His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance) (22 page)

“Why here so late?” Lucius asked, wishing he was alone to indulge his woes and fancies.

“Foxed,” Lord Skeffington replied with a hiccup. “Couldn’t be bothered to make m’ way home. Brandy?”

He waved a bottle invitingly. Lucius nodded, sat down on the leather topped fender and ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. Skeffington reached for a fresh snifter from
a tray, splashed brandy into it and handed it to Lucius who lifted it and eyed its contents suspiciously.

“Congratulations,” he said
, his voice as dry as the Epsom dust, “you got most of it in.”

“Ring for Riley,” Skeffington said. “
Order up another bottle. Seems you have nothing better to do than drink the night away and I’m gettin’ m’ second wind.”

Without removing his moody glance from the amber coloured liquid he swirled around in the snifter, Lucius reached back and tugged on the bell rope
.

“Why are women so bloody
irritating, Skeff?”

It was a comment to which he did not expect a reply, having known since their
Oxford days that Lord Skeffington avoided women at all costs, preferring to drink and gamble with his cronies much to his widowed mama’s dismay.

“Miss Devereux
getting under your skin, is she?” Skeffington asked.

Even in the poor light Lucius could see the slightly mocking grin on the other man’s face. On any other occasion Lucius would have quickly removed it, but
Skeffington was too close to the truth.

“I cannot deny it, and be damned if I know what step to take next.” Lucius
pressed the palms of his hands against his temples. How could he have made such an error of judgement? He had Sir Mile’s permission to press his suit, yet his last words to Emmaline were to tell her he never wanted to see her again.

And that was a lie. He not only wanted to see her again, but see all of her. He wanted her naked in his bed. He wanted to unpin her hair and run his fingers through it. He wanted her, dammit, body and soul.

An evil cackle drifting from the confines of the wing chair made him look up. Skeffington waved his brandy balloon about his head.

“I know
a cure for what ails you,” he snorted. “Roger yer way through the
ton’s
most eligible widows. That’ll help you forget Miss Devereux.”

“The
ton’s
widows hold no interest for me, Skeff. I know at least half of them too well and none of them have the effect on me as does Miss Devereux. Anyone else I can bed, laugh with and leave, but her.. “

“Well
, with that scandal hanging over her head, you’d do well to drop all connection with her.”

Lucius drew his brows together in a deep frown.
“Is Miss Devereux’s indiscretion on the town already?”

“On the town already?”
Skeffington echoed. “Avondale, where have you been? It’s all the talk this past week that Miss Devereux, or whoever she is, is a murderess.”

“A what?” Lucius stood up and set his brandy glass on the mantle so firmly he all but cracked it.
Skeffington’s words rang in his head, echoed in his ears and left him momentarily lightheaded. Emmaline a murderess? Strong willed though he knew her to be, he would never have considered her capable of such an act. “What did you say?”

“A murderess,” confirmed Skeffington, slurring the word a little as his head drooped over the
snifter he held in one hand while the empty bottle slipped out of the other. “Have it on the best authority.”

“And whose authority would that be?” Lucius asked.
His breath stilled while he awaited Skeffington’s answer.

“Why Rosemary’s, of course.” Skeffington hiccupped again. “Don’t she know everything and then more?”

Lucius raked his hand through his hair again.

“Rosemary.” He spat the
name out as if it was a bad taste in his mouth. “I should have known she would not have left the matter alone.”

“What matter?” Skeffington was busy pulli
ng the cork from a fresh bottle unobtrusively delivered by the night butler.

“Never mind.” Lucius
tossed back the remains of his brandy and set his empty glass on a tray. “I must go.”

Bleary eyed, Skeffington looked up, but Lucius had
already gone. “Odd. Damned odd. Oh well, if the fellow’s fallen into the petticoat line, I’d better drink to him.”

The night air did no more to cool Lucius’ temper than
did his wild ride. He strode the pavements with grim determination, his long legs carrying towards home. Letting himself into his darkened house he went straight to his room.

Emmaline a murderess?

It could not be. His boots echoed on the floor boards as he strode to and fro. He considered all he knew of her which, he realized, was very little.

Yes, he knew that she had witnessed military action and its aftermath in Spain. Could she have been involved in one of those actions, had she
needed to defend herself?

Yes, he knew she was headstrong
– heavens, had he not just witnessed that today? She was mercury one moment, missish the next, a ploy that did not become her. What was her purpose?

Yes, s
he could be sharp and argumentative yet he saw in her a soft femininity, a caring for others that made him want to pull her into his arms, to hold her and protect her.

What would she feel like? Would her hair tickle his chin? Would she still smell of gardenias and honeysuckle? Would she want him?

That idea shook him to the core. His enjoyment of women never included what they might need, what they might want of him other than his money and to be seen to have made a conquest of a titled member of the
ton
.

Damnation,
why couldn’t she have been just another chit?

CHAPTER 1
7

Lucius, at first unable to sleep and choosing a fireside chair rather than his bed, woke with a start, looked at the clock and swore long and loudly.

Leaping to his feet he
saw that his valet, Everett, had laid out fresh clothes on the end of his bed. Two strides across the floor took him to his washstand, where he filled a large decorated porcelain bowl with water from the matching ewer sitting inside it.

He stripped off yesterday’s shirt
, plunged his face into the bowl and splashed water over his head. The cold water shocked him fully awake and, gasping and shivering, he reached for a towel and quickly dried himself. There was no time to shave, no time to dress his hair which he raked his hands through before tying back with a leather thong.

Not stopping to view the result, he continued downstairs to his breakfast room. The serving chargers on the sideboard steamed invitingly but he ignored them and instead poured a cup of coffee. Cup in hand, he went to the doorway and called for Mr. Tubb.

“Is something wrong, milord?”

“Nothing,” growled Lucius. “Have Noble bring my curricle round, if you please.”

Tubb went to do his bidding as Juliana descended the stairs.

“Why are you bellowing?” She surveyed her brother’s haphazard toilette with suspicion.

“I was not bellowing,” returned Lucius as he poured himself a second cup of coffee.

“Oh, forgive me.” Juliana sat down at the table. “From the first floor landing it rather sounded like an enraged bull was loose in the house. I was fearful for my life.”

“Stop it,” commanded Lucius, in no mood for her banter.

“I suspect you are feeling guilty for the way you treated Emmaline yesterday, but there is no need to take it out on anyone else. A cup of coffee, if you please, Lucius.”

Lucius looked at her askance, but she returned a clear, cool gaze and he simply shook his head.

“This is why we have servants,” he grumbled, but did as she bid.

She took her first sip and he eyed her warily, knowing she was building up to a revelation he would not want to hear. Their upbringing had been more lenient than most of their station, with loving parents who engendered an uncommon closeness between their children. For all his undoubted position as head of his household, it was easy for Lucius to fall back into the close comfort of sharing confidences with his sister, despite the difference in their ages.

“Go on,” he said with a sigh. “I know you are about to upbraid me for my behaviour last evening.”

“You were quite disgraceful, and you know it.” Juliana carefully replaced her coffee cup in its saucer. She would very much have liked to show him her frustration by throwing it at him. “Your orders to meet you at Epsom could not have been met if not for Emmaline. She took complete control of the whole disaster, looked after poor Mr. Tockington, sorted out your precious horses and delivered your equipage to you safe and sound. And,” Juliana quivered with suppressed anger as she got to her feet and paced around the table, “instead of being thankful you, dearest Lucius, gave her an unmitigated set-down and told her you never wanted to see her again.”

“Was I to know she was a first class whip?” Lucius stood in front of Juliana, his face as angry as hers. “For all I knew she could have killed you all. And her escapade could have ruined her reputation if not for . . .”

“Rosemary Darnley’s lies,” concluded Juliana. “So you have heard that
on dit
, have you?”

Lucius nodded. “Last night at my club. Skeffington says it has been the talk of the town for the past week.”

“Do you believe it?”

“No, I don’t.”

“That at least is to your credit but there is something else you should know.” Juliana clasped her hands.

“What?”

Lucius’ tone hardly encouraged confidence but Juliana took her seat once more.

“William has asked me to marry him and I have said yes.”

“What?” Lucius’ pale face turned dark with anger. “How dare he propose to you without my permission?“

“Because each time he tried to approach you, the only thought in your mind
was for Emmaline,” said Juliana, her cheeks aflame.

Lucius thought back to the times when Beamish had hesitantly put himself forward. Juliana was right, he thought. His mind had been filled with Emmaline and nothing else.

“No wonder he has been haunting my house of late,” he said with resignation. “Is this what you want Juliana?”

“Yes
, it is.” Juliana looked up at him. “I know you and Caroline would have preferred a titled suitor for me, but none of those who have offered inspired any passion in me.”

“But why the hurry? Why could he have not waited until I returned to Town?”

“Because he is being sent to India and I am going with him. But that isn’t what I have to tell you. .”

“There’s more?”

“Just listen, Lucius!” Juliana clenched her fists. “While William and I were discussing our future, Lady Darnley and Olivia arrived. She jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion, in that our announcement had not yet been made because you had not made yours.”

The import
of Juliana’s words slowly sank into Lucius’ befuddled mind.

“You mean, after all her meddling, she still
thinks I am going to offer for that simpering child?”

“I am very much afraid that is the case.” Juliana
found her appetite quite gone as she considered the enormity of their situation. “If you love Emmaline, you have to go after her, even though it may now be too late. She intended to return to Devon immediately and I know she has no expectation of seeing you.”

Before either could say more, Tubb announced his Lordship’s curricle was waiting and would there be anything else?

“Have Edward fill a purse,” Lucius said tersely. He turned to Juliana. “I will not return until I have found Emmaline. Please try to keep within the bounds of propriety while I am gone and stay away from Rosemary Darnley.”

Juliana nodded, although his last instruction was entirely unnecessary. She had no intention of having anything to do with the wretched woman. She watched Lucius don his morning coat, cram his hat on his head and stride down the hallway and out of his house, all without a backward glance. Once set on a course of action he would not, she knew, be deterred.

At Montpelier Street he jumped down from his curricle, raced up the steps to the front door, grasped the curved knocker and rapped it as hard as he could. The fading sounds of his insistent knocking were replaced with those of slow footsteps. The door swung open and Giles stood to one side, accusation plain in his eyes, as Lucius walked past him.

Juliana had been quite correct. An array of boxes, portmanteaus and valises stacked in the hallway awaited the carrier and silently announced Emmaline’s departure.

There was, however, nothing silent about Mrs. Babbidge as she advanced towards him.

“Well don’t just stand there, you great gawp,” she blurted
, with no regard for his station. “She took a hackney to Hounslow and planned to travel on by stage or post-chaise.”