Authors: Amanda Quick
"Your financial situation is the least of your concerns at the moment," Emily said quickly. "We must find a way to halt this duel. You simply cannot fight this Grayley person, Charles."
"No choice," Charles said with great finality. He reached for the bottle. "A lady's honor is involved, after all."
"But, Charles, you might very well be shot dead by this horrid man." Emily began to feel desperate as she realized how intent her brother was on this dangerous course of action. "In any event, dueling is illegal."
"Everyone knows that, Em," Devlin said irritably. "That don't matter. A gentleman's honor is above the law."
Emily looked from one brother to the other and her heart sank. "You intend to go through with this, don't you, Charles?"
"No choice."
"Stop saying that," Emily retorted. "You do have a choice. Surely you can apologize or something to this Grayley."
"Good God. Don't even suggest an apology." Charles looked genuinely shocked. "A gentleman has to do what's right where a lady's honor is involved."
"Bloody hell," Emily said in disgust. She got to her feet and headed toward the door. "I can see there is no point talking to you about this."
"Emily, wait," Devlin said, coming after her. "Where are you going?"
"Home."
"Goodbye, Em," Charles said very quietly behind her.
She stopped and turned back toward him. "Charles, do not say that. Things will work out."
Charles gave her the reckless, charming Faringdon smile. "Yes, but just in case they do not, I want you to know I was always fond of you, little sister. And I hope you will be happy."
"Oh, Charles, thank you." Tears burned in Emily's eyes. She snatched off her spectacles and wiped the moisture away with the back of her gloved hand. Then she went across the room and kissed her brother lightly on the cheek. "All will be well. You will see."
She turned and hurried toward the door, her mind churning with the problem of what to do next. The answer was obvious, she thought as George handed her up into the carriage. The situation was quite desperate. She would go straight to Simon and ask for his help. He would surely understand.
Her dragon would handle everything.
As it turned out, Emily was forced to cool her heels for over an hour while she waited for Simon to return home. When Lizzie finally came upstairs to tell her that Blade was in the library, Emily leapt to her feet and practically flew down the stairs. Harry, the footman with the missing hand, jumped to open the door for her.
"Simon, thank heavens you are here," Emily exclaimed as she dashed into the room. "I must talk to you at once."
Simon eyed her with some amusement as he rose politely to his feet. "So I have been given to understand. Greaves said you had been inquiring after me every ten minutes or so for the past hour. Why don't you sit down, madam, catch your breath, and tell me what this is all about?"
"Thank you." Emily sank into the nearest chair, vastly relieved. "It is about Charles. A disaster has occurred, Simon."
The amused indulgence vanished from Simon's eyes. He sat down, leaned back in his chair, and drummed his fingers on the black lacquered surface of his desk. "We are speaking of Charles Faringdon?"
"Of course. What other Charles would I be discussing?"
"An interesting question, given the fact that I have told you quite plainly that you are not to see any of your family unless I am present."
Emily dismissed that with an impatient wave of her hand. "Oh, that is neither here nor there now. This is very serious, as you will understand once you have heard the whole story."
"I cannot wait."
"Yes, well, I encountered Devlin on the street outside Asbury's Book Shop and he took me straight to see Charles. He told me I might never see him alive again."
"Who? Charles?"
"Yes. Simon, the most terrible thing has occurred. Charles is planning to fight a duel with a man named Grayley. My brother will very likely be killed. At the very least, he will be badly wounded. Devlin says this Grayley has already fought two other duels and put bullets in both his opponents. You have got to stop it."
Simon studied her with a hooded gaze. "I told you that you were not to see your brothers alone."
"I know, Simon, but this is a matter of life and death. I realize you are not particularly fond of them, but surely you can see that you will have to put aside your personal feelings and do something about this disaster."
"Why?"
Emily stared at him, perplexed. "Why? Simon, Charles is my brother. And he knows almost nothing about fighting duels."
"I expect he will soon learn."
"Have you gone mad? This is not a joke. You have got to rescue him from this foolishness. He could be killed."
"I doubt it. Grayley will probably be content with wounding him. He's a good enough marksman to avoid killing your brother. No point in it. Killing his opponent would oblige Grayley to leave the country and he has no desire to do that."
Emily was speechless for a moment. When she finally got her voice back, it was faint. "Simon, please do not tease me like this. You must promise you will save Charles."
"You do not seem to have grasped a very essential point here, madam."
"What point is that?" Emily asked plaintively.
"I do not give a damn what happens to Charles or any other Faringdon. It sounds as if your brother is going to be the first of the clan to pave his own road to hell and I have no intention of getting in his way."
Emily's knuckles went white as she clutched the arms of her chair. "You cannot mean that."
"Every word, my dear. It ought to have been clear to you from the start that I have no interest in saving Faringdons. If it has not been made plain, then it can only mean you failed to pay attention."
"But, Simon, I was certain you would help me save him."
"Were you, my dear? Did you think, perhaps, that because you are now sleeping with me as a proper wife should that you can therefore manipulate me? Do you believe that I am so bemused by your charms in bed that I will allow you to control me outside of it? If so, you still have much to learn about your husband."
The chilling softness of the question and the accusation it carried swept over Emily like a cold wind. She rose unsteadily from the chair. "I was so certain you would help me," she said again, unable to believe the rejection.
"You have been looking after those rakehell brothers of yours long enough, Emily." Simon gave her an annoyed glance. "It is time they learned to take care of themselves."
"But they are my brothers."
"You owe them nothing." Simon got to his feet behind the desk, his gaze colder than ever. "Less than nothing. The duel they should have fought ought to have taken place five years ago. The fact that it did not gives me absolutely no inclination to halt this one."
"I do not understand what you are talking about." Emily walked blindly toward the door. "And I do not care. I cannot believe you will not help me save Charles. In fact, I simply will not believe it. I was so very certain—"
"Emily." Blade's voice was a whiplash cracking across the room full of dragons.
Emily paused, her hand on the doorknob. A flicker of hope flared to life. "Yes, my lord?"
"I have told you before, but it would appear I must repeat myself. It is high time you understood that you are no longer a Faringdon. When you married me, you severed all connection with your family. You belong to me now and you will do as you are told."
Emily did not attempt to find a response to that appalling comment. She went out the door without a word.
She walked listlessly up the stairs to her bedchamber and sat down in a chair near the window. Staring out into the gardens, she gave herself over to self-pity and the accompanying tears for several long moments.
When she had finished crying, she went over to the table that held the pitcher of water, splashed some into the bowl, and washed her face. Then she confronted herself in the mirror.
Something had to be done at once.
Dry-eyed now, Emily sat down at her small escritoire and picked up her quill. Idly she sharpened the nib with a small knife as she considered possible solutions to the enormous problem that confronted her.
After a few moments, the obvious became clear. She must find a way to make certain that Charles did not arrive for his dawn appointment. She must apply herself to the task of finding a plan to prevent that, just as she would apply herself to the business of inventing a plot for a tale of romance and adventure.
The ideas began to flow at once and Emily decided on a particularly brilliant scheme within a very short time. She began to feel much better as the outline of the whole thing took shape.
It seemed to Simon that the ticking of the library clock was much louder than usual. In fact, the silence in the room was growing oppressive. Now that he considered the matter, the entire house seemed unusually quiet.
It was odd how Emily's moods seemed to affect the staff these days. Hardened men who had once waded in blood up to their ankles now went around whistling or looking glum, depending on whether or not their mistress was smiling or dejected. It was ridiculous.
Simon got up from the desk and went to stand near the window. It was inevitable, he supposed, that sooner or later the elf would learn that his indulgence had definite limits. Emily had a disturbing tendency to go blithely through life applying her silly romantical notions to everything and everyone. She was a natural optimist, always looking for happy endings.
She also had a bad habit of believing she could cajole him into doing whatever she wished. That belief had evidently grown considerably stronger since last night's passionate session here in the library.
Simon's gaze flickered briefly toward the gold satin pillow where Emily had lain in his arms, her fingers desperately clutching handfuls of white silk. His body began to harden at the memory. He had never known such an exciting creature in his entire life as his bewitching green-eyed elf.
"My lord?"
Simon blinked away the image and regained control of himself. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder at his butler, who was standing in the doorway. "What is it, Greaves?"
"I am sorry to bother you, sir. I knocked, but you apparently did not hear me."
"I was lost in thought," Simon said impatiently. "What did you want?"
Greaves coughed discreetly, his scarred face looking more forbidding than usual. "I believe there is something you should know, sir. Lady Blade has, ah, delivered certain instructions to George, the footman."
"What instructions?" Simon walked back to his desk.
"She has asked George to find her a member of the criminal class who is skilled in the art of kidnapping."
Simon looked up swiftly, staring at his butler in stunned amazement. "Kidnapping! Are you certain?"
"Quite certain, sir. George was horrified, as you can imagine. He came straight to me and I have come directly to you. It seems my lady wishes to interview a successful villain who is in the market for temporary employment. Perhaps she is doing research for her epic poem, sir?"
"And perhaps she has decided to take certain matters into her own hands," Simon muttered. He sat down at his desk and reached for paper and pen. Quickly he dashed off a note.
Madam:
I am interested in the employment you have specified. Let us meet on the Dark Walk at Vauxhall this evening at midnight. Carry a white fan. I shall find you and we shall discuss terms.
Yrs,
X.
P.S.: Use your husband's carriage and bring your maid with you.
Simon scanned the note, folded it carefully, and handed it to Greaves. "See that Lady Blade receives this in about an hour's time. And do not fret, Greaves. The situation is under control."
"Yes, my lord." Greaves looked somewhat relieved.
Simon waited until his butler had left the room before getting up to pour himself a glass of claret.
This was what came of overindulging females. Things had gone far enough. It was time Emily learned a very important lesson.
Chapter 14
The fireworks that lit up the sky above
It was a thrilling spectacle and Emily would have been thoroughly captivated if she had not had far more important matters on her hands.
"Lord love us, ma'am, I never saw anything like this back in Little Dippington." Lizzie gazed in awe as another display of fire and light lit the night sky.
"Yes, I know, Lizzie. It is quite wonderful, but we must not linger. We must find the Dark Walk."
" Tis way off at the far end of the grounds, ma'am," Lizzie said promptly. "Very dark and narrow it is, too, not like the one we're on now. Surrounded by trees and bushes, it is. Young ladies have been known to be carried off the walk, straight into the woods and ravished."
Emily shot her maid a suspicious glance. "How would you know about the Dark Walk, Lizzie?"
"George the footman took me there the night you went to the Northcotes' ball," Lizzie confided with a cheerful grin. "Bought me ice cream, he did."
"I see." Emily clutched her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and tried to sound stern but she could not help feeling a bit envious of her maid. The thought of eating ice cream and promenading down the Dark Walk with Simon was enough to revive all her natural romantic impulses. "Then you will be able to show me how to find the walk."
"This way, ma'am."
Lizzie skipped off into the shadows. Emily followed, glancing around uneasily. The farther she and her maid got from the main promenades, the fewer lanterns were about to light their path. Giggles, small, feminine yelps, and masculine laughter drifted out from the woods that lined the paths.
Eventually Emily and Lizzie reached the narrow, tree-bordered Dark Walk. Here and there couples strolled, lost in a world of their own. One young man on the path ahead of Emily bent his head and said something into his girl's ear. She giggled, glanced back and forth along the path, and then followed her escort into the undergrowth. The couple promptly disappeared.
"Just like I told you, ma'am. Ravishers is hovering everywhere waitin' to prey on innocent young females," Lizzie whispered in an excited voice.
"Stay close to me, Lizzie. We don't want you being snatched. Where would I find another maid as skilled as you?"
"True enough, I suppose."
There was no one else in sight now. Emily looked about and saw only the night-shrouded woods. Involuntarily she moved closer to her maid.
"Do not forget to show your fan, ma'am," Lizzie said, sounding a bit more subdued now as they found themselves alone on the Dark Walk. "George particularly said you was to bring it. He said that's how this professional villain would recognize you."
"Oh, yes. The fan." Emily hastily unfurled the white fan with the elegant dragon motif on it. She waved it about industriously. "I do hope George knew what he was doing when he hired this person from the criminal class."
"No offense, ma'am, but I hope you know what you're doing. This is a strange business we're at here, if you don't mind my sayin' so."
"Do not be impertinent, Lizzie." But the truth was, Emily was beginning to agree with her. The plan had seemed perfect when she had drafted it in the safety of her own bedchamber but now she admitted to herself she was having a few qualms. She really did not know all that much about dealing with professional villains. A sudden movement on the path ahead startled her.
"Bloody hell." Emily bit back a small shriek when a young urchin suddenly dashed out of the woods and came to a halt directly in front of her. Lizzie gave a scream of fright and clutched at Emily's arm.
"You be the lady with the white fan?" the lad demanded.
"Yes," Emily said, trying to calm her racing pulse. "Who are you?"
"No matter. Yer to go straight into them bushes. Alone." The boy looked meaningfully at Lizzie.
"What about me?" Lizzie asked fearfully.
"Yer to stay right there and wait for yer mistress to come back," the boy told her brusquely. Then he whirled and dashed off. In a few seconds he had vanished back into the woods.
Lizzie looked plaintively at Emily. "I do not want to be staying here all alone, ma'am."
"Calm yourself, Lizzie. You will be quite all right. Stay right here in the center of the path."
"But, ma'am…"
"You must be brave, Lizzie." Emily patted her maid's arm reassuringly and straightened her shoulders. She wished there was someone around to reassure her.
It took courage to step off the walk into the shadowy woods. The darkness thickened immediately as drooping branches closed in around her. Emily held her fan in front of her as if it were a talisman and peered sharply into the heavy undergrowth. She could not help remembering what her maid had told her earlier about ravishers lurking in these woods.
When the deep, rasping, masculine voice came softly from behind a large tree on her right, Emily jumped several inches.
"You be the lady what's wantin' to hire herself a kidnapper?"
Emily swallowed, aware that her palms were suddenly damp. "That is correct. You, I assume, are the, uh, professional villain seeking employment?"
"Depends what exactly yer wants done."
"Nothing terribly difficult," Emily assured the rasping voice. "A little matter of kidnapping, as my footman no doubt told you. There is a gentleman whom I would like to have removed from town for a few days. I do not want him hurt, you understand, but merely held in a safe place for, oh, say five days. Can you do that?"
"It'll cost yer plenty."
Emily relaxed a bit. This was familiar territory. Apparently business deals in the criminal world were similar to those conducted in the ton. "I understand. I am prepared to pay a reasonable sum, naturally. But before you tell me your price, let me be clear that there really is no danger attached to this job. A very simple matter, really."
"Why five days?"
"I beg your pardon?" Emily frowned.
"Why d'ya want this gentry cove to disappear for five days?" the rasping voice repeated, sounding impatient.
"Not that it is any of your business," Emily said curtly, "but that is approximately how long I imagine it will take to clear up the problem here in town. When things are settled here, it will be safe for Charles—that is, for the gentry cove—to return to his lodgings."
"Yer just a female. How do you plan to fix matters here for the cove? Or do yer intend to hire me fer that part, too?"
"Oh, no, I shall not be needing your services to handle the main problem," Emily explained breezily. "My husband will be taking over soon. He will see to the details of settling
the issue. When that is done, you may release my bro—er, the gentry cove."
There was a distinct pause from the other side of the tree. When the rasping voice spoke again, it sounded somewhat baffled. "Yer husband is going to settle things?"
"Of course."
"If that be so, why the devil ain't 'e 'ere tonight? Why ain't he arrangin' the snatch?"
Emily cleared her throat. "Well, as to that, he is a trifle annoyed with me at the moment. He does not completely approve of my efforts to save this particular gentry cove, you see. But he will soon come around. He just needs a little time to think about it."
"Damnation, lady. What makes yer think 'e'll change 'is mind?" the rasping voice demanded, sounding incensed. "Ye think ye got 'im on leading strings? Ye think 'e's so besotted with ye that all ye got to do is beckon 'im into bed with yer little finger and 'e'll do what 'ere you want 'em to do?"
Emily drew herself up proudly. "It has nothing to do with the way he feels about me. My husband is a just and honorable man and he will do the right thing. He just needs a little time to think about it first. And I do not happen to have a great deal of time."
"Mayhap 'e don't think savin' this gentry cove is the right thing," the voice snapped.
"Well, it is and he will soon see that for himself. The gentry cove is an innocent young man who happens to have gotten himself into deep water and will very likely get killed before he can swim out of it. My husband will not allow that to happen."
"Bloody 'ell," the voice muttered. "I 'ear different. I 'ear yer 'usband is a 'ard un. Not one to let 'imself be led about by a female. It's my guess 'e'll not only let this gentry cove take 'is chances, but 'e'll be out to teach you a sharp lesson, too."
"Nonsense," Emily said briskly. "You know nothing about my husband. He is a true gentleman. His thinking just gets a bit muddled at times, but I find that is true of most
men. Now, then, let us get on with our bargain. What is your asking price?"
"A great deal more than yer wantin' to pay, I'll wager," the voice grated.
"How much?"
"What if I was to say the price for me services was a toss in the 'ay?" The voice was suddenly savage.
Emily froze, truly frightened for the first time that evening. She edged backward a step. "If you ever dare say such a thing to me again I shall tell my husband and he will break your damn bloody neck."
"Is that a fact?" the voice taunted roughly.
"Most definitely," Emily declared fiercely. "My husband protects his own. If you so much as touch me, I guarantee he will not rest until he tracks you down. I doubt if you would survive a day."
"Christ. Ye 'ave me shiverin' in me boots, lady," the voice drawled.
"As well you should be." Emily lifted her chin. "Be aware that if you are contemplating anything treacherous, you had better know that I left a letter at home in my bedchamber. In it I told my husband precisely what I was going to do tonight. In the event I am harmed in any way, he will know to go to George, the man who hired you. From George he will learn your identity. You will not stand a chance of escaping his lordship's wrath. Do you understand me?"
"No," Simon said ruefully as he stepped out from behind the tree. "But I am beginning to believe that it is my fate to be forever unable to comprehend your strange fits and starts."
"Simon." Emily stared in astonishment at the tall, dark figure shrouded in a greatcoat. "What on earth are you doing here?"
"Damned if I know. I believe I had some vague notion of giving you a good scare and thereby teaching you a much-needed lesson. But that is surprisingly difficult to do when you insist on threatening me with myself."
"Oh, Simon, I knew you would help me save Charles."
Emily flung herself into his arms. "I knew you just needed a little time to think about the matter. You could not possibly allow my poor brother to fight a duel."
Simon crushed her against him for a moment. "I ought to beat you soundly and lock you in your room for a month for hatching this insane plot. You know that, don't you? Good God, woman, what do you mean by arranging to hire professional villains? Do you have any notion of what you were getting involved in? Kidnapping, of all things."
"I know you are annoyed with me, my lord," Emily said, her voice muffled by the thick wool of his coat. "But you must see time was of the essence. I knew you would come around eventually, but I had to do something about rescuing Charles immediately. I was merely trying to buy a little time for you to come to your senses and realize that you had to help me save my brother."
"And I suppose you now believe that is exactly what I will do?" Simon asked coolly.
Emily raised her head to look up into his shadowed face. "I do not believe you can let him risk death, Simon. Surely you do not hate him. He had nothing to do with what happened all those years ago. He was only a boy."
"The sins of the fathers…" Simon quoted softly.
"Nonsense. If that applies, then it applies to me, as well as Devlin and Charles. And you do not hold me responsible for what happened to your family twenty-three years ago, do you?"
Simon exhaled heavily and gave her a gentle push back toward the path. "We will discuss this later."
Emily glanced back over her shoulder as he followed her out of the woods. "What are we going to do now, Simon?"
"It appears there is nothing for it but to see what I can do about rescuing that scapegrace brother of yours. Obviously I will not have any peace otherwise."
"Thank you, Simon."
"It would be well for you to remember, elf, that this is the one and only favor I ever intend to do for a Faringdon."
"I understand," Emily said softly. "And I shall be forever grateful."
"I do not particularly want your gratitude," Simon told her.
"What do you want?"
"Assurance that you will never again get yourself into a scrape like this. You could have been robbed, raped, or killed tonight, Emily. Sending George to hire a villain was a monumentally stupid notion."