Read His Wicked Embrace Online
Authors: Adrienne Basso
His Wicked Embrace (3 page)
“I've never been able to determine precisely why she married me, Jenkins,” Damien continued. “With her looks and fortune, she could had her pick of young bucks of the
beau monde.
I have come to believe her brother forced Emmeline into accepting my suit, but I cannot think of one single reason Poole would do such a thing.”
beau monde.
I have come to believe her brother forced Emmeline into accepting my suit, but I cannot think of one single reason Poole would do such a thing.”
“I always suspected Lord Poole had his eye on The Grange,” Jenkins interjected, warming to the subject. He finished his glass and held it out for the earl to replenish.
“Naturally, I feel The Grange is an exceptional estate,” Damien answered as he poured out the brandy. “But there are many other choice pieces of real estate in Harrowgate. Poole is a rich man. He could have bought any number of estates that are far greater in value. There has to be another reason.”
“Perhaps,” Jenkins ventured, “but I doubt we will ever discover what it was.”
The room fell to silence as both men contemplated the idea. A soft knock on the door broke their concentration.
“I believe that will be young Manning with the rest of the brandy,” Jenkins remarked to the earl. “I told him to bring up the remaining stock from the wine cellar. I had a premonition you would attempt to consume it all tonight.”
“You know me too well, Jenkins.” The earl flashed a genuine smile. “When do we have to vacate the house?”
“I informed your solicitor that we would be gone by noon tomorrow.”
“Have you gotten all the staff settled?”
“Just as you requested,” Jenkins responded. He opened the drawing room doors and accepted three bottles of brandy from the footman. Then he quietly shut the door. “Those servants who were not offered positions with the new owners have all been offered jobs at The Grange.”
“Good.” The earl rose from his chair and stretched. “I don't suppose any of the housemaids will be accompanying us?”
Jenkins shook his head. “Lord Poole's lies about your reputation are taken very seriously in London. The only reason we were able to keep any female staff at this house was because you came to town so rarely.”
“It doesn't matter,” the earl insisted, hearing the trace of bitterness in Jenkins's voice. The valet's unwavering loyalty could still move the earl, even after all their years together. “Since you have completed your duties so admirably, Jenkins, I was hoping you would keep me company for the remainder of the evening.”
Jenkins smiled regretfully, knowing it would be useless trying to talk the earl out of his plans. Selling the London town house had been a very difficult decision for Damien. And if he was determined to spend the rest of the evening drinking himself into a stupor, no one was going to be able to dissuade him. Lord knew the man had been through enough in the past few days.
“I shall endeavor to keep pace with you, my lord,” Jenkins responded soberly. “I cannot, however, guarantee how long I will remain on my feet.”
Chapter Two
Miss Isabella Browning could not dispel the persistent feeling that she was being watched.
This unsettling feeling came upon Isabella soon after entering the small park with her three young charges in tow. She quickly made a sweeping glance of the immediate area, but did not spy anyone exhibiting the least bit of interest in her or the children. Yet the feeling persisted.
“We want to race our twigs in the water, Miss Browning,” a young voice called out.
Isabella shifted her attention to the small boy addressing her. Master Robert Braun, age five, stood on the grassy slope near the shallow lake and fidgeted restlessly with the two sticks he held in his chubby hands. For once the child appeared to actually be waiting for Isabella to give her permission before he went blithely along his way.
Of course, Robert hadn't exactly
asked
if he and his two sisters could play in the water, but at least he had paused a moment to voice his intentions to his governess. Isabella sighed. Did she dare hope nine months of constant battling with Robert were finally starting to pay off?
asked
if he and his two sisters could play in the water, but at least he had paused a moment to voice his intentions to his governess. Isabella sighed. Did she dare hope nine months of constant battling with Robert were finally starting to pay off?
“You and your sisters may race your sticks as long as you promise to be very careful and not get too close to the water's edge,” Isabella decided. “If you become too excited and boisterous, however, you will not be allowed to continue. Is that understood?”
With a barely perceivable nod, Robert turned his back on his governess and ran toward the water. His two sisters, Guinevere and Caroline, trailed dutifully in his wake. Although both girls were older, seven and nine respectively, they blindly followed their parents' lead and deferred to Robert in all things. Consequently, the young boy was treated like a royal prince in the Braun household.
As the children's governess, Isabella strived constantly to temper Robert's spoiled and demanding attitude. It was a thankless and often frustrating task, but rare moments such as this morning provided Isabella with a glimmer of hope that she was finally achieving some measure of success with the headstrong boy.
Isabella followed behind the children slowly, climbing the sloping embankment where they were gathering. She kept a keen eye on their activities, but became distracted when she again felt prickles of awareness along her spine, and the uncomfortable sensation of being under the observation of a stranger's eye. She whirled around suddenly, half expecting to see someone standing behind her. There was no one, but the vague sense of uneasiness would not leave.
There was no obvious explanation for Isabella's unease since she was very familiar with this small park. She and the children came here at least three times a week, weather permitting. Still, Isabella would have felt calmer if the coachman, Hodgson, had been able to stay with them today as he usually did, instead of driving off to Bond Street on the orders of the mistress of the house. Hodgson would be returning to collect Isabella and the children after he finished his errands. She hoped the coachman would not be too long in arriving.
Isabella continued to experience an unfamiliar sense of foreboding, but she was determined to remain calm. The park was not very crowded at this hour of the morning, yet it was not deserted either. There were other nurses walking with their charges, as well as several gentlemen on horseback. Surely the gentlemen could be counted upon to lend assistance if the need arose.
Isabella shook her head and forced her mind to clear itself of these ridiculous notions. She was behaving skittishly and for no apparent logical reason. A sudden vivid recollection of a gruesome article she had read in the
Morning Gazette
about a young child being kidnapped off the streets of London caused a quickening of Isabella's heart rate. Perhaps she was not being foolish. Maybe she was being watched. Although not of the gentry, Mr. Braun was a very wealthy man, and devoted to his three children. He would, without question, pay any ransom necessary to gain their safe release.
Morning Gazette
about a young child being kidnapped off the streets of London caused a quickening of Isabella's heart rate. Perhaps she was not being foolish. Maybe she was being watched. Although not of the gentry, Mr. Braun was a very wealthy man, and devoted to his three children. He would, without question, pay any ransom necessary to gain their safe release.
Isabella spared an instant of pity for anyone foolish enough to target the boisterous Braun siblings for an abduction. After one hour of the girls' sniveling and Robert's belligerent shouting, any man, no matter how hardened a criminal, would be regretting his rash actions.
Isabella silently chastised herself for her unkind thoughts. The Braun children might not be the most likable individuals she had ever encountered, but she had a duty to care for them, and she would perform her duty to the very best of her abilities. Including keeping the children safe from kidnappers, real or imagined.
In all honesty, Isabella admitted to herself, she was very fortunate to have this particular position. At twenty-five, she had already been dismissed from three previous jobs, and she could ill afford to lose another post.
Isabella's eyes darted speculatively around the park, searching again for signs of danger. The Braun children were alone by the edge of the pond, engaged in a heated verbal battle Isabella feared would soon escalate into a physical one. She began walking toward them, deciding she had merely been allowing her active imagination to override her common sense, when a deep voice behind her nearly startled the wits out of her.
“My God, Emmeline, is it really you?”
Isabella stiffened in alarm. She jerked her head quickly toward the voice, not certain what to expect. She held her breath in fear, but slowly let it out when she viewed the man who had spoken.
He was standing behind her, a fair distance away, but even at that range Isabella's experienced eye could see that his clothes were cut of the finest cloth, with a graceful, tailored fit that only Weston could achieve. A criminal would never be so well turned out. Besides, the stranger had called her Emmeline. He obviously had been observing her, not because he was waiting for an opportunity to snatch the Braun children away, but because he believed she was someone he knew.
“I am afraid you are mistaken, sir,” Isabella stated in a prim voice that carried a trace of relief. “My name is not Emmeline. And I am quite certain we are not acquainted.”
Isabella squared her shoulders and waited expectantly for the stranger to turn and walk away. As she waited, she studied him openly, from his muscular torso, with its forest-green, form-fitting jacket, to his skin-tight, fawn-colored leather breeches and high black Hessian riding boots. The cream-colored embroidered waistcoat called her attention to his flat abdomen, and his snowy white cravat emphasized his deeply tanned features. Although the fit and quality of his clothes proclaimed him a gentleman, he possessed an air of dishevelment that seemed oddly out of character.
The stranger was returning her direct stare with equal scrutiny. Isabella did not wither under his heated gaze, but when her eyes met his penetrating gaze, she felt a rush of uneasiness. She knew for a certainty she had never met this man before, and yet she felt he was clearly under the misconception that they knew each other.
“It
truly
is you, Emmeline.”
truly
is you, Emmeline.”
The sound of the stranger's low, husky voice jolted Isabella out of her musing. His voice matched the rest of himâbold, strong and resonant. He advanced on her and she found herself looking directly up into his handsome face. Hard, steely gray eyes that held all the arrogance and confidence in the world focused intently on Isabella.
“I cannot believe I have finally found you, Emmeline. After all this time.”
Up close, the stranger's features were uncommonly handsomeâangular, chiseled, and decisively classic. He carried himself with a military bearing Isabella found both intriguing and intimidating. He did not openly threaten her, yet she had the distinct feeling he was holding himself in tight control.
As the stranger continued to regard her with a ruthless expression on his darkly handsome face, Isabella felt the hair on the nape of her neck raise. There was something dark and dangerous about this man. Everything about him seemed hard, unyielding and determined.
“I . . . I am sorry,” Isabella stammered, annoyed at allowing a tremor to slip into her voice. “As I previously informed you, sir, you have me confused with someone else.”
The stranger cocked his dark head slightly to one side. A stray lock of midnight-black curls fell onto his forehead. It made him look even more dangerous.
“Come now, Emmeline,” he responded in his deep voice. “Is that is all you have to say to me after two long years?”
He took another step forward, and Isabella had the distinct impression he was having to restrain himself from taking hold of her. Instinctively she stepped backward. The stranger halted instantly when he saw her hasty withdrawal.
Damien St. Lawrence held his breath as he glared in mute astonishment at the women standing before him. It took every ounce of military training and discipline he possessed to control the desperate urge he felt to rush at Emmeline, grab her by the shoulders, and shake her until her teeth rattled. But the earl would not succumb to his baser desires. Silently, methodically, he cautioned himself to be very, very careful. He did not want to startle Emmeline. Now that he had finally cornered her, the last thing Damien wanted was for his victim to bolt.
The earl continued to observe her beneath hooded eyes, his face lined with hawkish determination. Damien could barely credit what his eyes told him. After all this time, here was Emmeline, standing calmly in front of him, denying she knew him. Hadn't he just been telling Jenkins he believed she was alive?
Damien had been drawn to her slender cloaked figure the moment he entered the small park. Drinking brandy with Jenkins into the wee hours of the morning had left Damien feeling numb and lightheaded, and he sought the fresh air to clear his head. After riding his favorite stallion through the streets of London, the earl stopped at the small park to rest his horse. And then he saw her.
At first the earl had been unsure it was Emmeline. Perhaps it was a trick of the morning sunlight or the effects of too much brandy. Damien continued observing the mysterious woman from a distance, with each passing minute becoming more and more convinced it was indeed his wife who stood a few hundred yards away. Finally he approached her, and when he stared fully into the woman's beautiful, deceitful face, the earl knew Emmeline was alive.
Of course, his wife had changed. The changes were subtle, yet noticeable. Her fair complexion was paler than he remembered and her nose looked smaller, her mouth fuller. She was dressed as Damien had never seen her before, demurely, almost somberly, in a long, loose-fitting navy blue coat and a matching bonnet that completely hid her glorious auburn curls.
Well, she could change her clothes and her hairstyle, but there was one thing Emmeline could not change about her appearance. Her extraordinary violet eyes. Damien had never seen their like before. And he stared ruthlessly into them now.
She returned his hard glare with a mixture of barely concealed confusion and fear, but Damien understood her reaction. After two years he hardly expected Emmeline to politely greet him. She was probably as shocked to see him as he was to see her. And she was determined to deny her true identity. But again, Damien was not surprised. Emmeline had gone to a tremendous amount of trouble to “die” two years ago. He hardly expected her to so easily give up her masquerade.
Before Damien could question her further, a young boy's cry shattered the turbulent atmosphere flaring between them.
“The children!” Isabella shouted in genuine alarm.
Dismissing the disturbing stranger, Isabella turned and raced down the embankment towards the pond.
She reached the edge of the water just in time to save Caroline from being pushed into the small lake by her brother.
“Caroline is cheating!” Robert shrieked in a high voice. “She said her stick won, but it was my stick that crossed the line first.” He stamped his foot in anger and lunged for his sister.
Isabella thrust her hand out automatically to intercept the blows Robert aimed at Caroline. His young face was twisted in a mask of rage. “You will control yourself at once, Robert!” Isabella admonished in her sternest voice. “Your behavior is thoroughly disgraceful.”
Caroline and Guinevere began sobbing loudly, frightened by Isabella's tone and the physical violence exhibited by their younger brother. Isabella managed to subdue the girls with a threat to cancel all outings to the park for the next two weeks. The girls sniveled noisily, but ceased their howling and Isabella focused her attention on young Robert.
She held the struggling child tightly by his collar, at arm's length, in an attempt to keep him from physically harming either her or himself. She shook him once, forcing his head back, and watched with relief as the blazing anger began to slowly recede from his blue eyes.
As the child once again regained control of his raging emotions, Isabella congratulated herself on adhering to her conviction not to use physical punishment to control intolerable conduct. Robert had tested her sorely on that point over the months, but so far she had not given in to the temptation to strike him. She was pleased to see him master his anger so quickly. Now if she could only prevent him from becoming so distraught in the first place, she would feel she had made real progress.
“Is everything all right, Miss Browning?”
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