Chapter Fourteen
Emily
“Thank you, Mary,” Emily said in a soft voice, pulling the robe free of her shoulders and slipping out of her slippers.
She slid under the bed’s coverlet, plumping the pillows into a tiny heap behind her back.
“I don’t need anything else tonight. Please enjoy your day with your mother tomorrow and give her my kind regards. ”
“I will, Lady Emily.” Mary folded the robe, laying it at the foot of the bed. “Are you sure you will not need me in the morning?”
“No, it will not be necessary. I can manage to dress myself, and if I require assistance, I will call upon one of the upstairs maids.” Emily slanted a glance at the girl.
Mary was three years older and one of the sweetest people Emily had ever known.
The maid was also amazingly gifted at accomplishing various tasks.
“And you are sure you will be able to steal away for an hour or two to look over the Curzon Street townhome? I know it has a limited staff, but if Miss Penelope stays for an extended period, she will require a few things during that time. Most importantly, a maid we can trust.”
“Oh, yes, milady. My cousin is available to help with this. She recently lost her post after Lord Manton passed away, and his widow was forced to address expenses.” Mary smiled at Emily, her tone filled with reassurance.
“And the butler at the Curzon townhome is friends with my mother. Once she became ill, he has made it a point to visit her whenever he can. I’m sure he will be happy to help, as long as you approve the venture. ”
“I wish Penelope could stay there with no one being the wiser,” Emily mused, biting her forefinger in thought.
“It will be discreet, milady. Only the necessary staff will be aware of her stay, and they will not speak on the matter without your directive.”
“I suppose you are right. I will visit it myself next week to ensure everything is in place. The house party is in a month’s time, so I would like to have all plans in place before then.”
Mary nodded, picking up a few more clothing items to drape over her arm, including the Spencer jacket Emily had worn that afternoon. Picking up the riding crop, she looked askance at Emily. “Shall I have this returned to the stables, milady?”
Emily shook her head. “No need. I will do it tomorrow as I plan on riding again in the afternoon. I’ll take it with me then.”
Mary murmured in agreement, setting the crop back down in the chair before exiting the bedroom with a soft good night for Emily.
Once alone, Emily slumped back against the pillows. Her mind raced, not only with plans for Penelope’s situation but also with her own interactions with Wylder and the uneasy nature of their relationship.
He and Simon had once again disappeared into Lord Blackthorne’s study following dinner.
Emily overheard her mother tell their housekeeper that Lord Wyldewood would be staying the night and to ensure that his usual guestroom was prepared.
Knowing he would be sleeping in the guest wing of the house made her jittery with nerves.
Her nights since the Jacobson ball and Wylder’s midnight visit had been sleepless ones.
She tossed and turned, dreams of Wylder’s hands on her body, his eyes burning her skin while he watched her come undone.
The lack of sleep was finally catching up to her.
She was exhausted after seeing the earl at dinner; her efforts to remain unaffected by his presence mentally wearing her down.
But even as she pondered her hopeless infatuation with the man, her eyes grew heavy.
Only minutes after Mary’s departure, Emily drifted off to sleep.
*
She woke slowly, awareness dripping through her body until her eyes opened wide.
A large hand clamped over her mouth, preventing any outcry she might have made. She struggled to rise from the bed only to be pushed down onto the mattress.
“Be still now,” Wylder murmured, his voice low and rough. “Do not struggle unless you would like me to lash you to the bed again. Do you want that, minx?”
Emily glared up at him in the soft lamplight and shook her head as best she could with the heel of his hand pushing her into the pillows.
Her heart thumped wildly. Why was he here in her room?
What could he possibly want from her? And how could he be so reckless as to try this with Simon in the same house? Indeed, on the same floor?
Wylder smelled of brandy and the sweet, smoky aroma of expensive cigars, and his eyes burned through her like molten silver.
A thread of anger wove through the way he stared at her.
Emily wondered if he was upset because of her coolness toward him at dinner, but then she remembered she was determined not to be concerned with his feelings on the matter.
“If I remove my hand, you will remain quiet like a good girl, won’t you?”
Emily’s eyes narrowed at him.
“I will remind you that you agreed to follow my orders in moments such as this,” he said, his voice tight. “If that is no longer the case, then I shall leave you at once.”
Emily stiffened, disturbed by the threat that he might go. This was her opportunity to prove that she could take the pleasure he gave her without expecting more. The slight shake of her head gave him permission to do as he pleased.
Wylder removed the hand from over her mouth. Emily sucked in a breath but lay silent when he snatched the coverlet back in one quick movement. His gaze traveled over her nightgown-clad form, his mouth quirking upward at the sight.
“Very pretty,” he said in a low murmur. “But covered from head to toe in sprigged cotton is not how I wish to see you, Emily. Allow me to remedy that.”
Wrapping his hand around her wrist, Wylder yanked her up from the bed until she was on her feet.
“Please do not tear this one, too,” Emily muttered, annoyed that her body should come alive with his rough handling. “I was forced to burn the last one to prevent any questions from my maid.”
“Then by all means, remove this monstrosity on your own.”
“Release me, and I will do as you ask, my lord.”
They glared at each other for a few moments, the tension stretching between them like a band pulled tight. Emily’s gaze flickered to the set of balcony doors, her lips thinning in suspicion.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded. “I am sure I locked those doors before going to bed.”
Wylder smirked. “As if a lock would keep me from you, minx.” When she continued to frown, he sighed heavily. “You did not lock your bedroom door. I utilized that entrance, if the information matters.”
Emily shook her head. “Are you insane? What if someone saw you come in here? What if my brother saw you? You know his rooms are just two corridors away from mine.”
“I will admit to a bit of unhinged behavior when it comes to you. However, in this instance, you need not worry, as Simon retired some time ago. I was extremely cautious.”
“Why are you here, Wylder?”
“Why am I here, Emily? Because it seems I cannot stay away from you. And knowing that you are just down the hall from me is more temptation than a man can reasonably endure.” He sounded hopelessly resigned to that fact even as irritation tinged his words. “This obsession is a damnable sickness.”
Emily sighed, her own frustration sapped by his confession. “I am similarly afflicted, Wylder. Even though I realize our lives will never entwine in the way I once hoped, I cannot deny my feelings for you. Resisting you is not possible.”
The flame in Wylder’s eyes burned higher. Tightening his hand around her wrist, he pulled her closer to him. “Does this mean you are willing to continue with our arrangement?”
“Y-yes.” Their gazes clashed, and Emily was the first to cast her eyes downward.
Wylder’s eyes softened at her display of submission before he let her go.
“I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours, minx. You are angry over my treatment of you this afternoon when I arrived here. I know my greeting was cold; however, there was the very real possibility that Simon would witness our interaction.”
Emily nodded, rubbing her wrist to ease the marks his grip left on her tender skin. “Lord forbid that my brother sees you extending common courtesy to his only sister.”
“I require his help,” Wylder grumbled, scrubbing his jaw. “Far more than I ever did in the past. It is why I came to Blackthorne Manor today. Once again, I must rely upon Simon’s expertise in planning out a strategy that saves my compromised inheritance.”
Emily cocked her head, one slim, dark brow lifting high in question. “My brother is advising you on the search for an unsuspecting heiress?”
Wylder had the grace to flush. “It is my damnable father. I’ve agreed with the man in exchange for his cooperation.
He is granting me full control over the estates to rebuild our coffers, but only if I pursue this repulsive task of bride hunting.
He has convinced himself that a suitable heiress will overlook the lack of coin in the Claymore estates and focus instead on being a future duchess.
For the moment, I am forced to oblige his delusions. ”
“Having intimate knowledge of your aversion to marriage, I cannot imagine how you are stomaching this travesty.” Emily’s voice contained a false breeziness.
Her heart was shattering into pieces with the idea of Wylder searching for a bride while she watched in rejection from the sidelines.
Surely God would not be so cruel as to have her watch another young woman claim the role as Wylder’s wife.