The Gentleman Spy: A Guardian/Ward Historical Romance

Chapter 29

The doors between the drawing room and study flung open, sending Emerald stumbling backward. She flailed, imagining her ignominious demise as she reached for one of the heavy brocade drapes to her right. A heartbeat was exactly how long it took for Beau to catch her swinging arms and steady her against his chest.

‘Next time, perhaps you will reconsider eavesdropping.’

Emerald huffed and pushed herself away. ‘I was—’ She stopped when she caught the glint of amusement in his eyes. They had moved into unfamiliar territory, a place where the stiffness between them had bent, where hope and fear came into existence in equal measure. ‘I was not having a very good go of it. Next time, maybe you’ll be more considerate and speak louder.’ She gave herself a moment to take in his open face, this peace between them, and then said, ‘If I asked, would you tell me?’ Like the sky outrunning the sun, his expression darkened. The gentle tone he employed when answering came as a surprise.

‘Information is power. Power is dangerous. You are mine to protect.’

‘As your ward, you mean?’ Her voice rasped low, faraway to her own ears, and although she was speaking to him, she was having trouble focusing on anything besides the tempting crescents of his mouth.

Beau palmed her cheek, and she turned her head into the intimate touch. His thumb traced the outline of her mouth before he dragged it across the fullness of her bottom lip. Closing her eyes, she pressed her mouth to the warm, pulsing flesh of his finger, nipping the tip as he slipped it between her lips.

When her eyelids fluttered open, his bold, burning gaze consumed her, and the surge of blood in her ears made a sound like mine, mine, mine. She needed more, needed to know at last what it would be like to feel his kiss. Emerald stepped closer, letting the heat of his body rake her over. Beau ran his hands down the length of her arms, her bare skin burning in the wake of his touch, and threaded his fingers through her own.

Her mouth went dry. She could feel the pound of her pulse in her quivering stomach. Against the delicate fabric of her chemise, her nipples hardened, and her core throbbed with a rush of wet heat.

‘Emerald,’ he whispered, tipping his forehead to rest upon her own.

She couldn’t hide her reaction to him, her uneven breathing, desire spreading a vibrant flush over her chest, the hint of moisture gathering on her palms. The hollows of her body filled with yearning. In every uneven breath a wish to be claimed.

‘What was I before you? A night grown too cool, too quiet. A flawed prayer forgotten by morning. A man against himself. Summon me into existence. In your hands I am formless, unfastened. Bury me in your deep sweet, in your grief, in your splendour.’

Her skin prickled in anticipation as he nuzzled the hollow of her neck, her jaw, the sensitive shell of her ear. She had no faith in her voice, but her heart said I’m yours and beat against his in a soundless vow.

‘I’d ask you to forgive the interruption, but let us all agree it’s for the best,’ Saunders said in mild, dispassionate accents from the doorway.

Emerald jumped backward but was prevented from going too far by the tight grip of Beau’s hand still linked with hers. He released it once she stilled, and she ran both hands down the front of her dress and over her hair before tucking them behind her back.

‘A moment, my lord.’ Saunders tipped his head in the direction of the study.

With a look towards Emerald, which she interpreted as We’re not finished, Beau preceded his valet back into the study. Saunders turned to follow, and Emerald made for the relative safety of her own rooms. Although no amount of time spent in quiet reflection would permit her to forget his hushed words, their despair and tenderness. Her spirits soared with the realisation he cared for her and sank just as quickly when the scene she relived in her mind again and again never ended with a kiss. She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever taste his yearning. The doubt sent a single tear down her cheek. She swiped it away, determined to regain her composure before leaving the house for the evening.

She and the dowager were engaged to dine with some of Lady Avon’s friends, and despite taking tea with Louisa in the sun lounge, writing a letter to her stepmother in the library, and meandering past the study door once or twice more before departing, Emerald did not see Beau again while at home.

With her arm threaded through the dowager’s, they entered Lady Abercrombe’s already crowded picture gallery. Emerald, paying no mind to what was being said to her, scanned the faces for one familiar and dear, her breath bottled in her chest, her slippered foot tapping a staccato rhythm under her dress. Her heart dropped when she couldn’t pick out his lean build, his sharp, square shoulders, his brilliant, clear eyes.

‘I had thought the earl planned to be in attendance this evening.’

‘Did he say so? Last I heard, he had engaged himself for a card party with friends, but when you get to be my age, you’ve long learned to accustom yourself to the whims of young people,’ the dowager answered in her steady, easy way, but the climb of her eyebrows and the curious way she regarded her made Emerald feel exposed. She resisted the urge to fidget.

‘Yes, well, I daresay we could be shoulder to shoulder and still not find each other in this crush.’

‘What a charming picture you two ladies make.’ A male voice interrupted their exchange, and Emerald, releasing the dowager’s arm, turned to see Mr Babin at her other side.

‘Mr Babin, how do you do?’

‘Very well, Miss Doubleday. This private gallery rivals some of the finer public ones I’ve had the pleasure of visiting. Do you sketch or paint in watercolour?’

‘I cannot claim any such talents. My time has been given to animal husbandry and horticulture, although those may not weigh so favourably with the ton.’ She smiled at the absurdity of it all. ‘I hope I am nevertheless at least able to appreciate the skill required to achieve a well-composed piece of art.’

‘Do you appreciate the dramatics of a big reveal as well?’

Emerald laughed. ‘Don’t we all? I’m convinced the turnout is due to the thrill of anticipation more than the joy of viewing a portrait of a woman who stands in front of us.’

‘An astute observation, Miss Doubleday.’

Emerald’s mood soared when she heard Beau’s voice, but she held tight to the smile wishing to form on her face. She had no desire to let others in. ‘A compliment? I am in disbelief.’ His blue eyes sparked. He understood.

‘Babin,’ he said with his most glacial stare.

‘What a happy reunion we have here,’ chimed Mr Lyon, joining the group with his sister on his arm.

‘I could think of at least a dozen other things I’d rather be doing,’ Esther stated, with a subtle roll of her eyes in Emerald’s direction. ‘But after the fuss last year, I’m awash in curiosity to see Mr Wilson’s work. His paintings can no longer be found in most public galleries, and it seems his commissions have all but dried up too. I just overheard he wouldn’t even have had this one if not for being Lady Abercrombe’s nephew.’

‘Fuss?’ asked Emerald.

It was Mr Lyon who answered. ‘Scant on the details, but it seems he made quite the enemy at the Royal Academy last season.’

‘Come, Charles. Mama beckons,’ said Esther on a sigh. She took a step, but paused to say to Emerald, ‘I need a new scent. Care to visit Floris with me tomorrow?’

Emerald inclined her head in agreement.

‘I’ll call for you at two,’ stated Miss Lyon, dragging her brother away by his arm.

Mr Babin also excused himself, and the dowager had slipped off some time ago, leaving Emerald standing alone with her guardian.

‘Are you enjoying your evening?’

She replied with light censure, ‘Quite well, no thanks to you.’ In truth, she wanted only to return to the drawing room, to finish what they’d begun, and in the absence of such a possibility had lingered on his words, the way her body formed to his, and what it could all mean until her mind was as scrambled as the eggs she’d eaten for breakfast.

‘Would you care to lay specific charges at my feet? Perhaps I may redeem myself—and your evening—yet.’

His tone was serious, but Emerald suspected he was teasing her. ‘You’re quizzing me.’

He smiled. ‘I’m only following your lead.’

‘It’s a shame you’re not always so amiable.’

‘Is that why you drive me to distraction? For your own enjoyment?’Beau’s eyes were as clear as the diamonds around her neck but blazed down on her like the sun itself was reflected within them. Somehow during their exchange the distance between them had lessened. Emerald forced her lungs to fill with air, wondering if he could hear it whooshing through her.

She wanted for a witty reply, something to maintain the foreign lightness of the conversation, but his question, though teasing, had caught her off guard, and she struggled to do more than blink at him.

‘You’ll forgive me while I delight in my achievement. I’ve never seen you speechless and feel I ought to appreciate the relative quiet.’

His face held a challenge, and Emerald, released from her stupor, opened her mouth to utter some retort only to clamp it closed instead, making a show of holding her lips tight together and issuing a challenge of her own.

‘You wish to gratify me? No, not you, dear ward. You wish to punish me by forcing me into conversation with other guests. I know how you delight in vexing me, and as I’m committed to your pleasure, I’m left with very little choice.’ His eyes dropped from hers and roamed over her body—the gaze lustful, lingering, and touching even the most sensitive parts of her hidden from view. Her centre seized with desire. ‘Your humble servant, ma’am.’ Beau eased back into the throng of people filling Lady Abercrombe’s rooms.

Emerald watched his back as he retreated. The image of what lay under his fitted coat sent a shiver through her.

A crowd gathered at Lady Abercrombe’s beckoning, and Emerald took her place next to the dowager with only half a mind for what was happening around her. After the curtain dropped, revealing a downright ghastly painting of the woman, Beau’s eyes caught hers and held them in a fulminating stare. Like the last leaf falling from a bare branch, the vestiges of caution protecting her heart slipped from her hold.

‘You and your guardian appear to be on better terms with one another.’

Emerald was startled to find herself in the company of Mr Babin once more. After he had walked away earlier, she’d not spared another thought for him.

‘It’s much easier to share a home with someone when one is not always at odds with them,’ she said, keeping her face and focus forward.

‘True.’ He nodded. ‘There was a time I suspected his interest in you was unbefitting his position as your guardian, and it would only be a matter of time before I’d be offering you congratulations. But, alas, I suppose intuition remains stronger in the fairer sex.’

She couldn’t prevent the flush creeping up her neck and hoped it went unnoticed. The familiarity with which he spoke to her was unwelcome and unappreciated, and she opened her mouth to excuse herself when rescue came from a surprising quarter.

‘Miss Doubleday, a pleasure,’ exclaimed the Duchess of Hazelhurst, reaching out a hand for Emerald’s.

When Emerald looked to where Mr Babin had been standing at her side, reluctantly prepared to make the introduction, the space was empty.

‘Forgive me if I overstepped. You did not appear to be enjoying yourself in your previous conversation.’

Emerald was a little taken aback. One of the earliest things she’d mastered at Oakmoss was her composure, or the ability to imitate it. ‘Was it so obvious?’

‘No.’ The duchess offered a kind smile. ‘Not at all.’

‘What think you of Lady Abercrombe’s new painting?’

The duchess’s enigmatic green eyes flashed. ‘Would you prefer an honest answer or a society one?’

Emerald’s brows drew together in a wrinkle of confusion, but she asked for the honest answer through a crooked half-smile. Her Grace angled herself towards Emerald to afford them whatever privacy could be had in such a crowd. ‘She only hired Wilson because he’s her nephew, as I’m sure you’ve heard by now, and’—she paused, drawing her eyes up to Emerald’s—‘because I refused it.’

Emerald’s eyes widened. It would’ve been futile for her to make any attempt at hiding her surprise. ‘You’re a painter?’ The question was stupid but the best Emerald could manage while she tried to recall anything the dowager had mentioned about the young woman next to her.

The duchess’s mouth twitched with amusement. ‘Shocking, I know.’

‘Yes, but wonderful too. To even dare dream of such a thing. The most I’ve ever dreamt of is a home and family of my own. How trite that sounds by comparison.’

Her Grace found Emerald’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘There’s nothing trite about wishing for something—or someone—to call your own.’

A hot sting assailed Emerald’s eyes, and she fluttered her lashes, embarrassed by her visceral reaction to the duchess’s words and the sincerity with which they’d been delivered.

‘Come, let us take a turn. I’ll introduce you to my husband, and if it would distract from whatever weighs on your mind, I will tell you all about the scandal I caused last year.’

Emerald chuckled, enchanted by the woman, and let herself be guided through the throngs of people who seemed to float apart to make way for the young duchess.

‘I hope you do not feel it forward of me to express my wish that we may become friends.’

‘You’re a duchess. Is impertinence not one of the pleasures accompanying rank and fortune?’

The duchess beamed. ‘How I do enjoy being right. Although, I’ve only been a duchess less than a twelvemonth. All the rest I spent steeped in propriety, or near to it.’ She paused her speech as they passed a pair of fair-haired ladies whispering behind their fans. ‘So many of the rules we follow we do so out of fear.’

If the woman’s striking veneer were to be peeled back, no doubt one would find her made up of grit and backbone and purpose, and in her, Emerald recognised a kindred spirit.

‘Once you know who you are, Miss Doubleday, and what wish is foremost in your heart, be bold.’

The words were quick to root in Emerald’s fertile mind.

She had been looking for Beau as they made their way round the room, her eyes scanning every face for the only one that made her feel as though an entire garden bloomed in her belly. When she spotted him, his mouth curved into a private smile just for her. Even as she moved beyond where she could see him, she knew he was watching her. The very same way she knew she never had and never would love another man so long as there was breath in her lungs.