Chapter Seventeen
Wylder
By divine intervention, or simply because of Lady Blackthorne’s rather obvious scheming, Wylder found himself seated beside Emily at supper.
The table was set for the thirty guests who had arrived thus far.
At the other end of the dining room, Simon and Miss True had also been paired.
Simon looked agitated by the seating arrangement while Miss True, in her usual fashion, shyly kept her attention focused on her plate.
Occasionally, Simon caught Wylder’s eye.
His expression left no doubt that he believed Wylder, or even his sister, likely had some manner of input on how guests were seated.
But Wylder could honestly claim innocence in the matter.
Indeed, he preferred not to be in such close proximity to Emily, afraid that his emotions would be apparent to those around them.
Taking a deep breath, Wylder wondered how he would keep his composure when Emily’s sweetly perfumed body was so damned close. Each time her skirts brushed against his leg, every blood vessel in his body tightened until it was excruciatingly painful.
“How is your search for a wife progressing, Lord Wyldewood?” Emily asked in a soft voice as her wine glass was filled by one of the dining room footmen.
A muscle ticked in Wylder’s jaw at the impertinent question. “I’ve explained that it is simply an act for my father’s benefit.”
She smiled. “Yes, you’ve said as much. But still, you must at least pretend it for it to be real enough. How else will His Grace believe you are in earnest?”
The practical nature of her reasoning needled him.
She deliberately posed the question as a way of highlighting the idiocy of his plan.
Glancing down the length of the table, he focused on the young lady beside Simon, then slowly said, “You are right. Perhaps I shall consider courting Miss True. Even with her admirable skills of avoiding scandalous situations, my pursuit of her would at least appear authentic to the casual observer. It might not appease my father, but I would be upholding my end of the bargain when it comes to hunting for a wife.”
If Wylder thought Emily would find his suggestion abhorrent, he was almost comically disappointed by her reaction.
Her eyes lit up, a calculating gleam in the sparkly blue depths that proved so damned intoxicating he nearly forgot he meant to take her down a peg or two.
She leaned toward him, her voice low and full of hopeful speculation.
“Would you truly consider it, Wylder?” Her hand came up to lightly grip his forearm, her eyes searching his. “It would be ever so helpful. Penelope and I would owe you a debt of gratitude… even if the courtship is all for show.”
Wylder gaped at her, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. Did she mean that? Did she really wish to see him courting her best friend?
Then his eyes narrowed with a dawning suspicion. It was becoming obvious that the two girls were scheming something together, and now Emily was attempting to draw him into it.
“Do you mean that, minx?”
Emily frowned at him as if confused by the question.
“Of course, I mean it. If Lord and Lady True have reason to believe Penelope has captured the attention of a man of your standing, they might reconsider—” She abruptly broke off whatever she was going to say next and fell silent, her hand leaving his arm.
Biting her lower lip, she quickly picked up her glass of wine and took a long sip.
Wylder was left with the impression that she hoped he would let the strange statement pass without further comment.
The arrival of the first course meant an extended period where Wylder could not comment on her strange request. Other conversations continued around them as Emily politely spoke with the older man seated on her other side.
Sir Gregory Brighton was a pleasant enough fellow, witty and not overbearing.
He was considered handsome, although Wylder could not speak to that aspect.
Sitting back in his chair, he listened as the other gentleman kept Emily engaged for the next half hour.
When he finally recaptured Emily’s attention sometime after the third course of roast beef, stuffed tomatoes, and creamed peas, Wylder had decided that whatever secrets she was keeping must be uncovered.
It was for her own good, he told himself.
Getting to the bottom of things would keep both girls from getting into mischief.
“You will tell me the meaning behind your words, Emily,” he said quietly while she pushed food around her plate and drank far more wine than she should have. “And if you think I won’t obtain the truth of the matter, you are sorely mistaken.”
Emily’s wide-eyed look reeked of innocence. “I’m not sure what you mean, Lord Wyldewood.”
“You’ll have the opportunity later to explain things.
And Emily?” Wylder paused, his hand moving beneath the edge of the table to grip her knee.
She let out a little squeak of alarm but remained quiet as he continued, “We are both aware that I will utilize certain methods to get the information I want from you.”
Her breathing grew shallow with the sensuous threat, her eyes becoming heavy-lidded as she stared back at him.
“You made the offer, Wylder. I was exploring the possibilities of you courting my dearest friend and the benefits that might arise from it. It is a strategy that would draw my brother’s attention away from scrutinizing our interactions too closely, wouldn’t you agree? ”
Wylder squeezed her knee harder, infuriated by her stubbornness in submitting to his command. “I have no interest in any woman other than you, minx.”
Emily’s smile was faint, but her words were strong as she stood her ground. “For the sake of others, we must play the game of indifference. I see the necessity of it, my lord, and so must you.”
Once supper was done, the ladies retired to one of Thorne Park’s two drawing rooms while the men remained behind to enjoy their brandies.
A few gentlemen lit up cigars. Soon, the room became boisterous as various conversations centering around politics and business filled the air, accompanied by a fine haze of smoke.
“You and Emily appeared to be having a rather intense discussion,” Simon dryly remarked as Wylder sipped a brandy.
“Merely polite conversation.” Wylder glanced about the room, locating Simon’s father. Lord Blackthorne was in deep conversation with Sir Gregory Brighton, the man who had sat on Emily’s right side during supper. “In contrast, there did not seem to be any occurring between you and Miss True.”
Simon snorted in disgust. “I don’t know what my mother hoped to accomplish with that little stunt.
The girl is so damnably shy, she barely said two words during the entire meal.
The surprising thing is when I dared make mention of it, she shot me a glare that would likely ignite an ordinary man into flames.
” He shook his head, brow furrowed as he recalled the incident. “But perhaps I imagined that.”
“It seems Lady Blackthorne is not above a bit of matchmaking,” Wylder said. “I suppose we shall both be subjected to such ploys over the next two weeks.”
Simon’s jaw clenched at that. “I sincerely hope not. She knows you are not suitable for Emily. You know you are not suitable.”
Wylder contained the spark of anger at his friend’s statement, reminding himself that to react would only draw more attention to himself and Emily.
Besides, Simon’s assertion was true. His lifestyle, his multiple affairs, and pursuit of all things debauched and depraved precluded him from ever being appropriate for a woman like Emily.
But still, it stung to hear it said so matter-of-factly by his best friend.
“Perhaps it is her way of enticing others to court your sister? The fairer sex has a simplistic approach to matters of matrimony. They believe two people thrown together will result in the formation of a common bond.”
Simon did not appear convinced by that argument, but thankfully, he turned the conversation to other matters. “Your investments appear to be doing well. Father remarked upon it when I showed him the latest report on that pottery factory in Yorkshire.”
“My man of affairs tells me the accounts are already beginning to show a profit,” Wylder said with a slight smile.
“Do you still intend on putting up the pretense that you are searching for a bride to please your father?”
“Bloody hell, yes, as distasteful as it is.” Wylder drank the rest of his brandy. He should follow the other men trickling back into the drawing room to join the ladies.
Simon turned his glass over in his hand, his voice flat. “I hate what this directive to marry has done to the Rakehells. First Lucien… and now you.”
“You know this is all a farce, Simon. One that I must play at to achieve my goal.” Wylder nodded toward the drawing room in a silent invitation to join him there.
“That is true,” Simon said morosely. “But once you begin searching for a bride, it’s simply a matter of time before it becomes reality.”
Wylder did not respond to that as he began striding toward the drawing room. Sir Brighton was also headed in that direction and would beat him there. “Are you coming to the drawing room?” he asked Simon over his shoulder. “There’s sure to be a few games of whist or hazard to pass the time.”
“Father has arranged for higher stakes play in the Blue Room,” Simon remarked as he trailed behind. “However, I know my mother will be disappointed if I do not at least turn a trick or two at whist with a few of the ladies.”
Wylder immediately searched for Emily and found her sitting with Penelope in one of the alcove window seats. The two girls were engaged in a deep, obviously private conversation, but still, he could see Emily’s eyes light up when she saw that he’d entered the room before she quickly shuttered them.
“Come join us, Lord Wyldewood,” Emily’s mother called out. “We just started a new game and require a fourth person since Lady Caldwell bowed out.”
Wylder bowed at the waist to the older woman, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. “I fear my funds will be significantly depleted if I attempt to go up against such skilled players.”
Chelsea Blackthorne grinned shamelessly at her son’s best friend. “How else can we ladies replenish our pin money, my dear boy?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Wylder watched as Sir Brighton approached Emily and Penelope. Whatever the older man said to them had both girls smiling before Emily accepted his outstretched hand. He helped her rise to her feet and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
“Oh, I do hope Sir Brighton does not turn your daughter’s head before my darling nephew can arrive,” Lady Bashear said, lips pressed into a moue of disappointment.
Along with Lady Blackthorne, the ladies seated around the table all turned to watch Sir Brighton lead Emily out of the double doors and onto the open terrace.
Of course, the two stayed within eyesight of others in the room…
a nod to respectability that Wylder found almost laughable.
If there was anything he had learned of Emily Blackthorne over the last few weeks, it was the fact that she possessed a wild streak a respectable man would never be able to tame.
“No worries on that account, Caroline,” Lady Blackthorne murmured, giving Wylder an audacious wink her friend did not see. “Emily is determined to let her heart lead her in matters of romance.”
Lady Bashear sniffed. “A foolish endeavor, I think.”
“Simon, come here, if you please.” Lady Blackthorne motioned for her son to come closer. When he bent down, she whispered something in his ear and smiled when he straightened. “For my sake, dear.”
“Of course, Mother,” Simon replied, his jaw clenching even as he gave her a tight smile. Turning toward Penelope, sitting alone in the window seat, he threw Wylder a scowl and approached the girl.
Wylder smothered his own grin. It was apparent to him that Lady Blackthorne was determined to push Simon in Penelope’s direction. But whether she was motivated by sympathy or a genuine desire to see her son with the timid girl remained to be seen.
Whatever the reason, the lady’s actions were to Wylder’s advantage. While Simon was busy with Miss True, Wylder was free to interact with Emily.
Now, he only needed to persuade Sir Brighton that Lady Emily was not the girl for him. And he would do that for one simple reason. Emily belonged to him, even if the relationship was one that they kept a secret for the rest of their lives.
A tragic necessity.
“My pardon, ladies.” Wylder bowed to the group of older women, his eyes flicking toward the open terrace doors.
Through the open portal, he could see Sir Brighton laughing with Emily.
Occasionally, the man pointed up at the sky, and Wylder realized he was likely pointing out different constellations.
“I believe I shall step outside for a breath of fresh air before joining the other gentlemen in the Blue Room.”