The Rejected Suitor (7 page)

It
seemed the thought of Emily riding away with one of her suitors bothered him
more than the idea of Monsieur Devereaux appearing before dawn with pistols
drawn. Dash it all. His mind was a jumble of confusion, all thanks to Agatha.

"If
I may be so blunt as to suggest a remedy for what ails you, my lord."

Jared
raised a speculative brow as the butler made his way into the room. Obviously,
Filmore had determined that his employer was sending her nephew to Bedlam.
"What kind of remedy, Filmore?"

The
butler coughed. "Of the digestible kind, my lord. In times like these, I
save a bit of the Irish whiskey back in the corner pantry. The O'Keefe brand.
Straight from Ireland."

Jared
smiled. "Your full Christian name, Filmore?"

The
butler gave a curt bow. "Your servant, my lord. Michael Filmore Brian
O'Keefe."

Jared
laughed at the unmistakable Irish brogue in the man's voice. It seemed Agatha
had more secrets at Hemmingly than Prinny had chandeliers at Brighton. What in
the blue blazes had his aunt been up to the years he had been gone, traveling
to Whitehall and sifting out secrets? The lady had always liked adventure. But
there was no doubt something havey-cavey was up involving that French brandy
and now Filmore.

Jared's
brows snapped together, and he suddenly wondered if either Jane or Emily had
any inkling to Agatha's secrets. The maddening notion scared the hell out of
him.

"Come
here, Nigel. Give the pretty black book back to Lady Emily." Emily took a
hesitant step forward and grimaced. She had been chasing the dratted dog in the
back gardens of Hemmingly for over an hour. Drat and double drat!

Her
stomach growled. The biscuits and tea at the vicarage had been barely a meal.
But she would starve before she would leave the gardens without that book.

Gritting
her teeth, she took another step closer when Nigel suddenly dropped the book
onto the wet ground and let out a loud bark. If Emily had not known better, she
would have thought the odious dog was playing with her as if the entire affair
were a peekaboo game.

Exasperated
and shivering from the cold, she sat back on her heels and sighed. She hated to
admit it, but the dog had been outwitting her at every turn. "Nigel,
dear." She took off her gloves, reaching out her hand. "Give Emily
the book."

The dog
lifted its wet nose and gave a disagreeable howl. Before Emily could stand, the
book was clamped between a large set of teeth, and Nigel quickly disappeared
around an old oak.

"Odious
beast!"

She
threw her hands to her hips, stared up at the sky, and frowned. The warmth of
the afternoon sun seemed to come and go, as if it had devised a similar plan
with Nigel, taunting her with promises of comfort, then turning on her,
changing from hot to cold in mere seconds.

Another
chill snaked through her as she dropped her gaze to her wet gown. She fisted
her hands in rage. She had bested some of the smartest men in France, and no
mere dog was going to make a cake of her. Short of shooting the creature or calling
his master for help, she realized that following the abominable canine was her
only recourse. But the wretched beast was becoming more annoying than all her
brothers put together.

"Dash
it, Nigel. I won't hurt you. All I wish is my book." To Emily's surprise,
the dog dropped the book and wagged its tail, as if consenting to her plea.
Triumph at last. She leaned forward, her slim fingers grazing the cover of the
book with the ease of a Captain Sharp at his best game of whist. But before she
knew it, a huge ball of brown fur tumbled toward her, shoving her onto her
back. The damp ground reached up to meet her. Next thing she knew, the dog
swiped the book into his mouth and ran. "Nigel, you come back here this
instant!"

Emily
jerked upright and stomped her foot as the beast turned the corner of the
garden and bounded into the fields. Her eyes narrowed on her enemy. This was no
longer a game, this was war. She picked up the pace, striding across the grassy
pastures where Nigel had fled. Glancing over her shoulders, she dismissed the
overcast sky. Hemmingly Hall, its cozy façade of evergreens stretched at least
a quarter mile behind her.

"Nigel,
you wretched creature! Give me that book!"

The dog
stopped and turned to stare at her. There seemed to be a faint glimmer of humor
exuding from those two brown eyes that set Emily's nerves on edge. "Enough
of these games, you odious dog. I know what you're up to, and it won't
work."

With the
book still in its mouth, Nigel gave a whine and made his way toward Hemmingly's
overgrown maze ten yards away.

Emily
gasped in outrage. "Don't you dare go in there, you beast." The dog
defiantly backed up into the maze.

However,
Emily refused to be goaded. The maze was said to be the place of Agatha's first
kiss with her one and only true love. But since the man's death at the Battle
of Trafalgar, no care had been taken to keep up the grounds. Jane had made a
point of telling Emily more than once never to enter the overgrown web of vines
and trees lest she become lost.

Emily
glared at Nigel's mischievous expression. Though many a day curiosity had
begged her to investigate the mysterious maze, now was certainly not the time
to do so.

"Nigel,
I forbid you to go in there with my book!"

Her
warning seemed to fall on deaf ears. For as soon as she took another step, the
dog spun around and padded into the maze with the bravado of a young
bullfighter.

"Nigel!"
She hurried forward and ducked her head beyond the tunneled opening into a nest
of gnarled vines and overgrown evergreens. Her heart thudded with unease.
Nothing.

"Nigel,
come here immediately."

A
chilling silence filled the air as she waited for an answer. But seconds turned
to minutes as the sky thundered above her, bursting forth with a bone-chilling rain.
She hesitantly inched forward onto the matted path, the cold droplets falling
against her back. Guilt immediately burnt any traces of anger in her veins.

"Nigel,
sweeting. Can you hear me?"

A strong
wind rustled eerily through the trees, and a small whimper of pain reached her
ears. Emily halted. Fear for the dog soon replaced any apprehension for her
book. She swallowed and moved forward, her gown snagging on the tangled vines.

"Nigel,
sweeting, are you hurt?" Another whimper. "Keep calm, Nigel. Emily
will save you." She bit her lip, fought back a wave of hot tears, and
hastened forward. Dear heaven, let the poor thing be safe. If anything happened
to Nigel because of her, she would never forgive herself.

Chapter Four

"I
tell you, Jared, I am more than
worried." Agatha sank her plump body into the sofa of Hemmingly's drawing
room, letting out a troubled frown. "That sweet girl has not been seen all
afternoon."

Jared
threw a booted foot onto the hearth, shoving a hand into the pocket of his
coat, trying to ignore the alarm that rippled through him. "When did you
see her last?"

Agatha
rested her parasol against her gown, wincing as a clap of thunder hit the room.
"Not since she came home from the vicarage with Jane."

"Jane
is with her, then?"

"No,
Jane went directly to her room with a headache." Agatha sniffed and pulled
out a handkerchief. "This is not like Emily, not like her at all."

Jared
placed his hands across the fire and let out a deep sigh. The thought that he
might have been the cause of Emily's disappearance made him ill. Still, there
was the possibility that the raven-haired beauty had left the grounds of
Hemmingly with one of her suitors, escaping the notice of his aides. The very
idea made Jared furious.

Were his
aides watching the roads in the village, or had they left their posts?

With a
grimace, Jared tilted his head toward the window, watching as an eerie blanket
of leaden gray rolled across the sky. He shifted his gaze back to Agatha's wary
face and frowned. His mind frantically went over the places Emily could be.

"Jared?
What have you done?"

His head
snapped up. "Nothing." Nothing but break a poor girl's heart.

"Oh
ho, do not lie to me. You look like you just poked your finger in Cook's plum
pudding."

Jared
avoided Agatha's intense gaze and picked up a crystal decanter on the nearby
table, pouring himself a small brandy.

Could
Emily have slipped through the woods? A meeting perhaps? The notion of a
rendezvous with Emily and some stranger suddenly began to gain momentum in his
mind like a carriage careening out of control.

Were
Roderick's assumptions correct? Could that Fennington fellow have had the
audacity to follow Emily to Hemmingly and whisk her away to Gretna Green under
his very nose?

Jared's
grip on his glass tightened. If that were the case, he would find the couple
and shackle Emily to her chambers, then proceed to thrash Fennington and every
one of his aides who left their post.

"Jared,
are you listening to me at all?"

"Indeed.
I intend to look for her, Agatha. But I am not setting out on a wild-goose
chase either."

"Goodness,
do you think she was abducted?"

The
disturbing thought of Monsieur Devereaux came to mind, and Jared's blood froze.
Devil take it, he could no longer wait for his people to report to him. He had
to go search for Emily himself.

"Has
Lady Emily been seeing anybody?" he asked in a sharper voice than
intended. "In the years I was not here, perhaps."

Agatha's
head shot up in outrage. "Gracious, how can you dare suggest such a vile
thing?"

"I
am not suggesting," he said in a calmer tone. "I am merely pointing
out the fact that there may be other reasons she is not here."

"I
tell you, this is not like Emily." Agatha's bottom lip trembled, and sweat
began to bead along her brow. "And do you know, last week the groom told
me a wolf has been hunting the grounds near the village?"

Worry
for Agatha's health made Jared hesitate to leave. "There are no wolves in
this vicinity, Agatha. I assure you."

Her eyes
blinked back tears. "You have no idea if our poor Emily is lost or perhaps
even trapped by some ferocious animal." Agatha paused, her face stiffening
with dread. "Good heavens, you don't suppose she ventured into that
wretched maze?"

Jared's
mind jerked at the thought of Emily ensnared in the tangled vines and he felt a
sinking dread. "The very devil, Agatha. That stupid maze should have been
done with long ago."

Watery
eyes stared back at him in horror. "What if that wolf..." Agatha's
words drifted into nothingness as she blinked again, putting a hand to her
ample breasts.

"There
is no wolf," he repeated, even though Devereaux and Fennington instantly
came to mind.

"Do
you really think so? Emily has always adored her walks about Hemmingly."

Jared
lifted his aunt's trembling hand and kissed it. "I will find her, never
fear." He brought Agatha a glass of brandy and told her to drink it.
"But you must promise me, you won't worry. Trust me on this. You of all
people know who I am."

She gave
him a reluctant smile. "I know I'm acting like a wretched old ninny,
worrying about her." She tried to laugh. "Of course, there is always
Gretna Green. She does have a large dowry, you know."

Jared
hid his grimace as thunder clapped overhead. He brushed his knuckles against
his aunt's cool cheek.

"I'm
certain Lady Emily has taken shelter somewhere. She is not an idiot."

And for
her sake, she best not have run off with that Fennington fellow, because if she
dared to do so under Jared's protection, it would be more than Roderick's wrath
she would be facing, it would be his, and the lady would not be able to sit for
a week.  Zeus!  Not that he would ever strike a lady!

Shaking
his head at the turbulent emotions swirling in his brain, Jared strode toward
the hallway, his Hessian boots brushing briskly against the rug. He flattened
his lips, sounding a shrill whistle for Nigel.

The dog
immediately appeared beside him.

He shot
a quick glance toward his aunt falling back against the sofa cushions. A tight
knot twisted in his gut. Perhaps something had happened to Emily. Perhaps she
had fled because of him. He had been the cause of her pain once before. He
would never forgive himself if he were the cause of her pain again.

Emily
was most truly and decidedly lost. Her slippers crunched against the muddy
pathway as the boom of thunder rumbled in her ears. The eerie whistle of the
wind and the spattering of rain were ceaseless.

How long
had she been in this absurd maze? Two hours? Three? She had lost all track of
time since she had heard Nigel's whimpers. Yet the dog was nowhere to be found.
She imagined the worst, thinking Nigel hurt and bleeding, gasping for his last
breath, all because she had forced him into the maze.

She
shivered, crossing her arms over her chest and sought temporary shelter under a
nest of gnarled evergreens. A sliver of sunlight peeked through the slits of
the vine-covered roof above her. A mouse scurried across her feet, and she
closed her eyes, allowing a shaky, but half-amused breath. She fought to hold
herself upright, but her knees began to wobble.

She
wondered if anyone knew she had left the house.

For once
she could almost agree with her brothers, she needed a protector. Her
impulsiveness always seemed to earn her more trouble than she bargained for.
Was not the scar on her back evidence enough?

However,
secretly working for Whitehall was something she never regretted. As Silver
Fox, when she had gained access to a confidential missive from a double agent
giving away the location of Black Wolf, she had realized how important her
position in the agency had been.

Though
she had escaped that night with the missive hidden in her cloak, she would
never be able to forget the ball burning into her flesh. The old wound was a
ghastly reminder of how close she had come to death that day, and she was
determined that a tiresome maze was not going to best her either.

She
began to feel her feet going numb and wiggled her toes. She should have worn
her boots, but she had no idea she would be chasing a monstrous dog all afternoon.
Moreover, her light muslin gown did little to offer her protection against the
freezing cold clawing into her bones.

"Nigel?"
she called for the hundredth time. "Nigel, sweeting, please answer
me." Nothing but the rustle of the trees and the shifting vines.

Fat,
cool raindrops plopped onto her nose, breaking through her brief sanctuary. Her
lips quivered. Surely she had been in worse scrapes before, had she not?

She
stepped deeper into the trees as the rain continued to hammer against the maze.
Branches scratched her back and she squirmed into another position, falling
into a crouched pose, trying to decide which trail would lead her back to
Hemmingly.

"Nigel?"
she whispered, feeling miserable. "Where are you, boy?"

The
sound of treaded earth met her ears. Her heart banged against her chest.
"Nigel?"

"Lady
Emily."

Jared?
The baritone voice slammed into Emily's senses like a ball of ice, shocking
her. Before she could do more than turn around, a powerful hand pulled her to
her feet, and she found herself gazing into a pair of cool amber eyes.

"What
the devil are you doing here by yourself?" he asked harshly.

She
blinked. What was she doing there?

With a
muttered oath, he whipped off his dark cloak and placed it about her shoulders,
not waiting for an answer. She shivered at his touch, pressing her lips together
in both anger and relief.

He
towered over her like some Viking king. Biscuit-colored breeches clung to
muscular thighs, and with a pair of tanned hands resting on his tapered hips,
he appeared more menacing than Roderick when he’d found Mr. Fennington in her bedchambers.

She
swallowed, tightening her hold on the cloak. "Th-thank you."

"You're
cold." He leaned over, his hand innocently brushing her cheek as he
fastened the clip about her throat while mumbling something about infernal
gowns.

His warm
breath whispered along her neck, and Emily wanted to fall into his safe
embrace, seeking the comfort she remembered so vividly. She wanted to ask him
why he had left her, why he had broken her heart, but the iciness in his voice
brought her back to earth.

"Traipsing
into this maze was a stupid thing to do, madam."

Emily
knew he was right. It was stupid. But she refused to let him make her feel like
a fool again. "Your dog was the one who led me here," she countered
back.

His
cool, assessing gaze cautioned her not to say another word. "My dog,
madam, is the one who found you."

Her eyes
widened in doubt. "Nigel?"

The
culprit gave a sudden bark, and Emily flinched.

Nigel
appeared around the corner, his chocolate brown eyes ogling her as if daring
her to dismiss his heroic actions of coming to her aid. She narrowed her gaze
on the traitor. The beast! He was wagging that innocent brown tail, looking as
sinless as an angel from heaven. It was insufferable!

"Agatha
is beside herself," Jared said abruptly. "It would behoove you to
take care next time you decide to venture on a little escapade like this again.
She does not need a simpering miss to cause her a bout of apoplexy."

Emily
raised her chin. Agatha was about the most robust lady she knew in all of
England. Apoplexy indeed.

"Forgive
me, my lord. How careless of me to put you out. You, of course, have much
better things to do than search for such an ungrateful busybody as me."

To her
astonishment, his lips curled into a beguiling smile, sending more warmth to
Emily's bones than the borrowed cloak. "Independent little piece of
baggage, aren't you? What happened while I was gone?"

"You
happened," she said, not able to keep back the pain in her voice. His eyes
darkened dangerously, but feeling like she did now, she had no patience left
with either him or Nigel.

"You
left me, sir. You lied to me. Ha. You must have thought me such an addlepated
miss to have fallen for the oldest ploy in the world. You led an innocent young
girl on a fool's errand and had a good laugh, did you not?"

His jaw
clenched, his eyes narrowed, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine.
Why, she had no idea.

Without
warning, he grabbed hold of her shoulders and scowled. "I did not
laugh."

A jolt
of awareness shot straight to her heart.

"Nevertheless,"
she looked at his hands, then back to the hard lines bracketing his lips, her
face trying to mask the tumultuous emotions swirling in her soul. "Y-you,
sir, are no gentleman."

He
released her then, and for an instant, his eyes studied her, and she thought
for a bizarre moment that the man was going to kiss her. Impossible. The cold
must have seeped into her brain, because for a moment, she wanted to kiss him
back.

Without
another word, he took hold of her elbow and escorted her swiftly through the
maze, with the treacherous Nigel leading the way.