the other room, reeking of gin. Was it really so different than what she had feared? In her heart, she had been sure that she would find him drunk. But she had mistaken the reason. She reached out to touch the arm of the man beside her. ‘How long has he been like this?’
‘The whole of the last month, certainly.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘It is the eyes, my lady. As they fail him, he loses all hope. My lord’s valet has heard him laugh and say that it will not be a problem for long. We fear he means to do something desperate. And we do not know how to stop him.’
She closed her own eyes and took a deep breath, telling herself that this was an estate matter, nothing more. Her heart was no longer involved in it. She must remember her reasons for coming to find him, and that they had nothing to do with a reconciliation or delivering scolds about his scandalous conduct.
But no matter how she felt about his treatment of her, she could not very well allow him to kill himself.
‘My husband has taken the notion that this is for the best. I can see, as plainly as you can, that this is nonsense. He is not thinking clearly, and I will not allow him to do himself an injury. At least not until he can present a better reason than the minor problem he has.’
Or until I am sure that my own place is secure.
If he was truly resolved to end his life, she doubted that there was anything to be done. She was little better than a stranger to him. What would he care what she thought? She hardened her heart against the desperation and panic that she was feeling. ‘My orders stand, just as they are. You and the other servants are forbidden from speaking of my efforts to find Adrian, or my return with him this evening. Let him think me a stranger.’ Then she pushed past the secretary and went into her husband’s room.
The valet looked terrified by her sudden appearance, and she held up a hand as a sign of caution. Then she looked down at the man on the bed who was now dressed in a nightshirt, and sporting a makeshift bandage on his temple. ‘Before I left, I wished to assure myself that you are all right.’
At the sound of her voice he looked pained that she had found him helpless. There was a lost look in his blank blue eyes that made him seem smaller than she knew him to be. ‘It should not be your job to see to my safety. As a gentleman, I should have been able to take care of you.’
‘You succeeded,’ she said. ‘You fought well. We were within a few feet of the door when you were struck down. And that was by an unfair blow. A sighted man could not have done better and would have ended just as you did.’
There was a ghost of his old, rakish smile, as he tried to joke away his embarrassment. ‘My talents do not end there, my dear.’ He patted the bed at his side. ‘If you wish to come closer, I would be happy to demonstrate.’
‘That will not be necessary.’ She paused long enough to see the slightest crease of disappointment form on his forehead. ‘I prefer my companions to be washed and shaved. And not soaked in gin. However …’
She leaned in to give him a peck on the forehead as a farewell reward. But as she did so, she realised that the token kiss would be everything he feared about his future. What she had intended as comfort would seem a sexless and maternal gesture, a cruel dismissal to the man who had fought to protect her.
So she pushed back upon his chest, forcing him into the pillows, and kissed him properly on the mouth. His lips opened in surprise, and she threw caution to the winds and slipped her tongue between them, stroking the inside of his mouth as he had done to hers. She felt the same rush of excitement she had felt in the tavern, and the desire to be closer still. And the feeling that she had felt often, over the last few years: that something was missing from her well-ordered life—and that, perhaps, it was Adrian Longesley.
Then she ended the kiss and turned to leave.
‘Wait.’ He caught her wrist.
‘I must go.’
‘You cannot. Not after that.’
She gave a little laugh. ‘Neither can I stay.’
‘Meet me again.’ He ran his other hand through his hair in exasperation and his words were hurried, as though he was trying to think of anything that might tempt her to stay. ‘So that I might assure myself of your safety, when I am not indisposed.’ His smile was back again. ‘You will like me better when I have had time to wash, dress and shave.’
‘Will I have to go to a brothel to find you? Or merely a gaming hell?’ She shook her head, and remembered that he would not see her refusal, then said, ‘I think not.’
‘Why not here? Tomorrow morning.’
‘You expect me to come to a man’s rooms, in daylight and unescorted.’
His face fell. ‘Your reputation. I had forgotten.’
‘Thank you very much for your belated concern.’
He winced as though it were a physical effort to stumble through the courtesies she deserved. ‘If there were somewhere that we could talk, in privacy and discretion …’
Emily sighed, as though she were not sure of the wisdom of her actions and then let herself be persuaded. ‘I will send you a letter, and you will come to me when it is convenient.’
He released her hand, letting his fingers drag down the length of it until he touched only her fingertips. ‘I look forward to your communication.’
She was glad that he could not clearly see her. Had he not been blind, he would know that her cheeks were crimson and that the expression on her face was not the sly smile of a courtesan, but goggle-eyed amazement. Her husband looked forward to meeting with her. Before she could spoil the moment by saying something inappropriate, she turned and left.
It was not until she was in the carriage, on the way back to her brother’s town house, that she allowed herself to collapse, then glared across the coach at Hendricks. ‘How long have you known?’
‘From the first. It came on gradually, after we left Portugal. He insisted that I tell you nothing. And although you and I have had reason to work together, he is, first and foremost, my employer. I must obey his wishes before yours.’
‘I see.’ Therefore, Hendricks was not to be trusted. She felt a cold chill at the loss of one she had trusted almost as a brother since the day she’d married Adrian. But if he could keep hidden a fact this momentous, then there was no telling what other secrets he’d hidden from her. ‘So you meant to take the man’s pay and allow him to destroy himself, when a word to me might have prevented it?’
Hendricks was embarrassed almost to the point of pain. ‘I did not think it my place.’
‘Then you had best reassess your position.’ She took the stern, almost manly tone she used with him to indicate that she spoke for her husband and that disobedience was out of the question.
‘Of course, my lady.’
She had cowed him, and it made her feel better, more in control than she had since the moment she had realised that she must see Adrian again.
But on the inside, she was unsure whether to laugh or to cry. It had finally happened, just as she’d dreamed of it, since she was a girl. Tonight, the man she loved had looked at her with desire, hung upon her every word and clung to her fingertips as though parting with her was an agony.
Of course, he was drunk, blind and did not know who she was. And the whole thing had happened so long after it should have that the point was moot. It had been nothing more than a girlish fantasy to have the dashing Earl of Folbroke dote on her like a love-struck fool. But then, she had thought that wedding him would mean something other than the sterile arrangement it was. Time had proven to her that he had no feelings for her, or he’d have been home long before now. ‘I suspect the reason he found me so appealing is because he thought me married to someone else.’
‘Lady Folbroke!’ It was an exclamation of shock at her candour, but not one of denial. She feared it was a sign that Hendricks knew her husband only too well. She would return in the morning, when he was sober, and tell him what she thought of this nonsense. Disability was no excuse for the way he’d behaved. If he was not careful, he was likely to kill himself. Where would that leave her?
And if Adrian died, then she might never know.
Tomorrow, he would be hoping for a clandestine meeting, where they could be alone to talk. Ha. When she saw him next, she would talk aplenty. She would tell him what an idiot he was for not knowing her, and for thinking that his good looks and easy manner would be enough to make her forget his abandonment and let him bed her.
A delicious thrill went through her at the thought of being bedded, and she stifled it. It seemed there was no end to her foolishness over the man. She had known from the first that he was a rake. That knowledge should have provided some insulation against his charm. But his kisses made her wonder what it might be like, should he turn his full attention to winning her, even for a few hours.
And it might be the only way to get an heir by him. That was what she had wanted, above all. It was her reason for coming to London.
Emily stared at Hendricks, eyes narrowing and chin set to remind him that she was the Countess of Folbroke, and not some silly schoolgirl. She deserved his respect every bit as much as her wayward husband. ‘Adrian is sorely mistaken if he thinks to keep me in darkness about events any longer. And you are as big a fool as he, for helping him this long. I will not condone his drinking, or support this lunatic notion he has that being struck down in a common brawl is the way to meet his Maker on his own terms. But if a liaison with another man’s wife is what he desires, then I see no reason not to give it to him.’
She smiled and watched Hendricks draw away from her in alarm. ‘And how do you mean to do that?’
‘I mean to return to my brother and do nothing at all. But you will have a busy day tomorrow, Mr Hendricks. I wish you to engage a flat for me while I am in London. Something simple, small. A pied-à-terre. Decoration does not matter, since my guest will not see it. I will need staff as well. Choose what is necessary from our household, or hire if you must, but I will have no gossip. They will speak not so much as a word to identify themselves to Lord Folbroke, or I will sack the lot of them. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, my lady.’ Clearly, the actions were not understood at all. Judging by the look on his face, he found them to be incomprehensible. But he knew better than to cross her, and that was enough.
‘When that is completed, and not before, you will take a note to my husband. And you will give him no indication of my involvement in it, or I swear, Mr Hendricks, that no matter what my husband might say in the matter, you will be seeking other employment before the sun sets. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Lady Folbroke.’ There was a trace of awe in his tone. But she also recognised the relief in it, as though he understood that, if she were allowed to take the reins, they would all be the better for it. His obedience was gratifying, and yet strangely disappointing. She was tired of being surrounded by men that presented no real challenge to her authority.
But she suspected that she would be regretting the lack of just that by tomorrow evening. It made her tremble when she thought of the kiss Adrian had given her, and the kiss she had given him in return. She had never felt such power in her life and yet utterly in the thrall of another. The man she’d kissed had wanted to be seduced by her as much as he’d wanted to take her. And, for a moment, she had wanted the same.
Tomorrow, on neutral ground, they would meet.
She would invite. He would accept. She would feign naïveté. He would suggest. She would protest. He would cajole. She would be persuaded. The conclusion might be inevitable, but for a time there would be a battle of wits and wills leading to both a complete surrender and an equally complete victory. If handled correctly, there would be ecstasy, satisfaction and sweet, sweet revenge.
Across from her in the carriage, Hendricks looked quite unsettled by the latest turn of events. But with regard to Adrian, Emily had never felt so confident in her life. As soon as all things were in place, she would go about the tawdry, ridiculous and strangely exhilarating process of ensnaring her own husband.
Chapter Six
Adrian Longesley awoke the next day with the same nagging, drunkard’s headache he had grown accustomed to. A morning would come soon enough when he did not wake at all. In comparison, it would be a welcome relief. But today, he was alive and conscious, and feeling the worse for a lump on his forehead. If he had been coshed from behind, he’d have felt better about the injury. But to be hit from the front with a blow that had seemed to come from nowhere proved how far his abilities had diminished. He sighed into the pillow, waiting for the rolling of the room to subside enough so that he might sit up.
The nausea would probably be worse if he could see the movement. Even without that particular sense, he was sure that he could feel the rocking, as though he were making a rough crossing to France. But he was still in his own bedchamber, and could smell a breakfast he had no appetite for.
The woman.
He had been a drunken fool to think he’d be lucky enough to rescue her twice from the place he’d found her. If his carelessness had allowed her to fall into the hands of the men there.
He lurched upright in panic, and then regretted it, before remembering the end of the evening. He had a hazy recollection of her voice on the carriage ride home, along with that of Hendricks. His man must have found him in time, saved the girl and helped them to return here.
It pained him further that he had needed rescuing at all. If he had fallen to a place where he could no longer care for himself and put innocents around him at risk, then it might be time to seek a sudden end to things and stop dawdling about, waiting for nature to take its course. But last night had not been the time. The strange woman had needed him, if only for a short time. If the intervention of Hendricks had assured her safety, then his own pride could survive the damage of needing assistance.
She had claimed to be well bred, and gentle, though she certainly hadn’t been wise. A wise woman would never come to such a place. Maybe what she’d said was true, and she’d actually been looking for her husband. Sad for her, if that was the sort of place she might find him. While Adrian shared it, it was nothing to be proud of. But at least he had the small comfort of knowing that his wife had never seen it.
The stranger had refused him, when they’d been alone. So it was not a visit brought on by a secret desire to slum for the novelty of it. And then she had followed him back to his house. She had been in this very bedchamber, though not for long enough. He remembered her assurances that he had fought well for her, and the tiniest hint of awe in her sceptical voice.
She had been tart in manner and in kisses. And scent as well, for he could swear that the smell of lemons still clung to his skin where she had touched him. What a woman she had been. If his memory could be trusted, he’d have been happy to have more of her company. The round, soft way she had felt in his lap, and the tingling friction of her tongue in his mouth. The pleasant weight of her breasts brushing his arm as she bent over his bed. And a kiss that hinted of more to come.
He laughed. Another meeting was unlikely, and perhaps impossible. She had promised, of course, to get him to release her hand. But she had not given him name or direction and had called him rough company. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. She was probably right.
His valet must have heard him stirring, for Adrian could hear his entrance, and smell the morning cup of tea that he put on the bedside table and the soap that he carried as he went to the basin to prepare the water for washing and shaving. There was another set of footsteps, the scrape of curtain rings, and the sudden bright blur as the sun streamed into his bedroom. ‘Hendricks,’ he said, ‘you are a beast. The least you could do is allow a man to adjust slowly to the morning.’
‘Afternoon, my lord,’ Hendricks responded politely. ‘It is almost one o’clock.’
‘And all the same to me. You know the hour I came home, and the condition I was in, for you brought me.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘And how did you come to do that? When I left here, I was alone.’
There was an awkward shifting of weight and clearing of throat. ‘I came searching for you, my lord. While you were out, Lady Folbroke visited to inform you that she is staying in London. She was quite insistent to know your whereabouts. And I thought it best …’
‘I see.’ His wife had come to town before. And each time he had managed to avoid her. But it was damned awkward, after the events of last night, to think her so close. He reached for the miniature of Emily in its usual evening resting place on the table by the bed, fingering it idly.
‘You had been out for some time, already,’ Hendricks continued. ‘The servants were concerned.’
The voice in Adrian’s head snapped that it was no one’s business what he did with his time. Their concern was nothing more than thinly veiled pity, and the suspicion that he could not be trusted to take care of himself. He held his temper. If one had been carried insensible out of a gin mill, it hardly gave one the right to argue that one was fine on one’s own.
Instead, he said, ‘Thank them for their concern, and thank you as well for your timely intervention. It was appreciated. I will try to be more careful in the future.’ In truth, he would be nothing of the kind. But there was no point in rubbing the man’s nose in the fact.
And then, to make it appear an afterthought, he came back to the matter that concerned him most. ‘But you said Emily is in town. Did you enquire as to the reason for the visit?’
‘She did not say, my lord.’ There was a nervous rustling of the papers in Hendricks’s hands.
‘You saw to the transfer of funds to the working accounts that we discussed after your last visit north?’
‘Yes, my lord. Lady Folbroke inspected the damage from the spring storms, and repairs on the cottages are already underway.’
‘I don’t suppose it is that, then,’ he said, trying not to be apprehensive. The efficiency of his wife was almost legendary. Hendricks had read the report she had written, explaining in detail the extent of the damage, her plans for repair and the budget she envisioned. The signature she’d required from him was little more than a courtesy on her part, to make him feel he was involved in the running of his lands.
But if she had come to London, and more importantly, come looking for him, the matter was likely to be of a much more personal nature. He remarked, as casually as possible, ‘How is she?’
There was such a pause that he wondered if she was not well, or if there were something that they did not wish him to know. And then Hendricks said, ‘She seemed well.’
‘Emily has been on my mind often of late.’ It was probably the guilt. For he could swear that the scent of lemons still lingered in the room so strongly he feared Hendricks must smell it as well. ‘Is there anything at all that she requires? More money, perhaps.’
‘I am certain, if she required it, she would write herself a cheque from the household accounts.’
‘Oh. Clothing, then. Does she shop frequently? I know my mother did. Perhaps she has come to town for that.’
‘She has never complained of a lack,’ he replied, as though the subject were tiresome and devoid of interest to him.
‘Jewellery, then. She has received nothing since our wedding.’
‘If you are interested, perhaps you should ask her yourself.’ Hendricks said this sharply, as though despite his patient nature, he was growing frustrated by the endless questions.
‘And did she mention whether she’d be likely to visit me again?’ The question filled him with both hope and dread, as it always did. For though he would most like to see her again—as though that were even possible—he was not eager to hear what she would say if she learned the truth.
‘I think she made some mention of setting up housekeeping here in London.’ But Hendricks sounded more than unsure. He sounded as though he were keeping a secret from him. Possibly at his wife’s request.
‘Does she visit anyone else that you know of?’ As if he had any right to be jealous, after all this time. But it would make perfect sense if she had found someone to entertain her in his absence. It had been three years. In the time since he’d left she would have blossomed to the prime of womanhood.
‘Not that I know of, my lord. But she did mention your cousin Rupert.’
‘Hmm.’ He took a sip of his tea, trying to appear non-committal. Some would think it mercenary of her. But there was a kind of sense in it, he supposed, if she transferred her interests to the next Earl of Folbroke. When he was gone, she could keep her title, and her home as well. ‘But Rupert.’ he said, unable to keep from voicing his distaste of the man. ‘I know he is family. But I had hoped she would have better taste.’
If he had eyes as strong as his fists, there would be no question of interference from his cousin in that corner. Even blind, he had a mind to give the man a thrashing, next time he came round to the flat. While he might forgive his wife an infidelity, crediting the fault to his own neglect of her, it would not do to let Rupert think she was part of the entail. She deserved better.
Not that she is likely to get it from you …
‘It is not as if she shares the details of her personal life with the servants,’ Hendricks interrupted his reverie. Was that meant as a prod to his conscience for asking questions that only he himself could learn the answers to?
Surely by now Hendricks must have guessed his real reasons for curiosity, and the utter impossibility of talking to Emily himself. ‘It is none of my business either, I am sure. I have no real claim on her.’
‘Other than marriage,’ Hendricks pointed out in a dry tone.
‘Since I have made no effort to be a good husband to her, it seems hypocritical to expect her continued loyalty to me. And if she has a reason to visit me again? If you could give me advance notice of the visit, I would be grateful. It would be better, if a meeting cannot be avoided, that it be prepared for.’ On both sides. She deserved warning as well. He was in no condition, either physical or mental, to meet with her now.
‘Very good, my lord.’ Adrian could sense a lessening of the tension in the man beside the bed at the mention of even a possibility of a meeting. Acting as a go-between for them had been hard on his friend.
But now Hendricks was shifting again, as though there was some fresh problem. ‘Is there some other news that brings you here?’ he asked.
‘The post has come,’ Hendricks said, without expression.
‘If I have slept past noon, I would hope it has. Is there something you wish to read to me?’
‘A letter. It has no address, and the wax was unmarked. I took the liberty …’
‘Of course.’ Adrian waved away his concerns. ‘Since I cannot see the words, my correspondence is as an open book to you. Please read the contents.’ He set down his tea, took a piece of toast from the rack and waited.
Hendricks cleared his throat and read with obvious discomfort, ‘I wish to thank you for your assistance on the previous evening. If you would honour me with your presence for dinner, take the carriage I will send to your rooms at eight o’clock tonight.’
Adrian waited for more, but no words came. ‘It is not signed?’
‘Nor is there a salutation.’
‘Give it here. I wish to examine it.’ He set his breakfast aside and took the paper, running his fingers over it, wishing that he could feel the meaning in the words. There was no indication that they would be dining alone, but neither was there a sign that others would be present.
‘And there is no clue as to the identity of the sender? No address? A mark of some sort?’ Although he’d have felt a seal or an embossed monogram with his own fingers.
‘No, sir. I assumed you knew the identity of the woman.’
Adrian raised the paper to his nose. There was the slightly acrid smell of fresh ink, and a hint of lemon perfume. Had she rubbed the paper against her body, or merely touched it to the perfume bottle to send this part of the message?
He smiled. And did she know how she would make him wonder on the fact? He preferred to think of the paper held against those soft breasts, close to her quickly beating heart.
‘About that …’ What a blatant display of poor character that he had not even learned her name. It gave him no comfort to show Hendricks how low he had sunk, for the man was more than just a servant to him, after years together in the army, and Adrian’s growing dependence on him since the injury. But as Hendricks’s devotion to Lady Folbroke had grown, Adrian had come to suspect that the man’s loyalties were more than usually torn.
‘There was no time for a formal introduction last night. I had only just met her a few moments before you arrived. And, as I’m sure you could see, the situation was quite hectic.’ He paused for a moment to let his secretary make what he could of that, and then said, ‘But you saw her, did you not? What was she like?’
He heard Hendricks shift uneasily again. He had never before required the poor man to help with a liaison. It must prick at his scruples to be forced to betray the countess. But Adrian’s curiosity about the woman would not be denied. ‘Was she attractive?’ he suggested.
‘Very,’ admitted Hendricks.
‘Describe her.’
‘Dark blond hair, short and dressed in curls. Grey eyes, a determined chin.’
Determined. He could believe that about her. Last night, she’d shown fortitude and a direct way of speaking that proved she was not easily impressed by fine words. He could feel the attraction for her, crackling on his skin like the air before a storm. ‘And?’ he prompted, eager to know more.
‘She was expensively dressed.’
‘And when you returned her to her home, where was it? It was you that escorted her, was it not?’
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Christine Merrill
A marriage of convenience…Lady Emily Longesley married the love of her life and hoped that he would learn to love her. Instead, he upped and left their country estate for London. Suffering the snub with dignity, three years on Emily has had enough! …or passion?Confronting her errant husband, she sees that Adrian, Earl of Folbroke, has been robbed of his sight and doesn’t know her at all! Emily longs for her husband’s touch. If she plays his mistress by delicious deception, can he finally learn to love his wife?
Adrian had changed, of course. But not so much that Emily could not recognise him.
He still had shockingly blue eyes, though they gave her little more than a sidelong glance. And there was the roguish smile that he shared with other women more often than he did with her.
She could feel her nerve failing now that he was close, and the growing desire to sink into him, soaking in the warmth of his body as though immersed in the bath.
And then he kissed her. On the mouth.
The suddenness of it shocked her. She had expected a distant greeting, and the slight frown with which he usually favoured her—as though even as he was saying hello he was thinking of ways to say goodbye. But he was kissing her. They were really kissing. And it was like nothing she had experienced before …
About the Author
CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons, and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their email. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ballgowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.
Previous novels by Christine Merrill:
THE INCONVENIENT DUCHESS
AN UNLADYLIKE OFFER
A WICKED LIAISON
MISS WINTHORPE’S ELOPEMENT
THE MISTLETOE WAGER
(part of A Yuletide Invitation)
DANGEROUS LORD, INNOCENT GOVERNESS
PAYING THE VIRGIN’S PRICE*
TAKEN BY THE WICKED RAKE*
MASTER OF PENLOWEN
(part of Halloween Temptations)
* Regency Silk & Scandal mini-series
And in Mills & Boon Historical Undone! eBooks:
SEDUCING A STRANGER
TAMING HER GYPSY LOVER
AUTHOR NOTE
I went into this story wondering why more people didn’t have blind heroes. By the time I was halfway through writing I knew.
It had seemed a simple enough thing at first. But after a few days of writing I noticed how much of what we put into a book relies on the sense of sight. Removing the visual cues from my story made me learn to use my other senses to feel what my hero was feeling. And I needed to remember the dimensions of my imaginary rooms, just as he did, to navigate my way through them, one pace at a time.
And then there was the illusory idea that blind might not mean totally blind, and that there were situations where a little sight was almost as bad as no sight at all. My eye doctor told me that the type of blindness I had given my hero would make him lose all sense of colour, even if he could still distinguish some light and shadow.
And after a little research I found that many of the great advances in dealing with the loss of sight were several years in the future for Adrian. There would be no Braille until 1821. And, though it would come as a result of the very war that Adrian had fought, it would be meant to help the French defeat the English. The majority of education available to him in his own country would be vocational in nature, and far beneath his station.
For a man of Adrian’s temperament, who had expected to control his world and his destiny, the adjustment would have been difficult. If he learned to accept his condition, his first reactions to it would leave him with much to apologise for.
Fortunately for him, I gave him Emily, who is a very patient woman.
LADY FOLBROKE’S
DELICIOUS
DECEPTION
Christine Merrill
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Dr Eugene Swanson and his helpful staff.
Thanks for taking care of my eyes.
Chapter One
While Emily Longesley could say with truth that she did not dislike many people, she had begun to suspect that she hated her husband’s cousin Rupert. There was something in the way he looked at the manor when he visited that made her think he wished to measure it for furniture.
It was all the more annoying to know that he was entitled to his feelings of possessiveness. If she remained childless, the title fell to Rupert. And as the years had passed since her husband had abandoned her, Rupert’s visits had grown more frequent, more intrusive, and he’d become more generally confident in the eventuality of his inheritance. Lately, he had taken to giving an annoying smirk as he’d asked after the health of her husband, as though he were privy to some bit of information that she was not.
It was even more bothersome to suspect that this might be the truth. Although her husband’s secretary, Hendricks, insisted that the earl was well, he was equally insistent that Adrian had no desire to communicate with her. A visit from him was unlikely. A visit to him would be both unwelcome and out of the question. Were they hiding something, or was her husband’s dislike of her as transparent as it appeared?
Today, she could stand it no longer. ‘Rupert, what is the meaning of that expression on your face? It almost appears that you doubt my word. If you suspect that Adrian is ill, then the least you could do is pretend to be sympathetic.’
Rupert looked at her with a smug grin that seemed to imply he’d caught her at last. ‘I do not suspect Folbroke of illness so much as I begin to doubt his existence.’
‘What utter fustian. You know perfectly well that he exists, Rupert. You have known him since childhood. You attended our wedding.’
‘And that was almost three years ago.’ He glanced around him, as though the empty air were some recent discovery. ‘I do not see him here, now.’
‘Because he resides in London for most of the year.’ All of the year, in fact, but it would not help to bring that to the fore.
‘None of his friends has seen him there. When Parliament is in session, his seat in the House of Lords is vacant. He does not attend parties or the theatre. And when I visit his rooms, he is just gone out and not expected back.’
‘Perhaps he does not wish to see you,’ Emily said. If so, she had found one point of agreement with her absent spouse.
‘I do not particularly wish to see him, either,’ Rupert said. ‘But for the sake of the succession, I demand to see some evidence that the man still breathes.’
‘That he still breathes? Of all the ridiculous things you have said, Rupert, I think that this is the worst. You are his closest living relative. And his heir. If the Earl of Folbroke had died, you would have been notified of it immediately.’
‘If you chose to tell me.’ He was looking at her with a suspicious cat’s gaze, as though he was sure, if he stared long enough, she would admit to a body buried beneath the floorboards.
‘Of course I would tell you if something had happened to Adrian. What reason would I have to conceal the truth from you?’
‘Every reason in the world. Do you think I cannot see how you are left in charge of this property when he is absent? The servants take their orders from you. I have seen the steward and the man of business come to you for their instructions, and caught you poring over the account books as though you would have any idea what to do with them.’
After all the time she had spent reading them, she knew perfectly well what to do with the accounts.
And her husband had no problem with her taking them on, even expressing his approval of her management in the few curt communications that had come to her through Hendricks. ‘Since you are not yet the earl, why should it matter to you?’
Rupert’s eyes narrowed. ‘Because it is unnatural. I do not wish to see my inheritance squandered through the mismanagement of a woman. I have written to Folbroke frequently with my fears. Yet there is no sign of him coming to take control of what is rightfully his. He is here so seldom that he might as well be dead. And perhaps he is, for all you seem to care. You have arranged the running of the place to your own satisfaction, have you not? But if he has passed and you think can maintain a charade that there is a master here, you are sorely mistaken.’
Emily gathered her breath, trying to remain calm in the face of the bombardment. Rupert had always been a bit of a pill, but she had done her best to be kind to him, for the sake of her husband. Her even temper had been wasted on both Adrian and his ridiculous cousin, and her patience had reached its end. ‘Your accusations are ridiculous.’
‘I think not, madam. The last time I visited his rooms, the servants claimed he was indisposed. But when I forced my way in to search for him, I could find no trace.’
‘If you abuse his hospitality and bully his servants, then no wonder he does not wish to see you. Your behaviour is beyond rude. The fact that you have not seen him does not indicate that I have not. How do you think papers of business for this estate are signed? I cannot sign them myself.’ Actually, she found her forgeries quite credible. And what could not be forged was passed through to her husband’s secretary and then returned to her. Though she knew Hendricks to be as devoted to her husband as he was helpful to her. While there was no proof that these papers were forged as well, she sometimes had her suspicions.
But Rupert had no faith at all. ‘On the contrary, I have no doubt that you could and do sign documents. Should a miracle occur, and I receive a letter from your husband, I will have no proof that his hand was the one that wrote it.’
‘And I suppose you do not believe me when I say that I have contact with him regularly.’
Her cousin laughed. ‘Of course I do not. I think it is a ruse to keep me from what is rightfully mine.’
His surety in the emptiness of her marriage had pushed her temper to the breaking point. ‘This estate is not yours. None of it. It belongs to Adrian Longesley, the current Earl of Folbroke. And after him, to his son.’
Rupert laughed again. ‘And when are we likely to see an heir from your invisible husband?’
The idea struck suddenly, and she could not help but express it. ‘Quite possibly in eight months. Although it is just as likely to be a girl. But Adrian assures me that in his family the first child is almost always male.’
This seemed to deflate Rupert, who sputtered his next answer. ‘You are … are …’
‘Increasing. Yes.’ Now that the first lie was out, it emboldened her to continue in it. ‘I did not mean to be so unladylike to broach the subject of my condition, but since you insist on trying me with baseless suspicions, I have no choice. And I would think carefully, were I you, to speak what is probably in your mind and hint that it is not my husband’s child at all. If I hear so much as a breath of that, I will tell Adrian how you speak to me when he is away. And he will think nothing of family connections and run you through for spreading salacious rumours about me. He was in the army, you know. He is still a crack shot, and a dab hand with a sword. And very sensitive of my feelings. He would not wish me to be hurt.’ The last was the biggest lie of all. But what did it matter, next to her imaginary baby?
Rupert’s face was white mottled with red, and his lips twitched as though she had pushed him so close to apoplexy that his speech had failed. Finally, he managed, ‘If this is true, which I sincerely doubt it is, then I hardly know what to say of it.’
Emily smiled, turning his sly looks back upon him. ‘Why, my dear cousin Rupert, that is simplicity itself. The only thing you must say to me is “Congratulations.” And then, “Farewell.” Women in my condition tire easily. And, alas, I have no more strength to socialise with you.’ She gripped him by the hand in a way that might appear fond were it not so forceful, and gave a forward tug, propelling him past her to the doorway of the salon and allowing his momentum to carry him out into the hall. When he was clear of the door, she shut it quickly behind him and leaned her shoulders against the panel, as though that were all it would take to block out any further visits.
It had been bad enough, at the beginning of the interview, when she had feared that she would have to produce her wayward husband. But now she would be expected to produce both him and an infant—and get Adrian to agree that he had fathered the child, whether he had, or not.
Or not. Now there was an interesting possibility. At the moment, she had no admirers to encourage in so passionate a way. And while she did not think herself unattractive, she suspected that there were some things that even the loyal Hendricks would not do in the name of maintaining the status quo.
But if Adrian had any interest in her continued fidelity, than he had best get himself home at least long enough to prove his good health, if not his virility. She had not heard a word from him in almost a year. Although the servants swore that they had seen him, they did it with the sort of worried expressions that told her something was seriously amiss. And they followed their avowals with equally worried assurances, similar to Hendricks’s, that there was no need for her to go to London to see for herself. In fact, that would be the worst possible thing for her to do.
It was a woman, she suspected. They were trying to shield her from the fact that her husband had taken up permanent residence with someone else. He was willing to let his own wife and the chance at a family go hang for a mistress and a brood of bastards.
She tried to tell herself she was being both ridiculous and overly dramatic. Most men had arrangements of some kind or other, and wives who were content to ignore them. But as months had turned to years, and he paid no attention at all to her, it grew harder to pretend that she did not care.
And at the moment, her problems were concerned less with what he might have done, and more with what he had not. While it was difficult to be the object of such a total rejection, it became untenable when it damaged her ability to stay in her own home. In her three years of residence here, she had come to think of Folbroke Manor as rightfully hers. And if the fool she had married was declared dead because he could not be bothered to appear, she would have to yield it to that oaf, Rupert.
It would result in inconvenience and bother to all concerned.
Emily glanced at the desk in the corner, and thought of composing a sternly worded letter on the subject. But this matter was far too urgent and too personal to risk exposing it to another’s eyes. If, as she expected, Hendricks read all of my lord’s mail, she did not wish him to know that she had resorted to requesting sexual congress in writing.
And it would be even more embarrassing if the answer came in someone else’s hand, or not at all. Or worse yet, in the negative.
All things considered, it would be far better to make a sudden appearance in London, camp out in Adrian’s rooms, and await his return. Once the servants saw that she was in earnest, they would accede to her perfectly logical demand for an audience with her own husband. When she saw him, she would tell him that either he must get her with child, or tell the odious Rupert that he still breathed so that the man would leave her alone.
Then they could go back about their business of leading separate lives. And he could pretend she didn’t exist, just as he obviously wished to.
Chapter Two
For the first time in ages, Emily was in the same city as Adrian Longesley. Scant miles apart—possibly even less than that. Even now, he might be in residence behind the closed door, just in front of her.
Emily fought down the wave of terror that the prospect aroused in her, placing her palm flat against the rain-spattered window glass of the carriage, willing herself to feel as cool as it did. The nearness to Adrian was a palpable thing, like a tug on a string tied to something vital, deep inside her. Although she had felt it for most of her life, she had learned to ignore it. But it grew stronger as the carriage had reached the outskirts of London, an annoying tightness in her chest, as though she could not quite manage to catch a full breath.
With that lack of breath would come the weakening of her voice, the quiet tone and the tendency to squeak without warning. And, worst of all, it would be impossible to talk to him. When she tried to speak, she would stammer things out, repeating herself or pausing inappropriately in the middle of a thought, only to have the words rush out in a jumble. Even if she could manage to stay silent, there would be the blushing, and the inability to meet his gaze.
And since she was sure that he felt no answering pull on this magical bond between them, her behaviour would irritate him. He would think her an idiot, just as he had from the first moment they’d married. And he would dismiss her again, before she could explain herself.
When dealing with Adrian, she found it much easier to express herself with written communication. When she had the time to compose her thoughts, and the ability to toss any false starts and missteps into the fire, she had no troubles making her point.
And in that she was the very opposite of her husband. He had been clear enough, when he’d bothered to speak to her. But the few letters she’d received were terse, full of cross hatching, and in a hand so rough as to be practically illegible. She suspected it was drink that caused it. While easy to decipher, the latest ones came with a brief preamble, explaining that my lord was indisposed and had dictated the following to Hendricks.
She glanced at her reflection in the watery glass. She had improved with age. Her skin had cleared. Her hair was better dressed. Despite her rustication, she took care to outfit herself in the latest styles. While she had never been a pretty girl, she counted herself a handsome woman. Although she did not agree with it, it flattered her that the word beauty had been applied by others. She had also been assured that her company was charming, and her conversation intelligent.
But to the one man she’d always longed to impress, she could not manage to behave as anything other than David Eston’s troublesome little sister. She was sure that it was only out of loyalty to his friend and family that Adrian had been willing to saddle himself with such a dull and graceless creature.
Before her, her own image dissolved as the coachman opened the door and put down the step for her, holding an umbrella over her head as he rushed her to the door, knocking for her.
The door opened and her husband’s butler greeted her with an open mouth and a breathless, ‘My Lady Folbroke.’
‘No need to announce me, Abbott. If you can find someone to take my cloak, I will make myself comfortable in the salon.’
When no footman appeared to help her, she untied the neck and stepped forwards out of the garment, letting it drop from her shoulders.
Abbott reached forwards, hurrying to catch it before it struck the floor. ‘Of course, my lady. But my Lord Folbroke—’
‘Is not expecting me,’ she finished for him.
At the end of the hallway, her husband’s secretary appeared, took one look at her, and then glanced behind him as though he wished, like a rabbit meeting a fox, to dart back under cover.
‘Hello, Hendricks.’ She smiled in a way that was both warm and firm, and pushed past the butler, bearing down on him.
‘Lady Folbroke.’ Hendricks looked quietly horrified to see her and repeated, ‘You were not expected.’
‘Of course not, Hendricks. Had he expected me, my darling Adrian would have been shooting in Scotland. Or on the Continent. Anywhere but sharing London with me.’ She tried a light laugh to show how unimportant it was to her, and failed dismally. She ignored the strange, sharp feeling in her stomach and the ache in her heart that came from knowing she was not really wanted.
The secretary had the courtesy to look shamed by it, but made no effort to deny what she had said.
‘I suppose it is too much to hope that he is here at the moment.’
‘No, my lady. He is out.’
‘That is the same story you give to his cousin Rupert, who has been tormenting me endlessly on the subject of Adrian’s whereabouts. I have had enough of it, Hendricks.’ She stopped to breathe, for while her tone had sufficient volume, she did not want it creeping into shrillness. Then she continued. ‘My husband must accept that, if he cannot deal with his heir, he will have to deal with me. It is unfair of him to avoid us both. And while I am quite willing to shoulder the responsibility of land, tenants, crops and several hundred-odd sheep while Adrian gallivants about the city, the added burden of Rupert is simply too much, Hendricks. It is the last straw to this camel.’
‘I see, Lady Folbroke.’ Hendricks had replaced his hunted look with an expression of neutral courtesy, as though he hoped that his silence would still her questions.
‘My husband is still in the city?’ She gave the man a critical look.
He squirmed and nodded.
She nodded in reply. ‘And how long might it be until he returns here?’
The secretary gave a helpless shrug.
‘Honesty, Hendricks. You know more than you are saying, I am sure. All I require of you is a simple answer. I intend to wait as long as is needed, in either case. But it would be nice to know if I should request a light meal, or send for my trunks and prepare for an extended stay.’
‘I do not know, Lady Folbroke.’ There was a kind of hopelessness in the statement that made her almost believe the man.
‘Surely he must tell you his plans when he goes out.’
‘When he bothers to make them,’ the secretary said, revealing a bitterness that smacked of honesty.
‘If he sets an agenda, he rarely keeps to it. Sometimes he is gone for hours. And other times days.’
‘Then he must be letting rooms elsewhere.’
‘This may be true. But I do not know where, for I have never visited them. And when he returns?’ Hendricks shook his head, clearly worried.
‘I suppose he is foxed.’ She gave a disgusted sigh. It was no less than she feared about him, but the confirmation did nothing to improve her mood.
‘If that were all. He is …’ Hendricks struggled to find a phrase that would not give up a confidence. ‘Not well. Unhealthy, my lady. I doubt he eats. Or sleeps. When he can bring himself to come home after one of these excursions, he collapses for days at a time. I fear he will do himself an injury through self-neglect.’
‘His father was around the same age when he lost his life, was he not?’
‘Yes, my lady. A riding accident.’
It was gently put, as was everything Hendricks said. The man was a master of understatement. But she remembered the circumstances quite well, for the severity of the last earl’s injuries had been the talk of the neighbourhood. Adrian’s father had been the worse for drink, and riding hell for leather through the woods, taking jumps that other men would not have risked while sane and sober. The fall had killed both man and horse in a way that was neither quick nor painless.
Her brother had said nothing of his friend’s reaction when the accident had occurred. But she could remember clearly the solemn darkness of the young man on the neighbouring estate, and the way it had both frightened and intrigued her. ‘Perhaps it preys upon his mind. And all the more reason that I should be here to put a stop to it.’
The secretary looked both doubtful and hopeful, as though he could not decide where his loyalty might lie.
‘Summon the coachman who took him when he departed, so that we might learn his destination. If we can find his normal haunts, then I will search them until I find him.’
‘You cannot,’ Hendricks leaned forwards, and she knew the situation must be serious for the taciturn man was clearly alarmed.
‘I mean to do it, all the same.’
The man stared into her eyes, as though to gauge the strength of her resolve. Then he sighed. ‘I will accompany you.’
‘That is hardly necessary.’
Hendricks squared his shoulders, doing his best to look formidable. ‘I am sorry, Lady Folbroke, but I must insist. If you mean to continue on this unadvisable course of action, than I cannot leave you to do it alone.’
‘And who gives you the right to question me?’
‘Lord Folbroke himself. He has been quite clear to me in his instructions, with regards to you. I am to assist you in all things, trust your judgement and obey you as I would him. But first and foremost, he trusts me to keep you from harm.’
The sentiment brought her up short. After a year of silence on his part, it had never occurred to her that her husband thought of her at all. And certainly not for a sufficiently protracted time as to concern himself with her safety. ‘He worries about me?’
‘Of course, my lady. He asks after you each time I return from Derbyshire. Normally, I assure him there is no reason to be concerned. But in this case?’ He shook his head.
Emily dismissed the momentary feeling of warmth at the picture of Adrian asking about her. ‘If my welfare is his foremost desire, perhaps he could have seen fit to share it with me. Or he could make an effort to stay out of low haunts himself. Then it would not be necessary for me to seek him in a place he did not want me to go.’
Hendricks was frowning at the twisted logic of her statement, trying to find a rebuttal, so she allowed him no more time. She turned to the butler. ‘Abbott, have the carriage brought around. Mr Hendricks and I will be going out. We will be returning with Lord Folbroke.’
She glared at Hendricks. ‘Whether he likes it or not.’
‘You are sure this is the place?’ The building before her gave every indication of being just what it was: a villainous hole that was well below the genteel debauchery she’d expected.
‘Yes, my lady,’ Hendricks said, with a grim smile. ‘Of late, the servants bring him here. He finds his own way home.’
She sighed. There was a sign swinging above the battered door that appeared to be a woman of limited virtue, and even more limited clothing. ‘What is it called, then?’
‘The Whore’s Left …’ Hendricks coughed as though he could not bring himself to finish the name.
‘Is it a brothel?’ She peered out the window at the grimy glass panes in front of her, trying not to show the curiosity she felt.
‘No, my lady. A public house.’
‘I see.’ It was nothing like the rather conservative inn in their village. But things were very different in London, she was sure. ‘Very well, then. Wait in the carriage.’
‘I most certainly will not.’ It was a moment before the secretary realised how completely he’d overstepped his bounds in his effort to protect her. Then he said more softly, ‘I have been through doors like that one, and seen the clientele inside. It is a dangerous place for Lord Folbroke and even more so for a woman alone.’
‘I do not mean to be there long enough to experience risk. If he is there, he will think the same as you, and though he might choose the place for his own entertainment, he will be forced to escort me out of it. But I do not mean to leave without him.’ She set her chin in the way she did, to let the Derbyshire servants know that she was brooking no more nonsense, and saw the secretary weaken before her.
‘If you find him, he might not be willing to go.’ Again there was a delicate pause as he searched for a way around her orders. ‘You might need my help.’
It was perfectly true. She had no reason to believe that her husband would listen to her entreaties, if he would not answer her correspondence. ‘Would you remove him by force, if needed?’
Hendricks paused again. To take her side when in the presence of her husband would seem close to mutiny. He had been Adrian’s aide-de-camp in the army, and had the fierce loyalty of a soldier to a superior officer to match his dedication to a friend and employer. But then he said, as though the confession was a thing he did not want to share, ‘If the instruction came from you, and it was meant for his own good, I would do it. There are reasons for his aberrant behaviour, which you will understand soon enough. But if he is no longer able to act in his own best interests, then someone must do it for him.’
Emily touched Hendricks’s shoulder to reassure him. ‘Do not fear for your position. I promise you will come to no harm for doing what is right. But we must be agreed on this before we begin. I will ask him to come. And if he does not, you must help me remove him.’
‘Very well.’ He nodded. ‘Let us do the thing quickly, now that we are decided. The situation cannot stand as it does much longer.’
They walked through the door together, Hendricks close at her shoulder. And Emily stepped back into him as she took in the room before her. The sound of drunkenness hit her first: laughing, fighting and ribald song. And then the smell—urine and vomit added to the smoke from a blocked chimney and burned meat to make the room even more unpleasant. She had expected to find Adrian in some normal gaming hell where the play was deep and the women were not ladies. Or perhaps a whorehouse where the play was of a different sort entirely. But she had assumed it would be the sort of place where lords went, when they sought to amuse themselves outside polite society.
There was no sign of even the lowest members of their set in evidence. This was a rough place full of even rougher men who had come to enjoy their vices with no care for the law of God or man.
Hendricks put his hand on her shoulder. ‘We will take a table in the corner, out of the way of this mob. And I will enquire after him for you.’ He led her to the corner, and a barmaid brought two mugs to the table with a sneer on her face. Emily glanced into hers to see that it was already filled. She smelled juniper.
Hastings placed a hand over her glass. ‘The strength of the gin will not make up for the dirtiness of the glass.’ He tossed a coin on the table. As the barmaid reached for it, he caught her by the wrist. ‘The Earl of Folbroke. Do you know him? Is he here?’ The girl shook her head, but he did not release her. ‘Do you know an Adrian Longesley?’
‘Addy?’ She gave a single nod, and he let go of her arm, but his action had drawn the eyes of others.
The men who rose from the nearest table were hulking brutes, looking for any reason to fight. ‘Here now, stranger. You have a dollymop of your own, do you not?’ The one who spoke gave Emily a toothless leer.
‘Aye,’ said another. ‘If you wish to share our Molly, then you must share as well.’ Behind her, a man leaned close, and she inched her chair away.
‘Now, see here.’ Hendricks’s gaze was steely, and his shoulders broad. Though she thought him timid when compared to Adrian, he had been a captain in the army, and she had no doubt that he would defend her honour to the best of his considerable abilities. But with so many against him, she doubted that his strength would do them much good.
And as she feared, when Hendricks started to rise, a fist to his jaw knocked him back into the chair.
She gave a little shriek of alarm as one of the men crowding the table reached for her. This had been a dreadful mistake. The place was horrible, the men were horrible, and what was likely to happen now would be the fault of her own stupidity. Even if her husband was here, she doubted she wanted to see him. If he were part of the crowd around her, he was most likely beyond redemption.
And then, as she gave another cry of alarm, a hand reached out through the press of bodies around her chair, seized her by the arm and pulled her forwards until she was crushed against the body of her rescuer.
Chapter Three
‘Can’t you see that she does not wish your company?’ A silver-headed cane shot out, rapping one man upon the head and another across the knuckles. The men who were struck gave sharp cries of pain, and grumbled as their fellows laughed at their distress.
Emily wrapped her arms about the waist of the man who held her to keep from swooning with relief. She recognised the voice of her husband, and was more gratified to be close to him than she had been at any time since the day of their marriage.
‘And you think she wants you instead?’ a man called. There was a chorus of laughter from around the room.
‘How can she not?’ Adrian called back. ‘I am the only gentleman amongst you.’
More laughter in response.
‘And she is clearly a lady of discerning taste, if she has the sense enough to reject you.’
There was yet more laughter to this, and she could not decide if it was directed to Adrian, or to the fact that she had been called a lady.
There was a pause, as she wondered if he meant to answer the insults to her with anything more than jests. Then he turned her to face him.
He had changed, of course, but not so much that she could not recognise him. His coat was of good quality, but ragged and dirty. His neckcloth was stained and his dark brown hair needed combing. But he still had shockingly blue eyes, though they gave her little more than a sidelong glance. And there was the roguish smile that he shared with other women more often than he did with her. His body was just as strong and solid as it had ever been, so muscular that she felt dwarfed against him as he held her close. Frightened of being crushed, and yet still protected.
She could feel her nerve failing now that he was close, and the growing desire to sink into him, soaking in the warmth of his body as though immersed in the bath. What was around them did not matter. She was with Adrian. She would be all right.
And then he kissed her. On the mouth.
The suddenness of it shocked her. She had expected a distant greeting, and his customary slight frown, as though, even as he was saying hello, he was thinking of ways to say goodbye.
But he was kissing her. They were really kissing. And it was like nothing she had experienced before. He tasted of gin and tobacco, smelled of sweat, and his cheeks were rough with several days’ beard growth. It was a sensory onslaught: a strange combination of the pleasant and the unpleasant. Joyful. Abandoned. And wet.
His kisses of the past had been unmemorable. Reserved. Flavourless and without texture. And much as she had wanted to feel otherwise, she had not liked them very much. He had been so careful to give no offence that he could not have enjoyed them either. Even in consummation, he had set himself apart from her, allowing no loss of self-control.
But today, in a crowded tavern, without asking her leave or showing a care to the men watching them, he devoured her mouth as he might a piece of late-summer fruit, giving a low hmmm of approval at the ripeness, the juiciness. He clutched her bottom through her skirts, and eased a leg between her parting thighs, giving her a small bounce there, to make sure that he had shaken her to the core.
And for a moment she forgot her anger with him and her fear. All the feelings of hurt and betrayal disappeared, along with the shyness she felt when she was with him. After all this time, he had decided he loved her. He wanted her. And if she could have him back, just like this, everything would be all right.
Then he pulled away and whispered in her ear, ‘Here now, love. Nothing to be frightened of. Let us leave these brigands behind. Come and sit on my lap.’
‘I beg your pardon.’ The happy thoughts froze in her head, and cold logic returned to its proper place. The request was odd, and delivered in a way that showed a strange lack of feeling for his friend and servant, Hendricks, struggling back to consciousness in the chair in front of him.
Adrian gave her another small hug and a quick kiss on the lips to coax her. ‘You may help me with my cards tonight. There will be a shiny sovereign for you, if you are good.’ He said it as if he were talking to a stranger. There was no trace of recognition in that voice. No hint that this was to be a shared joke, or a lark or that he was trying to protect her from the ruffians by hiding her identity.
Was he honestly so drunk that he did not know her?
‘Help you with your cards?’ she said. The last haze of desire cleared from her mind. If he did not claim her as wife, then just who had he thought he’d been kissing? ‘I should think you could manage them without my help, just as you normally do, my lord.’
The censure in her voice did not seem to register. ‘You would be surprised, my dear.’ He was whispering in her ear. ‘It seems I need more help by the day.’ He kissed her on the side of the head, as though to confirm to the others that he was whispering endearments, and then said more loudly, ‘Since we are to be fast friends, you may call me Adrian.’ And then he pulled her away from the crowd, stumbling back towards a gaming table on the other side of the room.
Emily struggled against him, trying to catch her breath long enough to argue that this behaviour was an insult worse than any she had yet borne. But he conquered her easily and sat down on a chair with his back to the wall, drawing her into his lap. And all the time he continued to kiss the side of her face and her neck, as though he could not get enough of the contact.
The feel of his lips, hot on her skin, made her anger seem distant and unimportant. If he could not overcome this sudden desire to touch her, then why should she? His body knew her, even if his mind did not. She arched her back and pressed her cheek against his lips, vowing that while they had differences to settle, surely it could wait a while longer.
And then he whispered in a calm voice, unaffected by the nearness of her, ‘They will deal a hand to me, and you must read the pips on the cards into my ear. Pretend it is merely affection, just as I have done to you. Help me to know the cards that are played. And as I promised, you shall have your sovereign.’
‘Pretend?’ Was that all this was to him?
‘Shh,’ he whispered, lips still against her jaw. ‘A guinea, then.’
Her anger returned. He was nothing more than she believed him to be: a drunken reprobate who could think no further than his own pleasure. And she was a fool who could not conquer the fantasies she had created around him, no matter how many times he showed his true face to her.
And with the anger came curiosity. He still did not know her. But it seemed his seduction was just as much a sham for the stranger he thought he held. He seemed to care more for the cards than he had for the kisses. And if that was true, his actions made no sense at all to her. So she did just as he had requested, hoping the motive would become clear with time. He held her close as the hands were dealt, and she whispered a description of the play into his ear.
Emily watched the men across the table from her, certain that they must have some idea of what was going on, for they kept their eyes on her, and their hands tilted carefully towards them, as though fearing that she might be attempting to read what was concealed there.
But her husband did not seem to notice the fact, nor care what the others might hold. He greeted each new hand with a vacuous and unfocused smile, head tilted slightly to one side so that he might concentrate on the words she whispered in his ear.
As she watched, she began to suspect that it was not his smile that was unfocused. It was the look in his eyes. He looked not on her, or the cards before him—not even the men across the table. It was as though he were peering through the space around him, a little to the left, at some spot near the floor, expecting an invisible door would open a view to another place entirely. Was he drunk, or was it something far worse?
Despite his strange behaviour, his mind was still sharp. After a single recitation of information, he had no trouble keeping his hand straight, nor with bidding or points. He won more than he lost. And then he ran his hands once over the winnings heaped in front of him, conscious of any move to cheat him out of what should rightfully come to his side of the table, reaching for his cane and tapping it sharply on the floor to emphasise his disapproval, if what he found was not to his liking.
She saw the wary look that the men around them gave to that stick and its heavy silver head, and the speed with which they put an end to any mischief when Adrian reached for it. They seemed to view it and her husband not with fear, but with a sort of grudging respect, as though experience had taught them he was an opponent who would not be easily bested.
After a time, Adrian seemed to tire of play, shifting her on his lap as though he grew restless. ‘Enough, gentlemen,’ he said with a smile, pulling the money before him to the edge of the table and into a purse he removed from his coat. He gave a theatrical yawn and turned his head to hers again and said, ‘I am of a mind to retire for the evening.’ And then, ‘If you would be so kind as to accompany me, I will give you the coin I promised.’
He pocketed the purse and his hand went back to her waist, and then up, stroking the underside of her breast through the fabric of her dress.
She gave a little yelp of alarm, embarrassed by his forwardness, and slapped his fingers away. ‘Please do not do that.’
The men around them laughed, and she kept her eyes firmly on the table, not wanting to see what Hendricks thought of this public affront upon her person.
Nor did she wish him to see the flush of excitement on her cheeks. Though she did not want to feel anything from it, her husband’s touch was arousing her. It was probably just as well that he did not know her. If he had, he would have stood up, spoken politely and taken her by the arm instead of the waist. Then he would have rushed her back to the country so that her presence in London would not have spoiled his fun.
Instead, she could feel the hardness beneath her bottom, and the way her denial of him had made his response more urgent. He buried his face in the hollow of her throat, inhaling deeply and licking once at her collarbone. ‘I cannot help my reaction. You smell wonderful.’
‘And you do not.’ She shook him off, sitting up straighter, angered by his weakness and her own.
Adrian gave a sharp laugh, and it was honest mirth, as though he had not expected to be matched in wit by a doxy. He gave a sniff at his coat, as though gauging his own unpleasantness. ‘Once I get out of these clothes, you will find I am not so bad.’
Although she doubted the fact, she nodded. It would be better to hold her temper for just a little while, for there was much that needed to be said, and she had no wish to do it in front of this rough audience. If she could get him to leave the place willingly, it would achieve her ends, and would be easier for both of them when difficult revelations had to be made.
He cocked his head to the side, not acknowledging her agreement, and so she said, ‘Of course, Adrian. Lead the way.’
He pushed her bottom and slid her out of his lap, then stood and reached for his stick. And she noticed with a grim certainty that he did not lean upon the cane for support, nor swagger with it, as though it was a mere ornament. Instead, he used it to part the crowd around the table, letting it tap idly along the ground as he walked. And instead of going towards the front door and freedom, he walked farther into the tavern, towards the stairs at the back of the room.
Emily pulled on his sleeve and said through clenched teeth, ‘My lord, did you not wish to leave this place?’
He took her arm, pulling her along with him. ‘I have let space here. It is easier, after a long night of play.’ He kissed her again, thrusting his tongue once deep into her mouth, until her mind went blank. ‘And much closer.’ When they reached the steps he put his hand on the rail, sheltering her body between his and the wall. As they started to climb, she turned back to Hendricks, who still sat by the door, giving him a helpless look and hoping that he had some wisdom or explanation to offer.
Instead, he gave a small shrug in answer, as though to tell her that this was her plan, not his. He would wait upon her orders to decide the next action.
So she shook her head and held up a staying hand, hoping that he would understand that she meant to follow Adrian, at least for now. There was no point in explaining her identity to him in this crush. It would be embarrassing enough when they were alone.
It was then she saw a body breaking from the throng below, running for the stairs. An angry loser from the gaming table had waited until Adrian’s back was turned and was coming after them, his arm raised in threat.
Her husband cocked his head at the sound of running footsteps on the treads behind them; without a word, he switched his stick to his other hand, turned and brought the thing down on the head of his adversary. Then he gave a shove backwards with it, knocking the other man off balance and sending him down the stairs.
‘Idiot,’ he muttered. ‘I shall take my play elsewhere, if this is how they wish to behave here. What he thought to accomplish by that, I have no idea. He should know damn well that I am blind, not deaf.’
Chapter Four
‘Blind?’ She should not have been surprised, for it had been obvious as she’d sat with him that he could not read the cards in his hand, nor recognise his own wife, though she sat in his lap.
He smiled, not the least bit bothered by it. ‘Not totally. Not yet, at least. I can see shapes. And light and dark. And enough of you to know that you are a more attractive companion than that blighter I just knocked down the stairs. But I fear that cards are quite beyond my scope.’
‘But how?’
‘You are a curious one, aren’t you?’ He climbed the rest of the stairs with her, opening the door at their head and leading her down the gloomy corridor behind it. ‘It is a family condition, aggravated by a war injury. There was a flash, you see. And I was too close. Without that, I might have lasted a good long time with these tired old eyes. A lifetime, perhaps. Or perhaps not. Not all the men of my family have the problem. I understand that it can take some time before the world begins to go dark.’
‘But I never knew.’ And his family had lived beside hers for generations.
‘A blind man?’ He smiled, and turned suddenly, pushing her against the wall and pinning her hands above her head with his ebony walking stick. Then he kissed her again, more ardently than he had at any point in their brief time together. His lips were on her mouth, her cheeks, her chin, her throat. And she felt the delicious loss of control she’d felt when he kissed her below stairs, and nothing had mattered but the moment they were sharing. He sagged against her so that he could suck and bite at the tops of her breasts, where they were exposed above the neckline of her gown, as though he could not wait a moment longer to bare them, and take the nipples between his lips. It made her moan in frustration, arching her back, struggling against the wood that held her in place and kept her from giving herself to him. It did not matter that he could not see who he was kissing. It was Adrian, and he wanted her. And, at last, she would have him the way she’d always imagined, the way she had wanted him for as long as she’d known the reason for kissing.
He gave a slight buck of his hips so she could feel what their kisses had done to him. And she felt her own wet heat rising in response at the memories of hardness and length and welcome penetration, and the panting eagerness to be so possessed.
And then he said in a voice that was not nearly flustered enough, ‘It is only the eyes that are the problem. The rest of me is quite healthy, I assure you. Once we snuff the candles, you will find me much like any other man.’
Like any other man? For her, there had never been another. But what was happening to him was so common he was barely affected by it. Her eyes flew open and she stared past his shoulder, aware of their shabby surroundings and remembering the reason that she had come looking for him. He had treated her abominably since the day they had married. And now, after a few kisses she had forgotten it all, willing to be used in a public hallway like one of his whores. ‘Let go of me. This instant. Release my arms, you beast, or I shall scream to bring down the roof.’ She struggled against his lips, against his body and against the stick that stayed her hands.
He stepped back and lowered his cane, a slight puzzled frown upon his face. ‘Are you sure? There is a private room just down the hall. The door locks, and only I have the key. We will be all alone, with no fear of interruption.’ He paused, and then his lips twitched into a coaxing smile. ‘I can give you the guinea I promised. There is more than enough from the table tonight. You should know for you saw it. I can tell money well enough, one coin from another,’ he assured hurriedly, as though assuming this might be the problem. ‘They feel differently in weight and size. And as for the rest of it?’ He stepped close again. And when she did not pull away he dipped his head and began to kiss her again, slowly working his way down her throat to settle on the hollow of her shoulder. Then he moved just enough so his lips were no longer touching her, then spoke and let his breath do the teasing. ‘I have been assured that the reliance on other senses has made me an unusually observant lover. I particularly value touch in these moments, and use it to good advantage. And taste.’ He licked with just the lip of his tongue, as though he were sampling her flavour.
Emily gave another dizzy shudder; she could swear that she felt that single lick to the very core of her body, making her imagine he was kissing her in a place that was most unlikely and very improper. And she wondered, would he be shocked if she suggested such a thing?
Or had he been doing that, and worse? He had been assured of his prowess, had he? Assured by whom? She buried her fingers in his hair, trying to pull him away, focusing on the last three years, the doubt, the loneliness, the anger. Had he been going blind, even from the first? Had he known when they married? Had he hurried to marry a foolish woman who was oblivious to his disability?
And what had he been doing since he left her?
Adrian gave a small grunt of pain from the tugging on his hair and lifted his face as if to gaze at her, but in the same sidelong way he looked at everything that told her he could not really see. ‘The coin I offered is still yours, for services rendered at the gaming table. But now that we are above—’ he gave a small shrug ‘—if you do not think it sufficient, I am open to discussion on the subject.’
She balled her fist and gave him a clout upon the ear. ‘I am not a whore, you cloth-brained drunkard. And even if I was, I would not lie with you for all the money in the world.’
The blow did not faze him at all. And the insults made him laugh. But he released her with a bow. ‘Then I apologise for my mistake, though I can hardly be blamed for it. If you are not a whore, then what are you doing in a place such as this?’
It was a fair question, and even she did not know the whole answer to it. At last she said, ‘I was searching for someone.’ She stared at him, willing him to recognise her. ‘For my husband.’
‘And I assume, since you are alone here with me that you did not find him?’
‘No, I did not.’ For the man before her, although right in appearance, was as far away from the man she’d thought she married as was possible. A little bit of her anger gave way to disappointment. And then she felt the growing heat of embarrassment. If he was already amused, how hard would he laugh to realise that he had wasted kisses on his own wife?
‘I should have recognised that you were a lady of breeding earlier by the tone of your voice.’ He sighed, and tapped his forehead with the head of his cane. ‘Perhaps the gin has finally addled my brains. But when you came upstairs with me, I was under the impression …’ He cleared his throat and grinned, allowing her to fill in the rest.
‘You might not be able to see where you gamble, but I have the misfortune of two good eyes. I foolishly blundered into a place that was not safe for me. You came to my rescue, and I thought that, unlike the other men here, if I got you alone it would be possible to reason with you. Which I am doing, now.’ Though he could not appreciate the fact, she reached to straighten her hair and clothing, trying to erase the signs of her earlier compliance.
‘Well. Never mind what I assumed.’ He gave another little clearing of the throat. ‘The less spoken of that the better. I was wrong, and I am sorry if I have given offence. If there is a way I can be of assistance, then, please, tell me.’ It was as if, with a few sentences, he thought to regain his honour and pretend the last few minutes had not occurred.
Emily did not know whether to be angry, or impressed by the transformation. From beneath them, she could hear the men in the tavern growing louder, angrier and possibly more dangerous. Perhaps now was not the best time to tell her husband what she thought of his behaviour, and his quick about-face turn on the subject of her virtue. ‘If you wish to help me, then take me away from here. It is a bad place, full of violent, drunken men. Is there some back stairway that we can use to escape?’
He shook his head. ‘The only way out is to go back the way we came.’
‘You allowed us to be trapped upstairs?’ This was certainly not the sharp military strategy she had expected from a former officer of his Majesty’s army. ‘Whatever were you thinking to take a room here? You might be able to fight them tonight, but some day the ruffians you gamble with will catch you unawares and make an end to you.’
He shrugged and fumbled to pat her on the arm. ‘Of course, my dear. I fully expect that to be the truth.’
She stared at him in amazement, and then realised that her shocked expression was useless as a way to covey her emotions. ‘Then why are you here?’
‘Because soon, the last of my vision will go, and I will be of no use to the world. Better to go out doing things that I enjoy, than to put a bullet in my head at the first sign of trouble. That is the way, in my family. My father died on horseback.’ He grinned. ‘Or just off it, actually. A snapped spine and a crushed body. But he loved to ride. And up till the end, he was sailing over jumps that he could no longer see. My grandfather was a crack shot. Until the day he missed, at least.’ He grinned as though it were a point of admiration. ‘Killed in a duel. Over a woman, of course.’
And hadn’t that been what she had always known about her husband and his family? But her brother had assured her that Adrian was wild like all the Folbrokes. But with a good heart, Emily. A very good heart.
‘And you?’
‘I am a soldier,’ he added. ‘And well used to drinking and gaming in rough company. If the night ends in a scrap? I like nothing better. When the odds are bad, it gets the blood flowing in the veins.’ He seemed to swell a little at the thought as though readying himself for battle.
‘And now, because of your foolish desire for self-destruction, I will end my night at the mercy of the gang below.’
He stilled, and then something in him straightened, as though he could cast off the inebriate as easily as throwing off his coat. And for a moment, in the dark, he was the dashing young man who had gone off to war, only to return and break her heart. Then he smiled. It was the old smile, too, unclouded by gin or lust. Brave. Beautiful. And a little sad. ‘Have I not proved to you already that I am still capable of taking care of myself, and you as well? Or is another demonstration in order?’
Although he could not see, he looked at her with such intensity that the pain inside her did not seem to matter. There was something in that gaze and that smile that said any action he might take was likely to be a great adventure, and that it would be his pleasure to share it with her. It made her heart flutter in the way it used to, before he had married her, and before she had learned what a mistake it was all likely to be.
‘Perhaps it would be better if we wait in the room you mentioned, until it is safe to depart.’ She could hear her nerve failing again, and her voice becoming weak. The old hesitant Emily was returning with her husband’s gain in sobriety.
He laughed. ‘I have done nothing yet to earn such intimacy from you, pleasant though the offer might be. But if you stay just behind me as we descend, I can get you to safety. Hang on to my coat tails and leave my hands free, for I may need to fight.’
‘But you cannot see,’ she said plaintively.
‘I do not need to. I know the way out. And I intend to hit anyone who stands between me and the door. Those that mean us no harm will have the sense to get out of the way.’
Emily had no answer for this, having no experience with fighting one’s way out of a tavern. So she took his coat tail in her hands, and followed close behind him down the stairs. As they breached the upper landing, she could tell from the sounds below them that the crowd had grown worse. There was more chanting, a raucous edge to the singing, the scuffling of boots and fists, and breaking furniture.
Adrian paused, listening. ‘What do you see before you? Quickly, love.’
‘Two men are fighting on a table to the right.’
‘Very good.’ He continued down the stairs, hugging the wall as he worked his way towards the door. As the fight spilled off the table and into his path, he struck out with the cane, just as he’d said he would. The first blow was a glancing one, causing the man in front of him to yelp and cringe back.
But the second man surged forwards as though willing to fight both his supposed enemy and any other that might stand against him. Adrian forced the stick forwards quickly, jabbing into the man’s midsection.
The drunkard retched, and then flailed out, trying to strike. Adrian brought the stick down upon the man’s back so hard that, for a moment, Emily feared the wood had cracked.
He stepped over the man’s prone body, reaching back to steady her. But the momentary distraction over her safety was enough to make him jeopardise his own. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of a raised hand, and saw the man that had accosted them on the stairs throw a bottle up and out from the throng in the middle of the room.
Before she could get out a warning, Adrian had been struck, and was staggering backwards, clutching his temple. His body went limp in her arms as she tried to catch him.
Chapter Five
Then there was a flash toward the ceiling and the sound of a warning shot. Her husband’s secretary appeared out of nowhere to pull Adrian forwards again, and off her. In his usual quiet way, Hendricks said, ‘I apologise for not intervening until this delicate juncture. But I am sure that my lord would have preferred it thus. And now I think it best that we make a retreat while we are able.’ He pressed a second pistol into her hand. ‘I doubt this will be necessary now that I have frightened them. But it is better to be over-prepared.’
He pushed her husband back against the wall for a moment, and then slung the limp body over his shoulder, staggering towards the door to the street.
Emily held the pistol in front of her, hoping that she did not look as frightened by it as she felt. But it appeared to be effective. The man who’d hit Adrian had been preparing to strike again. At the sight of the gun he took a large step back, his anger dissolving into submission.
Hendricks lurched through the door and towards the waiting coach. When he saw them, the coachman rushed forwards to help his unconscious master up and into the carriage.
As they set off, poor Adrian remained slumped against the squabs, rendered insensible by the combination of violence and gin. It was not until they were nearly back to his rooms that he surged suddenly back to consciousness, throwing a hand out as though searching the air in front of him. ‘Hendricks?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘There was a woman in the tavern with me. I was trying to help her.’
‘She is safe, sir.’
He relaxed back into the seat, with a sigh of relief and a grimace of pain. ‘Very good.’
Once they arrived at the flat, she followed behind as the men helped him up the stairs. She noted the looks of alarm on the faces of his servants as they saw her appear from behind him. Clearly, the jig was up and they expected punishment from her for concealing the state of things, or from Adrian for revealing them.
As she passed them, she shot them glares that would warn them to silence.
Hendricks gave her a helpless shrug, opening the bedroom door and putting his arm around the shoulders of his employer. ‘The valet will help him from here, mmm—ma’am.’ He struggled a moment to choose an honourific, as though remembering that he apparently did not know the name of the woman who had come home with them. ‘I will find someone to see you home.’
When she was sure that her husband would see the shadow of her head, she nodded in approval. Then she backed from the room and shut the door.
‘Hendricks,’ she kept her voice low, so that it would not carry to the bedroom, but used a tone of command that had served her well when dealing with employees who thought, even for a moment, that they owed more loyalty to her husband than to the woman standing in front of them.
‘My lady.’ She saw his spine stiffen instantly to full obedience.
She glared at him. ‘You did not tell me.’
‘That he was blind? I thought you knew.’
She was his wife. She should have known that about him, if nothing else. But what was one more regret on a very long list? But now, Hendricks mocked her ignorance.
Then, as a sop to her feelings, he said, ‘The servants are not allowed to discuss Lord Folbroke’s indisposition. He pretends it does not matter. Often it does not. But he acts as if the careless things he does pose no greater risk to him. He is very wrong.’
She had to agree, for it was quite obviously true.
‘Between the drink, and the loss of vision, he did not know me.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ Hendricks did not seem surprised. But she felt some gratification to see that he looked ashamed of his part in the state of things.
‘It will save us both embarrassment if that is the way this night remains. You will inform the servants that, no matter what they might think they have seen, he was brought home by a stranger. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Lady Folbroke.’
‘When I have had time to think on this, I will have some words with him. But it must wait until my husband’s mind has cleared itself of blue ruin.’
The secretary’s reserve broke. ‘While I have no doubt that you will achieve the first half of the statement, the last may be beyond all of our control.’ Then, as though he could mitigate the forwardness of the statement, he added, ‘My lady.’ And then he gave her a desperate look as though it pained him to betray the confidence. ‘He is seldom sober any more. Even during the day. We who have served him for most of his life are at our wits’ end as to what can be done.’
Emily thought of the man in the other room, reeking of gin. Was it really so different than what she had feared? In her heart, she had been sure that she would find him drunk. But she had mistaken the reason. She reached out to touch the arm of the man beside her. ‘How long has he been like this?’
‘The whole of the last month, certainly.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘It is the eyes, my lady. As they fail him, he loses all hope. My lord’s valet has heard him laugh and say that it will not be a problem for long. We fear he means to do something desperate. And we do not know how to stop him.’
She closed her own eyes and took a deep breath, telling herself that this was an estate matter, nothing more. Her heart was no longer involved in it. She must remember her reasons for coming to find him, and that they had nothing to do with a reconciliation or delivering scolds about his scandalous conduct.
But no matter how she felt about his treatment of her, she could not very well allow him to kill himself.
‘My husband has taken the notion that this is for the best. I can see, as plainly as you can, that this is nonsense. He is not thinking clearly, and I will not allow him to do himself an injury. At least not until he can present a better reason than the minor problem he has.’
Or until I am sure that my own place is secure.
If he was truly resolved to end his life, she doubted that there was anything to be done. She was little better than a stranger to him. What would he care what she thought? She hardened her heart against the desperation and panic that she was feeling. ‘My orders stand, just as they are. You and the other servants are forbidden from speaking of my efforts to find Adrian, or my return with him this evening. Let him think me a stranger.’ Then she pushed past the secretary and went into her husband’s room.
The valet looked terrified by her sudden appearance, and she held up a hand as a sign of caution. Then she looked down at the man on the bed who was now dressed in a nightshirt, and sporting a makeshift bandage on his temple. ‘Before I left, I wished to assure myself that you are all right.’
At the sound of her voice he looked pained that she had found him helpless. There was a lost look in his blank blue eyes that made him seem smaller than she knew him to be. ‘It should not be your job to see to my safety. As a gentleman, I should have been able to take care of you.’
‘You succeeded,’ she said. ‘You fought well. We were within a few feet of the door when you were struck down. And that was by an unfair blow. A sighted man could not have done better and would have ended just as you did.’
There was a ghost of his old, rakish smile, as he tried to joke away his embarrassment. ‘My talents do not end there, my dear.’ He patted the bed at his side. ‘If you wish to come closer, I would be happy to demonstrate.’
‘That will not be necessary.’ She paused long enough to see the slightest crease of disappointment form on his forehead. ‘I prefer my companions to be washed and shaved. And not soaked in gin. However …’
She leaned in to give him a peck on the forehead as a farewell reward. But as she did so, she realised that the token kiss would be everything he feared about his future. What she had intended as comfort would seem a sexless and maternal gesture, a cruel dismissal to the man who had fought to protect her.
So she pushed back upon his chest, forcing him into the pillows, and kissed him properly on the mouth. His lips opened in surprise, and she threw caution to the winds and slipped her tongue between them, stroking the inside of his mouth as he had done to hers. She felt the same rush of excitement she had felt in the tavern, and the desire to be closer still. And the feeling that she had felt often, over the last few years: that something was missing from her well-ordered life—and that, perhaps, it was Adrian Longesley.
Then she ended the kiss and turned to leave.
‘Wait.’ He caught her wrist.
‘I must go.’
‘You cannot. Not after that.’
She gave a little laugh. ‘Neither can I stay.’
‘Meet me again.’ He ran his other hand through his hair in exasperation and his words were hurried, as though he was trying to think of anything that might tempt her to stay. ‘So that I might assure myself of your safety, when I am not indisposed.’ His smile was back again. ‘You will like me better when I have had time to wash, dress and shave.’
‘Will I have to go to a brothel to find you? Or merely a gaming hell?’ She shook her head, and remembered that he would not see her refusal, then said, ‘I think not.’
‘Why not here? Tomorrow morning.’
‘You expect me to come to a man’s rooms, in daylight and unescorted.’
His face fell. ‘Your reputation. I had forgotten.’
‘Thank you very much for your belated concern.’
He winced as though it were a physical effort to stumble through the courtesies she deserved. ‘If there were somewhere that we could talk, in privacy and discretion …’
Emily sighed, as though she were not sure of the wisdom of her actions and then let herself be persuaded. ‘I will send you a letter, and you will come to me when it is convenient.’
He released her hand, letting his fingers drag down the length of it until he touched only her fingertips. ‘I look forward to your communication.’
She was glad that he could not clearly see her. Had he not been blind, he would know that her cheeks were crimson and that the expression on her face was not the sly smile of a courtesan, but goggle-eyed amazement. Her husband looked forward to meeting with her. Before she could spoil the moment by saying something inappropriate, she turned and left.
It was not until she was in the carriage, on the way back to her brother’s town house, that she allowed herself to collapse, then glared across the coach at Hendricks. ‘How long have you known?’
‘From the first. It came on gradually, after we left Portugal. He insisted that I tell you nothing. And although you and I have had reason to work together, he is, first and foremost, my employer. I must obey his wishes before yours.’
‘I see.’ Therefore, Hendricks was not to be trusted. She felt a cold chill at the loss of one she had trusted almost as a brother since the day she’d married Adrian. But if he could keep hidden a fact this momentous, then there was no telling what other secrets he’d hidden from her. ‘So you meant to take the man’s pay and allow him to destroy himself, when a word to me might have prevented it?’
Hendricks was embarrassed almost to the point of pain. ‘I did not think it my place.’
‘Then you had best reassess your position.’ She took the stern, almost manly tone she used with him to indicate that she spoke for her husband and that disobedience was out of the question.
‘Of course, my lady.’
She had cowed him, and it made her feel better, more in control than she had since the moment she had realised that she must see Adrian again.
But on the inside, she was unsure whether to laugh or to cry. It had finally happened, just as she’d dreamed of it, since she was a girl. Tonight, the man she loved had looked at her with desire, hung upon her every word and clung to her fingertips as though parting with her was an agony.
Of course, he was drunk, blind and did not know who she was. And the whole thing had happened so long after it should have that the point was moot. It had been nothing more than a girlish fantasy to have the dashing Earl of Folbroke dote on her like a love-struck fool. But then, she had thought that wedding him would mean something other than the sterile arrangement it was. Time had proven to her that he had no feelings for her, or he’d have been home long before now. ‘I suspect the reason he found me so appealing is because he thought me married to someone else.’
‘Lady Folbroke!’ It was an exclamation of shock at her candour, but not one of denial. She feared it was a sign that Hendricks knew her husband only too well. She would return in the morning, when he was sober, and tell him what she thought of this nonsense. Disability was no excuse for the way he’d behaved. If he was not careful, he was likely to kill himself. Where would that leave her?
And if Adrian died, then she might never know.
Tomorrow, he would be hoping for a clandestine meeting, where they could be alone to talk. Ha. When she saw him next, she would talk aplenty. She would tell him what an idiot he was for not knowing her, and for thinking that his good looks and easy manner would be enough to make her forget his abandonment and let him bed her.
A delicious thrill went through her at the thought of being bedded, and she stifled it. It seemed there was no end to her foolishness over the man. She had known from the first that he was a rake. That knowledge should have provided some insulation against his charm. But his kisses made her wonder what it might be like, should he turn his full attention to winning her, even for a few hours.
And it might be the only way to get an heir by him. That was what she had wanted, above all. It was her reason for coming to London.
Emily stared at Hendricks, eyes narrowing and chin set to remind him that she was the Countess of Folbroke, and not some silly schoolgirl. She deserved his respect every bit as much as her wayward husband. ‘Adrian is sorely mistaken if he thinks to keep me in darkness about events any longer. And you are as big a fool as he, for helping him this long. I will not condone his drinking, or support this lunatic notion he has that being struck down in a common brawl is the way to meet his Maker on his own terms. But if a liaison with another man’s wife is what he desires, then I see no reason not to give it to him.’
She smiled and watched Hendricks draw away from her in alarm. ‘And how do you mean to do that?’
‘I mean to return to my brother and do nothing at all. But you will have a busy day tomorrow, Mr Hendricks. I wish you to engage a flat for me while I am in London. Something simple, small. A pied-à-terre. Decoration does not matter, since my guest will not see it. I will need staff as well. Choose what is necessary from our household, or hire if you must, but I will have no gossip. They will speak not so much as a word to identify themselves to Lord Folbroke, or I will sack the lot of them. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, my lady.’ Clearly, the actions were not understood at all. Judging by the look on his face, he found them to be incomprehensible. But he knew better than to cross her, and that was enough.
‘When that is completed, and not before, you will take a note to my husband. And you will give him no indication of my involvement in it, or I swear, Mr Hendricks, that no matter what my husband might say in the matter, you will be seeking other employment before the sun sets. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, Lady Folbroke.’ There was a trace of awe in his tone. But she also recognised the relief in it, as though he understood that, if she were allowed to take the reins, they would all be the better for it. His obedience was gratifying, and yet strangely disappointing. She was tired of being surrounded by men that presented no real challenge to her authority.
But she suspected that she would be regretting the lack of just that by tomorrow evening. It made her tremble when she thought of the kiss Adrian had given her, and the kiss she had given him in return. She had never felt such power in her life and yet utterly in the thrall of another. The man she’d kissed had wanted to be seduced by her as much as he’d wanted to take her. And, for a moment, she had wanted the same.
Tomorrow, on neutral ground, they would meet.
She would invite. He would accept. She would feign naïveté. He would suggest. She would protest. He would cajole. She would be persuaded. The conclusion might be inevitable, but for a time there would be a battle of wits and wills leading to both a complete surrender and an equally complete victory. If handled correctly, there would be ecstasy, satisfaction and sweet, sweet revenge.
Across from her in the carriage, Hendricks looked quite unsettled by the latest turn of events. But with regard to Adrian, Emily had never felt so confident in her life. As soon as all things were in place, she would go about the tawdry, ridiculous and strangely exhilarating process of ensnaring her own husband.
Chapter Six
Adrian Longesley awoke the next day with the same nagging, drunkard’s headache he had grown accustomed to. A morning would come soon enough when he did not wake at all. In comparison, it would be a welcome relief. But today, he was alive and conscious, and feeling the worse for a lump on his forehead. If he had been coshed from behind, he’d have felt better about the injury. But to be hit from the front with a blow that had seemed to come from nowhere proved how far his abilities had diminished. He sighed into the pillow, waiting for the rolling of the room to subside enough so that he might sit up.
The nausea would probably be worse if he could see the movement. Even without that particular sense, he was sure that he could feel the rocking, as though he were making a rough crossing to France. But he was still in his own bedchamber, and could smell a breakfast he had no appetite for.
The woman.
He had been a drunken fool to think he’d be lucky enough to rescue her twice from the place he’d found her. If his carelessness had allowed her to fall into the hands of the men there.
He lurched upright in panic, and then regretted it, before remembering the end of the evening. He had a hazy recollection of her voice on the carriage ride home, along with that of Hendricks. His man must have found him in time, saved the girl and helped them to return here.
It pained him further that he had needed rescuing at all. If he had fallen to a place where he could no longer care for himself and put innocents around him at risk, then it might be time to seek a sudden end to things and stop dawdling about, waiting for nature to take its course. But last night had not been the time. The strange woman had needed him, if only for a short time. If the intervention of Hendricks had assured her safety, then his own pride could survive the damage of needing assistance.
She had claimed to be well bred, and gentle, though she certainly hadn’t been wise. A wise woman would never come to such a place. Maybe what she’d said was true, and she’d actually been looking for her husband. Sad for her, if that was the sort of place she might find him. While Adrian shared it, it was nothing to be proud of. But at least he had the small comfort of knowing that his wife had never seen it.
The stranger had refused him, when they’d been alone. So it was not a visit brought on by a secret desire to slum for the novelty of it. And then she had followed him back to his house. She had been in this very bedchamber, though not for long enough. He remembered her assurances that he had fought well for her, and the tiniest hint of awe in her sceptical voice.
She had been tart in manner and in kisses. And scent as well, for he could swear that the smell of lemons still clung to his skin where she had touched him. What a woman she had been. If his memory could be trusted, he’d have been happy to have more of her company. The round, soft way she had felt in his lap, and the tingling friction of her tongue in his mouth. The pleasant weight of her breasts brushing his arm as she bent over his bed. And a kiss that hinted of more to come.
He laughed. Another meeting was unlikely, and perhaps impossible. She had promised, of course, to get him to release her hand. But she had not given him name or direction and had called him rough company. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. She was probably right.
His valet must have heard him stirring, for Adrian could hear his entrance, and smell the morning cup of tea that he put on the bedside table and the soap that he carried as he went to the basin to prepare the water for washing and shaving. There was another set of footsteps, the scrape of curtain rings, and the sudden bright blur as the sun streamed into his bedroom. ‘Hendricks,’ he said, ‘you are a beast. The least you could do is allow a man to adjust slowly to the morning.’
‘Afternoon, my lord,’ Hendricks responded politely. ‘It is almost one o’clock.’
‘And all the same to me. You know the hour I came home, and the condition I was in, for you brought me.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘And how did you come to do that? When I left here, I was alone.’
There was an awkward shifting of weight and clearing of throat. ‘I came searching for you, my lord. While you were out, Lady Folbroke visited to inform you that she is staying in London. She was quite insistent to know your whereabouts. And I thought it best …’
‘I see.’ His wife had come to town before. And each time he had managed to avoid her. But it was damned awkward, after the events of last night, to think her so close. He reached for the miniature of Emily in its usual evening resting place on the table by the bed, fingering it idly.
‘You had been out for some time, already,’ Hendricks continued. ‘The servants were concerned.’
The voice in Adrian’s head snapped that it was no one’s business what he did with his time. Their concern was nothing more than thinly veiled pity, and the suspicion that he could not be trusted to take care of himself. He held his temper. If one had been carried insensible out of a gin mill, it hardly gave one the right to argue that one was fine on one’s own.
Instead, he said, ‘Thank them for their concern, and thank you as well for your timely intervention. It was appreciated. I will try to be more careful in the future.’ In truth, he would be nothing of the kind. But there was no point in rubbing the man’s nose in the fact.
And then, to make it appear an afterthought, he came back to the matter that concerned him most. ‘But you said Emily is in town. Did you enquire as to the reason for the visit?’
‘She did not say, my lord.’ There was a nervous rustling of the papers in Hendricks’s hands.
‘You saw to the transfer of funds to the working accounts that we discussed after your last visit north?’
‘Yes, my lord. Lady Folbroke inspected the damage from the spring storms, and repairs on the cottages are already underway.’
‘I don’t suppose it is that, then,’ he said, trying not to be apprehensive. The efficiency of his wife was almost legendary. Hendricks had read the report she had written, explaining in detail the extent of the damage, her plans for repair and the budget she envisioned. The signature she’d required from him was little more than a courtesy on her part, to make him feel he was involved in the running of his lands.
But if she had come to London, and more importantly, come looking for him, the matter was likely to be of a much more personal nature. He remarked, as casually as possible, ‘How is she?’
There was such a pause that he wondered if she was not well, or if there were something that they did not wish him to know. And then Hendricks said, ‘She seemed well.’
‘Emily has been on my mind often of late.’ It was probably the guilt. For he could swear that the scent of lemons still lingered in the room so strongly he feared Hendricks must smell it as well. ‘Is there anything at all that she requires? More money, perhaps.’
‘I am certain, if she required it, she would write herself a cheque from the household accounts.’
‘Oh. Clothing, then. Does she shop frequently? I know my mother did. Perhaps she has come to town for that.’
‘She has never complained of a lack,’ he replied, as though the subject were tiresome and devoid of interest to him.
‘Jewellery, then. She has received nothing since our wedding.’
‘If you are interested, perhaps you should ask her yourself.’ Hendricks said this sharply, as though despite his patient nature, he was growing frustrated by the endless questions.
‘And did she mention whether she’d be likely to visit me again?’ The question filled him with both hope and dread, as it always did. For though he would most like to see her again—as though that were even possible—he was not eager to hear what she would say if she learned the truth.
‘I think she made some mention of setting up housekeeping here in London.’ But Hendricks sounded more than unsure. He sounded as though he were keeping a secret from him. Possibly at his wife’s request.
‘Does she visit anyone else that you know of?’ As if he had any right to be jealous, after all this time. But it would make perfect sense if she had found someone to entertain her in his absence. It had been three years. In the time since he’d left she would have blossomed to the prime of womanhood.
‘Not that I know of, my lord. But she did mention your cousin Rupert.’
‘Hmm.’ He took a sip of his tea, trying to appear non-committal. Some would think it mercenary of her. But there was a kind of sense in it, he supposed, if she transferred her interests to the next Earl of Folbroke. When he was gone, she could keep her title, and her home as well. ‘But Rupert.’ he said, unable to keep from voicing his distaste of the man. ‘I know he is family. But I had hoped she would have better taste.’
If he had eyes as strong as his fists, there would be no question of interference from his cousin in that corner. Even blind, he had a mind to give the man a thrashing, next time he came round to the flat. While he might forgive his wife an infidelity, crediting the fault to his own neglect of her, it would not do to let Rupert think she was part of the entail. She deserved better.
Not that she is likely to get it from you …
‘It is not as if she shares the details of her personal life with the servants,’ Hendricks interrupted his reverie. Was that meant as a prod to his conscience for asking questions that only he himself could learn the answers to?
Surely by now Hendricks must have guessed his real reasons for curiosity, and the utter impossibility of talking to Emily himself. ‘It is none of my business either, I am sure. I have no real claim on her.’
‘Other than marriage,’ Hendricks pointed out in a dry tone.
‘Since I have made no effort to be a good husband to her, it seems hypocritical to expect her continued loyalty to me. And if she has a reason to visit me again? If you could give me advance notice of the visit, I would be grateful. It would be better, if a meeting cannot be avoided, that it be prepared for.’ On both sides. She deserved warning as well. He was in no condition, either physical or mental, to meet with her now.
‘Very good, my lord.’ Adrian could sense a lessening of the tension in the man beside the bed at the mention of even a possibility of a meeting. Acting as a go-between for them had been hard on his friend.
But now Hendricks was shifting again, as though there was some fresh problem. ‘Is there some other news that brings you here?’ he asked.
‘The post has come,’ Hendricks said, without expression.
‘If I have slept past noon, I would hope it has. Is there something you wish to read to me?’
‘A letter. It has no address, and the wax was unmarked. I took the liberty …’
‘Of course.’ Adrian waved away his concerns. ‘Since I cannot see the words, my correspondence is as an open book to you. Please read the contents.’ He set down his tea, took a piece of toast from the rack and waited.
Hendricks cleared his throat and read with obvious discomfort, ‘I wish to thank you for your assistance on the previous evening. If you would honour me with your presence for dinner, take the carriage I will send to your rooms at eight o’clock tonight.’
Adrian waited for more, but no words came. ‘It is not signed?’
‘Nor is there a salutation.’
‘Give it here. I wish to examine it.’ He set his breakfast aside and took the paper, running his fingers over it, wishing that he could feel the meaning in the words. There was no indication that they would be dining alone, but neither was there a sign that others would be present.
‘And there is no clue as to the identity of the sender? No address? A mark of some sort?’ Although he’d have felt a seal or an embossed monogram with his own fingers.
‘No, sir. I assumed you knew the identity of the woman.’
Adrian raised the paper to his nose. There was the slightly acrid smell of fresh ink, and a hint of lemon perfume. Had she rubbed the paper against her body, or merely touched it to the perfume bottle to send this part of the message?
He smiled. And did she know how she would make him wonder on the fact? He preferred to think of the paper held against those soft breasts, close to her quickly beating heart.
‘About that …’ What a blatant display of poor character that he had not even learned her name. It gave him no comfort to show Hendricks how low he had sunk, for the man was more than just a servant to him, after years together in the army, and Adrian’s growing dependence on him since the injury. But as Hendricks’s devotion to Lady Folbroke had grown, Adrian had come to suspect that the man’s loyalties were more than usually torn.
‘There was no time for a formal introduction last night. I had only just met her a few moments before you arrived. And, as I’m sure you could see, the situation was quite hectic.’ He paused for a moment to let his secretary make what he could of that, and then said, ‘But you saw her, did you not? What was she like?’
He heard Hendricks shift uneasily again. He had never before required the poor man to help with a liaison. It must prick at his scruples to be forced to betray the countess. But Adrian’s curiosity about the woman would not be denied. ‘Was she attractive?’ he suggested.
‘Very,’ admitted Hendricks.
‘Describe her.’
‘Dark blond hair, short and dressed in curls. Grey eyes, a determined chin.’
Determined. He could believe that about her. Last night, she’d shown fortitude and a direct way of speaking that proved she was not easily impressed by fine words. He could feel the attraction for her, crackling on his skin like the air before a storm. ‘And?’ he prompted, eager to know more.
‘She was expensively dressed.’
‘And when you returned her to her home, where was it? It was you that escorted her, was it not?’
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Christine Merrill
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: A marriage of convenience…Lady Emily Longesley married the love of her life and hoped that he would learn to love her. Instead, he upped and left their country estate for London. Suffering the snub with dignity, three years on Emily has had enough! …or passion?Confronting her errant husband, she sees that Adrian, Earl of Folbroke, has been robbed of his sight and doesn’t know her at all! Emily longs for her husband’s touch. If she plays his mistress by delicious deception, can he finally learn to love his wife?