by Cheryl Bolen
"I'm deeply appreciative of your concern."
Adam hated this talk of Emma's wretched night. He wanted to block it from his memory, though he never wanted to let down his guard again, not when it concerned his wife's safety.
Last night could have been worse. Much worse. He let out a silent prayer of thanks that Emma was safe, that her innocence had not been compromised, that she had suffered no serious injuries.
In spite of his resentment of her presence, Adam, too, was grateful that Lady Sophia had so thoroughly welcomed his wife into the family. Before his siblings had married into the nobility, he'd never really trusted those of high rank. But the Earl of Agar and his sister, along with Lady Sophia, whose family was one of the oldest in the kingdom, could not have been kinder to him and his kinsmen.
Adam smiled when he thought of how dearly Lord Agar cherished their sister Verity. Someone possessed of a nature as sweet as Verity's deserved a happy marriage.
***
That afternoon he saw the Agars, along with his infant nephew, the heir to the Agar earldom. He was thankful neither they nor his mother referred to the wretched incident that had caused his and his wife's delay. He didn't want anything to detract from this moment when he could proudly introduce his wife to the rest of his family.
As he strolled toward Verity, holding his wife's hand and eyeing the babe in his sister's arms, he said, "It seems we each have new members of the family to introduce."
Verity's happy gaze moved to Emma, but she spoke to Adam. "You first." Her feminine voice trilled with delight.
"My dearest sister . . ." he bowed ever so slightly and gave a mock cough, "Lady Agar, my I present to you my wife, Emma?"
Emma dropped into a curtsey but did not speak until Verity addressed her.
Verity's eyes, so much like his own, shimmered as she regarded Emma. "How happy we all are that Adam now has a wife of his own, and how happy we are to meet you."
That was an exceedingly long sentence for shy Verity. Perhaps being a countess was building her confidence. She'd always exuded poise—remarkable, given that she was raised among three rowdy lads.
"I am so excited to finally meet you! You're a beautiful version of the man I adore most on earth."
He felt as if he'd just grown a foot. He was so proud of Emma, so delighted over her unfailing exuberance, and incredibly touched over the way in which she had referred to him. The man I adore most on earth.
Was she sincere? Or was she merely playing the role of a smitten bride? Knowing Emma, he could not imagine her speaking anything but the truth. Her youthful excitement must be contagious. He felt as if he were soaring.
"And now," Verity said, pride in her voice as she gazed adoringly at the babe in her arms, "I should like to present to you the Viscount Duckworth."
Adam refrained from the urge to call the heir Duckie—the name his father bore back at Eton.
Emma rushed to nearly smash her face into the babe's. "What perfection! Pray, don't be offended if I say he's beautiful."
Verity's lashes lowered, and she spoke softly. "I think so, too. And so does Randy."
"Please," Emma said, "may I hold him?"
Verity smiled and handed him over. "Of course."
Adam wouldn't have wanted to hold anything that tiny. How in the devil did Agar father such a small little thing?
"Oh look, my dearest," Emma said to him, "how precious he is!"
He came to stand beside his wife, and he was nearly overwhelmed with tender feelings. For a brief second, he wished Emma were holding his son, wished theirs was the loving family that Agar's and Verity's was.
It was difficult to tell if the babe looked like the Agars or the Birminghams. His hair—what little there was of it—was decidedly dark like Verity's. He couldn't tell what color the little fellow's eyes were because he continued to sleep, even with all the noise that surrounded him.
"I don't think little Duckworth looks like anyone in either family," he declared.
Verity let out a little laugh. "You are unaccustomed to babes. He does possess the Agar nose, and we're told he will have the Birmingham height."
Adam's mouth formed an o. "But he's so short!"
Both Emma and Verity laughed.
"He's only a month old!" Emma said.
How comfortable Emma looked with a babe in her arms. A natural mother. He could never again think of her as a girl. His chest constricted.
"He is fine lad, is me first grandson."
Adam whirled around to face his mother. To his surprise, she clutched the hand of Nick's little natural daughter, Emmie. He'd never before heard his mother boast. Being a grandmother must have mellowed the stern woman. He kissed her on the cheek. "Mother, I should like you to meet my wife, Emma."
His mother's gaze swept over her, and she nodded approvingly. He wished she would have said something to her newest daughter-in-law, but his mother lacked social graces.
Emma was not be deterred. "It is such a longed-for pleasure to meet the woman who raised three such fine sons. You must be the best mother in all of England—for Adam is certainly the best man I've ever known."
Of course, his sheltered wife knew few men. He almost erupted into laughter over Emma's frequent use of hyperbole. He supposed it was one of the things that had endeared her to him. Each day for her was always the best ever. Would that she could make such a statement for the rest of her days.
At the idea that they'd be together for the rest of their days, something inside him glowed.
"Methinks Adam's new wife is prone to exaggeration," his mother said to Emma. His insides sank. Was Mama going to chide his well-meaning wife? Then she continued. "But it's kind of you to say those things." She held out her arms. "May I hold my little anglel?"
Emma handed over Verity's babe. Little Emmie stood on her tiptoes to stroke little Randolph's hair.
Did his mother ever refer to her own children as little angels? Never. What the devil had come over her?
Emma was eyeing Nick's child. "This must be Emmie! I have so wanted to meet the little girl who shares my name."
The child looked up and met Emma's affectionate gaze, and shy smile eased across her little face. "You're Emmie, too?"
Emma dropped to her knees. "Not exactly. I'm Emma. No one ever called me Emmie, though I would have loved it. That's the kind of name given by someone who loves a child very much."
"My papa's the one who called me that."
Nick was besotted over the child—as the child was besotted over her father. Lady Fiona had won the admiration of everyone in their family with her deep affection for Nick's natural daughter. Lady Fiona had been the first member of the nobility to earn Adam's complete admiration. Then her brother's devotion to Verity convinced him that not all aristocrats were insensitive elitists. Lady Sophia, too, was a great favorite with every member of the Birmingham family.
"And how do you like your Aunt Verity's babe?"
"I love him very much. Auntie allowed me to hold him—as long as I was sitting down."
"Come, little poppet, and I'll let ye hold him again," her grandmother said. Glancing up at Emma, she said, "'Tis been a pleasure to meet you, Emma."
Emma stepped closer and pressed her lips to little Randolph's cheek, then to her mother-in-law's. "The pleasure's mine. I'm so happy to be a part of your family."
Adam moved to his wife and draped his arm around her shoulders. "My wife was an only child."
"I feel sorry for only children," his mother said, looking down at Emmie, who clung to her skirts. "Emmie needs brothers and sisters."
Emmie's eyes widened. "I should love to have a sister, or even a brother."
Smiling broadly, Adam shook his head. "Methinks my mother has grown exceedingly fond of being a grandmother."
"So I have." She walked off.
* * *
In the same large inn where Emma had been abducted, the entire family gathered that night to share a meal at one long trestle table that ran parallel to the cha
mber's tall brick fireplace. There was so much warmth in the room, Emma could no longer recall the feel of her icy limbs the previous night.
Lord Agar favorably impressed Emma, largely due to the tenderness his wife evoked in him. Even though he was born to enormous rank, Lord Agar had much in common with the sons of an uncouth businessman. They were all devoted husbands.
Emma detected a faint resemblance between Lady Fiona and her brother, but it surprised her that he was not nearly as handsome as the Birmingham brothers. Because Lady Fiona was so lovely, Emma had expected Lord Agar's appearance to be considerably above normal.
"Where is Mother?" Emma asked. It was the first time in her life she'd addressed a woman as mother, and she rather liked the idea of it, even though Adam's mother had not been overwhelmingly friendly to her. She took no offense because Adam had stressed that his mother's lack of warmth was only equaled by her lack of manners.
"She refused to allow us to bring little Randolph's nurse," Verity said. "She adores taking care of him—with help from Emmie!"
"Our daughter is baby mad," Lady Fiona said.
How touching that Lady Fiona thought of Nick's little daughter as her own.
"Mother may never return to Great Acres," Adam quipped.
Lady Sophia shook her head. "I believe you're wrong. Once Lady Fiona or I—or Emma—has a child, your mother will rush back down south. She's as baby mad as little Emmie."
Emma bubbled inside at the thought of having Adam's babe.
Adam eyed Nick. "Has it occurred to you that another person, a benevolent woman, has taken possession of our mother?"
They all burst out laughing.
William and Nick both nodded.
"How did the electioneering go?" Adam asked.
Lady Fiona's gentle expression turned to excitement. "Oh, you should have heard Nick! He was magnificent."
Though every woman at the table was madly in love with her husband, Emma believed Lady Fiona's adoration of Nick topped all of them.
William nodded. "I think everyone was impressed."
"Indeed," Lord Agar added. "Lord Petersham said Nick could speak to the people better than anyone he's ever heard." He eyed his sister. "And without sounding too much of a braggart, I must say my sister was perfectly charming. After the speech when everyone began to mingle about the assembly rooms, she personally served punch to every man in line and was most impressive, asking each man about his family."
"Yes, I think half the men in the room fell in love with her," William said.
"You all are making me blush," Lady Fiona said. (Though Emma saw not a particle of blush on that lady's creamy face.)
His dark eyes shimmering with love, Nick met his wife's gaze. "And you blush most beautifully, my love."
"You must not forget how gracious Verity was," Lady Fiona said. "She's the one who knew nearly every man by name."
Lord Agar beamed. "I am always proud of my wife."
Unlike Lady Fiona, who only spoke of blushing, Verity actually did blush.
Emma could sigh. Just being surrounded by so much love made her happy. Perhaps her delight was somewhat coloured by her own husband's affectionate attentions throughout the day.
Emma eyed Lord Agar. "So it's looking as if Nick will win?"
"I believe so," Lord Agar said.
Nick held up a hand. "You all are over confident. My opponent is highly qualified."
Lady Fiona pouted. "He doesn't hold a candle to you!"
"Spoken like a loving wife," Nick said, reaching to stroke her cheek affectionately.
Lord Agar went to rise. "I hate that we must leave. We had tried this morning to procure rooms here, but the inn is full, likely of Birminghams! We've got a two-hour drive which won't put us home until after midnight."
Verity looked at Emma. "I would have ridden all day to meet my dear new sister."
Emma was overwhelmed. "I feel the same. I'd even have ridden a whole week."
"But," Adam added, "my wife has the misfortune of being married to a man who cannot take much time away from his business."
"Then I'm very happy I married a man who does not have to work," Verity said, looking up adoringly at her husband.
Emma tried looking adoringly at Adam. "I could never actually travel without you—especially for weeks at time."
"After last night, I'll never let you!"
Having someone care for her so openly thrilled her. She had known that Aunt Harriett loved her, but her aunt had never shown it, never spoken of it.
Emma loved being part of the Birmingham family
* * *
Adam would allow Emma an appropriate period of time in which to ready for bed. It would be best if she were asleep when he came to their chamber so he wouldn't be tempted by the provocative effect she had upon him as of late. It might be better, but it was not what he really wanted. His breath grew ragged when he thought of watching her face brighten when he entered the chamber, of seeing the trace of her nipples beneath the fine lawn of the night shift, of climbing into their bed.
After he walked her to their chamber—he wasn't taking any chances that a threat lurked in either the hallway or in their rooms—and saw her safely locked inside, William drew him aside and spoke in a low voice. "Nick and I need to talk to you."
He followed his brother to a small, dimly lit parlor where Nick awaited them, three fresh bumpers of ale standing on the rough wooden table, a fire burning in a corner of the chamber.
Once they were seated, William began. "We wanted to speak to you about this business with the murderer of Emma's uncle. Who is the fellow?"
"We believe it's the clerk who worked at the Ceylon Tea Company under Simon Hastings, a man named Ashburnham. We have fairly substantial proof that he forged Hastings' newest will, and we strongly suspect that he murdered Hastings with poison." He filled them in on all the details he and Emma had culled over a several-day period.
"I suppose it's occurred to you that Ashburnham may be behind Emma's abduction," Nick said.
"Yes. Emma and I both think that's likely the case."
William's eyes narrowed. "It's got to terrify you to know that they must have meant to kill your wife once this Ashburnham found out what he needed to know."
Adam felt as if a cannon ball plunged into his gut. "It does terrify me."
"You and Emma can't go on indefinitely living in such fear. You can't guard her every minute of every day," Nick said.
"We have the best trained, best armed men in the kingdom in our employ," Adam countered.
Nick frowned. "That's hardly fair to Emma, having her constantly followed by heavily armed men."
"Nick and I have been discussing it, and we think you need to bring out this Ashburnham."
Adam leaned back and regarded his brothers as if they'd just sprouted horns. "How do you propose that I do that?"
"You set a trap," William said.
Adam thought on it for a moment. "I can't think of any way to do that without jeopardizing my wife."
William's face was inscrutable. "The only way it will work is for you to use Emma as bait."
Anger surged through Adam. "Absolutely not!"
Nick held up a hand. "Hear us out."
"We would never put her in danger," William continued. "You—as well as our most highly qualified soldiers—will discreetly follow her at all times. We'll merely make it appear that's she traveling about the city alone."
Adam stood, his fists coiled. "Nothing can persuade me to put my wife in danger. Again." He stormed from the chamber.
By the time he reached their bedchamber, Emma was fast asleep.
Chapter 20
Across the carriage, William's and Lady Sophia's thighs touched, and their fingers intertwined. Such marital bliss could convert the most confirmed bachelor.
Adam moved across the coach seat until he felt the warmth of Emma's legs against his. Her pressed both his hands around hers. Just getting a wisp of a whiff of his wife's rose scent reinforced Adam's ne
w-found contentment with marriage. There was nowhere on earth he'd rather be than in this coach at this moment with this woman.
He was grateful they had been spared rain. Any delay would push them back another day on the road, an additional day away from his bank. He stopped his line of thought. The bank was no longer the most important thing in his life. Until he'd married, his business had been his life. Now, Emma was. He couldn't return to the bank until he knew she was safe.
They had left Stenson Keyes at dawn and driven beneath blue skies through pleasant countryside, with short stops along with way. He felt sorry for those who rode in the mail coaches that sped from one town to another with no concern for their passengers' comfort.
"Did you ride the mail coach to London?" he asked his wife.
"Indeed I did. It was the first time I'd ever ridden any distance to speak of in a coach, and I must say it did not compare favorably to riding in a Birmingham coach."
"Then it was an unpleasant experience for you?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I suppose it could have been unpleasant had I not been so exceedingly excited. Coming to London was the great adventure of my life. Nothing could have marred my happiness."
"Pray, Emma," Lady Sophia said, "what was the worst part about your journey in a mail coach?"
Emma giggled. "The fat man who sat next to me."
Lady Sophia also giggled. "Let us hope he was at least tidy."
"Not at all," Emma said with a slow shake of her head. "I could not determine if he smelled of rancid hog's pudding or of the labors of hard work such as . . ." She faced her husband, an amused smile lighting her face, "chopping wood."
Now Adam burst out laughing over their own private jest. "My wife ridicules me because I've never taken an axe to a log."
Lady Sophia turned to her husband. "Have you?"
"Does breaking down a door with an axe count?"
"No," his wife answered.
Emma's eyes widened as she peered at William. "When, pray tell, did you ever have to break down a door with an axe?"
"You did not know my husband used to offer his . . . services to the Foreign Office?"
