Julia studied Brett. After a beat, her eyes widened. “Oh, dear. Who is she?”
Devil take her, and Daniel, too!
They deserved each other. Both were like bloodhounds keen on a scent and right now he reeked. Of lust. And need. And thwarted desire. He nodded curtly to Julia and fled before he lost more than his dignity.
He had barely stepped through the doors to the card room when a tight-lipped Daniel accosted him. Daniel tipped his head in the direction of the back corner, away from the card tables, prying eyes, and sharp ears. Rumbles of masculine voices and barks of laughter filled the crowded room. Surely Daniel would not kill him before an audience of so many?
Daniel was pacing. When Brett joined him, Daniel whirled and caught Brett by the lapels of his jacket and shoved him against the back wall. “What the devil are you up to? And do not repeat Melody’s blather about Patricia Branson, because you looked straight through the woman. Not so with Emily.” He stepped back and folded his arms across his chest.
Patricia Branson? What mischief was Melody brewing now? Brett dismissed the query. He had far more pressing problems to address. He straightened his jacket and opened his mouth to respond, but Daniel spoke over him.
“Do not deny it! I saw the look you gave Emily. Have you no decency? Can you at least leave her clothed in public?” His eyes raked the room, and seeing curious gazes turned their way, he lowered his voice to a furious hiss. “It was bad enough when you two were snapping at each other like rabid dogs. I thought I would have to rescue one of you. Now what am I to do? She is my sister-in-law, do you understand that?”
“Yes, I do, and I can explain—”
“You best hope so. More important, those explanations better involve a marriage proposal.”
“Listen to me . . . What?” Brett staggered back.
“You heard me. What did you think would come of this? She is not one of your doxies, but gently bred. If your future plans do not entail begging on hands and knees before Taunton, you are a bloody cur, a scurrilous blackguard, a debaucher of innocents, a sodding—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, it is not like that,” Brett snapped. “You have it all wrong. She sought out my help and that is what I am doing, assisting her with a matter that she is investigating.” It was the partial truth, but the best he could offer.
Daniel arched a brow. “My pardon, but that look you gave her is assistance she does not need. You cannot deny that something passed between you. My jacket is still smoldering from the sparks of—”
“That is enough!” he snarled, fist clenched. “You have made your point in reminding me that Lady Emily is gently bred and lest we forget, sister-in-law to an arrogant arse of a duke. She deserves to be spoken of with the respect you believe, and I know, she bloody well deserves.”
Daniel closed his mouth, and his eyes narrowed. After a moment, he uncrossed his arms and the scowl contorting his features eased. “So it is like that, is it? I knew it! Like a pair of damn magnets, were the two of you. Just facing the wrong way. In my book, that makes you the bigger arse.”
Brett blinked. Daniel never did hold his temper for long, but this abrupt face in the opposite direction had Brett struggling to keep abreast of him. “What the deuces are you talking about? What the devil has this got to do with magnets?”
“It is basic physics,” Daniel said, waving a hand. “Like poles repel each other, opposites do not. Once the magnets are correctly aligned, they fit together—so to speak.”
“So to speak,” Brett repeated and stepped away from Daniel. Turning his back on him, he swiped his hand through his hair. Hell. Daniel’s innuendo unwittingly forced Brett to face the one truth he could no longer ignore.
There could never be a consummation to this dangerous dance in which he and Emily were engaged. He could not make love to Emily as he yearned to do, nor cradle her in his arms the whole night through, or roll over and kiss her awake in the morning. Something tightened in his chest.
Daniel’s reference to magnets was apt. Inherent in the principle of attraction between two magnets is that they be polar opposites. And there it was. The inescapable truth. It always circled back to who she was and who he was not. No matter what they felt for each other, or what forces pulled them together, neither could change who they were.
“But explanations are still needed,” Daniel said, and waited until Brett turned back to him. “What is this investigation of which you speak? And what are your intentions in regard to Emily?”
Brett blew out a breath. “I need a drink.” He waved a footman over, grabbed a tumbler of whiskey, and drained it neat. He returned it to the tray, snatched another, and sipped more slowly. He ignored Daniel’s arched brow as he struggled with his response.
In speaking to Daniel, he was not betraying his word to Emily. He had warned Emily that if confronted directly, he would not lie. And he would not. He could fob him off, but Daniel was his oldest friend, and he trusted him implicitly. More important, he could use his help. As a duke, there were resources and people that Daniel had access to that Brett did not. He could only hope that Emily understood.
“As I have told you, Emily has been through a difficult time. I will not stand by and see her hurt again,” Daniel added.
Brett’s eyes shot to Daniel’s. He wanted to growl that he cared about Emily’s heart, too. If he did not care for her and who she was, he would not willingly let her go.
Conflicting emotions roiled through him, and he struggled to put them into words. “I have a care for her, too. Do not think I do not. I promise you, I would never hurt her. She may be family to you, but she means something to me, too. But things are complicated. I cannot ask you to understand, but I do ask you to trust me. I promise to protect her even if it is at the expense of my heart.”
Brett was certain of only one thing—he was not ready to sever this magnetic force that drew Emily and him inexorably toward each other. It had been there from the very beginning. He feared it always would be. He hoped when he had to break it, he survived being alone again.
“I trust you. That is, until you bloody well muck things up. And if you do—”
“I understand. It will not be pleasant.”
“As long as we understand each other,” Daniel said. “Now then, about this other matter. What, pray tell, is Emily investigating? And does Taunton or Julia know about it? More important, why the devil did Emily turn to you and not me for assistance?”
More questions without answers.
Daniel collected his own drink from a passing footman. He moved to a nearby table and drew out one of its chairs. Sitting, he leaned back, and settled in to wait Brett out.
Brett cursed his friend, who never had any patience, but chose this particular moment to find some. Before he confided in Daniel, he had one stipulation. “I need your word that what I tell you stays between us. Emily has a right to share her story when she so chooses—without pressure from you. Understood?”
Daniel paused, but then nodded. “You have my word, but if there is a body that needs burying, you best explain quickly before it putrefies.”
Brett’s lips twitched. “Ah, it has not come to that quite yet. And this might take some time.”
“Fortunately, I happen to have some to spare,” Daniel said, all vestiges of humor gone.
Brett slid back another chair and dropped into it with an air of resignation. “Shortly after the twins’ christening, I ran into Lady Emily at Lakeview Manor.” The tale unfolded slowly, interrupted with Daniel’s inevitable curses and rants.
“Devil take you! Lady Emily is two times a fool, and you no better. You almost got killed the last time we tried to capture a murderer. Have you forgotten that? Have you gone daft?”
“Should I have left Lady Emily to pursue her course on her own? Or allowed her to seek assistance from the very man whom she is trying to implicate?” Brett rejoined and w
aited until Daniel snapped his mouth shut and glowered into his drink.
He was having second thoughts about confiding in his friend. In the past, Daniel’s support had been unfailing ever since he had rescued Brett from one too many beatings at Dunbar Academy. Daniel had been the only English boy to befriend the lone American. But when Daniel launched into a tirade about Brett and Emily opening Pandora’s bloody box, Brett had had enough. This was help he did not need. He slammed his drink on the table and opened his mouth to tell Daniel to sod off, when suddenly Daniel fell silent and emitted a long, suffering sigh.
“Fine. What do you need from me? How can I help?” At Brett’s expression, which was nothing short of jaw-gaping surprise, Daniel shrugged. “I know Emily, too. She is a dog with a bone when she sets her teeth into something, and there is no talking her out of it. As you say, she would have proceeded alone and could have become more entangled with this Drummond bastard. You may have been right to assist her, but wrong to not confide in me. I—”
“I had no choice. That was her stipulation before she confided in me.”
Daniel grunted. “I still cannot believe she did not turn to me, regardless of her concern for Julia and the twins. It does rankle.” He tipped his glass toward Brett. “You must be dispensable.”
“No doubt,” Brett said, taking no umbrage at the comment. Daniel only echoed his own thoughts when Emily had first approached him. “But I could use your assistance, and I am glad that I can rely on it.”
“Of course. Julia will have my head if she discovers what Emily is up to and learns that I did not try to stop her—or failing that, did not assist her. Besides, another thought crossed my mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, mind you, this quest of Emily’s has not been detrimental. In fact, it might be beneficial. That is, now that both of us are looking out to see that she is safe.”
Blinking, Brett froze in the act of lifting his drink to tug at his ear. “Pardon?”
Daniel laughed. “Emily has changed. Just look at her.” He waved his hand in the direction of the ballroom. “She is participating in the Season, dancing, and reconnecting with old friends like Patricia Branson. My wife is damn near giddy. Taunton walks with a ridiculous new spring in his step, and even Jonathan senses the good moods and is behaving himself. No, I take that back. Wishful thinking on my part. He stabbed one of the footman the other day.” He frowned, but then continued. “Maybe having a quest or a purpose is the impetus Emily needed to step back into her life. And that is not all bad.”
Nonplussed, Brett mulled over Daniel’s words. He wanted to take credit for Emily’s transformation, but it belonged to Jason. Emily was risking everything for him. The familiar prick of jealousy pierced Brett, and he hardened his jaw.
“Maybe having you snarling at her, rather than treating her like fragile heirloom china, as we all have been doing the past few years, has been medicinal. Perhaps, again with a heavy emphasis on the perhaps, having someone look at her as if she will not break and more so as an appealing woman, does not hurt her either.” His hand shot up to silence Brett. “Absolutely not. Not repeating that either. Ever.”
Something heavy slid off Brett’s chest. Maybe Jason could not take all the credit for Emily’s transformation. He remembered her response when he touched her, her abandon, and her passion. He beamed at Daniel.
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Daniel snapped. “This quest may have done her some good, but for God’s sake, it is still dangerous. She is trying to prove embezzlement and potentially hang a man for a murder committed over four years ago without a lick of evidence. This is a tangled web you have woven. Do not lose sight of that.”
Brett cursed Daniel for tossing a cold dose of reality onto his euphoria. Bastard.
“So what is Drummond’s motive? What drove him to embezzle the money? And move from embezzlement to murder? The man must have been desperate,” Daniel said.
Brett blinked. He had not thought to ask these questions, and he wished they were rhetorical because once again, he had no answers. When Daniel was not being a bastard, he was useful.
“Embezzlement is about money,” Daniel continued. “The man must have been in dire straits to cheat the largest mercantile company in the world—and then, if Emily’s accusations are confirmed, to kill a man to protect himself.”
“Maybe he is in debt? Is he a gambler?” Brett asked.
Daniel shook his head. “I do not know, but I will be sure to find out. To build a case against the man, it is wise to determine his motive. I can also assist you with another matter. An agriculture bill that I am supporting is coming up for vote, and I am meeting with a few men to garner their support. Lord Roberts is one of those men.”
Daniel’s words reinforced Brett’s decision to confide in him.
“I take it you had a reason for inquiring about him the other day,” Daniel continued. “What is your true interest in the man? Do you think Jason wrote to Roberts, revealing his suspicious about Drummond?”
“I doubt Roberts is aware that Drummond may be the culprit in the embezzling,” Brett said. “But within the company, Marsh’s reputation was blackened so well that his word became suspect when he sought to speak out to defend Jason. Roberts knows who lodged the allegations against Marsh and sullied his name. I want to link Drummond to Marsh’s downfall.”
“And how exactly do you propose to accomplish that?” Daniel said, his brow furrowed.
“With your help, actually, now that you’ve offered.” Brett leaned forward. “I need you to ask Roberts about Jason’s former clerk. Pose your interest under the guise of being concerned that your former partner has recently hired said clerk without any references. Mention that you had heard troublesome rumors about the man and wished to substantiate them because of your concern for me.”
Daniel smiled. “I can lament your American naïveté in believing in a man lacking pedigree and reference, but armed with will and gumption, can rise above any misfortune to make something of himself if given a chance.” He winked at Brett.
Brett shook his head. “It took more than will and gumption to toss off the British’s yoke of tyranny—”
“And once again, we digress.” Daniel laughed and held up his hand. “I will speak to Roberts and look into Drummond’s financials. In the meantime, what are you planning to do, besides keeping a chaste eye on Emily?” He gave him a pointed look.
As if that was an easy job. Brett explained about finding Jason’s former valet. “It is the next logical step. After that, I fear the trail grows thin.”
“If it does, let us hope Emily takes comfort in knowing she did all she could for Jason, and that his reputation outside the company has been safeguarded. Dare we hope that will be enough for her?”
“One can hope.” Brett shrugged, his expression reflecting Daniel’s doubt.
On that bleak note, they both drank. Brett might not be able to stop Emily from pursuing her course, but with Daniel’s support, the odds against Drummond tipped in their favor.
Brett’s greater concern was Emily’s reaction to his speaking to Daniel. He may not have broken his word to her, but he had taken a small sliver out of her trust. Brooding, he drank some more. He had done so to keep her fool head safe, but he doubted she would see it his way. Well, he would just have to make her do so.
An image of Emily’s blazing blue eyes flashed through his mind. Perhaps it was the alcohol dulling his wits, but damned if he did not anticipate the challenge.
Sparring with Emily was almost as enjoyable as scheming with her, or best of all, making up and kissing her senseless and . . .
Daniel slammed his glass on the table. “Stop grinning like a besotted, daft idiot before I lose my drink!”
Chapter Twenty
NOOOOOO!”
What in the world? Emily quickened her pace in response to her brother’s high-pitched shrieks.
Over the past few day
s, Jonathan had unleashed an onslaught of whining and begging to visit one of Brett’s ships, so they had plans to visit the London Docks later that morning. Had her brother finally inflicted real damage with that wretched sword of his, thus forcing the excursion to be postponed? She furrowed her brow, surprised to find herself disappointed at the prospect.
She had agreed to join the excursion, ostensibly to save Brett from her sword-wielding brother, but truthfully, she had yearned to get another glimpse into Brett’s world and had been looking forward to the venture. So when she rushed into the library, she was relieved to discover her brother in a precarious position, but otherwise unharmed.
“But I need my sword!” Jonathan cried. He was flapping like an upside-down fish against Brett, who had Jonathan’s legs imprisoned against his chest. “Fine, fine. I promise not to stab anyone again,” Jonathan grumbled.
“Good man. I will hold you to your word,” Brett said and lowered her brother to the ground.
Jonathan scrambled to his feet, his hair tousled, shirt askew. “So can I have my sword back?”
“You may, but remember a sword is a weapon. As such, it should be used with proper respect and wielded only in fair combat,” Brett said. He retrieved the item from where he had tucked it into his trousers behind him and returned it to Jonathan. “A man’s word is his solemn vow, so if I learn that you have broken yours, your sword will be confiscated and fed to the Queen’s Pipe at the docks. Do you understand?”
Jonathan scrunched up his face. “No. The Queen’s Pipe?”
Brett smiled. “It is the name for the kiln in the Queen’s Warehouse. Goods that are spoiled, damaged, or that the customs officials have confiscated are burned in this furnace. It runs night and day, and its ashes are sold for manure. That is, after they have sifted out the nails and other pieces of iron, as well as any valuables.”
“What do they do with the nails and iron?” Emily found herself asking.
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