The Seduction of Emily

by Rachel Brimble

  She steadfastly met his gaze. “Yet despite your concern for your nephew’s well-being, you sit here enjoying our food as darkness falls and he could be out there somewhere walking the streets.”

  Damn, she is good. Too good. Will lowered his head. “There is nothing more I can do tonight. I struggle every day when I have to give up searching and wait for the morrow’s sunrise.”

  She laughed dryly. “If my beloved nephew or cousin or even dog was missing, I would scour the streets until my eyes refused to remain open.”

  Heat burned at his cheeks and a flash of victory gleamed in her eyes.

  “Well?” she pressed. “Have you no response?”

  Irritation simmered in Will’s gut. Self-defense raised the hairs at his nape. He shook his head. “You’re wrong, Miss Darson.”

  Her eyes gleamed brighter. “Oh?”

  He put down his knife and fork and dabbed his napkin to his mouth before putting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers. He stared directly into her beautiful chocolate eyes. “When darkness falls on a city, the last thing you want to do is advertise the fact that there is a young boy walking the streets alone and afraid. There are men out there who search for these boys every single night. They don’t see a young boy, desperate and alone, they see cash in every inch of his body.”

  Her smile wavered, and the light in her eyes died as his words snuffed out her glee. “That is a horrible thing to say.”

  Guilt gnawed at his conscience as she paled, but it was a case of fighting for survival. He took a drink of wine. “Horrible but true. I am desperate to find him without increasing the danger that already surrounds him. If I ask too much, or come in contact with the wrong person, I advertise the fact he’s alone.”

  She looked to her plate and Will turned his gaze to Milne. Milne stared straight back and said nothing.

  A few moments passed before Miss Darson pushed to her feet. “Will you excuse me, gentlemen? I wish for nothing more than my bed.”

  Will stood, as did Milne and her father. Will’s gut clenched when Milne took her hand in his. “On reflection, your father is right. This is your home and you are his most precious possession . . . as you will soon be mine. I am sure you and I can manage to comply with his wishes until such time as we are married, can we not?”

  He didn’t wait for her answer but, instead, lifted her hand and briefly touched his lips to her skin before brushing past her. He stood in front of Mr. Darson and held out his hand. “I bid you good evening, sir.”

  Oliver nodded and took his hand. “Emily is all I have, Nicholas. I will not risk her being hurt. Having Mr. Samson with her, when you are not, will ease my final days.”

  Nicholas arched an eyebrow. “You will far outlive Mr. Samson’s stay, I am sure, sir.” He turned to Will, his mouth curved into a sly smile. “After all, I am sure Mr. Samson wishes to find his nephew in the quickest possible time and return him to his mother forthwith. Am I right?”

  Will nodded. What the hell was this turnaround about? “Absolutely.”

  Milne’s smile widened and he turned back to Emily’s father. “There you are. I expect our gracious visitor to be gone as quickly as he arrived. Now, I must go.” He gave a curt nod to Miss Darson, her father, and then Will. “I bid you all good night.”

  He made for the door and disappeared into the hallway. Miss Darson stared after him before she turned and approached her father. “Good night, Papa.”

  “Good night, my child.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek before lowering his weakening frame into his chair. “We will talk more in the morning.”

  Will drew in a breath. It was time for him to leave, too, before anything else could be said or done to ruin this new opportunity. First, though, there was just one more thing. . . .

  He coughed. “I think I will bid you good night as well. The evening has been quite eventful.” He looked to Mr. Darson. “I am grateful for your food and hospitality, sir but feel it best I allow Miss Darson to retire as she sees fit. Would it be all right if she sees me to the door before she says good night, sir? I would like to reassure her I will do my utmost to ensure people fully understand I am only accompanying her as a companion and nothing more.”

  “Of course, sir. Of course. I will leave you in Emily’s fair hands. Make sure you gather your belongings together tomorrow and leave your lodging address. I will see you are picked up at midday.”

  Will bowed. “Thank you, sir. You have no idea how much this will help me.”

  In his peripheral vision, Miss Darson’s hands curled into fists as though trapping any chance she had of controlling this situation against her palms and holding it fast. She met his eyes and smiled as she gestured toward the open door.

  “Shall we?”

  Will tried not to laugh, her smile was so forced it looked painted on. “After you.”

  With a final nod of good-bye to Mr. Darson, Will followed her from the room. She held her head high and her shoulders rigid as they walked along through the hallway in silence. When she curved her fingers around the handle of the front door, he covered it with his. Her breath caught and she stared down at their joined hands.

  Her skin was warm and soft beneath his, the scent of her hair was flowers in springtime as it wafted beneath his nose. “Miss Darson? Will you not look at me?”

  As though his voice broke an invisible spell, she whipped her hand from beneath his and spun around. Will didn’t immediately meet her gaze. He took the pleasure of lingering over her open mouth, higher over the loosened strands of her thick dark hair. Her bosom rose as she inhaled, her exhalation escaping softly from between erotically full lips.

  “Is there something you wish to ask me?” The tone of her voice would have sounded infinitely superior but for the quiver residing just beneath it.

  He met her eyes, knowing full well she saw his hunger. “You are very beautiful.”

  Her eyes widened and he mentally willed her to move away, to open the space between them like a chasm and berate him for flattering her like a lover in her father’s home. She did not. Someone needed to take control of what was happening between them, and as time moved on, it seemed less and less likely it would be him.

  She tilted her chin and held his gaze. “You should not be saying such things to me when you know there is every possibility you are to be alone with me every day until you find your nephew.”

  Will arched his eyebrow and smiled as she clearly tried her very best to look at him with an expression of staunch propriety.

  “I’m engaged to Mr. Milne and even though he did little to fight this situation this evening, his patience will soon wear thin. He has a temper you’d be wise never to witness.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, so continue to wear that self-satisfied expression all you want. I know what he is capable of and you do not want to be on the receiving end of it.”

  Will’s smile dissolved as a stab of anger swirled hot and fast inside him. “What does that mean? You ‘know what he is capable of’? Has he struck you?” Will’s vision flashed red at the edges.

  She stepped back and raised her hand to her chest. “No, of course not.”

  “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  Will trembled. He would kill him as soon as dawn broke if Milne so much as raised a finger to her. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he forced his anger into submission and pushed back the hair across his brow.

  “I apologize for my brashness.” He looked to the ceiling. “I could never tolerate a woman being struck by a man. Not even a man who supposedly loves her.”

  She huffed out a dry laugh. “Oh, never fear, Mr. Samson. Nicholas does not love me.” She brought her hand to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She threw a glance toward the closed dining room door before meeting his eyes once more. “Mr. Samson, please give me your word you will not repeat what I have just said.”

  Will fought the urge to cup his hand to her jaw, to alla
y the fear alight in her chestnut gaze. Instead, he covered his heart with his hand. “You have my word.”

  She exhaled her breath in a rush and shook her head. “Thank you. I am just one of the hundreds of women held by the chains of an arranged betrothal. Alas, there is no love between Nicholas and me. Our union was decided before I was barely eleven years old.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  Color rushed to her face and she laughed nervously. “I have no idea.”

  Will met her smile. “I will endeavor to at least try not to upset Mr. Milne any further.”

  “Thank you. Our fathers signed a deal many years ago and neither Nicholas nor I will concede to breaking it. This is my truth and that is his. You being here and . . . implying things is only going to make the situation harder for me to bear.” She looked to the floor and shook her head. “I’ve said enough. You should leave.”

  He gave in to his earlier instinct and touched his hand to her face. She stiffened but he gently lifted her chin. Tears shone in her eyes and a stab struck far too close to his heart.

  “You deserve more, Miss Darson. A woman as beautiful as you deserves the world.”

  He dropped her chin and turned, yanking the door open and striding outside. The blast of cool night air fanned his cheeks but failed to appease the fire raging in his blood. His breath rasped against his throat as he stormed along the cobbled street and out of her possible sight.

  Chapter Eight

  Emily cast another hurried glance toward the carriage clock sitting on her bedroom mantel. She fastened the button on her glove and whirled away from the fireplace to look at Annie.

  “I feel so nervous. This is ridiculous.”

  Annie smiled. “Mr. Samson is merely a man, Miss. A man with eyes that make a girl shiver, but a man all the same.”

  Emily glared. “This is not funny. Whatever will people think? I can’t believe Papa has orchestrated this. We will be riding through Bath.”

  “In a carriage. No one needs to know.”

  “Mrs. Cambridge’s sewing circle will know.”

  Annie gave an inelegant snort. “Who cares what they think? They never agree with anything. Whiners and moaners, the lot of them.”

  Emily frowned. “Annie . . .”

  Her maid looked to her feet. “Sorry.”

  Pulling back her shoulders, Emily endeavored once again to beat off the nerves fluttering in her stomach and the anticipation bursting in her heart. This evening would be her and Annie’s first excursion with Mr. Samson. Just the thought of being seated near him in the carriage sent a bolt of fear through her. She cleared her throat.

  “Come. Let’s get this over and done with.”

  Annie walked ahead of her to the door and opened it. Emily walked onto the landing, and her hands turned clammy inside her gloves. They were halfway down the stairs before she noticed Mr. Samson talking to her father at the front door. It was clear by their stature, they were waiting for her. She continued her descent. There was little use denying how much happier her father looked secure in the knowledge she and Annie wouldn’t be going out unaccompanied.

  She stopped beside them. “Are we ready to go?” She smiled in the hope it hid the tangle of nerves sweeping through her veins and kept her gaze steadfastly on her father rather than Mr. Samson. “I will not be home late, Papa.” She kissed his cheek. “Even though I promised to help Mrs. Cambridge with her sewing circle this evening, the ladies are all of a mature age so I’m sure they won’t be chattering beyond half past nine.”

  He squeezed her gloved hands. “Take your time, my dear. You haven’t even ventured as far as the shops since Mr. Samson has been staying here.” A knowing gleam sparkled in his eyes. “In fact, I was beginning to worry you might be avoiding going out altogether.”

  Emily’s cheeks flushed hot. “Don’t be silly. Now, you have an early night. Annie gave Malcolm strict instructions to look after you.”

  She finally met Mr. Samson’s eyes and her stomach executed a spectacular loop-the-loop. It did not do her focus any good to have such a handsome man as an escort. She inclined her head. “Mr. Samson.”

  He smiled. “Miss Darson.”

  Emily tilted her chin and walked outside with Annie close behind. Carrington, the family’s chestnut mare, stood at the carriage’s helm, impatiently clacking his hooves on the cobblestones. Emily smiled her thanks to the footman as he helped her into the carriage. She sat as close to the window as possible and spread her skirts about her.

  A second later, Annie sat down beside her followed by Mr. Samson who, of course, elected to take the seat directly opposite. The carriage pulled away with a jerk. Emily purposely trained her gaze on the passing houses. They came out of the Crescent and down the street toward the circle of residences known as The Circus.

  Mr. Samson’s gaze burned hot on her cheek but she refused to look at him. Until she had clearly established in her mind how to get through this outing, Emily didn’t trust herself to speak firmly or with authority. The clacking of the horses’ hooves grew louder and the area inside the carriage smaller.

  “Miss Darson?” Mr. Samson’s voice broke the silence.

  She turned and her heart kicked at the sight of his soft smiling lips. “Yes?”

  “Is everything all right?”

  Emily stared at him for a long moment before she released her held breath. A little of the tension left her rigid body. Although unsure of what to expect from him, it certainly hadn’t been concern. He was a man after all. Didn’t all men find women a possession? Something to do with as they willed? Shame warmed her cheeks. Rubbish. Mr. Samson was unlike any man she’d ever met.

  She shifted on the seat as the heat in his gaze swept over her. He made her feel like the most interesting person on the planet. A woman he wanted to listen to, wanted to know. She smiled.

  “I’m not ashamed to admit this feels very unconventional.”

  “Unconventional?” He grinned. “It’s insane.”

  A burst of laughter tickled her throat and she met his grin. “My father is an impulsive man. There is rarely rhyme or reason when it comes to what he thinks is right for me. In business, though, everything is well thought out and considered.”

  “Matters of the heart rarely follow a logical path.” He stared at her with one brow raised. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Emily cleared her throat and looked once again to the window. “Indeed. My father has been a widower a long time. He’s raised me as any man would.”

  “Meaning?”

  She turned. “Meaning, he doesn’t look at my life as mine to do with as I wish. He wants me to be happy but he wants me to be looked after, too.”

  His smile dissolved. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  The urge to shout No! quivered on her tongue. “I want to look after myself, Mr. Samson but, alas, the option is nonexistent.”

  “The contract to Mr. Milne?”

  Heat flooded her face and she cast a hurried glance at Annie, who quickly looked to the floor. Why had she shared so many personal details with him? “Somewhat, yes. I wouldn’t want my father’s legacy to go anywhere but to his grandchildren, so the contract is right and just.”

  He frowned. “Is that truly how you feel?”

  She flinched. “Mr. Samson, I really do not think—”

  “I’m sorry.” He held his hands up in surrender. “It’s none of my business.”

  He leaned back in his seat and faced the window.

  Further words of explanation battled for release on her tongue. Her billowing tenderness for him bobbed ferocious and uncertain like a ship upon a stormy sea.

  “My father is born of the previous generation. He’s dying. I want . . . have to do right by him or else never forgive myself.”

  He turned. “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. We owe everything to our parents who love and do their best for us. That I know above all else.”

  Even in the semidarkness, Emi
ly recognized the undeniable respect and fondness in his gaze as he clearly thought of something she could not know but longed to. What was this feeling deep inside of her wanting to trust a man she’d barely known five minutes? A tingle skittered across the surface of her skin. Whether by design or destiny, Mr. Samson became forever more intriguing to her impudent nature. He challenged her, encouraged her to fight rather than attempting to pacify her as every other man had before him. His appeal was dangerous and now he lived in her home.

  She had to find a way to get rid of him or risk her marriage to Nicholas becoming a bigger and more hateful proposition than it already was. The minimal trust and respect she’d had for the man she grew up with wobbled precariously on its apex. She feared what Nicholas’s future actions would be and how violently she’d fall. She swallowed the tears that dared to lodge in her throat and tilted her chin. She’d face her future as her mother faced her death. With dignity and courage.

  The carriage hit something in the road and lurched Emily forward. With a gasp, she clasped her fingers to Mr. Samson’s knees to prevent from tumbling to the carriage floor. Realizing her position, she attempted to snatch her hand away but he grasped it tight.

  “Tell your father of your concerns, Miss Darson.” He stared deep into her eyes. “It will undoubtedly give him more reason to fight his illness.”

  Emily’s heart beat wildly. The sincerity in his eyes could not be ignored. “What concerns? I am perfectly content.”

  He shook his head, his green eyes blazing with passion. “No, Miss Darson. Content is the last thing you are.”

  Emily’s heart thundered. “You barely know me. Do not assume—”

  “If your father must die, let him pass knowing you are still entirely alive. That whatever he has done or regrets has not broken your spirit. That you will go on to be the woman you were meant to be.”

  Fear clutched at her heart that this stranger seemed to know so much of what she thought and felt. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Your marriage contract. He is not happy about it.”