Emily smoothed out the front of her skirt and adjusted the bustle before turning to the looking glass once more to check that her face showed no hint of sorrow nor misery.
“Come on then, you two,” she urged, propelling them out the door. “No breakfast until you've all the dirt off your faces.”
Lady Anne and Lord Essex shuffled sullenly down the hallway as Emily called to the footman for hot water to be brought up to the children's copper bathtubs.
“Already on their way, Miss Fletcher.” He grinned at her as he saw the children’s faces and she smiled back, once again appreciating the amity she’d developed with the staff and even the family.
They descended the stairs and as they each reached their room, they diverted inside. She followed Lady Anne, helping her off with her nightclothes and ushering her into the water. The girl’s maid took over the actual bathing as Emily elected to wait in the corridor between their rooms.
They really are good children.
She turned her head as she heard a faltering footstep. Lady Nancy had just stepped out of her room and was watching Emily warily.
“Good morning.” Emily made sure her voice was bland and free of censure. Ever since their father had left three days ago, Lady Nancy had seemed to be waiting, spoiling for a fight. Emily refused to give it to her.
Lady Nancy mumbled something as she hurried past, avoiding Emily’s eyes. Emily sighed, closing her own eyes and leaning her head against the wall. A tiny hand, burrowing into her had her opening her eyes to see Lady Anne, all fresh gowned and with a shining face, smiling up at her.
“This is how an Earl's daughter ought to look,” Emily proclaimed. “Smelling of flowers and clean as newly driven snow.” Lady Anne’s smile widened. Lord Essex soon joined them, looking equally clean.
“And me?” he asked.
“And you are just as a young Viscount ought to be, clean and respectable.”
Try as she might, Emily didn’t have much appetite and wasn’t up for pretending to eat, especially with Lady Nancy scowling at her from the other end of the table. She dropped off the twins in the dining hall and then went to sit on a settee in the parlor, drinking the tea and not eating a crumpet brought to her by one of the maids–Betsey could not be persuaded not to feed her at all.
It was one of the rare peaceful times she had to herself before a day began. She wasn’t complaining, but her two very energetic charges and their older sister occupied her time with their demands and it was veritably exhausting.
She looked up thoughtfully at the sky. It looked to be gearing up to be a warm day suitable for going outdoors…
Perhaps we shall learn in the garden today.
The sound of passing carriages provided a background cacophony of sound to the start of the day. The ticking of the large grandfather clock echoed along the walls of the room generating a syncopated sort of rhythm that was at once both soothing and annoying.
Feeling restive, Emily peered out of the window to the London street and made an effort to think about nothing even as her mind wanted to turn to the Earl.
I am appreciative.
She tried to convince herself of this with little success.
Even as she was glad to have such a place, to work for a gentleman who was mostly kind and generous, she knew something was missing. This morning she could not escape the feeling of restlessness that suffused her spirit.
She was still grateful, always appreciative of her good fortune.
She rose from the divan, crossing the room to the window in search of heaven only knew what from the street below. The strident rhythm from the clock was less penetrating from this precise spot of the parlor. There was a sea of grey and black and brown in her view. Nothing really, to hold her attention. She sighed, turning away from it and going to finish her tea.
“Not that I am not enjoying your company, old man, but are you ever planning on returning home?”
The Marquess’ words intruded on his reverie, and he frowned in annoyance.
“I thought you left already.”
“Oh no. My meeting is not until noon. You are stuck with me all morning. Now, do you plan on telling me what the devil is the matter or are you going to continue to mope around my house?” Holburn said.
“I can leave if I’m bothering you.”
“Don’t be silly, old boy. You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. But your children surely miss you and whatever is keeping you away cannot be that awful.” He peered inquisitively at Duncan. Holburn had been so good about not asking why he needed a place to stay. Duncan should have known it wouldn’t last. “Is it the delectable governess? Has she turned out to have a beau?”
Duncan turned his head to glare at Holburn who lifted his hands in surrender. “All right then, no beau.”
Duncan sipped his coffee and said nothing.
“You are honestly going to let a governess chase you out of your own home?”
“I never said–” Duncan bit his tongue, realizing he’d given himself away. Holburn grinned at him, clapping him on the shoulder.
“You can’t hide forever. Whatever happened there, you should go and take care of it.”
“I will…I just…don’t know how.” Duncan’s brow beetled in frustration.
Holburn rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I told you, old man, you think too much. Take action,” he made a very crude gesture which had Duncan simultaneously shaking his head in chagrin and trying not to laugh.
“How do you think we got here?” he murmured to himself but from Holburn’s exclamation of surprise, he must have heard him.
“What? I cannot believe it. You?” the fool began to clap, “Good on you sir! Good on you.”
Duncan just shook his head and turned away. Holburn was right about one thing. He could not hide forever. He had to go back, and face the music. What he had done was unforgiveable. But he was a man of honor. He would just have to stiffen his spine and take his medicine. He would make an offer for her at the first opportunity. That was the right thing to do.
He ignored his accelerating heart, telling himself that this was all perfectly sensible and absolutely nothing to do with any feelings he may or may not have. Now that he’d had some time to think, he highly doubted that Miss Fletcher had set out to entrap him. That had been his emotions ruling his mind.
It was all a tragic misunderstanding; he could see that now. Her face when she turned to face him in the dining room betrayed nothing of knowledge of what that dress had meant to him. She had seemed genuinely shocked at his reaction. Wherever she got the dress, it was clearly a stupid bit of mischief on someone else’s account.
I will get to the bottom of it, sooner or later.
For now, he would go home, tender his apologies and offer for her. That was all he could do. He could not take back the harm he might have done. He could spend the rest of his life, making it up to her.
That seemed to be as noble a goal as any he’d ever heard.
The fact that his lips still tingled at the memory of her kisses. The tightening of his breeches when he thought of her utter submission to him. The feel of her soft and still beneath him, prey waiting to be devoured…none of that was relevant to his decision.
Neither was the fact that he missed her almost as much as he did his children. Not how the sound of her voice approaching down the corridor made his pulse jump and stutter before beating in triple time. Not the fact that he woke up in the morning looking forward to the day because he knew he would see her. Nor the turn of her ankle he glimpsed as she played with his children.
None of that influenced his decision.
Her care of his children, unasked, was merely a side benefit. That he knew the twins–at least–adored her, was nothing but a bonus.
No, I am simply doing the sensible thing.
Chapter 24
Laurence Blackmore stomped into his office, his face red with temper. He threw the glass of whisky he was holding against the wooden wall, and watche
d it shatter into pieces, spilling alcohol everywhere. His eyes narrowed as his jaw tightened in further annoyance. It would take even more effort to get the smell of whisky out of the wood than it would to find Emily Fletcher.
And it is proving flaming impossible to find that wench!
He felt quite cheated and not a little murderous at the thought that she’d managed to completely slip his web. He had lost no time writing to her father to inform him that his daughter had absconded and therefore the deal was off.
He had received a reply filled with pleas and offers of help and just reading the man’s groveling letter had soothed his ire for a while. He immediately wrote back ordering Mr. Fletcher to send him a rendering of his daughter that he could use for her missing posters. He was quite pleased with how fast Mr. Fletcher had responded. It saved him a lot of time.
He could have had a rendering of her image done without involving her father, but the truth was that he had barely had a proper look at her. Mr. Fletcher knew her best and he owed Laurence. It was only right that he does everything that he could to help. In addition to a rendering, Mr. Fletcher had sent a locket that had a perfectly painted image of Emily’s face.
Laurence carried it in his pocket. If all else failed, he meant to take it to a witcher woman he knew who might cast a spell to find her whereabouts. Laurence wasn’t sure he believed in such things but he was willing to try anything. He had a feeling that Emily would earn him enough money that he could possibly retire if he was so inclined.
He dropped into his seat with a sneer. He could never think of resigning of his own free will. Every time a new girl was brought to him, fear shining in her eyes, her hands trembling with no idea what was about to happen to her…there was nothing more enjoyable than that. He could feel his breeches tightening simply from the thought.
No. I could never retire.
His hand flicked through the papers on his desk as he thought hard. He had tapped his sources at the constabulary, in case Emily had sought help from them. So far he had had no news. It was frustrating.
How does a country bumpkin with no previous knowledge of the city just disappear into thin air?
It was more than impossible.
He slammed his fist down on the desk in frustration, scattering pages hither and yon. A tentative knock on the door had him growling. “What do you want?”
His madam put her head in the door, eyebrow quirked with amusement. “I’m sorry to interrupt your tantrum but the new girl is here. Would you like to meet her?”
Laurence merely growled again. Madam Bainbridge knew well and good that he wanted to see the new girl. “Send her in.”
Paul Wolcott was walking his beat when he came across the missing whore poster. He squinted at it, thinking that the girl looked familiar. He had been walking along Mayfair, collecting his usual two pence from the morning sellers when he heard some shrieking coming from an enclosed garden.
He’d peered over the black wrought iron fence to see two children darting about in company of a woman. She was dressed less richly than the children, in plain brown bombazine. But she was clearly instructing them in what they were doing. Something seemed to have excited them quite a bit and she was gesticulating to them as if explaining.
Paul smiled, nodding his head as he imagined his own Dolores might one day serve as governess for some wealthy Mayfair family too. He almost opened his mouth to call out to her but then a footman had stepped out, eyeing him suspiciously. Even though he was a copper and had a perfectly legitimate reason to be there, he decided not to tempt fate and resumed walking.
Now he stared at her visage on the missing poster and wondered. What would a whore be doing playing governess to a couple of innocent gentry children? And how grateful might their parents be if he apprised them of this fact?
First though, he had to make sure it was her. He knew Mr. Blackmore, owner of the brothel which had burned down and who was stating that Miss…he leaned closer peering at the name…Fletcher, might be hurt and had forgotten herself.
Well, that would explain why she’s a governess. Probably get turned around. Or the gentry is one of her clients.
That gave Paul pause. If the man she was working for was a client, he would already know that she was a whore and wouldn’t thank Paul for pointing it out. However, Mr. Blackmore would probably be more than willing to pay for information leading to her whereabouts. Paul grunted, deciding to see what Mr. Blackmore would have to say. He had his Dolores to think about and she did enjoy a new gown once in a while.
It truly was a stroke of luck that the constable had seen Laurence’s poster and had glimpsed Emily, at that house. He could not imagine how she’d gotten herself such a position. He was forced to conclude that she was a lot more resourceful than he’d given her credit for. He handed over ten copper coins to the constable, who accepted it grudgingly, knowing he could provide no proof that his information was accurate.
Laurence lost no time in taking a carriage to Mayfair. It was certainly not a conducive place to loiter. He made do by lurking in an alleyway leading to the back of the manor across the street from the house Constable Wolcott had reported seeing Emily.
He extracted his monocle and fixed it in his eye as he stared fixedly across the road. He would not miss her if she came out.
It was not until early afternoon that he sensed some movement from the house. A carriage was brought to the door and two people, one wearing a gown stepped into it. He could not see clearly who it was because the body of the carriage was in the way. He quickly hailed his own carriage and followed the other, emblazoned with the personal crest of the Earl of Sulby on the side, to Hatchard’s Bookstore.
He waited while the women alighted. A lady and her maid it was clear. Following them into the book shop, he loitered about as they browsed, awaiting the right opportunity. It was frowned upon to approach a lady and talk to her without introduction and so he would have to engineer something to force them to speak to each other. He picked up a book from the shelf and went to the counter where he paid for it. He walked out, lurking in the shade of the shop, waiting for them to emerge.
To his relief, her carriage was not waiting right at the entrance although she had walked in with a lady’s maid. Her companion now preceded her out of the door, carrying her packages as she held the door open for her. To Laurence’s relief, they began to walk toward him and he took advantage by appearing suddenly on the side walk, pretending absorption in his book as he bumped into the lady.
“Careful there!” the lady’s maid barked and he immediately began stumbling as he murmured an apology. He reached out to her, affecting concern. “Are you quite all right? I am so terribly sorry. I did not see you there, so absorbed was I in my story.”
She gave him an unfriendly glance, uncomfortable with a stranger so close to her. Nevertheless she could be polite. “It’s quite all right. No harm was done. You may go now.”
He stopped suddenly staring into her face as if he’d only just realized something. “Forgive me but…are you the Earl of Sulby’s…” he paused, in hopes that she would fill in the blanks but she just stared at him, “daughter?” he hazarded.
She nodded stiffly.
“Oh, what serendipity for it was to that house that I was directed.”
The lady frowned. Laurence bowed over her hand, ostensibly keeping hold of it that way. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Laurence Blackmore and I am seeking someone. I pray you are able to help me. Her name is Emily…Fletcher, might you know her?” he watched her carefully from beneath his lashes and therefore saw the moment that she recognized the name. Her eyes widened slightly and then gleamed with malice.
“What if I do know her?” she asked and he applauded her caution. Not many children of the Beau Monde would be trained to be wary of strangers.
Why would they? Most strangers wouldn’t dare speak to them.
“Well…I am desperately seeking to be reunited with her. She was to be my bride you see.”
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br /> The girl’s eyes widened with shock. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed, filling with suspicion. “Do you have a likeness of her on your person?”
Quickly, he dug into his pocket for the locket, thanking his lucky stars that he had obtained it. “Here she is.” He extended the locket to the girl, “Have you seen her?”
She stared at the picture for a long time. “I know where your bride is,” she said at last.
Emily was so tired. It had been a day full of almost more push and pull than she could handle. She just wanted to get away for some time. The Earl’s absence was beginning to really take a toll.
A Wicked Earl she can't Resist: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 20
