by Wendy Vella
She shot him a look, then back down to her foot.
“My boot lace is knotted. Please go on, I shall be with you shortly.”
Cam dropped down beside her.
“The ends came free,” she said, sounding irritated, “and I bent to retie it, but it has knotted.”
“Allow me.”
“Thank you, but I do not need your assistance.” She batted his hands away. “It would not do for someone to see us this way.”
“Yes, because we have bumped into several hundred people already since arriving. Let me see, there was Mr. and Mrs. Fluttersby, and I’m am still dubious about that name, and the sum total of no one else. It seems butterflies are not the rage in London this November.”
“I don’t care. Please return to your family, and let go of my laces.”
“Don’t be dramatic, Emily. This is the new me, attempting to help the new you. Remember, we are to be civil to each other from now on.”
Her face was close to his now, so close he noticed a dusting of freckles on her cheeks. Her gray eyes had a sprinkle of white under the iris on the right one. They were really rather beautiful.
“I am quite good with laces and bonnet ribbons, just ask the twins.”
“I have seen you, but I am sure I can work this free on my own.”
Her eyes were doing their own study of him, and Cam felt wherever they landed.
“Please, Cam, let me go.”
He hadn’t realized his fingers had wrapped around her upper arms until she said that. Instead of doing as she asked, he leaned in and kissed her softly, so soft that it was barely a touch, just as it had been after he’d carried her from that water. His head was instantly full of her, his scenes heightened, and he wanted more... a great deal more.
He was in serious trouble.
“Stop that!” Emily tried to regain her feet, but simply fell backward onto her bottom.
“You have a lovely mouth. I just never realized it before, because it’s usually firing a volley of insults at me.”
Cam elegantly got to his feet, unlike her, and held out his hand. Emily ignored it and scrabbled to hers with more haste than grace.
“Do you go about kissing every woman you believe has a ‘lovely mouth’?”
“No, pleasurable though that would be, it would likely get me into serious trouble.”
“Well, don’t do it again to me.”
He was frowning now, his eyes locked on her face with an intensity that was unsettling. Studying her as if he had not seen her before.
“I don’t know what possessed you to kiss me.” Emily brushed out her skirts as she spoke, giving herself the perfect opportunity to look away from Cam.
“Strangely, neither do I. You were there, and it happened.”
“It shouldn’t have.”
“You kissed me last time.”
“What?” Emily looked at him again. “I-I did not.”
His hands were in his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels as if he had nothing greater to do than discuss kisses with her.
“You grabbed my hair when I saved you, and tugged my lips down to meet yours. I remember the moment clearly, as I do everything about that day.”
Lord, she remembered it too. The feel of his cold mouth pressed to hers had touched her soul.
“Yes, well, neither of us were ourselves that day.”
“We were ourselves today, however.”
He rocked back on his heels again.
Emily battled the flood of emotion still humming inside her from just that small contact with Cam’s mouth. She’d always believed that to kiss a man would be disgusting. Now she had to revise that opinion, although she was certain that with the wrong man it would not be a pleasurable experience... not that Cambridge Sinclair was the right man... oh God!
“Don’t ever do it again... ever,” Emily reiterated, in case the first “ever” was not clear. “I have no wish to be handled in such a way.” She tried not to look at his mouth.
“You wanted me to kiss you.”
“I did not, how can you say such a thing?” She took a large step backward. “Now let us forget that... ah”—she waved a hand about—“silliness, and attempt once again to observe the truce we discussed earlier.”
He followed, mimicking her movements, making her uncomfortable.
“Stop that!” Emily looked around to check no one was near and had seen what they did.
“I am merely following you, Emily.”
His face wore an innocent expression; unfortunately, she had seen it all too often and knew it for the exact opposite.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Something changed between us the day I rescued you, and I’m not entirely sure I can change it back.”
His face lost its former expression and was now starkly open. He’d felt what she had that day, and in the days since, and was as confused as she by their reaction to each other.
“Well, try harder! Nothing has changed. We... we must simply put distance between us and try to be civil. Soon everything will be as it was.”
Dear Lord, let that be the case.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
One month after her abduction, life appeared, thankfully, to be returning to normal for Emily. Well, as close to normal as she could make it while avoiding Cambridge Sinclair. So far she had been successful in seeing him only a handful of times, briefly. She’d pleaded three headaches, an upset stomach, and offered to stay home with Isabella to avoid him, and as yet no one in her family had noticed.
Her brothers had come to the conclusion that her attempted abduction had been a random thing, but were still uneasy. She was unable to leave the house unless she had the company of a maid and a footman. She was also not to walk anywhere, which was most vexing, as Emily liked to walk. But she did as they asked, and hoped that given time, these restrictions would ease.
She’d left home early this morning, after James, Eden, Samantha, and Isabella had gone to visit an old acquaintance of the duke’s who lived a distance from London. The invitation had included Emily, but she had declined, as this was the perfect opportunity to run some errands. She had her maid and a footman, and one of the household’s carriages, so that if her family returned they would not be worried, and had left word she was to visit Max. Not actually a lie, but she had a few stops to make on the way to his warehouse.
London was experiencing one of those ice-cold days, but the sky was clear blue. It was bracing to be outside in such weather, even if her cheeks were soon numb.
Her first stop was the large bookstore in Finsbury Square. Several stories high, it was a wonderland to explore, and she usually brought Samantha with her, as her little sister loved the place. Emily tried to visit at least twice a month, and usually on a Monday or Tuesday, as it was often not busy and she could browse at will.
“I shall not be long today, John. Please stay with the carriage and we shall return shortly.”
Emily and Belinda entered the building. Inhaling, she breathed in the wonderful smell of books.
“I need to get Samantha the second story in the Miss Rose Petal novels, and I will then have a quick look to see if there is anything new in the astronomy section, Belinda. If you wish to browse, I shall find you shortly.”
Leaving her maid, Emily located Samantha’s selection, and then was soon lost in hers.
“Good day to you.”
Emily offered a smile to the man browsing beside her. In his hand were several books. The titles on the spines he held were both ones she had read.
“They make excellent reading.”
He smiled. “Thank you, I have read most of the books in here.”
“As have I, but I come in the hopes there is something new.”
The smiled widened. “That is the exact reason for my visit here also.”
“Well then,” Emily returned to looking at the books, “if that is the case I am sure I shall see you again.”
“Excellent. Good day to you.”
&n
bsp; After the man had left, Emily found a book she had not read and made her purchases. Back in the carriage minutes later, they were heading to her next stop—that was, after she had purchased hot roasted chestnuts for herself, Belinda, John, and their driver.
Stepping from the carriage, she looked at the tall brick building that housed The Trumpeter, a small daily newspaper, and felt the usual jolt of excitement.
Leaving John with the carriage, Belinda and Emily walked through the entry and started up the stairs. She knew the way, as this was not her first visit; in fact, far from it. The man she sought was seated in his office when she arrived.
“Good morning, Mr. Ledbetter.”
“Miss Tolly.” He rose, motioning her into a seat.
Short with hair the color of a pumpkin, Mr. Ledbetter had a sharp face made up of harsh lines, and an equally sharp intellect. He wore his burgundy scarf wrapped to his ears, and small circular spectacles. Emily had made contact with him last year, and he’d been publishing her works once a fortnight since. It had not worried him that she was a woman, and in fact he had created an alias just so her work could be published in the Beginners Guide to Astronomy section of The Trumpeter.
“I received your note that you wished to meet with me, Mr. Ledbetter. Is everything well?”
Usually she had the articles delivered to him by a footman, but his note had said he needed to speak with her personally.
“It is, but there are changes afoot here, Miss Tolly. Your last piece was excellent, but unfortunately I am unable to print it.”
“I see.” Emily took the paper Mr. Ledbetter held out to her. “May I ask why?”
“It is not because I have no wish to, you must understand. It is merely that The Trumpeter has been sold, and until the new owner tells us how he wishes to continue, we cannot acquire anything. In fact, I’m not even sure he’ll keep the astronomy for beginners section going, Miss Tolly.”
“Oh but surely he must! I have heard many speak of it, and what they have learned.”
“As have I.” Mr. Ledbetter took off his glasses and cleaned them. “It would be a terrible shame to see it gone, but my hands are tied, I am afraid.”
“If you could notify me when you have word of what is happening, I would be grateful.” Emily rose, feeling dispirited. She’d enjoyed writing for The Trumpeter, and the money her articles received.
“Of course, and I have enjoyed your articles immensely, and will ensure to put in a good word for you, however, I would advise all contact be made in writing from now forward, as I’m unsure how receptive he will be to a woman submitting articles to his paper.”
Emily bit back her instinctive need to defend herself and a woman’s right to do as she wished, and instead tucked the paper back in her reticule.
“And your job, Mr. Ledbetter, is that secure?”
“Thankfully, yes it is, as are all the staff here at The Trumpeter.”
“Good day to you then, Mr. Ledbetter.”
“Good day, Miss Tolly.”
She would have to find someone else to print her articles if the new owner did not. It would take time, but she was determined to continue. People enjoyed her articles, and she enjoyed writing them.
Taking the stairs back down, Emily listened to the familiar sounds of the printing press. Often she would step inside the door and watch it operate. The men bustling about working did not seem to mind, as long as she kept her distance. Perhaps one last peek, if she was not to return.
“I shall return shortly, Belinda. Go to the tea shop and I’ll join you when my business is done,” Emily said to her maid. “And take John with you.” Opening her reticule, she passed over some coins.
“Very well, Miss Tolly, and I shall order for you.”
Opening the door, Emily was bombarded by noise, and her pulse quickened. It intrigued her how the press worked. The clatter, clatter, and chug chug of the machine, the noise and bustle, it never failed to stir her senses.
She saw two men, heads bent, watching the press work, but it was the taller man who made her stiffen. Surely it was not him... here of all place? Just as she decided to retreat, in case, Cam straightened, and his eyes found hers almost as if he’d sensed her.
“Emily!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
His bellow galvanized her into action. She quickly raised a hand, because she didn’t know what else to do. Waggling her fingers, as if the fact she was here, at The Trumpeter, was a daily occurrence, she backed toward the door, hoping to get out of the building before Cam reached her. Because she had no doubts that he would follow, none at all. She got the door open, and even stepped a foot over the threshold.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Large fingers wrapped around her elbow and urged her out the door, shutting it behind them. He kept walking, taking her with him, until they’d reached the small reception area, which was thankfully empty. She was then turned, and both shoulders gripped.
“Answer me!”
He was angry, which was nothing new. He was always angry with her it seemed, and if not, then he was teasing, or kissing her. The man was exhausting, Emily thought. Exhausting and handsome, her treacherous mind acknowledged.
His greatcoat hung open, revealing a deep green jacket, white shirt, and necktie. The black locks were, as usual, ruffled. Green eyes were narrowed and focused intently on her.
Anyone who looked at this man and saw only the teasing, demonstrative facade was mistaken. There was a great deal more to Cambridge Sinclair than he often exposed. Emily knew this as she had observed him for years. He was extremely sharp-witted, like his siblings.
“I don’t have to answer that.”
Nobody knew what she had been doing. Emily wasn’t ashamed of her articles, but she hadn’t been sure how her family would respond, and so kept them private.
“But you will.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Fine, then we will stand here all day, with me holding your shoulders. I’m sure no one will notice.”
She hadn’t been in his company for a while, and refused to admit she’d missed it... him, and the sparks he set off inside her. Distance was the best way to deal with whatever this was between them, she needed to remember that.
“Why are you so consumed with knowing my business? Do you not have enough people’s lives to meddle in that you must also do so in mine?”
“You”—he lifted a hand and pointed one finger at her rudely—“were abducted a few weeks ago by God knows who, and are not allowed to wander the streets alone, as you bloody well know.”
“I’m not wandering the streets! My maid and footman are nearby, as is the carriage, and I left word that I was visiting Max.”
“I don’t see Max anywhere here.” He made a show of looking around that had her wanting to slap him.
“Of course he is not here, I am on my way to him. Why are you here?”
“I just purchased this building and the business within it, so I have every right to be here, and ask why you are standing inside it. Plus,” he added when she opened her mouth, “you are, for better or worse, family, and therefore it is my duty to ensure you do not, again,” he added with heavy emphasis, “rush foolishly into danger.”
“It is hardly my fault whoever was in that carriage abducted me!”
“The point is you were walking the streets alone.” He made a great show of looking about him again. “I see no one with you.”
Emily took a second to swallow down her anger. Losing her temper put her on the back foot with this man, because she lost all reason with it.
“I’ve just told you my maid and footman are waiting for me next door in the tea shop.”
“I am relieved, however, they cannot protect you from there,” he said in a cold, flat tone that told her he was not relieved at all. “Do your brothers know you are out and about?”
“Of course,” she said quickly... too quickly, it seemed.
“Liar.”
“I’ve just told y
ou that I left word I was meeting up with Max.”
“But he does not know you are coming here on the way?”
“Let me go, and I’ll leave your property.”
“No. I want to know why you are here.”
“Have you really bought it, The Trumpeter?”
He nodded.
“How wonderful,” she said, feeling a tug of jealousy. She would love to own the paper.
“I’m waiting.”
Emily looked down at the reticule dangling from her wrist. Dare she tell him?
“Still waiting.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. I don’t have to tell you,” she said, sounding like Samantha.
“No you don’t, but I will be speaking with your brothers if you do not.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I want to know why you are here, and if you will not tell me, then I’ll ask them.”
“They don’t know.”
His smile held no humor. “That I already knew.”
“Oh botheration.” Emily exhaled. She did not want to tell him, but it seemed she would have to. “Do you read this paper, or did you purchase it on a whim?”
“I rarely make business decisions based on whims, Emily, and as I purchased The Trumpeter, I can assure you I also spent a great deal of time reading it beforehand.”
“A simple yes would have sufficed.”
His lips twitched but he did not smile.
“Have you... do you like the section, Beginners Guide to Astronomy?”
His eyes narrowed. “I do, very much. In fact I think adding that section eleven months ago was inspirational.”
A slow flush of heat spread through her body. Cam had read her articles, and what’s more, he liked them.
“You’ll keep it then?”
He nodded.
“I am E. Nivers.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I thought you told me you had excellent hearing.”
“You are E. Nivers, writer of all those wonderful little articles that led hundreds of people into discovering the world of astronomy?”
She wanted to smile, but instead said, “I am. I came here to hand over my next piece, but was told the new owner may not wish to keep the section.”
