by Anne Stuart
“I’ll want you on my deathbed, when I’m an old, old man.” She didn’t believe him. But she loved him, so she smiled through her tears, and twined her arms around his neck, and held him close. And she was the one who fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Emma stepped out into the dark and empty streets of London, alone. She expected she would have more than enough time to consider the rashness and possible ingratitude of her actions. Running away from Lady Seldane, a woman who had offered her care and comfort at the worst time in her life, was hardly the wisest course of action. She had taken her hospitality and her money and crept out of the house, leaving no more than a note of thanks and apology. Her motives were noble, but as she moved quietly down the icy streets of predawn London, she had lingering doubts.
Lady Seldane was too old and too crippled by her massive weight to thrive on a journey to Ireland, one that would necessitate traveling across the country, then embarking on a boat. The old woman stayed close to home for a reason, and Emma couldn’t see dragging her across the country when she hadn’t chosen to go farther than her daughter’s home in Essex for more than twenty years.
But there was another, more important reason to escape. Emma needed to break all ties with her past. Most particularly with anyone who knew Killoran. She needed to carve out a new life for herself, a place with no connection to Killoran or to Maude Darnley. Or to Emma Langolet. She would find a safe haven, north somewhere, as far as her limited pocket money would take her. She would find work if she could, or she would sell the broken diamond necklace she’d sewn into her petticoat. The diamonds that Killoran had insisted she keep. She would make a life for herself, far away from his memory, from the impossible yearning. She would build a happy, simple life there, and no one would ever find her.
Emma hadn’t had much to pack. Her black silks had arrived from Killoran, but Lady Seldane had steadfastly refused to allow her to wear them. “You’re not in mourning,” she’d sniffed, and Emma had decided not to enlighten her about Uncle Horace. “No need for you to look like a crow.”
Instead she’d provided a young girl’s wardrobe for Emma, full of pale, flattering colors better suited to an innocent. Emma didn’t feel innocent. In truth, she was glad she didn’t. Never would she regret lying with Killoran, no matter what the consequences. Even if a part of her hated him, another part was still torn with love.
The streets of London were dangerous. She had learned that much, but in the past few weeks she had grown soft. Distracted by the danger to her heart, to her soul, she forgot about the danger to her life. She failed to notice the shadows behind her, the footsteps dogging her.
Until it was too late. And she was caught.
“Wake up, damn your eyes!” The stentorian bellow ripped through Killoran’s skull, and he sat bolt upright, blinking, reaching automatically for his smallsword. His intruder had torn open the curtains in his bedroom, letting in the blinding winter sunlight, and through the miserable pounding in his brain he could see only the short, massive outline of his uninvited guest.
“Sleeping at this hour of the day! God knows you were never an example of rectitude, but this passes all bounds. Did you plan to drink yourself into oblivion every day, or did you discover a faster way to kill yourself?”
His eyes focused, but his brain refused to believe what he saw. Lady Seldane never left her house. She certainly wouldn’t be storming around his bedroom, at midday, haranguing him.
But then, who else would have the nerve to do so?
He shoved himself upright in bed. He slept in the nude, but Letty Seldane was a bawdy old lady, and she did nothing more than glare at him before continuing her diatribe.
“Everything has fallen to pieces, disaster is in the offing, and you sleep like an innocent, despite the fact that you must have the blackest conscience in Christendom. Have I been mistaken all these years I’ve known you?”
“I have no idea,” Killoran murmured, stretching with just the right amount of laziness. He had no intention of letting Lady Seldane know just how alert, how wary, he was. Nor just how much his head hurt. “What have you thought of me all these years?”
“That you’re not nearly as blackhearted a rogue as you pretend to be.”
“You wound me, Letty!” he protested. “I assure you, I’m just as evil as I appear. Heartless, soulless, amoral, and wicked.”
“Then it shouldn’t bother you that Emma appears to have run off.”
“And you let her go?”
A lesser woman would have blanched at his tone of voice. Lady Seldane was up to it. “I thought I had persuaded her to accompany me to Ireland. Some time at my house in County Sligo would have provided a nice distraction. Given her some peace, some time...”
“I don’t suppose the fact that your lands are adjacent to the old farmhouse where I grew up was a factor in this decision?”
“Do you accuse me of being a matchmaker?”
“You’ve never stooped so low before.”
“And I’m not about to now,” she said with great dignity. “I happen to like that gel. I wouldn’t relegate her to your tender mercies—unlike you, I’m possessed of morals. I’m certain there’s someone, young and decent, who’ll make a perfect husband for her. You must be twice her age.”
“Are you trying to offend me, Letty? It’s usually a difficult thing to do, but I will confess I drank a bit too much last night, and my temper is uncertain. I am fifteen years older than Emma, but a Methuselah in the ways of sin.”
“You’ve been drinking too much every night, according to rumor. I’m certain your abrupt desertion of Emma had little or nothing to do with this sudden lapse into maudlin degeneracy...”
“Nothing,” he snapped.
“But it’s not you I’m concerned about. It’s Emma.”
“Then why are you here? Send someone to chase her down and bring her back. You must have some notion of where she went. Don’t bother me with matters that don’t concern me.”
“You’ve been paying her bills, Killoran. That gives you some concern in the matter. You know there was no need, but you insisted. It suggests you might have a bit of human feeling left, after all.”
“Simple guilt,” he replied.
“That’s even more difficult to believe. You’re not a man to succumb to guilt. Listen to me, Killoran, and listen well. She needs help, and if you’re not the man to provide it, I’ll have to look elsewhere. My blasted youngest daughter chose Saturday to give birth to her first child, and the gel decided to be tiresomely sentimental and demand my presence. When I left for Essex, the plans for our discreet little journey to Ireland were in place. When I returned, I found a note from the wretched child, saying she needed time on her own, that I wasn’t to worry, and that she’d be fine. She would let me know where she was in a little while.”
“Then why are you worried?” A nagging, horrified thought struck him. “She isn’t pregnant, is she?”
Lady Seldane picked up a delicate Chinese vase and flung it at his head. It bounced off the bed curtains and landed on the floor. “You stupid, idiotic man!” she fumed. “Doesn’t a person of your experience know how to avoid such things? Of course you do—I’ve never heard of a trail of by-blows from you, and you’ve certainly bedded the majority of beautiful women here in London.”
“I know how to avoid such things,” he said, realizing he sounded faintly sulky. “I just... didn’t.”
“Carried away, were you?” Lady Seldane nodded knowingly, slightly mollified. “Most unlike you, Killoran.”
“Why do you think I sent her to you?”
“Because she terrified you, didn’t she? Got beneath that cold-as-ice exterior of yours. No wonder you panicked. And don’t give me that look. It don’t work with me, and you know it. You can’t call me out, and you can’t intimidate me. I’ve known you too long and too well. You care about the girl, you who pride yourself on not caring about a damned thing.”
“Age has addled your wits.”
“Yours as well,” she snapped back. “Are you going to be sensible and go after her? Or are you going to leave it up to me to find a new champion? Trust me, most men wouldn’t be foolish enough to let someone like her slip through their fingers.”
“Send Nathaniel after her. He specializes in Damsels in Distress. He’s more the heroic type. I have no intention of having anything to do with her. She’s better off that way, and we both know it.”
Lady Seldane nodded. “Nathaniel. He’s a good man, from all I hear. I just wonder how he’ll be able to stand up to Darnley.”
There was a sudden, furious roaring in his ears. “Darnley?” he echoed hoarsely.
“You don’t think a man like Darnley is going to give up, do you? He’ll be after her in no time, and she has no one to watch over her. She’s a brave gel, but she’s unused to treachery. Other than what she’s learned of yours, of course. She wouldn’t stand a chance against a creature like Darnley.”
“What makes you think he even remembers her existence?”
“You made certain of that, m’boy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already gone after her. I’m afraid you set your trap too well, Killoran. He’s more interested in your protégé than you at the moment. Of course, once he tires of her, he’ll be back to cause you trouble, and you can dispose of him then—if you’re willing to wait. However, I wouldn’t think a dedicated villain such as you would be willing to leave Emma to a creature like Darnley. The things I’ve heard about his habits could shock even a jaded old woman like me.”
Killoran had already thrown the covers back from the bed and begun to dress. Lady Seldane watched him with detached interest. “Why did you take so long to come to me?” he snarled. “You know I counted on you to watch over her, to see that she came to no harm.”
“I arrived home late at night, and it wasn’t until this morning that I discovered she was gone. If you hadn’t been spending the last week or so intent on self-destruction, you would have remembered the danger Darnley poses.”
“I didn’t forget.” He yanked on a cambric shirt with furious speed. “I’ll find her, damn it, and bring her back to you. It shouldn’t take long, and if Darnley’s anywhere near her, then I’ll finish with him. I should have done so years ago.” He sat on the bed and began pulling on his boots. “And this time you’d better keep an eye on her. Don’t let her go until you’ve found the right man to marry her.”
She looked him up and down, approval and irritation in her small, dark eyes. “Killoran, my boy,” she muttered, “I already have.”
Nathaniel’s mood was bordering on the celestial when he mounted the front steps to Killoran’s Curzon Street house two at a time. It came as a great shock to discover Killoran was up and about at the unheard of hour of 1 P.M. He appeared at the doorway of the library, dressed in traveling clothes of unrelieved black, his dark hair tied back in a queue, his eyes clear.
“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.
Nathaniel blinked. “I don’t believe that’s your particular concern.”
Killoran stared at him for a long moment. “She seduced you,” he said with an unpleasant twist to his mouth. “I’m surprised it took you so long to succumb. Tell me, did she put on an enjoyable performance?”
“I don’t want to have to kill you,” Nathaniel said carefully. “But I will.”
“You can certainly try. But you’ll have to forgo the pleasure for the time being. I have more important things to do at the moment.”
“I forgot. Your race. It’s today, isn’t it?”
Killoran’s laugh was devoid of humor. “Is it? I’d forgotten as well.”
“Killoran...”
“Forbear to lecture me, dear boy, and I’ll grant you the same courtesy.” He tilted his head to one side, observing him. “Though I must confess you don’t seem like such a youth today. Lady Barbara’s had a salubrious effect on you. I’m surprised.”
“Damn it, Killoran, keep your mouth off her!” Nathaniel said furiously. “You never wanted her.”
“True enough. But I did enjoy watching your reaction to the notion,” he said smoothly. “Alas, I gamed away any claim to her favors. For once, my phenomenal luck at cards has finally deserted me.”
“Has it?” Nathaniel murmured. “I wonder.”
“Wonder what, dear boy?”
“Wonder exactly what you were doing when you lost at cards last night.”
“Nothing more than you did, Nathaniel, in the previous hand,” he replied with exquisite care.
The underlying truth hit Nathaniel like a blow in the stomach. He’d been manipulated by a master, made to betray his honor. “You Irish bastard,” he said bitterly.
“You’re right about the Irish part. The bastard part is, in fact, not true. My parents were married in a Catholic church. Making me a worthless, disenfranchised papist. Not nearly good enough for the daughter of an earl. You two are well suited. You can save her, my little saint. Just don’t make the mistake of saving me.”
Nathaniel stared at him. “If you’d forgotten your race, why are you up so early?”
“It seems that Emma has departed Lady Seldane’s without any warning. I must admit, I feel a certain… responsibility toward her, so I’m off to find her.”
“But you can’t! I’ll go after her. She’s more likely to accept my aid than yours,” Nathaniel said.
“So she is. Nevertheless, I find I’m not willing to give up this particular task. You might inform Sanderson that I’m planning to forfeit. He’ll see that word gets out.” He started toward the desk, a remote expression on his face.
“My lord.” Jeffries appeared at the door, his usually urbane countenance troubled. “A note arrived for you.”
Killoran looked up. “I heard no one at the door, and my hearing is considered acute,” he drawled.
“It arrived at the service door, my lord. A rather scruffy creature delivered it. Since it wasn’t sealed, I was bold enough to read it myself.”
“Bold indeed, Jeffries,” Killoran conceded. “What is it, man? A dun? A death threat? Speak up.”
“In a manner of speaking, my lord.” He handed the filthy piece of paper to Killoran. Nathaniel watched with interest as Killoran stared down at it, his face even more expressionless than usual. And then he crumpled the paper in his strong white fingers.
“What is it, Killoran?”
Killoran paused for a moment, searching through the desk drawers with uncharacteristic haste. A moment later he pulled out a large, ivory-inlaid box. “I don’t think it’s your particular concern,” he murmured, opening the lid to reveal a matched set of pistols.
“But you’re willing to forfeit the wager. What’s going on, Killoran?” Nathaniel demanded. “It can’t be a duel—you’d have more warning.”
“Your final lesson in social etiquette, dear boy. A wager always takes precedence over a duel,” he said casually, checking the site of the pistol.
“How can you simply forfeit, then? I heard the stakes were extremely high. What did you wager?”
“Just the house. And fifty thousand pounds.”
“Christ!”
“Nathaniel, you shock me!” Killoran mocked. “I didn’t know you ever cursed.”
“You don’t have that much money.”
“Unlike you, dear boy, I don’t wager what I don’t have. I can pay my debts. I simply won’t have much left.”
“Give me the note, Killoran. I’ll deal with whatever it concerns, and you can win your damned race...”
“Trying to save me as well as all the other lost souls? You’re a veritable saint, Nathaniel. I, however, don’t wish to be saved. I sold my soul to the devil long ago, and I don’t give a damn about fortunes, or horse races, or this mausoleum of a house. Sorry, but you’ll have to confine your savior tactics to Barbara. I’m sure she’ll be far more appreciative.”
“Damn it, Killoran, what’s in that note?”
Killoran’s eyes narrowed. “There is a limit to my forbearance,
Nathaniel. I will kill you as well, if you continue to irritate me.”
“Of course you will,” Nathaniel replied. “You don’t care about Emma; you wouldn’t think twice about killing me. You’re evil through and through. I’ll believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.”
“Nathaniel,” Killoran said sweetly, heading for the door, “go back to Lady Barbara. Maybe if you apply yourself, you can teach her to enjoy what she pretends to crave.”
Nathaniel could feel the blush rise in his face, and it was enough to stop Killoran. He stared at him for a moment, his green eyes wide with surprise. “Don’t tell me you managed it?” he said.
“I have no intention of discussing my future bride with you,” Nathaniel responded stiffly.
“Has she agreed to that as well?”
“She has.”
For the first time since Nathaniel had known him, Killoran grinned. “I underestimated you, my boy. Take good care of her. In case I don’t see you again.”
“Killoran...”
But he was gone, the pistol tucked in the pocket of his black silk jacket, the door slamming shut behind him.
Chapter 20
It was the smell that first told Emma where she was. The odor of boiled cabbage, sunk deep into the walls, that crept into her barely conscious mind with a slow, sinking terror. She opened her eyes to the darkness, not moving. She lay on her stomach on a thin pallet, and there was nothing but chilly air all around her, and thick, smothering darkness. And the sudden, sure knowledge that she was back in Crouch End.
She struggled to sit up, but every bone, every muscle in her body cried out in pain. Her head felt thick and fuzzy, her stomach lurched suddenly, and she sank back down onto the hard floor, hugging herself. She had no idea why she was here, who had brought her back. Someone had come up behind her, shoved a foul-smelling rag over her face as she struggled, and then everything had descended into darkness.
