Sodomy was a capital offence, even, in theory, for a peer of the realm, though executions were rare and usually only for those of the lower orders. If convicted, Wheatley might be forced into exile. But what did this have to do with the attacks on the Smythe family? Frederick had definitely been in the petticoat line, so Richard struggled to see what bearing it had on things.
‘When exactly was the last time the duke attended one of your, er… parties, Mr Downing?’ asked Phil, who so far had been silent.
Downing scratched his head thoughtfully. ‘Let me think. Oh, it must be nigh on four years ago.’ His eyes gleamed at the memory. ‘I’d lay a monkey it was when we were celebrating the victory of Trafalgar. Had a right good time of it. Enough gin, brandy, and ale to float one of His Majesty’s ships.’ His lips pursed. ‘Never saw Wheatley after that. But a man doesn’t change his nature like that, does he?’
Richard racked his brains. There had been attempts by the authorities to clamp down on molly houses, lots of prosecutions. Some even reckoned there’d been more hangings for buggery than for murder one year. Was that why Wheatley had decided to withdraw from his usual haunts? Had he been blackmailed? Was he trying to protect himself or someone else? How did this fit in with Frederick Smythe’s murder and the attacks on himself? Richard shook his head. It was no good. It still didn’t make sense.
Downing’s smirk reappeared. Richard longed to wipe it off, preferably with his fist. The man was a parasite who preyed on men’s weaknesses. Richard didn’t understand the men who preferred other men, but as far as he was concerned, so long as no-one was being coerced or harmed, it was no-one else’s business, least of all that of the courts.
‘Thank you for the information, Mr Downing,’ he said tersely, pushing a purse of coins across the table. ‘If you think of anything else, contact Mr Blake.’
Downing snatched the purse, a greedy look on his face. He weighed it in his hand and gave a satisfied grunt.
Richard rose to his feet, his chair scraping on the floor as he pushed it away from him. Downing jumped at the sound, his eyes darting towards the door. Richard sent him a puzzled look.
‘I’m a bit jumpy, see?’ explained Downing. ‘My place got closed down last week, so I’m lying low. Ruth’s letting me stay here for now. She’s very kind.’
Richard had the impression that Ruth Newbody didn’t have a kind bone in her body, but he refrained from contradicting. There was something in it for her, of that he had no doubt. He strongly suspected blackmail.
Leaving Downing to his accounts, the three of them headed back down the hallway. Now all that was needed was to get clear of this unsavoury establishment and get Emma home safely. Richard glanced at Phil who was lagging behind. He gestured for him to hurry up, but Phil ignored him. There was something in his face that told Richard his friend was concerned. Richard whispered for Emma to wait for him and stalked back towards Phil.
‘What’s the matter? Shouldn’t we get out of here?’
Phil hesitated before answering. ‘You and erm… David go on without me. There’s something I need to do.’
‘But what about…?’ Richard started.
‘Don’t worry about me, Richard.’ Phil jerked his thumb towards Emma who was now scrutinising a particularly explicit framed engraving on the wall. ‘Get her home.’ Without waiting for an answer, Phil spun on his heels and darted up the same stairs the young woman had disappeared up earlier.
Richard stood open-mouthed for a second before coming to his senses. So Phil had guessed their secret. He swept back up the hall, tugging Emma away from the engraving and marching her back to the front hall where the doorman was occupied in greeting a party of gentlemen who’d just arrived. Fortunately, no recognisable faces were in the boisterous crowd. If their luck held, he’d get Emma home safely.
Outside, Richard paused and looked around. There were plenty of people about, men certainly, and a certain class of woman. Gripping Emma’s arm, he walked briskly to the end of the road where a hackney had just pulled up. Two passengers stumbled out. Gentlemen on a spree and definitely a little the worse for wear. One staggered towards them, waving his arm to encourage his companion to keep up.
‘Come on, Chivers. All the best ones will be taken if you don’t get a move on.’
The second gentleman swayed about on the pavement, then grabbed on to some nearby railings for support. As Richard and Emma came abreast, the fellow bent over and commenced casting up his accounts. Grimacing, Richard deftly slid sideways, pulling Emma with him. How he wished she didn’t have to see that. It wouldn’t improve her opinion of the male sex, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t very high to begin with.
Richard caught the attention of the hackney’s jarvey, who’d been watching this performance from his lofty perch, a wry sneer on his face. At the sound of Richard’s voice, the sneer disappeared, and the man was all attention.
‘Where to, my lords?’
Richard gave him their direction, pushed Emma unceremoniously into the hackney, then jumped in after. At last he might be able to regain control of his nerves and breathe normally once more.
‘Don’t worry, Emma. I’ll soon get you home,’ he said soothingly.
‘Well that was exciting.’
He slowly turned his head, not quite believing his ears, and watched as she calmly removed her hat and smoothed her hair. One might almost think it was normal for her to be dressed as a boy and alone in a cab with a gentleman. Indeed, a casual observer might well conclude that she was returning from a particularly enthralling theatre performance.
‘Wasn’t that amazing?’ Emma said, her eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve never been anywhere like that before. Is that where gentlemen go when they say they’re going to their club?’ Her questions came tumbling out. Before he could answer, she carried on. ‘But that woman. She was awful, and she made my skin creep. That poor girl. What do you think is going to happen to her? Mrs Newbody didn’t look very pleased.’ Emma grinned at him. ‘Do you think she’s the reason why Mr Cullen stayed behind? I do hope so! She looked as if she needed help.’
There was a pause as Emma glanced out of the hackney window.
‘Are you all right, Richard? You look a trifle pale. Perhaps you’re starting with a cold?’
Richard slumped against the squabs. He was dazed; the whole situation was unreal. He was almost sure he’d wake up in a moment to find the entire episode had been some sort of nightmare. He hadn’t just experienced an adventure, had he? He was steady, always in control. Adventures didn’t happen to him.
Richard felt Emma’s fingers on his arm as she repeated her question. Her voice penetrated his thoughts and he jerked himself upright.
‘I don’t believe it. I’m the one suffering with palpitations at the risks we’ve just taken, and you are… you are treating it like a trip to Vauxhall.’ He knew he sounded like a maiden aunt, but he couldn’t stop himself. ‘Did you truly not feel any fear at all? I’ve been shaking in my boots that you’d be discovered or that it might all be a trap. We’ve been subjected to some of the most unsavoury talk, which I fervently hope you did not understand.’
In the gloomy light, Richard thought he saw her cheeks redden but couldn’t be entirely sure. ‘Please tell me you shared some of my anxieties, Emma. Am I really such a coward that I wanted to scoop you up and run before we entered that awful place? I was terrified something dreadful was going to happen and that I’d be unable to protect you.’
Emma grasped the hand that he’d been about to rake through his hair. The feel of her fingers stroking his skin sent delicious tingles up his arm.
‘Richard, you’re not a coward, believe me,’ she said. ‘I thought you handled Ruth Newbody and that horrible, shifty Mr Downing admirably. I confess, I had my hand on my knife the whole time we were in that room.’
Richard’s head whipped round.
‘Knife? You have a knife
with you?’ He groaned.
Emma gave him a look of incomprehension. ‘Of course I had a knife. It was one of the first rules that Ariadne drummed into me. Always have a weapon to hand.’
Richard closed his eyes and emitted another groan. What was he going to do with her? She was incorrigible.
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘what I was going to say before you interrupted me was that I was nervous. Of course I was.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘But I was with you. I knew I’d be safe.’ Richard heard her swallow and opened his eyes to meet her intense gaze. Emma’s voice became a whisper. ‘You’ve looked after me since we first met. I’ve never felt so safe with anyone else.’
He was beginning to feel almost normal again when she added crushingly, ‘I wouldn’t have liked to have gone there on my own, I can assure you.’
Richard pulled himself together. It was time for him to assert himself and make it clear that she shouldn’t take such risks and certainly not on her own.
‘Please tell me you will never attempt to do anything like that by yourself.’
Emma giggled. ‘Of course not. I’m not a complete widgeon. I’d insist that you accompany me.’
Richard shook his head despairingly.
‘But we’ve discovered more about Wheatley, haven’t we?’ she continued, ignoring his disapproval. ‘And we’ve done it together. Thank you for trusting me and taking me with you. I didn’t realise how much I craved excitement.’ Emma’s eyes were shining. ‘And it was exciting, wasn’t it, Richard?’
Richard’s heart skipped a beat. Emma spoke the truth. Now that they were out of danger, he could admit to himself that it had been exciting. Overcome with a sudden urge, he threw caution to the wind and scooped Emma onto his lap. It registered somewhere at the back of his mind that she did not put up any resistance.
His lips swooped down on hers and he revelled in their yielding warmth. Emma was warm and soft, with her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close. Her skin felt smooth next to his as he breathed in her scent. After several intense, intoxicating moments, they drew apart, both breathing heavily.
‘Do you suppose,’ Richard gasped, ‘that if I come up with other exciting things we can do together, I can persuade you to marry me, Emma?’
Had he just said that? Had he just proposed marriage to the most unpredictable, headstrong woman of his acquaintance? Richard couldn’t quite believe it. But he had, and he meant it. He held his breath, waiting for her answer.
Emma stiffened in his arms. She arched away from him and struggled back to her side of the cab.
‘I’m sorry, Richard. I don’t know if I want to get married at all. Not to you, not to anyone.’
The demented beating of his heart slowed to a more regular beat at these dampening words. Richard felt cheated. He’d done what she’d asked, despite his strong misgivings, and they’d somehow come out of it in one piece. Overcome with the euphoria of the moment, he’d made the momentous decision to risk his entire future happiness on this wild, headstrong female, and she was turning him down. It was enough to send a fellow to Bedlam.
Emma was still speaking. ‘I don’t want to be like my mother, downtrodden and subject to a man’s authority, even though it was obvious that my father did not have much common sense.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘She warned me that marriage was a prison for a female.’
Richard couldn’t argue. Emma’s father had not been the most sensible of men. But surely she didn’t think he was like that? He quelled his annoyance and tried to keep his voice steady and emotionless.
‘I’m not like your father, Emma.’
‘I know,’ she answered flatly. ‘But would you permit me to have opinions of my own, to speak up when I think you’re wrong… and to be listened to?’
She sat back against the squabs, her eyes earnestly searching his face. Then it struck him. Emma’s concerns were genuine.
‘Of course. Have I not proved that?’ he asked. ‘We wouldn’t be here tonight if I hadn’t done so.’
Richard knew he was no authoritarian, no domestic despot. Good grief, Julia would testify to that. Seeing Emma’s troubled expression in the gloomy light of the carriage lamp, he resolved to prove her anxieties were baseless. Hell, even if it cost him more heart-stopping moments like tonight, it would be worth it to reassure her. Richard didn’t know how it had happened, but he’d fallen headlong in love with this totally unsuitable woman, and the thought of losing her was unbearable.
They both started to speak at the same time.
‘Will you…’
‘I agree that…’
Emma held up her hand. ‘You go first.’
Richard took a deep breath, determined to convince her. ‘I realise your experiences so far in life have given you a poor opinion of the male sex, but please allow me to demonstrate that, although I have faults, being overbearing towards the females in my family is not one of them. While I cannot pretend that I’m entirely happy with you putting yourself at risk by continuing to take part in the investigations, I’m willing for you to do so nevertheless.’ He sent her a pleading look. ‘Will that prove to you I’m not and never will be a despotic husband?’ Richard held his breath.
Emma’s lips curved into a smile.
‘I never said you were a despot.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘I didn’t,’ she repeated. ‘And I know you are not… not now. But after marriage, men can change,’ she added sadly.
‘Pardon?’ Richard didn’t understand at all. Why would she think he would change?
‘My mother,’ Emma replied. ‘She warned me. The last evening we spent together. She told me how she’d fallen for my father’s charm. But after marrying her, his charm disappeared.’ Emma swept a hand across her brow. ‘She was so unhappy. And I’m frightened that the same will happen to me.’ Her chin jutted out defiantly and she sent him a challenging look. ‘Besides, my journey back taught me that I can think and act for myself. What’s more, I’ve enjoyed it. I don’t want to retire into a life of domesticity and boredom.’ She paused. ‘There. Have I shocked you?’
Richard reached out for her hand. ‘No, I’m not shocked, Emma. Your mother was rightly unhappy with the circumstances she found herself in. I promise I will never do anything like that to you.’ Before he could speak further, the hackney drew to a sudden halt. They were home.
‘We’ll finish this conversation at another time, I think,’ he said resignedly. Richard helped Emma down, paid the jarvey, and led her up the steps. Grimes, who was on duty, didn’t bat an eyelid as the pair tiptoed up the stairs and to their separate rooms.
Chapter 17
Emma closed the door behind her softly and stepped into her darkened chamber, illuminated only by the dying embers of the fire. She drew in a sharp breath when she caught sight of a huddled figure under the bedcovers and almost screamed.
Just in time, she recalled that she’d left the bedcovers bundled in case Julia decided to check on her when she returned. She gave herself a mental shake. Her nerves were more shredded than she’d thought. Throwing off her borrowed clothes and stuffing them into one of the drawers of the armoire, she pulled on a nightdress and climbed into bed.
But sleep eluded her, and she lay restless and confused. How was she going to arrange to see Wheatley, and was he really as dangerous as everyone claimed? How could she keep her brother safe? And Richard… yes, what about Richard? What should she do? Was her mother’s warning about marriage and men truly meant, or were her words the result of an accumulation of sorrows, a product of her fatigue and frustration?
Emma’s thoughts turned again to Richard. What would life be like married to him… or even worse, what would her life be without him? Her stomach lurched. She’d grown accustomed in the short time she’d known him to enjoy his company. He was intelligent, amusing, and cared deeply for his family. A careful man who, despite his stro
ng misgivings, had been brave enough to allow her to accompany him tonight. An inner voice nagged at her – but would he flout society’s conventions by continuing to treat her as a sensible human being if they married? She wanted so much to trust him, and he’d given her no cause to believe he was a tyrant. But if she was wrong, she’d have a lifetime to regret it. What should she do?
Early the next morning, Emma rose and padded down to the deserted library. She hadn’t slept well and wondered if Richard had suffered an equally disturbed night. She was anxious to know whether her words on the journey home had given him a disgust of her. She flushed, recalling the kiss they’d enjoyed. She smiled to herself. Well, she’d certainly enjoyed it. She was also desperate to know what their next steps should be with regard to Wheatley. This matter needed to be settled as soon as possible, as far as she was concerned.
Stepping to the window, she rubbed the glass and peered down to the garden below where frost glittered on the lawn and silvery webs bedecked the shrubs. A fanciful person might imagine that a demented lacemaker had been busy throughout the night. She sighed. How different it all was to sunny Gytheion.
A copy of the Quarterly Review lying on the table caught Emma’s eye. She picked it up and settled on the sofa, hoping it might while away the time until breakfast.
‘Ah, Grimes said you were in here.’
She looked up and saw Richard’s head poking round the door. Her spirits lifted, for he was smiling.
‘Have you breakfasted yet?’ he asked.
‘Never mind breakfast,’ she answered. ‘We need to talk.’ At his puzzled expression, she added, ‘About what we’re going to do about Wheatley.’ How could he contemplate food at a time like this?
Richard scratched his head.
‘What? I’m not sure, to be honest. We learned only that Wheatley used to keep rather dubious company up to about five years ago. That was about the time he met Heslop, I think. I don’t know where that takes us.’ Cocking his head to one side, he scrutinised her through narrowed eyes. ‘How much of what Downing said did you understand exactly?’
A Gentleman’s Promise: A Regency Romance (Gentlemen Book 1) Page 19
