The Rejected Suitor (16 page)

Jane's
face brightened. "Oh, I have danced with each one of them."

"Except
me."

Jane
whirled around to find the duke towering over her. "I believe this next
dance is mine, Miss Greenwell."

Jane
frowned. "I fear you are not on my dance card, Your Grace. The next dance
has been given to Lord Hanley." She tilted her head toward a homely
gentleman with a hooked nose and buck teeth walking toward them.

The duke
sent the man in question a stern glare. "I believe this dance has been
taken, Hanley."

"T-taken?"
The man's eyes bugged out from his head.

"Yes,
taken," the duke repeated curtly.

Hanley's
face turned a deep pink as he stared at the duke's swollen eyes. "Your
servant, madam." He gave Jane a swift bow and departed before she could
gather a reply.

Furious
at the impertinence of the duke, Jane gave the man her iciest stare. "That
was not at all gentlemanly."

The duke
had the audacity to laugh, turning Jane's cheeks red.

"Oh,
fustian, child." Agatha tapped her trusty parasol against the table.
"Go with him. He won't bite." She shot the duke a questioning smile.
"Or will you, Your Grace?"

Roderick
raised two swollen brows. "I do not make promises I cannot keep, Miss
Appleby."

Agatha
dropped her gaze, hiding her smile. "I see. Then perhaps it would not be
wise if she danced with you after all."

Jane
snapped her fan closed. "I daresay, Agatha, I will be able to withstand
one dance with His Grace." She inclined her head toward the duke, her blue
eyes narrowing suspiciously. "And pray, what happened to your face?"

The
music began for a waltz, and Roderick swiftly took hold of her hand, smiling
mischievously. "Nothing that a dance can't cure, Miss Greenwell."

Emily's
green slippers padded softly along the dimly lit hallway as she made her way
from the ballroom to the conservatory of the Garrick mansion. It was a few
minutes before twelve. She was giddy with excitement. Tonight she would finally
meet the Black Wolf and his partner.

She
rested her ear lightly against the door to the conservatory. Nothing. Slowly
she pushed the door open, its hinges creaking in the darkness.

She
froze, waiting, listening, but heard only the mingling of violins and laughter
coming from the dance floor at the other end of the home. She hastened inside,
her eyes trying to adjust to the dim light given off by the moon as it fingered
its beams through the tall panes of glass on the far side of the room.

The
large chamber was hot and humid. Plants of every kind reached out, rubbing
against her arms. Pint-sized rhododendrons brushed at her skirts. The sweet
smell of roses teased her senses. If it were any other time but now, she would
have taken a leisurely stroll about the hothouse to inspect the flowers that
grew there.

Her neck
prickled at the sound of clacking footsteps drawing near. She skirted behind a
statue of an angel and waited.

"Lady
Emily, are you there?"

Emily
bit back a groan of disbelief. Not now! Mr. Fennington's voice was beginning to
grate on her nerves. She pushed herself further against the warmth of the wall
behind her, holding her breath, listening intently as a pair of black buckled
shoes clapped hard against the conservatory's marble floor.

"Come
now, Emily. I know you are hiding." The man's staggering footsteps gave
her the uneasy feeling that he was foxed to the gills . . . again. "Do not
play coy with me, my little cabbage." Emily cringed. "I saw you
escape the ballroom after looking in my direction. Your timing was perfect, my
dear. No one will suspect our little rendezvous here."

Emily
clasped her hands together in horror. The impudence of the man! What if her
counterparts showed themselves? The thought of Fennington meeting up with
England's most prominent but dangerous agents sent a cold shiver down her back.

She
became more uncomfortable by the minute as the man began to march up and down
the aisles of plants searching for her, thumping around like an elephant on the
hunt for food.

"Emily,
I say, you little imp, having me look for you? Making a game of it, eh? But I
will find you, and then we will have quite an amusing time."

Emily
started, catching sight of Fennington's tall shadow about ten feet away. He hiccupped,
stumbling against one of the countess's prize roses. There was a crash. Pink
petals and dirt fell everywhere. Emily swallowed a bubble of laughter.

"Come
now, my lady. I daresay I have had enough of these childish pranks." His
voice rose in anger.

Silence
blanketed the room like a heavy shadow. Emily peered toward the door, measuring
her escape. She had to take her leave. She was putting her counterparts in
danger with this ninny. Her musings had made her temporarily lose sight of
Fennington. Drat. Where was the idiot? Her heart thumped in her ears, and she
hastened back a step, accidentally slipping against the statue. It teetered
precariously. With a gasp, she reached out to grab it.

"Aha!
There you are, you little termagant!"

Fennington's
hand snaked around her waist and squeezed. His hot breath hammered against her
ear. "Alone at last, my little one."

Emily
felt a momentary alarm. "Mr. Fennington, I implore you, this is not what
it seems. I did not, I repeat, did not come here in hopes of a tryst with
you."

"Ah,
my shy, little Emily. You are even more beautiful than I remember. I saw you
one day at the lake near Elbourne, and I must say, you showed quite a pretty leg."

Had this
odious fop been spying on her? She pushed him away and lifted her chin, daring
him to touch her.

"I
am leaving now, Mr. Fennington. Pray, sir, do not ever touch me again or it is
I who will kill you."

The man
dared to laugh, and with a jerk of his hands flattened her shoulders against
the wall.

Emily's
eyes grew round at his determination. "What do you think you are
doing?"

A
moonbeam struck his face, and all at once Emily saw his handsome features
marred by an infuriating rage. This was not the Mr. Fennington she knew.

"I
believe it is time you call me James, my lady. For soon we will be wed, and I
won't have any wife of mine calling me Mr. Fennington." He ground out the
words against her cheek.

"Wed?"
Emily was stunned. "You must be mad!"

"Not
mad. You have teased me long enough, my girl."

Emily
winced as his grip on her tightened.

"I
have a carriage to take us away to Gretna Green tonight."

"Gretna
Green? Preposterous."

He let
out a mocking laugh. "But of course, my dear, since it will take a few
days to arrive to our destination, we will have to put up at a few posting
inns."

With one
hand still on her, he pulled out his quizzing glass and peered at her, a
malevolent glint in his eyes. "So you see, even if one of your arrogant
brothers deems it necessary to rescue you, your reputation will be in rags, and
alas, you will be mine, dear Emily. Mine forever." He flicked a finger
across her lips. "I fancy you have finally deduced that I am not as stupid
as you may have once believed."

Mad was
more like it. Emily felt her frustration build. "On the contrary, I find
you quite the most interesting man I have ever come across, James." She
batted her lashes at him, and to her surprise, the man loosened his grip on
her.

His
expression changed to one of delighted eagerness. "Then you won't scream
if I kiss you?"

"No,
but I mind," a commanding voice rang out.

Emily's
eyes flew to her right. Glittering amber eyes leapt out of nowhere. Fennington
was instantly picked off his feet and thrown across the room. A row of hydrangeas
slammed to the ground. Fennington groaned as he rolled off the dirt and cracked
pots.

"If
you dare even look at Lady Emily again," Stonebridge said in a dangerous
tone, his menacing form hovering over the shocked man, "I will hang you by
your cravat until you are dead." A shiny black shoe pressed against
Fennington's chest. "Do hope you understand, dear fellow."

Fennington
nodded, not daring to look up as he snatched his quizzing glass from off the
floor. The earl then proceeded to pick the man up, throwing him toward the
door.

"You
have exactly one minute to leave these premises, and then I will come after you
with this." A small black pistol glinted against the night, and Fennington
swallowed hard. He was gone without a word.

Recovering
from her shock, Emily stared at the pistol in Jared's hands. Her knees were
about as solid as the marmalade Agatha ate that morning. "H-how did you
know I was in here?"

His
glittering stare burned into her, gnawing away at her self-confidence.
"You, madam, should never have left the ballroom."

Emily
lifted her chin. "You, sir, are not my guardian or my husband."

"It
is merely a matter of time."

Emily's
heart leapt to life. He wanted to marry her? His gaze swept over her, and her
pulse skittered. She knew there were things they needed to talk about. He had
said something about being forced to marry Felicia. Surely, he would tell her
all, and she did love him.

She
paused as a sudden thought occurred to her. Good heavens, what if Black Wolf
decided to show himself at this very minute?

She
watched in silence as Jared slid his pistol inside his jacket. Her mind began
to spin as she considered her predicament. If she were meeting someone, mayhap Jared
was meeting someone as well. Her confidence plummeted like a lead ball dropped
from the tower.

She
instantly recalled seeing Miss Susan Wimble paying quite a bit of attention to
the earl at the refreshment table. A sudden burst of fury filled her. "I
daresay, that the only reason you came here was to meet someone."

She saw
his jaw stiffen, and her heart deflated. So, it was true. What was his game?

His gaze
hardened. "What about your intentions? I could say the same about
you."

The
shock of his words stifled her. She could not tell him whom she was to meet.
She would never divulge that information.

With a
mumbled curse, he inclined his head, directing her to move to the end of the
conservatory where it was pitch-black. "Over there."

Emily
glanced toward the darkened alcove, her eyes widening in outrage. She may enjoy
his kisses, but if she moved toward the darkness, her senses might completely
leave her and then where would she be? "I certainly will not."

"You
can walk or I can carry you. Your choice."

There
was a stern expression on his face, which broke no argument. It reminded her of
Roderick when he was cross, but more intense. "Very well," she
snapped, "but I do not condone this caveman-like attitude of yours."

She
picked up her skirts and started for the other side of the room, her slippers
dodging the broken pots and debris left by Mr. Fennington's fall. She hoped
that Black Wolf had been alerted to the commotion with Fennington and had
retreated.

She
halted near a rosebush and glanced at the man behind her. When she looked at
him now, drops of moisture clung to his damp face and his eyes glittered with
an almost wolfish look. Her gaze froze on his rugged profile.

No, her
heart cried. No. No. No.

"Have
you hurt yourself?" His cool gaze pinned her to the floor as he closed in
on her like a wolf advancing on his prey.

"N-no,
I'm not hurt." Only stupid, she thought, turning around, fumbling with a
pot beside her as she pushed it farther onto the table. What a ninny she had
been. "Mr. Fennington was quite a menace, and I must thank you for
rescuing me."

"Emily,
look at me."

She spun
around, her heart pounding, and for every step he took toward her, she took two
steps back until the warm wall of the conservatory rammed into her shoulder
blades. Moonlight suddenly struck the harsh planes of his face, and she closed
her eyes, everything becoming all too clear. Yes. Jared was the Black Wolf. She
had no doubt about it now.

"The
devil, Emily, I am not Fennington. Did you come in here to avoid the fop?"

She
slowly lifted her lids, too astonished at her discovery to speak. She swallowed
past the tightness in her throat, her violet eyes locking in recognition with
his amber ones. "No." She paused. "But I know who you are."

A smile
flitted across his face. "Really, you don't know who I am already?"

The
question only strengthened her resolve to find out for certain. She felt
trapped, yet she could use one phrase and he would know who she was as well. It
had been sent in the missive. She chewed her bottom lip, determined to see this
through. "May I ask you a question?"

"Ask."
He took a step back, placing his hands on his hips.