by Wendy Vella
“Come along then, Miss Tolly, we shall find you the best seat in the house, then you can sit and bask in Mr. Fossett’s magnificence. Should that not happen then I shall be on hand as a substitute.”
“Bloody hell,” Cam heard her say.
He could not muster a smile; as always, he felt like a cat with his fur rubbed the wrong way in her presence.
“Don’t drag your feet, Emily.”
“I am not, but your legs are longer than mine!”
He adjusted his stride as they entered the building.
“A simple thank-you will do.”
She sighed. “Thank you for making him take those papers, Cambridge. Do you really think he will hand them to Mr. Fossett?”
“I hope so, but at least he now has them in his possession. Will you tell me what they are?”
“In Mr. Fossett’s last journal, The Stars Are Aligned, he asked for submissions regarding the discovery of comets.”
Her face was alive suddenly. Eyes sparkling, lips smiling, and color riding along the ridges of her cheekbones.
“So astronomy is your particular passion? Do you have another copy? I would like to read it.”
“Really?” She looked shocked.
“Why does that shock you?”
“Because I did not think it would interest you.”
She was looking around the room, no doubt in search of the noxious Mr. Fossett.
“And yet here I stand, awaiting an astronomy lecture, so it seems you are wrong.” She was craning her neck now to see around several gentlemen who were standing in the aisle. “How long have you been interested in this?”
“Quite some time.”
“You hid that well then, because until today I thought your character had the depth of a thimble.”
The breath hissed from her throat, sounding like a snake, as she returned her eyes to him.
“You, sir, are no gentleman.”
“Is that meant to be an insult, because if it is, you will need to put more effort into it. After all, you know who my family are.”
“I shall find my own seat here at the rear.”
“No you will not.” Cam led her down the aisle between the seats until they were about halfway, then moved right, dragging Emily with him. He saw two spare seats. “Max and James would thrash me if they heard I let you sit in here alone with so many men present.”
“Release me!”
He didn’t until they were seated.
“How long have you been attending lectures?” Cam asked.
She huffed, and then twitched her skirts before smoothing them, and finally settled the little satin bag on her lap, hands now clasped neatly around the ribbons. He had the urge to ruffle her slightly.
She had fine features. A small round nose, arched brows, long lashes tipped with gold, and soft pink lips. She was vastly different from the woman he and his family had met many years ago when she had come to live with the duke. Then, she’d been a shadow of the Emily Tolly he saw today.
“I’m attempting to be polite, Emily, perhaps you could reciprocate?”
“Since arriving in London,” she said reluctantly.
“And your brothers do not know?”
“Max knows, well some of it anyway.”
“But not James?”
While James was a duke, Max was the bastard child of his father, like Emily. She’d never been close to James, but with Max it had been different from the beginning.
“H-he would not approve.”
“I doubt Max does.”
She shrugged one slender shoulder.
“What is your problem with James? He rescued you, housed you, and from what I gather he is always kind and generous to you.” This too had always annoyed Cam, the fact she treated her brother like a stranger even now, after everything he had done for her.
“I have no problem with James.”
“That is a lie, Emily. You keep him at a distance unlike Max, just as you isolate yourself from the Sinclairs when you can.”
“Be quiet, the lecture is starting.”
“This discussion is not finished.”
Cam would question her again because James deserved better from her. He was a friend, and one who had saved Cam from himself. He would get to the bottom of this. Unfortunately, to do that, he had to spend time in this woman’s company. The thought was not a pleasing one.
CHAPTER TWO
“Surely you are not one of those silly women here to bat their eyelashes at Fossett?”
“Of course not, but I wish to hear what he has to say. After all, his Royal Highness the Prince Regent has acknowledged Mr. Fossett’s wonderful achievements in the world of astronomy because he has been extremely successful.”
“He’s a puffed-up windbag.”
“Then why are you here?”
“He speaks well, and I cannot fault his knowledge, for all he makes me want to gnash my teeth.”
“Be quiet, he is beginning,” Emily whispered.
She tried to breathe slowly. In and out. It was difficult with Cambridge Sinclair at her side, but she managed it. Damn, why was he here? She looked out the corner of her eye and saw a large gloved hand resting comfortably on a strong thigh. He wasn’t as big as his brother, or hers, but he was as tall. He had a long-limbed grace that had women falling at his feet, and a handsome face that only heightened their regard.
Thick dark hair like that of his siblings tended to curl if left untamed. He had the Sinclair green eyes, dark brows and lashes. There was also that something about him the others in his family had. An aura that she’d come to understand as almost magic. She’d seen it enough, the linking of their hands and the strength they gained from each other. The healing, the hearing; there was so much to his family that she did not understand. She’d never asked, and they’d never explained. Simply put, they knew she was family and therefore would guard their secrets.
Like James, the Sinclairs were kind and tolerated her, but unlike her, they also came from the right side of nobility.
Cambridge had questioned her about her brother, the powerful Duke of Raven. How could he think she was anything but grateful to James for saving her? Yes, she was intimidated, awed even, and of course racked in guilt where James was concerned, and likely always would be. But she in no way had a problem with him... the problem was that James was burdened with her.
“I can hear you thinking.”
“That is a perfectly foolish thing to say. Now be quiet, I wish to hear Mr. Fossett’s opinions.”
“No, a perfectly foolish thing to say would be, what could a woman possibly know about astronomy?”
She shot him a look, and found his eyes focused on her. Emily looked away. She’d been aware of Cambridge Sinclair since their first meeting. Hated the way her heart beat a little harder when he was near, and how he provoked and teased her. Only with him did she lose control. Only he could bring out something in Emily she had vowed to keep locked away when she came to live in the duke’s household.
Cam also had something Emily would never have; he was comfortable with the person he had become. He was a man who knew his place in the world, unlike her.
“I have made contact with someone who has one of the only copies of Our World Above.” He leaned closer, his words brushing her cheek and making her shiver.
“You haven’t!” Emily forgot her anger toward Cam, and the man who spoke on the stage.
“Sssh!”
“Sorry,” Emily said to the man who turned to glare at her. “Surely it is on the list of prohibited books?” she whispered.
“Yes, I believe that is the case, but I have a contact who can access it.”
He glanced down at her, then back at Mr. Fossett who was now discussing nebulae. She’d always wanted to read Our World Above. Emily had read everything she could in James’s study, and lending libraries, and she was now reading her way through Max’s library. But to read that book... it would be a thrill.
“Will you be able to actually get th
e copy?”
“But, Emily, that would be against the law.”
She ground her teeth and told herself no good would come of angering him.
“Of course, forgive me.”
“Did you just say forgive me?”
“No, I said you are an annoying, irritating man, and I have no further wish to converse with you. Now be quiet.”
“Much better,” he said. “For a moment there I thought the sun and moon had started circling the earth once more.”
Emily refused to give in to the bubble of amusement his words created inside her.
“So all this time that I believed you working on your etiquette and stitching you were reading about astronomy, Emily? You are a sly one.”
“I’m not a sly one, and I like reading because it is a solitary endeavor that I need share with no one.”
“And you do not like to share yourself with anyone?”
He was close enough that the sleeve of his heavy charcoal greatcoat brushed her arm as he lifted it. Cam always spoke in gestures. He was often loud, and happy to share his opinion, even if no one wanted to hear it.
“I have no need to speak constantly and tell everyone what I did all day, like you.”
“And yet that is exactly what Samantha is like.”
She felt that warm ball of heat inside her at the thought of her little half sister. For so long it had been just her and her brother, who was now dead. Now she had two half brothers and a sister. Of course, there was also the guilt, but she was attempting to work on that.
“Good Lord!”
“What?” Emily rose slightly in her seat.
“Fossett just fell off the stage. All his posturing has finally been his downfall.”
“Is he all right?”
“That’s it, man! Shake it off, you shall be right in no time!” Cam called from beside her. His body was shaking with laughter.
“Stop that!” Emily slapped his arm. “The poor man could have seriously hurt himself.”
Cam’s eyes went to the hand she had on his arm, and Emily snatched it back. “Sorry.”
“I like to be touched, Emily; it is you who do not.”
“Do you always say every thought that comes into your head?”
“Mostly, but sometimes”—he waggled his brows—“they are not appropriate to air in public.”
And this was why they argued constantly. He never missed an opportunity to unsettle Emily by saying something vulgar, or generally just annoying her. Her blood would start to boil, and the façade she had fought hard to control would slip.
“You are a....”
“Infuriating, vulgar, horrid? I believe I have had those and more from your lips before.”
She felt the horrifying sting of tears behind her eyes. Her humiliation at the hands of this man would be complete if he saw her tears. So instead she found refuge in anger.
“For once, will you just shut up, you bloody horrible man!”
“Sssh!” The man turned to glare at her once more.
“And you can shut up also!”
Surging to her feet, Emily hurried down the row and away from Cambridge Sinclair. She could not sit there another minute, not with the threat of tears imminent.
“Excuse me,” she said, passing a man with long legs. “Oh do forgive me,” she added after standing on another’s foot. Finally she had navigated her way to the aisle. Emily refused to look back at Cam; instead she stormed out. The curator scowled at her, so she glared back, but did not give in to the urge to poke out her tongue, as Samantha would have.
She was not usually emotional; in fact, the exact opposite. Calmness had helped her survive through the years with her brother, who had become mentally unstable. Yes, she did have a temper, but had learned to control it. But lately she had struggled to keep her emotions hidden away.
She could feel herself changing, and could do nothing to stop it from happening... whatever it was. The façade she had created around her was beginning to show cracks, and the personality she had kept hidden most of her life was threatening to be exposed.
Almost running now, she arrived at the door that led outside. A large hand reached over her head and pushed it open.
“I’m sorry.”
“Go away.” Emily did not look over her shoulder at Cam. She simply walked out into the icy London weather, down the path between the neat box hedges, and onto the street. A walk in the bracing air would do her good. Surely that would cool the anger inside her and help her to achieve calm before she returned to her brother’s house.
Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she saw Cam was following.
Bloody bothering hell!
CHAPTER THREE
Cam had been stunned when Emily left her seat after delivering him a set down... in public of all places. Of course he was used to it when they were in private, but what he was not used to was the slight quiver in her voice.
Their arguing had never made her cry before… never appeared to hurt her. He would have tempered their verbal sparring if he’d believed even for a moment it had. He was not a complete scoundrel. In the past Cam had been glad to see some fight in Emily, even if it was at his expense, but right now he wasn’t proud of himself.
He’d followed her when she left. The lecture would have been interesting, but as he’d been to several, and Fossett was not his favored speaker, he had no wish to stay when Emily was very obviously upset. Besides, he’d ruined the lecture for her, much to his shame.
She may annoy him hugely, however, she was family, and that was very important to a Sinclair.
“I really am sorry. It was not my intention to upset you, Emily.”
“I have no wish to keep company with you, Mr. Sinclair. Good day.”
White puffs of air accompanied these words. She reminded him of a bristling puppy. Hackles up, teeth bared, but completely harmless. Polite to a fault, Emily had tried to be everything her birth had not given her from the day she moved into her brother’s house. Quiet, respectful, she never made a spectacle of herself unless he was around. Cam always had the urge to ruffle her feathers; in fact, Emily brought out the worst of him for no reason at all.... Well actually, that was not quite true. Cam always felt as if she was looking down her nose at him. It rankled, and he responded by behaving badly. There was also the matter of his chest feeling a little too tight when she was near, which confused him, so he tried to ignore it where possible.
“Come on, Em. I said I was sorry.”
“I don’t care if you say it a further ninety-seven times, I still don’t want you in my company!” She threw the words over her shoulder.
At least she sounded steadier. He could no longer hear the tears she was choking back. Having four sisters, Cam had experienced thousands of bouts of tears in his lifetime, and where possible, he preempted or avoided them.
“Ninety-seven times? Not one hundred, or fifty-six, but ninety-seven times?”
She stopped so suddenly, he nearly barreled into her back; only by lifting her off her feet and carrying her forward a few steps did he avoid knocking her to the ground.
“A little warning,” Cam said, settling her back on her feet.
She didn’t answer, so he moved to stand before her. Lifting her chin, he saw absolute misery in her eyes.
“What’s wrong, Emily? This is more than my clumsy attempts at teasing you, surely, as they have never bothered you before?”
“Nothing.” She tried to shake free, but he held her still.
“Look, we’re family, and I know we rub each other up the wrong way sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. So you may as well talk to me as any of them.”
Running his eyes over her face, he noted that she was no longer a thin, frightened woman. He really saw her for perhaps the first time in a long while... if ever. To his shock she was now a woman... an interesting one. She wasn’t just beautiful in the conventional sense, although that was there in the silken skin and curve of her cheek; no, there was more. Almost an et
hereal beauty that punched him hard in the stomach.
When had Emily gone from annoying to alluring?
The thought shocked him so much he released her, and she stepped backward, away from him.
“I don’t want to talk to you, nor do I want to spend time in your company. Goodbye.”
She was halfway down the road before he’d collected his wits.
“I must have taken a knock to the head,” he muttered, following. He’d never thought her beautiful... surely it was a simple matter of a fever. Peeling down his glove, he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead; it felt annoyingly cool. “Malaria then?” But as he’d never been anywhere to contract it, he couldn’t in all conscience blame his sudden belief that Emily Tolly was anything but a pest on that.
Crossing the street behind her, he watched her skirts swish as she stalked away from him at considerable pace. His legs were a great deal longer of course, so he was soon closing in on her with little effort. He wasn’t about to let her walk about London with no escort. Her brothers would likely have several heated words to say if he did, and there were two of them.
“Come on, Em, it’s freezing. We shall share a hackney home.”
“I want nothing to do with you!”
Stubborn witch.
“I’m following you the entire way home, and will likely walk through the front door to James’s house right behind you!” Cam roared the words at her. “In fact, we may shortly take tea together!”
She muttered something that he thought was “I hope you choke on your cake.” Her shoulders then hunched and she continued walking—and ignoring him.
He was a highly sought-after member of society. Women coveted his time and attention. Just last week, Lady Shubert told him she wanted to have her wicked way with him, which, considering her husband was only several feet away, was quite a bold move. Having said that, Lord Shubert did have an ear horn.
He refused to yell at Emily again, although the urge was there. Besides, the cold air was catching in the back of his throat and making him cough. He would be the adult here, and not give in to a loud verbal tirade right here in the street, no matter how much he wanted too.
