by Anna Bradley
Emma set her glass aside with shaking fingers when the sherry threatened to come back up again.
It didn’t make sense. How could this tremor in her body, this sick feeling in her stomach, this unbearable pain in her heart be love? This horridness was what Sophia and Cecilia had been going on and on about over these past few months? This was why the two of them wore such dreamy smiles, and floated about as if their feet no longer touched the ground?
Lady Crosby, who didn’t seem to notice Emma’s distress, finished off her sherry and reached for the bottle. “I’m glad of it, for my part. Lord Lovell is a sweet young man, of course, but he’s no match for you, is he, dear? No, you and Lord Lymington are much better suited.”
Emma leapt up from the settee. It wasn’t a wise choice, given the nausea roiling in her stomach, but she couldn’t bear to listen to another word. “Sam—that is, Lord Lymington and I are not a match, my lady.”
“Well, perhaps not quite yet, dear. These things take time, you see, but I’m certain soon enough you’ll find—”
“We’ve no time left.” Emma’s knees wobbled, and she fell back onto the settee with a clumsy thud. “Lord Lymington told me tonight that he’s returning to Kent immediately, and taking his family with him. I’d hoped we’d find our way to Lymington House with them, but there’s no question of that now.”
Lady Crosby frowned. “What do you mean?”
Emma had no wish to relive those awful moments in the carriage with Samuel, but this discussion was inevitable, and she wanted it over as quickly as possible. “I mean Lord Lymington informed me just now that our, er…friendship is over. I believe he also said something about…” Emma’s lower lip began to wobble, and she sucked in a quick, desperate breath to calm herself. “He may have added he hoped never to see my face again. Under the circumstances, I don’t think we can expect an invitation to Lymington House anytime soon.”
“Oh, dear. That is a wrinkle, isn’t it?”
Less a wrinkle than an enormous, gaping rent, but then one person’s wrinkle was another’s heartbreaking catastrophe. “A bit of one, yes.”
Lady Crosby’s brow furrowed. “Don’t lose heart just yet, my dear. Lady Flora may be able to persuade Lord Lovell to invite us to Lymington House.”
“It’s Lord Lymington’s estate, not Lord Lovell’s.”
“Yes, but Lord Lovell grew up at Lymington House. Surely both he and Lord Lymington consider it his home. I doubt Lord Lymington would begrudge his cousin a visitor or two.”
“That depends on the visitors. Lord Lymington may take one look at me and forbid me to cross the threshold.”
“Nonsense.” Lady Crosby handed Emma’s sherry glass back to her. “I’m certain things can’t be as bad as that.”
They were as bad as that, and worse. Emma was tempted to lay her head on Lady Crosby’s shoulder and let the story flood from her lips in all its ugliness and hurt, but before she could move, the front door opened, then thudded closed again.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, then Daniel entered the drawing room. He wasn’t given to melodrama, but his face was a mask of murderous fury, tempered with an emotion Emma had never seen there before.
Anguish.
“Daniel!” She shot to her feet, her heart crowding into her throat. “Dear God, what’s happened? It’s not Helena?”
“Nay, lass. The girl’s tucked up safe with Lady Clifford.”
Emma let out a long breath, but her relief was short-lived.
“It’s t’other one. Caroline Francis.”
Lady Crosby rose unsteadily to her feet, her hand going to her throat. “She’s been found?”
“Aye, she’s been found.”
Emma could read the awful truth on Daniel’s face, and she reached out to steady herself with a hand on the back of the settee.
Another man might have tried to soften the blow, but Daniel wasn’t the sort to skirt the truth, no matter how terrible it was. He and Emma were alike that way. That was how she knew what Daniel was going to say, before he spoke a word.
“She’s dead. Found strangled to death in Orange Court.”
Lady Crosby gasped, her face going white.
Emma thought of the bruises on Helena’s neck tonight, the same size and shape as a man’s fingers, and nausea rolled over her again. If she’d lingered at Vauxhall Gardens with Samuel for another moment—if she’d allowed him another kiss, another caress, Helena would be dead.
“Orange Court,” Emma repeated faintly, digging her fingertips into the settee. “That’s only a few blocks off Drury Lane.”
“Aye. Our kidnapper’s turned murderer. Like as not he’s been a killer all along, but now there’s a body to prove it.”
Lady Crosby rose unsteadily to her feet. “I think I’d better…I believe I’ll retire to my bedchamber for a short time.”
“Yes, my lady.” Emma’s anxious gaze followed Lady Crosby as she made her way to the door of the drawing room. For the first time since Emma had met her, Lady Crosby looked every moment of her age.
If her ladyship fell ill over this, Emma would never forgive herself.
It was yet another thing to worry about.
She sank back down on the settee, every limb trembling with exhaustion. Her eyes felt gritty, and her head was pounding.
“Go on up to yer own rooms for now, lass,” Daniel said gruffly. “We can talk on this later. I’ll send for ye if there’s a need.”
But as exhausted as Emma was, she knew she’d never be able to rest. Every time she closed her eyes, she’d be haunted with the waking nightmares of last night. Caroline Francis lying dead in a dark alley. The bruises on Helena’s neck, the tears in her eyes. Samuel’s face when Helena said Lord Lovell’s name, and later, in the carriage, when he’d asked her to tell him the truth.
Was l part of your scheme all along?
He had been, at first, but then…then he hadn’t.
Emma wasn’t sure when it had changed. That day at Hyde Park, or the next day, in Lady Tremaine’s rose garden? That night at Drury Lane, when she’d glanced over at his box and found him staring at her, his gray gaze like a caress.
The way he’d kissed her scars…
It had been all of those moments, and none of them.
There hadn’t been a single moment, a single touch, a single kiss. It had crept up on her, and she hadn’t even thought to look for it, when nothing—nothing—ever crept up on Emma Downing.
Except this had, and before she even knew she held it in her hand, it was already gone.
She slumped back against the settee, and she must have fallen asleep, because it was hours later when she blinked awake to Lady Crosby gently shaking her shoulder. “Emma? Wake up, dearest.”
“What time is it?” Emma sat up, rubbing her eyes. Daniel was gone, and late morning sunlight was filtering through the drapes.
“Nearly eleven, and we have a visitor. Tidy your hair a bit, won’t you? Oh, dear, your gown is all wrinkles. Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now.”
Lady Crosby fussed and patted Emma into near-respectability, then sent word for the footman to show their visitor into the drawing room. Emma expected Lady Flora and Lady Silvester to appear, but that wasn’t who walked into the room moments later.
It was Lady Lymington.
“Good morning, my lady. How do you do?” Lady Crosby rose to her feet.
It wasn’t so shocking that Lady Lymington should call—she and Lady Crosby were friendly, if not intimates—but after what had happened with Samuel, the last person Emma expected to stroll into their drawing room was his mother.
“Lady Crosby, and Lady Emma.” Lady Lymington inclined her head, and accepted the seat Lady Crosby indicated. A brief silence fell before Lady Lymington awkwardly cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon for calling so early, but it seems we’re to, a
h, leave London for Kent later this morning.”
Lady Lymington shot a glance at Emma, who struggled to keep her face neutral.
Samuel must have offered his mother some explanation for their precipitous departure from London. It was difficult to guess what he’d told her from Lady Lymington’s expression, but given Emma had suspected her ladyship’s beloved nephew of kidnapping and murder, Emma braced herself for a flood of angry denials and bitter recriminations.
They never came.
What did come left both Emma and Lady Crosby momentarily speechless.
Lady Lymington shifted uneasily on the settee. “I didn’t like to leave London without seeing you both first.”
Emma and Lady Crosby exchanged a glance. Their level of acquaintance with Lady Lymington didn’t demand such a courtesy. It was a bit odd, but Lady Crosby, who was all graciousness, leapt into the fray to cover the awkward silence. “That’s very kind of you, my lady. We’ll miss you very much, won’t we, Emma, dear?”
“We will, indeed. The season won’t be the same without your family here, Lady Lymington.” Those words were truer than any Emma had ever spoken, so true it was as if they’d been wrenched from her soul.
Lady Lymington studied Emma’s face, as if gauging her sincerity. “It does seem a great shame we should part now, just as we’re all becoming such good friends. That’s why I’ve come, you see.”
Emma stared at Lady Lymington. It almost sounded as if she intended to—
“Lady Flora is tremendously fond of Lady Emma, as you know, Lady Crosby, and then you and Lady Silvester are such dear friends. They’re both insisting upon accompanying us to Kent, but they’ve been made rather unhappy over it, I think.”
Emma said nothing, but leaned forward, waiting, hoping.…
“My nephew doesn’t like to see Lady Flora made unhappy in any way, and so I came to see if I might persuade you both to come for a visit at Lymington House.”
Lady Crosby covered her gasp of surprise with a dainty cough. “How kind you are, my lady. We’d like that very much, wouldn’t we, Emma?”
Emma didn’t answer. She’d fallen back against the settee, stunned speechless.
The idea of appearing at Lymington House after that scene with Samuel in his carriage made a cowardly shudder roll down Emma’s spine, but even with the mistakes she’d made, the lies and the mess and the heartbreak, she’d never before been a coward.
Lord Lovell was innocent, but someone else at Lymington House was as guilty as the devil himself. Two girls had vanished. Both of them were likely dead, and Caroline Francis had lost her life in a filthy London alley, the breath strangled out of her.
Now, unbelievably, a second chance to bring the murderous villain to justice had just fallen into Emma’s lap. How many more girls would meet the same tragic fate if she gave up now? How many more girls just like Helena—just like Emma herself—would find themselves at the mercy of a villain, because Emma was too spineless to face an imperious marquess?
The only way to unravel the rest of this mystery was to uncover the secrets that remained buried in Kent. She had to get to Lymington House. It was as simple as that.
“Er, Emma, dear. Lady Lymington has generously invited us to Lymington House.” Lady Crosby gave Emma a meaningful look. “Isn’t that kind of her?”
“Yes, yes, very kind indeed, my lady.” Emma recovered her wits enough to smile gratefully at Lady Lymington. “I’ve always enjoyed the country, and it’s especially delightful in the spring.”
“It’s settled, then. How wonderful! Lady Flora will be so pleased. I beg your pardon for leaving so abruptly, but Lord Lymington is anxious to be on our way.” Lady Lymington rose to her feet, casting another curious glance at Emma.
Emma forced herself to meet Lady Lymington’s eyes, then regretted it at once when she saw they were the same lovely dark gray as her son’s.
“Of course, I’ll see you both again at Lymington House very soon,” Lady Lymington added. “Tomorrow, perhaps? The journey is a brief one, and exceedingly pleasant. If you’re not too fatigued, may we expect you for a late supper?”
“Certainly, my lady. We’re looking forward to it.”
Emma smiled at Lady Lymington, but remained where she was while Lady Crosby rose from the settee and accompanied her to the door of the drawing room, chatting amiably about the countryside around Kent, and begging Lady Lymington to send their compliments to Lady Flora and Lady Silvester.
Meanwhile, Emma’s head was spinning.
“What an unexpected stroke of good luck!” Lady Crosby joined Emma on the settee once Lady Lymington was gone. “I daresay we were due for some. But you look grave, Emma. What’s troubling you?”
Emma hesitated. It was a stroke of good luck, but Lady Crosby might not still think so when she knew the plan that was forming in Emma’s head. “Perhaps we’d better fetch Daniel, my lady.”
Lady Crosby cast her a wary look, but she signaled for a footman to fetch Daniel. They heard the thump of his boots coming down the hallway before he entered the drawing room and took up his place in front of the fire. “All right then, lass?”
Emma gave him a grateful look. “Yes, much better. It looks as if we’re leaving for Lymington House tomorrow, Daniel.”
One heavy dark eyebrow rose. “That so?”
“Yes. Lady Lymington has cordially invited us for a visit to Kent.” Emma glanced at Lady Crosby, and chose her next words carefully. “Which is fortunate, indeed, as I’ve a notion we’ll find our murderer there.”
Lady Crosby sucked in a breath, but Daniel only regarded Emma calmly, his massive arms crossed over his chest. “Why is that, lass?”
“Because he’s been keeping a close eye on Lord Lymington and Lord Lovell since they arrived in London, and isn’t likely to stop now. Given an opportunity, he’ll follow them to Kent.”
“Aye, that seems likely.” Daniel waited, his dark gaze on Emma’s face.
“No one will think it odd if he appears, as he’s a friend of the family. It’s strange, though,” Emma said slowly. “As familiar as he is with them, he isn’t such an intimate he knows about Lord Lovell’s duel. If he did, he’d have known he couldn’t implicate Lord Lovell in the crimes.”
“Implicate Lord Lovell!” Lady Crosby pressed her fingertips to her lips. “My goodness, how wicked.”
“Do ye have any idea who he is, lass?”
“No, not yet, but I will soon enough.”
“How’s that, then?”
Emma touched the pendant in her pocket, running her fingers over the rough diamonds surrounding the portrait of the young boy. “I have something of his, and he wants it back badly enough he attacked Helena tonight to get it.”
“He knows ye have it?”
“I’m not sure he does, no, but he will.” Emma pulled the pendant from her pocket, and held her hand out to show Daniel. “I think it will flatter me, don’t you? I have just the gown to wear with it.”
Lady Crosby looked between Daniel and Emma, her expression baffled and fearful at once, as if she didn’t quite understand what Emma meant, but was certain she wouldn’t like it.
Daniel glanced at the pendant on Emma’s palm, and grunted. “Ye mean to put yerself in his way, then?”
“What?” Lady Crosby snatched Emma’s hand in a frantic grip. “No. He’ll hurt you, Emma!”
Emma had been threatened before, even attacked before, but even she couldn’t suppress a shudder at the thought of being the target of a man so cold-blooded. Because of course he’d been the one who’d taken Amy and Kitty from Lymington House, before setting his sights on Caroline Francis.
“I imagine he’s desperate to get this pendant back, and desperate criminals are likely to become careless.” Emma’s gaze met Daniel’s. “If he were to find me unexpectedly in his path, the pendant around my neck, who knows what mistakes he
might—”
“God in heaven!” Lady Crosby shot to her feet. “That’s madness, Emma!”
Lady Crosby had faced every challenge thus far with the aplomb of a lady born for intrigue, but Caroline Francis strangled and left dead in an alley and her dear Emma threatened with a similar fate was too much for her.
“I thought it might come to this, my lady.” Emma drew Lady Crosby gently down onto the settee beside her. “I knew how dangerous this could become when I agreed to go ahead with it. Surely, you can understand why I must see it through?”
“But to throw yourself into such a man’s path, Emma!” Lady Crosby wailed. “How can you be certain it won’t end in tragedy?”
I can’t. Emma didn’t say it, but Lady Crosby was no fool. “If it’s not me, it will be some other lady, one who doesn’t know how to defend herself, and doesn’t have you and Daniel to help her.”
Lady Crosby shook her head, her face crumpling.
“Please, my lady. I can’t turn up at Lymington House without my grandmother, can I?” Emma’s tone was light, but she needed Lady Crosby as much as she did Daniel. Samuel knew part of the truth about her, but as far as the rest of the ton was concerned, she was still Lady Emma Crosby, and Lady Emma Crosby didn’t visit the Marquess of Lymington’s country estate without a proper chaperone. “Lady Crosby?”
Lady Crosby drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t like it, Emma, but I did agree to this, just as you did, and I won’t disappoint you and Daniel and Lady Clifford.”
Emma sagged with relief. “Thank you, my lady. Don’t forget Daniel will be with us. He’s accustomed to dealing with murderous villains.”
“That’s, ah…very reassuring, Emma.”
“We might wish to arrive several hours before supper, so we have time to unpack our things and rest before the evening commences.” If they were already ensconced in their rooms, it would be more difficult for Samuel to toss them out.
“Of course, if you wish it, dear,” Lady Crosby said dully. “Whatever makes you comfortable, Emma.”
