Emily's Seduction (22 page)

She led the way and they stepped out into the mild, sunny spring afternoon. The lady was correct; the smell of April was definitely in the air. They walked to the roses where several stone benches were and they sat on one.

“Mr Dalton sent me here.”

“Yes, of course,” Emily said, nodding as if she understood. She didn’t. She forced herself to be calm but her palms had started to sweat. What was going on now?

“He tells me you wish to compose a book of sketches and personal accounts about America’s slaves, now escaped from their bondage. Something like the book you made for the victims of the Barbary pirates.”

“Yes, I want to very much.”

The woman smiled broadly. “I think it is a grand idea and I want to help you. I know many such individuals in the area. We can pick the best stories to illustrate our cause then you may use your talents to bring them to life.”

“Our cause?” Emily repeated dumbly.

The shock still hadn’t faded. Alex had sent this woman here? He wanted to help her with her book? Had he changed his mind about her use of her talents to showcase the issue of slavery? He must have. Goodness. He had. What did it mean for them? Did they have a future now?

Her head spun with all the questions.

“Yes, our cause. Complete abolition of slavery in this country.”

Emily turned her attention back to the lady in the plain grey dress. “Oh,” she said in wonder. “Yes.”

“It will be slow going, you must understand. It was hard enough to get the laws passed so far. The Act for the Gradual Abolition of Slavery here in Pennsylvania that frees those born to slave parents from here on out. The total freeing of the slaves in Massachusetts. Our next move is to make the importation of slaves into this country illegal. Things move so slowly. But every cause has to have a beginning. Do you want to be a part of that beginning, knowing that it will be a long fight, that we may not see our goals completed in our lifetime? You may very well face negative social consequences.”

Emily didn’t need to think about it. Yes, it had been exciting that the Naval Act had been passed. She supposed Alex had brought her around to seeing that a National Navy was the only way to make the seas safe. But, still, it wouldn’t end the slavery in Barbary for other nations, would it? Not unless the United States went over there and levelled the Barbary nations, and given the fledgeling state of matters that didn’t really seem possible.

And slavery still thrived in America, where men were supposed to be free no matter their birth. All persons equal under their creator.

No, she didn’t need to think about it. She could give her answer this moment and with a glad heart, too.

“Yes, I am willing.”

* * * *

Restlessness made Alex’s legs ache as he stood by the doorway to the ballroom, which was really the two parlours with the dividing wall pushed back for the evening. His face ached with the need to smile at the arriving guests. James was holding a ball in celebration of the passage of the Naval Act.

This was really James’ victory. He had worked tirelessly to campaign for this. He was the politician of the family. He wanted to eventually sit on the highest court in the land and have a hand in the laws passed. He was only thirty-five. Maybe he would.

But for Alex, the whole business was over. He’d pledged himself for the duration and now he was free. So why didn’t he feel relieved?

Finally the number of guests slowed to a trickle. Sadness began to take the edge off his restlessness. Emily had been invited and he had hoped to see her here. Yet she hadn’t shown. Had he simply missed her, been distracted when she arrived? He glanced over the ballroom, scanning the myriad splashes of colour that were ladies’ evening gowns and he didn’t see any lady so slender and girlish with dark hair that lit up like flames under the candlelight.

“Well, my friend, you have your victory. Soon the whole world will be safe from the scourge of pirates. Your American navy will defeat them all.” Nicolo’s voice rang with sarcasm.

Alex turned to him with a grin. “You cynic. You could turn any victory into a defeat.”

“Ah, it is just my way.” Nicolo leaned against the wall and began to rate the ladies present based on their charms. The drone of his voice lulled Alex. He wasn’t interested in examining the ladies. “Are you ill, Alex?”

“No,” Alex replied with distance in his voice.

“Ah, you miss your little Emily. But you have sent her away because you cannot bear her pity.”

“Yes, that’s the whole of it.”

“And are you so sure it is pity she feels?”

“What else could she feel? You said it yourself the other day.”

Nicolo waved him off. “What do I know about women? Look at my past.” He raised his eyebrows. “And you want to take my advice on women? I was feeling very low the other day, Alex. You should not allow me to influence you.”

“Nothing can change things anyway.”

“But that’s not true. You told her. You did something I have never been able to bring myself to do. She knows, and now no dark secrets remain between you. That’s remarkable, don’t you think?”

“Remarkable yes. But not in a good way.”

“Bah, it is good or bad depending on how you choose to respond now.” Nicolo touched his own chin. “After you liberated us from that terrible place, I never thought to see you become a coward again.”

“A coward?”

“Yes, you are a coward. If you will not brave the chance to have this open, honest marriage with this young woman then yes, you are a great coward.”

“That’s a pretty strong judgement coming from a man who has abandoned three wives.”

Nicolo shrugged. “We are not talking about me. We are talking about you and I have always held you to a higher standard. But think what might happen to your idealistic little beauty if you go away on your ship and leave her all alone.” Nicolo reached and patted Alex’s hand. “I think I shall leave you with your thoughts now, my friend, for that sloe-eyed beauty across the way beckons me. I cannot resist.”

He walked away.

Alex strode over to a servant and procured a glass of Madeira. Nicolo’s words echoed in his head. What might happen to Emily if he did walk out of her life as he had planned? He loved her with every fibre of his being; maybe no other man would be as devoted or caring. He was going to have to settle his accounts with the past or else lose her forever and the cost to her might be the worst of all. Men like Peter would pay court to her and she might well be fooled by their initial kindness and charm. He loved his cousin but he knew Peter to be a faithless, weak man. So how was that different from himself? Well, the difference was his level of commitment and devotion to both Emily and the institution of marriage. He was not Peter and he was not Nicolo.

The last thought came up so vehemently it shocked him. No, he was not cut of the same cloth , or else he should have married for convenience earlier and already started a family while still having his voyages and his mistresses.

But he hadn’t done that. He’d waited until he had known he’d found the right woman. The memory of that first night with Emily hit him sharp and clear. He’d begun to know then, even in those first hours, the joy of being in her presence. It had been something deeper than lust or even the human comfort of a warm body beneath his. And the feeling had only deepened the more time he’d spent with her.

He had let his niggling doubts chip away at that. Allowed himself to forget the utter certainty of his love. In letting his doubts and fears have their way, he’d been just as lost and selfish—and just as destructive as Nicolo’s actions tonight.

All right, maybe Emily had a point that he’d been too young to cope fully with what had happened to him. Maybe self-blame had been with him so long he was simply afraid to let it go. Maybe it was a way of trying to hold on to some power over something that had always been out of his control.

He couldn’t change the past but he certainly could control the future.

But wasn’t it all too late? Emily held him in contempt for his actions and the things he had said in the past few weeks and rightfully so. He’d given her no reason to do otherwise. He’d been selfish and arrogant and blind. Why should she take a chance on him now? They were done. It was just too late.

* * * *

“Good evening, Miss Emily.”

Emily smiled at Cato. “Good evening to you as well, Cato.”

She entered the Dalton house, amazed at the transformation of the darkened entryway lit by so many candles in the chandeliers above. The rich scent of jasmine and beeswax filled the air, mingling with and threatening to overpower the normal citrus and spice scent. The parlours that were open on to each other to make a ballroom were crowded with people. She glanced back at Cato.

“Where is Mr Dalton?”

Cato raised his eyebrows. “You mean Mr Alexander?”

“Yes.”

He took her pelisse. “Mr Alexander is over there by the refreshments.” He smiled at her, his teeth still strong and white for someone so elderly.

“Thank you, Cato.”

She’d been determined to come tonight and thank Alex for his support in her work. But, now that she was here, her resolve faltered. What if he didn’t wish to see her? The invitation for the ball had come in Rachel’s handwriting. Maybe Alex didn’t even know she was to come. Her palms began to sweat and her stomach knotted. She took a deep breath and went walking into the ballroom.

His back was to her but she recognised Alex immediately from his height and his golden hair shining in the candlelight. She paused as butterflies fluttered around her navel. The urge to just leave now and not have to face his possible rejection was strong. She could just send him a polite note to thank him. That was likely how all sophisticated former lovers did it. Well, she wasn’t very sophisticated. She had to know if there was any chance things might have changed. That they might have a future now.

She walked the remaining steps to where he stood. With her mouth gone dry,she swallowed and forced herself to speak. “Alex?”

She waited. He didn’t turn. The music from the quartet and the laughing, chatting crowd was too loud. She put her gloved hand to his wool-covered back, between his broad shoulders.

He turned, his eyes fixing on her with piercing effect.

Chapter Eleven

Then his expression softened. “Emily.”

His gaze moved over her. What did he see? A thin girl with an oversized nose and a too-wide mouth dressed in an elegant high-waisted gown of dark green velvet. She could never do such a garment justice. There were countless women here tonight of higher birth who possessed greater beauty than she could ever hope for. A nervous laugh bubbled up from her throat.

“I thought you weren’t going to show,” he said at last.

Continued nervousness kept her tongue still while she caressed him with her eyes. In his dark evening jacket, he appeared more golden-haired, more handsome than usual. His white waistcoat of tone-on-tone jacquard satin made his midsection look narrower, his body taller. She wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his arms and press herself to him. Heat pooled in her lower belly and her quim tingled. She caught herself fidgeting with the sash at her waist and smiled as heat washed over her face.

Tenderness brightened his eyes and the cold apprehension in her heart melted. They were still friends at least. He opened his mouth as if he would speak but her own words had already come to her lips, automatically as if some other part of her were taking over.

“Thank you for sending Mrs Daily to me.”

He closed his mouth and nodded.

She damned herself for speaking first, for halting whatever it had been he would have said. What if he were going to say
Please come back to me. Please reconsider and marry me.
Frustration welled inside her. But what good did it do to wonder? She’d thanked him and now she should be polite and leave him so he could enjoy the ball as he chose to.

She opened her mouth to do so but this time he was quicker.

“You look absolutely lovely tonight.”

Pleasure flooded her and heat surged over her face again, burning her ears. “Thank you, Alex, you are very kind.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I should…” A lump formed in her throat and she cleared it softly. “I should find Nancy. I need to thank her for helping me…uh, with the gown at such late notice.” She turned back and flashed him another smile. “But thank you so much again—for Mrs Daily.” She forced the words out quickly, determined to break away from him and monopolise no more of his time.

She turned away and took a step. And then another. All the while inside, she was breaking in two. Her stomach cramped with it.

His hand took hers. She stopped. Hope surged through her, she couldn’t stop it.

“Emily.” He had breathed the word, his tone lush, warm like cognac, just like that first night she’d met him.

It echoed deep in her belly. Between her legs, her inner folds were swelling, slickening. With just that one, whispered word.

“We need to talk,” he said. “But my study is filled with James and his cronies and they are smoking and playing cards. It won’t do.”

“No, I suppose it won’t,” she said without turning.

“Come.” He tugged lightly on her hand.

She turned to him and let him lead her out of the ballroom, through the stairwell then the kitchen. The kitchen was empty save for Cato’s old sheepdog sleeping by the large stone hearth and the grey stripy mother cat lying with her two remaining kittens in the box. Rum punch in an iron cauldron exuded spicy-sweet scented steam, suspended over the fire in the hearth.

He led her into the servant’s mudroom.

It was dim. The music from the quartet echoed distantly. What would he say? She caught herself chewing on her gloved finger and thrust her hand away, down to her side. Why wouldn’t he say something?

He shifted in the dimness, his boots sounding on the floor, then his arms were about her. Her blood began to sing in her ears.

“Forgive me, forgive me,” he said into the curve of her neck. “I have been an arrogant, blind jackass. I have no reason to expect it but I beg you to forgive me.”