A Proper Companion (32 page)

"Yes, it was Faversham who took you, the bloody
fool."

"What has happened to him?" she asked. "Did
you—"

"I am afraid he's lying on the taproom floor,"
Robert replied. When Emily gasped, he added, "Nursing a bloody
nose."

"Oh, my." She steered him away from the shadows and
into the moonlight. After studying his face she reached up a hand
to touch his bruised chin. "He did this to you?"

Robert smiled. "He got lucky. But I assure you he
looks much worse."

"I am glad," Emily said with conviction. "Although I
almost wish you had killed him." She thought of the hat and
greatcoat on the chair. "I was so afraid." She shuddered as she
buried her face against his shoulder.

He tightened his arms about her. "Emily," he
whispered.

After a moment he reached down and tilted her chin
up with the edge of his hand. "Emily," he whispered against her
lips. He kissed her gently, then pulled away and looked into her
dazed eyes. Suddenly he crushed his mouth to hers. He kissed her
with a hunger and passion Emily could not have imagined, and she
responded with her own shy desire. Without thinking, she wrapped
her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, savoring every
new sensation as his mouth plundered hers.

Finally, reluctantly, Emily pulled her lips away
from his and pushed against his shoulders. My God, she had let it
happen again! This was foolishness. This was wrong. She must step
behaving like a doxy, for that is all she could ever hope to be to
him. And she would never be that. Never.

"Robert, we can't," she said breathlessly, trying to
escape the arms that still held her.

"Why not?" He began softly stroking her cheek with
the back of his fingers. "I love you, Emily."

She wrenched away and turned her back to him. She
couldn't bear this.

"Don't do this, Robert," she said plaintively. "I am
not a lightskirt. I will not be your mistress."

Robert chuckled. "Then I suppose you'll just have to
be my wife."

"Please don't tease me, Robert," she whispered.
"This is much too painful for me. You know I cannot be your wife. I
cannot bear for you to kiss me like that and tell me you love me
and then go off and marry Augusta Windhurst. Please," she said,
choking back a sob. "Please go away."

Robert came up behind her and curled his arms around
her waist, gently pressing her back against his chest. Emily
thought she would collapse with grief, thought her knees might
actually buckle, and so accepted the support of his strong arms.
Tears coursed down her cheeks.

"But I'm not going to marry Augusta," he said in a
matter-of-fact voice.

Emily stiffened involuntarily. A tiny thread of hope
wound its way around her heart. She sucked in her breath.

"You're not?" Her voice came out in an unnatural
squeak.

"No." Robert laughed, pulling her closer. "We have
decided we would not suit. In fact," he said, his breath tickling
her ear, "if my guess is correct, Miss Windhurst is even now
finding comfort in the arms of my cousin Ted. Perhaps he is kissing
her, like this." He nibbled her ear, caressing it with his
tongue.

"Or like this." He feathered kisses down her neck
onto her bare shoulder.

"Or like this." His lips moved up to her throat and
Emily threw back her head and sighed with pleasure.

"Or ..." He turned her in his arms, and his mouth
came down on hers. He moved his lips tenderly against her mouth,
teasing her lips with his tongue. She moaned softly, threw her arms
around his neck, and opened her mouth to his.

Some time later Emily sat perched sideways in front
of Robert on his horse, his greatcoat enveloping her like a cocoon.
She leaned comfortably against his chest, his arm holding her
close, tilting her head up frequently to receive his kiss as they
made their leisurely way back to Grosvenor Square. Both cherished
this private interlude, savoring the physical intimacy required by
their position on the horse, and were in no particular hurry to
reach Mayfair.

As they plodded along the deserted midnight roads,
they spoke of all that was in their hearts, recounting, as lovers
do, those moments when they first recognized their love for one
another. They spoke of their future together, of the family they
would have, and marveled at the depth of their happiness.

"You know, Robert," Emily said as she snuggled
deeper into the warmth of his greatcoat, "I still do not understand
what happened tonight. I cannot for the life of me comprehend why
my cousin abducted me."

"Oh, good lord!" Robert exclaimed. "You don't
know."

"Know what?"

Emily began to bounce against his chest as Robert
exploded with laughter.

"What?" she repeated, thoroughly puzzled. "What
should I know?"

Robert rocked her in his arms as he laughed. Emily
pounded his chest with her fists in her impatience, which only made
him laugh harder. When he was finally able to speak, he said,
"Emily, my love, you are an heiress."

She blinked owlishly. "I beg your pardon?"

"You are an heiress," he repeated, still chuckling.
"A very rich woman."

"I-I don't understand. I haven't a
sou
, as
you well know, except for the generous salary your grandmother pays
me. And I intend to use most of that to repay her for all the
clothes and other things she has bought me for this stay in
London."

"My dear girl, you may more than pay her back. I
meant it when I said you were an heiress. You see, it seems your
grandfather decided to acknowledge you after all and left you a
sizable inheritance."

"My grandfather?" She shook her head, not fully
comprehending. "But—"

"He left you with a sum to be used as a marriage
settlement. But your uncle, may he rot in hell, claimed he was
unable to locate you. He has been living off your inheritance for
the last five years."

"I can't believe it! How did you discover all
this?"

Robert told her of his initial suspicions, of
Huntspill's investigation and the recovery of her grandfather's
will. He also told of his confrontation with Lord Pentwick,
omitting several of the less pleasant details.

"As you were now becoming known in Society," he
continued, "it became more difficult for Pentwick to pretend
ignorance of your whereabouts. I believe his intent initially was
to cause you such public embarrassment that you would retreat once
again into the country, away from the prying eyes of the ton. He
had not counted on Grandmother, Louisa, myself, and others rallying
to your defense, however." He bent down and kissed her gently.

"I suspect," he said, "that Pentwick decided to
change tactics and have his own son marry you in order to get, or
rather to keep, his hands on your money."

"So that's why Cousin Hugh was forever at my
side."

"Indeed. And when you showed no interest, you made
it necessary for him to take more drastic measures. My meeting with
Pentwick this afternoon only made it more urgent to act
quickly."

"Oh, but this is monstrous!" Emily cried. "He knew I
would never consent to marry him and so he set out to... to
..."

Robert gathered her close. "Yes, I'm afraid his
intentions were less than honorable, my love."

"Oh, Robert," Emily said as she pressed her cheek
against his shoulder, "thank goodness you came after me. I could
not have borne it if... I don't know what I would have done if..."
She chewed on her lower lip, attempting to hold back tears.

"Hush, love, everything is all right now." He bent
down and brushed his lips against her cheek. "But I shall never
forgive Faversham—or Pentwick—for tonight's sorry business."

"No," she said, "and I hope never to set eyes on
either of them again. The hateful beasts!"

"And not only for tonight does Pentwick earn my
wrath," Robert said, "but for all those years that you were left to
struggle, forced to take employment, to be little better than a
servant, when—"

"No, no, Robert," she interrupted, tilting her head
to look up at him, "I shall never regret my years of service. If I
had not been in service, I would never have met you."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "I suppose I am
obliged to thank Pentwick, then, for allowing you to brighten my
life. I shall have to remember that whenever I feel the need to
throttle him. Nevertheless, I cannot but hope that the man
disappears after turning over to you the thirty thousand
pounds."

Emily stiffened and pulled back. "What did you
say?"

"I said that I hope he disappears—"

"Not that part! Something about"—she
swallowed—"thirty ..."

"Thirty thousand pounds." He grinned. "Had I failed
to mention the amount?"

"I am to have thirty ... thousand ... pounds?"

Robert nodded, and she fell back against him,
shaking her head in disbelief. "But this is incredible!"

He laughed and said, "I did say you were an heiress,
did I not?'

"Indeed you did." Emily was thoughtful for a moment,
then bit back a smile. "And now suddenly it all makes sense to me.
You wish to marry me for my money."

"The devil you say!"

"Admit it, my lord," she said, "you never had the
least interest in me until you discovered I was an heiress."

"But—"

"There's no sense in denying it, my lord. I shall
not be so easily manipulated, however. Now that I am a rich woman I
believe I should wait to see what other gentlemen may come
forward." She could no longer hold back a smile. "I imagine I could
have my pick of the lot."

"I'm afraid not, my dear," Robert said. "You see, I
have already told Sedgewick that I would kill him before I let him
marry you."

"You didn't!"

"I did. And I will similarly challenge any other
gentleman who attempts to take you away from me."

"You will?"

"I will. I'm not letting you go, Emily," he said,
crushing her against him, "now that I've finally got you."

"That sounds perfectly wonderful to me, my
lord."

Robert dropped the reins and took her in both his
arms and kissed her soundly.

The horse, with no one guiding him, ambled toward
the side of the road and came to a complete stop while he
investigated a nearby berry bush. It was some time before his
passengers decided to continue their journey.

###

Don't miss Black Jack's story in
A Change of
Heart
, and Lord Sedgewick's story in
An Affair of Honor
,
both available from any online e-book retailer.

Here's an excerpt from
A Change of Heart:

Jack Raeburn, Marquess of Pemerton, raised his
quizzing glass and studied the young girl dancing with Lord
Grayston. He leaned negligently against a pillar, half hidden by an
extravagant floral arrangement, as he eyed the girl up and down.
Miss Pettibone was very fair with masses of blond ringlets and huge
blue eyes that gazed up in awe at her noble partner. She was a
pretty little thing, Jack decided, as she shyly smiled up at
Grayston. He was enjoying a clear view of her full, white bosom
rising up and down with the exertion of the country dance when he
suddenly felt a presence at his side.

Dropping his quizzing glass, he looked over and then
down at the tiny woman who stood next to him. How long had she been
there, he wondered? She was also looking intently at Miss
Pettibone. But then she turned to look up at Jack, wrinkled her
nose behind the screen of her open fan, and shook her head. Jack
glared down at her and quirked a brow.

"Too young," she whispered, still shaking her
head.

Jack choked on a hastily suppressed snort of
laughter as he watched her eyes move back toward the dance floor.
Who was this woman? She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't
place her. She was not young, but not precisely old either. Though
small, she was nicely rounded in all the right places, he was quick
to note. She had ordinary brown hair, a too wide mouth, and a
slightly crooked nose; but the eyes that had looked up at him had
been enormous pools of hazel. Other than the eyes, her face was
quite unremarkable. That was probably why he could not place her.
She was not the sort of woman who normally piqued Jack's
interest

He dragged his eyes from his unknown companion and
once again raised his quizzing glass as he surveyed the ballroom.
This time his gaze fell upon a lovely young redhead standing along
the opposite wall, flirting with a circle of admirers. She brought
her fan to her lips as she giggled at some remark, then snapped it
shut and slapped it down on the wrist of her nearest gallant,
batting her eyes coquettishly. Her hair was absolutely glorious,
with one long fiery curl hanging over a creamy white shoulder.

By God, no one was going to tell him that there was
anything wrong with this young beauty. Nevertheless, tearing
himself away after one last admiring gaze, he reluctantly turned
his glass upon the woman at his side and raised his brows in
question. She hunched a shoulder and raised her fan to partially
cover her face. Jack's greater height gave him a clear view behind
the fan, and he watched as her mouth twisted in distaste. She
leaned toward him in a conspiratorial manner without taking her
eyes off the girl.

"Too silly," she whispered.

Jack grinned down at this impertinent unknown who
nevertheless intrigued him. What was her game? Well, whatever it
was, he was just bored enough to play along and find out.

This time he raised his glass to study Lady Amanda
Palmer, Egerton's eldest daughter, as she was partnered by Lord
Ainsley. She was a glowing beauty with glossy dark brown curls and
amber-colored eyes. Her face was lit up with a spectacular smile,
and her cheeks were slightly flushed from the dance. Jack's glass
followed the line of her graceful neck down over the rounded
shoulders to the full swell of bosom revealed by her rather daring
neckline. He knew this to be at least her third Season, and her
manners were open though modest. Surely there could be no objection
to this young lady, he thought as he looked down at his tiny
confederate.