Chapter Eighteen
Emily
Emily feigned interest in the night sky, only half-listening to Gregory Brighton’s scientific explanations of the stars glittering in the inky darkness.
All of her attention was focused on the interior of the parlor behind the terrace.
More specifically, she listened for any indication that Wylder would follow her.
Wasn’t he even the tiniest bit curious to know what her conversation with Gregory consisted of?
“And so that cluster of stars is known as Perseus,” Gregory said. “It is one of the constellations Ptolemy listed in his catalog, Almagest. It’s all so very fascinating, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Certainly,” Emily murmured, shifting her feet while straining to hear if anyone else might also venture out onto the terrace.
“And there, that is Polaris, part of the Ursa Minor.” Gregory pointed out an object a bit larger than the other stars.
“It is the brightest star in the sky.” Lowering his head, he smiled sheepishly at Emily.
“But I must say, Lady Emily, that it is quite dull indeed when compared to the beauty of your eyes. Yours are by far brighter and more brilliant than any stars I’ve observed during my amateur attempts at charting. ”
“That is very kind of you to say, Sir Brighton.” Emily shifted away slightly, placing a bit more distance between their bodies. Gregory placed a hand over hers where it was still tucked into the crook of his arm.
“I am very sincere in my compliments, my lady, and pray I do not offend with my brashness.”
“No offense taken, sir.” Emily tugged at her hand only to discover he did not seem inclined to release her.
“I would welcome the opportunity to show you the charts I’ve been working on, Lady Emily,” he said with great enthusiasm. “Perhaps you would find it all as intriguing as I do.”
“Science was never one of the areas I excelled in during my necessary studies,” Emily replied apologetically.
“I’m afraid that it is all truly mystifying to me.
My strength was in mathematics, although I thoroughly enjoy classic literature.
Especially the writings of Aristotle and even Chaucer.
I read them still whenever I have free moments to myself. ”
“I would be happy to instruct you in matters of astronomy,” Gregory offered.
Emily could not imagine a more boring endeavor, but she managed a polite smile. “I think such an endeavor would require many instances of staring up at the night sky.”
He appeared delighted by that possibility, but before he could say more on the subject, there came a much-welcome interruption.
“Pardon the intrusion,” Wylder murmured, stepping up to the terrace wall and leaning against it.
Even in the pale light of the moon and the glow of lamps from the drawing room, Emily could see Gregory’s face darken with consternation. He released her hand, allowing her to sidle away.
“Good evening, Lord Wyldewood,” Emily replied calmly, although inside she was almost faint with excitement. There was no reason for Wylder to come out to the terrace. No reason other than the fact that she was out there alone with another man.
“Lady Emily.” Wylder nodded in acknowledgment. “Sir Brighton, various games are occurring in the Blue Room for the gentlemen’s pleasure, if you are inclined to join us.”
“Thank you, Wyldewood. Lord Blackthorne mentioned it earlier.” Gregory’s reply was cautiously friendly.
“Sir Brighton was just pointing out some of the constellations to me.” Emily’s chin tilted upward. She gazed at the sky as if entranced by the view. “It’s incredible how many stars are visible on such a clear night.”
Wylder commented softly, “I cannot imagine a man looking at something so insignificant as the sky when he could look at you instead, Lady Emily.”
Emily swallowed hard at Wylder’s unexpected compliment. Where did that come from? And why would he say something like that so publicly? For a long moment, she could only stare at the earl, the silence stretching until Gregory nervously cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, I did compliment Lady Emily,” he offered. “I told her that her eyes are brighter than the stars.”
“Well, now that we’ve established how sparkling my eyes are, I suppose I shall return to the parlor.” Emily’s voice quavered a bit. Wylder’s behavior was unnerving, and she had the impression he hoped that Gregory would voluntarily leave them alone.
“Sir Brighton, I wonder if you might allow me a moment with Lady Emily?” Wylder abruptly asked, his voice firm and strong.
Gregory stood silent, apparently stunned by the request. His gaze flickered to the open doors to the parlor, which provided not even a hint of privacy. When he frowned, Wylder pressed him.
“I’m afraid I must insist, sir.”
Gregory gave a tight nod, then, turning to Emily, he took her hand in his. “I’ll say good evening to you now, Lady Emily. I do hope we may discuss matters of astronomy again. If it is something that interests you, that is.” After pressing a brief kiss to the back of her hand, he released her.
“It would be a pleasant pastime, Sir Brighton,” Emily replied, relieved that the man was obeying Wylder’s directive. What was it about the earl that induced obedience?
Gregory looked as though he wished to say more, but then apparently decided against it. Bowing at the waist, he exited the terrace, leaving Emily and Wylder alone.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Emily?”
Wylder’s voice was low and heated, curling around her like molten lava and just as deadly.
“Immensely, my lord,” she trilled, the false bravado ringing in her tone. “Are you?”
“You should not be out here alone in the dark with a man,” he replied, ignoring her question. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and in Emily’s view he appeared to be holding onto his temper by a thread. Good. She hoped he was as disturbed and bothered as she was.
Emily’s head tilted. “A strange thing to say, considering I am out here in the dark with you. Would you rather I leave?”
“No,” he growled. “I’d rather you not try something so foolish as making me crazed with jealousy.”
“Are you?” Emily asked softly, moving closer to him despite her intentions to keep her distance.
Wylder St. Clair was detrimental to her sense of self-preservation.
His cologne, spicy and sharp, reminded her of the moments they’d spent together in her rooms at Blackthorne Manor.
His hands had explored every inch of her body, learning her secrets and using that knowledge against her until she cried out for mercy.
This obsession between them was dangerous, but it could not be helped.
She had to have his hands and mouth on her again… or else she would go mad with desire.
“Am I what?” Wylder demanded, his gaze falling to her mouth in a moment of distraction. The hard silver of his eyes held a warning, but Emily did not heed it.
“Jealous,” she murmured. “Are you jealous?”
He was silent for a long moment, then hissed, “Bloody hell, minx. I am consumed by jealousy. I wanted to rip Brighton’s eyes right out from their sockets for daring to admire your beauty in the moonlight, if you want the goddamn truth.”
Emily said nothing to that, but the heated confession made her heart quiver with joy.
“I would experience the same if you should stand on a dark terrace with another woman.” She turned toward the parlor, noting the gaiety occurring just beyond the double doors.
Simon had seated himself in the alcove with Penelope, no doubt due to their mother’s urging.
Pained exasperation was stamped across his features as he attempted to engage her in conversation.
For her part, Penelope appeared both terrified and enraged.
When she succeeded in catching Emily’s eye, the girl’s brows knitted together as she silently pleaded for an escape from the situation.
Penelope needed rescuing, that much was clear. Emily pursed her lips and gave her friend a slight nod in acknowledgment of the silent message. Drat. Either Simon is making a complete ass of himself, or he is hopelessly blind to Pen’s unease. My guess is the former.
Her attention returned to Wylder for the moment.
“Are you not overly concerned about my brother’s reaction to the fact that we are alone on the terrace?
” Since Simon had made it very clear that they must have nothing to do with one another, she was genuinely curious about Wylder’s lack of care now.
Not that Simon seemed even to realize she and Wylder were alone now.
“I’m beginning to believe your brother should be punched in the mouth,” he drawled. “And to hell with his edicts when he is just as debauched as he claims me to be.”
Emily smothered a giggle. She thought the same, but of course, it would be unseemly to voice such sentiments aloud. “I should go rescue Penelope. The poor dear is not accustomed to dealing with men like Simon.”
Her rueful statement apparently reminded Wylder of why he’d ventured out onto the terrace in the first place.
“What the devil are you and Miss True planning, minx?” He snagged her by the elbow before she could flit out of his reach.
“When I first entered the drawing room, the two of you were engaged in deep conversation. My instincts tell me you’re up to something.
A plot of some sort and one of great secrecy. ”
Gazing at him in surprise, Emily feigned innocence.
“A plot, my lord? Your imagination is impressive, but you are also very much mistaken. You see, Miss True and I were simply discussing the various gentlemen who will be in attendance during our stay. And, of course, we are both eager to meet the new Countess of Ashcroft. Simon says she is a lovely person.”
Wylder held onto her, refusing to let her loose. Emily wanted to melt into his arms, but with Simon just inside the drawing room, that would be ill-advised.
“I know a plot when I see one forming, Emily,” he murmured. “You are up to something, and I will uncover the truth of it.”
“I doubt it, Lord Wyldewood, but you may try if it entertains you to do so.” Her lips curved in a taunting smile.
“Now, please let me go before my brother has reason to believe your depraved nature has infected me. I’ve no wish to see either of you in a field tomorrow morning, facing one another with pistols drawn. ”