Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon (17 page)

Blast, that wouldn’t work.

“
Yes, I know.” Emma stopped
moving and turned yet again to face the cook. “But what I need must
be kept secret.”

Based on the expression on the older
woman’s face, one would have thought a murder had just taken place
right before her eyes. She planted one hand on each hip and gave
Emma a scowl that would have put Mr. Cardiff’s to shame. “I keep no
secrets from Lord and Lady Burington, miss, and I won’t be changin’
tha’ for ye or anyone else, mind.”

But Vanessa and David wouldn’t be
bothered in the slightest if she fed Kingley, Emma was sure of it.
“It needn’t be kept secret from Lord and Lady Burington,” she
hastened to say, grateful when the cook’s eyes softened by a
minuscule degree. “Just the rest of the guests, you
see.”

This caught Cook’s notice. Her bushy
eyebrows rose in question and a decided gleam struck her eyes. “And
wha’ secret might this be?”

A few minutes later, Emma was being
shuffled through the servants’ stairways and corridors so as not to
be seen by any of the other guests, her hands filled with a plate
of quail, carrots, and peas.

When she arrived at the door leading
out to the west side of the house, near the bay window that
overlooked the estuary, the scullery maid who’d been sent to guide
her gave a little curtsey as she opened the door. “We’ll send
Horner to lock it after you come back in, miss. Just bring the
plate back to the kitchens.” She scurried away through the wending
halls before Emma could properly thank her.

Carefully, Emma made certain the door
was closed, so as not to rouse unnecessary suspicions, but that she
could still open it. Then she moved around the corner until the bay
window was in view. Candles lit the drawing room inside, casting
the others aglow in dancing flickers. With the light of the moon
the only thing illuminating the out of doors, she was certain no
one would be able to see her. Certainly not if she didn’t go close
to the window.

Taking cautious steps, she made her
way along the side of the main house. It wouldn’t do to fall into
an unexpected hole or trip over an unseen plant. “Kingley?” she
called out softly. Perhaps a bit too softly, since he didn’t come
to her. But she couldn’t risk anyone inside hearing her, so she
daren’t shout.

“
Kingley,” Emma repeated
with a bit more heft behind her voice. Surely, with all of the
noise in the drawing room from the revelers, they wouldn’t hear
her.

He still didn’t come.

Having the forethought to have brought
a lantern with her to light her way would have been the intelligent
thing to do. Instead, she had to rely solely on the light of the
moon. Emma reached out her free hand, using it to guide her path
along the side of the great house until she feared moving any
closer to the bay window.

“
Kingley!” she called out
once more, growing in confidence that she’d never be heard through
the massive stone walls. “Kingley, I’ve got some food for
you.”

And then she heard his bark, off on
the other side of the house.

Without a thought, she dashed off to
meet him, nearly sprinting in her haste to move past the window.
Her slipper caught on a root or something, and she jolted forward
but only just managed to avoid falling flat on her face. Kingley
barked again as he raced around the side of the house, making a mad
dash to reach her. “No, Kingley, not here.” She was still directly
outside the bay window! They couldn’t stop there.

What had she been thinking? Anyone
inside the drawing room could have noticed her at that proximity.
Emma chanced a look inside to see if anyone was peering
out.

Mr. Cardiff’s cold, blue eyes locked
onto hers for a moment, piercing her with their intensity, but just
as quickly he looked away.

Her heart came to a standstill and she
broke out into a cold sweat. Had he truly seen her? He couldn’t
have. It must have been her own fears that had planted such a
thought into her mind. Besides, it wasn’t as though Mr. Cardiff
would care one way or another. Emma brushed away the notion that
he’d noticed her and then rushed on to meet Kingley—out of view of
the drawing room’s occupants.

When they came together, he dashed in
circles around her, jumping up and down while his tail wagged from
side to side.

Emma took care not to stain her gown
as she took a seat on the grass, and then laughed at herself.
Heavens, she’d already fallen. Surely it was already stained. She
set the plate down beside her. Kingley was so excited to see her
that he kept nudging her hand with his head and licking her fingers
instead of eating.

“
Silly dog,” she said with
a laugh. Then she picked up a bite of the quail and held it out in
her palm beneath his nose.

Kingley sniffed it and then ate it.
Soon enough, he found the plate and worked his way through his meal
without another sound, aside from his jaw working. When he
finished, he curled up beside her and dropped his head on her lap,
letting her pet him and scratch behind his ears.

“
You’re really a very sweet
dog, you know?”

Of course he didn’t respond to that.
She stayed out with him for as long as she dared. At last, she
realized she must go back inside. If someone were to search for
her, to see if she’d recovered from her headache or if she needed
anything…well, she shouldn’t be missing.

Kingley came with her, guiding her in
the moonlight, as she took a wide berth in front of the bay window.
Once they were past it and she could see her way to the servants’
door ahead, Emma patted him on the head. “Be a good pup, and I’ll
be sure to sneak you some more food tomorrow.”

He let out a whining sort of sound
that she took as acquiescence, and then he darted off into the
distance. Emma watched him go, laughing at his exuberance. Dogs
were such honest creatures. All one must do to earn their eternal
devotion was show them a little care. If only men were so easy to
handle. Once he was out of her sight, she turned back toward the
door and took a step—but walked straight into the very solid
expanse of a man’s hard chest.

What in God’s name am I
doing outside following after Miss Hathaway?
It shouldn’t matter to him in the slightest what she was
doing, let alone why she was doing it. But when he’d seen her
stumble and nearly fall while skulking around outside the bay
window, he had been unable to stop himself from making his own
exit. He’d gone off to search for her outside to demand an
explanation for just what, precisely, she thought she was doing
outside alone at night.

And now he had her. Quite literally,
as a matter of fact.

She’d bumped head-first into his
chest, her pert nose brushing against the hollow at the base of his
neck, and his arms had instinctively shot out to steady her, as
though they had a mind of their own. Indeed, they must have. He
wouldn’t have attempted to save her from a fall, would he? Yet even
though several moments had passed since her initial stumble, Aidan
had yet to release her.

It was unfathomable, really. While his
head told him to let her go and return to the house, his hands
wouldn’t cooperate. They remained firmly affixed to her upper arms,
as though they’d become permanently attached. Her heartbeat pounded
against his chest, and her breaths came out feather-light but fast,
tickling against the underside of his chin much as the light scent
of lemons tickled his nostrils. Instead of pushing her away and
putting a reasonable distance between them, he wanted to draw her
closer. To drink her in. To drown in her scent.

More and more, Bedlam seemed the
perfect destination for him.

Miss Hathaway scowled up at him, her
brown eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Kindly let me go,” she
finally said into the charged stillness between them, her haughty
tone making him want to draw her closer still, which was nothing
short of befuddling. “I shouldn’t want to be missed.”

But she’d already made certain she
wouldn’t be missed. Before she left the drawing room, she’d claimed
a debilitating headache—that was what Sir Henry had informed Aidan
when he’d gone over to investigate her sudden departure.

Why had she claimed illness and yet
gone outside alone to stumble about in the darkness instead of to
her chambers to convalesce?

“
What in God’s name have
you been doing out here alone?” Aidan demanded. “In the dark, no
less!” He hadn’t intended for his tone to be so gruff, and he
halfway regretted it when she flinched against him.

Granted, he hadn’t intended any of
this.

For a moment, he thought he saw a
glimmer of tears forming in her eyes. But that couldn’t be. The
Miss Hathaway of his memory had always been an unfeeling girl, more
concerned with what happened in the pages of a novel than what
happened to the people around her. Such people did not care about
anything enough to warrant tears in Aidan’s experience.

The way she looked after Morgan would
seem to contradict the impression he’d had of her from before,
though. Did ladies who would toss their own good reputations aside
in defense of a friend often cry? He didn’t know.

“
What I’m doing is of no
concern to you, sir,” she said a moment later. The tears were gone.
They must have been a figment of his imagination—something
flittering through his mind despite the fact that it wasn’t
real.

She pushed against his chest, and only
then did he realize she’d been holding a china plate in her hands.
A plate? She was outside, alone, at night, traipsing around and
losing her footing…carrying a plate. Yet Aidan was certain she’d
been present for supper. He’d hardly been able to keep his eyes
from her the entire meal, confound it all.

A dog barked in the distance, and then
he understood. “You’ve been feeding that mutt, haven’t
you?”

“
What if I have?” Miss
Hathaway’s lips turned down in a frown, and his eyes fell to them
against his will. Being so close to those lips did nothing to help
eliminate his earlier vision from his mind. They were far more lush
than he’d realized from across the room, more supple. They looked
to be as smooth as silk.

This was no time for his thoughts to
stray back to all of the delightful things her mouth could be
doing. He’d already spent far too much time thinking of such things
when he never should have allowed his mind to travel that path in
the first place.

Aidan gave himself a mental shake,
willing the unbidden lust away. “If you feed that dog, Burington
will never be rid of it. It will bring its fleas and whatever else
it might have with it to infest all of the animals here. Is that
what you want?”

“
Kingley doesn’t
have
that
many
fleas,” she muttered.

“
Not
that
many,” Aidan repeated, mocking
her tone. Damn, but he needed to rein himself in.

This was going altogether poorly. Emma
Hathaway’s presence this summer was wreaking havoc on him in a way
he’d never imagined. He could no more stop his thoughts from
drifting to inappropriate places than he could remove his foot from
his leg, but surprisingly he didn’t want to. It may not have been
his plan to fall in lust with her, but lust was rarely something he
wished to avoid.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek
before going on, hoping the small amount of pain would help him
remember himself. “Meaning he has fleas, much as we all
expected.”

Aidan wanted to shake some sense into
her, not that he really thought such a thing were possible. She’d
gone off alone in the night without a thought other than to feed a
mangy cur. She was little more than a brainless twit. He had no
doubts on that score. That didn’t mean she deserved to be mocked as
he’d just done. She’d caused him to lose all sense of his reason,
all sense of decorum.

Miss Hathaway granted him
no opportunity to apologize for his rudeness. “I don’t know why it
should matter to you one way or another. You seem to be here for no
reason other than to stalk Morgan’s every move and to remind me how
much you despise me at every turn.” Somehow, her frown deepened,
yet again drawing his eye and his thoughts to a place they had no
business being. “Speaking of Morgan, shouldn’t you be in the
drawing room with
her
instead of out here with me? Surely you can find a reason to
get in her way right now, imposing yourself upon her instead of
upon me. I can’t imagine you have nothing more important to do than
stop me from feeding a starving dog.”