Her Husband’s Lover (21 page)

‘What purpose could there be in saying anything to Father? It would do you more harm than good. He would simply send you to Aunt Maude’s.’ Emma wasn’t sure where the strength was coming from. Only that it pleased her that she felt able to protect her two men. ‘Go ahead, snitch if it pleases you,’ she snarled. ‘See what it gains you. And you are wrong on all counts, by the way.’ Darleston had not ravished her, though he’d touched her more than most.

Emma strode past Amelia and continued to her room. Safe inside, she locked the door and shed the offending dress. Dear heavens, she had handled that badly. Now Amelia was sure to believe she’d spent the night in Darleston’s arms, and knowing Amelia she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself for very long at all.

Emma sucked her lip while starring at the locked door. If she went back to Amelia, further denials would only make things worse and she couldn’t apprise her of the real facts. Doing so would place them all in danger. Men and women were hanged for lesser crimes every day. Not that she believed what Lyle and Darleston – what they had all – done actually constituted a sin. How could something as beautiful as love be wrong? But she was not a judge. Heaven help her, but it would be better all round if an affair between her and Darleston were seen to be the truth. Assuming anyone would believe it. They all knew she despised being touched.

* * *

Lyle sat at the breakfast table when Amelia flopped into a chair beside him. She was turned out impeccably this morning, looking exactly like a piece of apple-blossom. It was simply a shame her expression didn’t live up to such delicacy. She scowled at him when he wished her good morning, before grasping her spoon as though it were a dagger aimed for his heart.

‘Do you know where Emma is?’ she barked.

Was that the reason for her choice of seat? Amelia didn’t often grace him with her presence, particularly when other more engaging company was to be had from Mr Phelps and Mr Bathhouse, both of whom were seated at the far end of the long table.

‘I don’t.’ The last he’d seen of Emma, she’d still been tucked beneath the sheets of Darleston’s bed, sleeping contentedly. Leastways the most contentedly he’d ever seen her. Normally she was taut as a hamstring even in repose.

Amelia made a sour clucking noise. ‘Well, oughtn’t you to keep a better check upon her?’

Someone had clearly got out of the wrong side of the bed that morning. Lyle laid his cutlery aside. ‘Whatever do you mean to imply by that?’

‘Only that no one seems to be able to locate her of late. No one keeps track of her comings and goings, or whom she’s engaged with.’

Lyle pushed aside his plate and reached for his teacup. Amelia would genuinely benefit from some time abroad in society. She seemed to see every convention as a means of spiting her alone. ‘My wife’s pastimes are her own to choose. She does not require a chaperone.’ He placed extra emphasis on the word ‘wife’ to try and drive home the difference between Emma and her sister, only to be rewarded with another scowl from Amelia.

‘I know that. I don’t know why everyone assumes I don’t. I’m perfectly aware of our difference in status. Heavens, I can’t even stroll about the grounds alone. That wasn’t what I was saying.’ She took a spirited swipe at the top of her boiled egg, neatly decapitating it in one stroke. ‘I only meant to say that perhaps it might be wise to ask her what she’d been engaged with these past few days. What company she’s kept, that sort of thing, since she’s not been with me – hence the need for you to accompany me on the excursion with the other gentlemen.’

His chair shrieked as Lyle scraped it backwards. He stood and turned towards Amelia with his back to the other guests.
What the devil was the little minx getting at?
‘If you’re trying to tell me something, then I suggest you say it outright. Subterfuge is not an appealing quality in a woman.’

Amelia relinquished her spoon and folded her hands upon her lap. ‘I don’t mean to imply anything. I’m merely pointing out that she has spent a deal of time alone with one particular gentleman. I thought you should know that.’

‘You mean Darleston, I suppose.’ He raised his brows. ‘Well, what of it? We’re old friends. Of course my wife is doing her best to entertain him.’

‘Yes, but …’ The little virago continued indelicately, ‘She retired very early last night and –’

‘As did I.’ Lyle cut her off, and treated her to a particularly hard stare. ‘As did I. Now wash whatever presumption you’ve made from your head. Emma slept soundly beside me all night, exactly where I’d expect my wife to be.’ The fact that they had both been in Darleston’s bed was none of Amelia’s concern. Nosy little minx. He heartily wished one of the men would make an offer for her, just so that he could wash his hands of her. If she started digging into his affairs, matters would rapidly escalate into unpleasantness. He stalked indignantly from the room. He would have to warn both Emma and Darleston what was going on, because the likelihood of Amelia dropping the subject was precisely none.

* * *

Lyle stumbled across Darleston first. His lover sat in one of the window seats in the library, his legs folded and a book balanced upon his knee. ‘There’s trouble brewing,’ Lyle warned as he pulled over a chair so that he could perch by Darleston’s side.

‘Are Oxbury and Littleton already here?’ Darleston asked. He cast his book aside and inclined his head towards the mullioned glass. ‘I’ve been keeping half an eye upon the approach.’

Lyle’s brows crumpled. Was there trouble beside Amelia he didn’t know of? ‘You’re worried about them. Why so?’

Darleston gave him a weary smile. ‘I’m wary of anyone whose path I’ve crossed in recent months. Inevitably certain issues come up, and I’ve no wish to endure another round of accusations and slights upon my name. Besides, they are not really the sort I’d expect Hill to invite, not with Amelia present.’

‘Fortune hunters?’

Bright strands of coppery hair fell forward over Darleston’s face as he shook his head. ‘Far worse. Money isn’t an issue for either of them. Rather they’re a pair of rabid muff-mongers.’

Lyle tapped Darleston’s knee, then gave it a squeeze, as much for his own comfort as Darleston’s. ‘If I had any idea what you were talking about I’d be worried. However, it’s about Amelia I wanted to speak. She suspects you of conducting an affair with Emma.’

Darleston carefully lowered his feet to the floor. ‘She told you that?’

‘At breakfast. Caught me perfectly unaware.’ He never thought anyone would pay the slightest regard to the shenanigans between the three of them. His whereabouts and affairs generally passed unremarked upon, and Emma in her dowdy outfits blended into the wainscoting. Lyle hid his head in his palms, only looking up at Robert again after several seconds. ‘What do we do?’

‘Nothing.’ To his surprise, Darleston showed no sign of alarm. He slipped from the window seat and strode across the room to a bookcase, where he squeezed the book he’d been reading into a narrow gap. ‘I assume you told her it was nonsense.’

‘I did, but … but what if she finds out about –’

‘She won’t. You’re forgetting the initial purpose in having Emma involved. An affair – an affair conducted at a house party – is perfectly commonplace. Providing you stick by her there’s nothing to fear. Amelia’s a fool for drawing your attention to it. I can’t think what she hoped to achieve.’

Darleston might not, but he did. ‘Spite,’ Lyle enlightened him. The relationship between the two sisters had never been entirely comfortable. Yes, Emma called Amelia ‘dear heart’, but that fondness had never satisfied Amelia’s hunger for affection. The girl believed herself entitled to Emma’s affections as though her elder sister were her mother, not her sibling. ‘I expect she’s paying Emma back for allegedly thwarting her chances of gaining a husband.’

‘Hmm. Sibling rivalry, a joyous thing. Do you think she’s actually seen anything?’

Lyle tugged at his cuffs. He didn’t think there was anything Amelia could have observed. He and Darleston had been as discreet as circumstances allowed, and, as for Emma, she didn’t allow anyone to get near her, so what was there to observe? ‘I’m not sure anyone will believe it of Emma. They’ll know she’s hiding, covering something. I mean, how can she be conducting an affair? Anyone who knows her will realise how ridiculous the notion is. She abhors physical contact.’

‘She’s had her hand around my cock, or did you forget that bit?’

Darleston’s interjection failed to soothe away Lyle’s apprehension. He stared pensively at the other man, expecting … he wasn’t sure what. Either way, Darleston didn’t offer any more answers.

‘I didn’t forget it,’ Lyle said quietly. He wondered which of them, he, Darleston or Emma, had been the most shocked when Emma had complied with his instructions the previous night. It had certainly added unanticipated zest to the moment. However, none of that mattered right now. ‘That’s not something I’m about to announce. All I’m saying here is that if we’re going to mask our affair with one between you and Emma, then the possibility ought to be convincing. People need to observe that there’s a physical closeness between you and Emma that isn’t there between her and anyone else.’

Darleston thoughtfully tapped his fingertips to his lips. ‘I take your point. It is a dilemma.’ But it was one he didn’t seem remotely troubled by, particularly when his introspection gave way to a grin. ‘Are you granting me permission to touch her again? For you did revoke that right last night.’

‘You may do whatever you wish, and would no doubt have done so regardless of permissions.’

‘Hm.’ Darleston’s fingers curled around the chair wing. ‘Possibly, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to hear you say it. Lay things out straight for me.’

‘You’re a devil,’ Lyle muttered under his breath. Then he looked Darleston straight in the eye and added, ‘You have permission to tup my wife. Happy now?’

‘Delirious.’ The grin that Darleston already bore stretched wide across his narrow face.

Lyle nodded, but even as he did so Darleston’s gaze strayed back to the driveway of the house, diminishing Lyle’s faith in the plan.

* * *

Emma skipped breakfast. Her stomach churned at the mere notion of food. She had warned off Amelia, but knew her sister well enough to realise that the matter wasn’t done. Amelia for all her naivety could also be as wily as a cat. She loathed the fact that Emma possessed freedoms she didn’t, hated the fact that Emma remembered their mother’s embrace, while she had only Aunt Maude’s sparing affections to thrive upon.

Emma needed to act and quickly. Better that Amelia genuinely believed she and Darleston had formed some sort of attachment than the silly goose discovered the truth. Amelia wouldn’t consider the consequences of revealing the gentlemen’s love for one another. She’d think only of the attention and sympathy it would bring her way. Without question, Amelia simply couldn’t be allowed to delve into the truth of her relationship with either man.

To that end, Emma endeavoured to find Darleston at once. She would explain things discreetly and then act. It was only what she’d planned to do anyway to determine if her place in his affections were genuine or not. She didn’t want to linger on the fringes any more, observing him and Lyle. Rather she dreamed that every one of Darleston’s lewd etchings was made a reality. All she had to do was find some bottom, as the men would say. Only then would she know how Darleston truly felt.

Emma made a slow, laborious circuit of the house, hoping to happen upon Lord Darleston alone. Yet every step she took while failing to find him drove her a little closer to panic. She couldn’t do this, and she could. She had to, for all of them. Amelia mustn’t learn the truth. She mustn’t sacrifice herself and gain nothing. From the first moment she’d set eyes upon Darleston she’d known there was something different about him. No other person, living or dead, had ever made her want to reach out so ardently. It didn’t matter that she’d already touched him more intimately than any woman ought to touch a man to whom she wasn’t married. Kissing him would be different altogether. He’d react. He’d press back. The contact would no longer be one-directional. When she thought of how he’d look at her breasts, hold them, press his lips to them, then her resolve almost faltered. Yet while she shuffled from one foot to the other, afraid to press forward and unwilling to turn back, there remained a tingle of heat in her puss.

Deep down, Emma knew it wasn’t just kisses she wanted or needed from him. Darleston would make her whole, if only she’d let him.

By the time she turned the corner into the west frontage by her father’s study and found Darleston alone, her teeth were aching so much it proved impossible to gasp anything other than his name.

He’d dressed more simply today, in a russet coat and buff breeches, devoid of the frogging and lavish embellishments she usually associated with his clothes. Emma rushed to his side. She had to act immediately, before she had a chance to overthink things or find an excuse to prevent her actions. ‘I … was looking for …’ She pressed a kiss to his dry lips.

He must have been shocked, for he didn’t fold his arms around her, nor kiss her back. Rather, he remained stiffly aloof. His palm closed around her elbow and he eased her gently away from his person.

Emma’s nose tingled with the threat of coming tears. She’d read everything wrong. Darleston’s pale-grey eyes shone with a glassy light. Nothing in his expression hinted at the slightest pleasure over her action. He pushed her backwards against the wall, holding her away from his body as his gaze raked her face.

One tear escaped, followed by another. They rolled down her cheeks and onto the front of her gown.

‘Hey.’ He wiped away the glistening beads and slowly his lips tweaked upwards at the corners. ‘That was an unexpected pleasure. Are you sure it was meant for me?’

What sort of nonsense question was that? Of course she’d intended it for … Dear God! His voice … his voice, it wasn’t at all the same. Emma stared at the man before her, marking other differences too, such as shorter hair, the extra ring of lilac fire around his irises and a nose that was not quite so straight or pointed as Darleston’s, but looked as though it might have been broken some years before. Most importantly of all, there was no recognition of her as somebody he knew, certainly not as a woman he’d lain still for and shared intimacies with.