Chapter 18
As the landau started back from Hyde Park, dark clouds crowded the sky, and the air turned chilly. Helivet halted the carriage and instructed the groom to put up the folding top.
“It has been an exceptionally lovely October,” remarked Mouette when they were closed inside, “but I fear our golden autumn is ending at last.”
Outside her little house on Chesterfield Street, Emeline embraced the two women she loved so much. Raindrops were pelting the walkway as Helivet came to hand her down.
“Wait.” Mouette reached out and caught Emeline’s gloved hand.
Hearing the note of urgency in her mother’s voice, she looked back. “What is it?”
“I wish I did not have to say it, but as your mama, I must.” Mouette sighed. “The truth is, even if Hartcliffe loves you…you cannot expect him to change. You must accept him as he is.”
Emeline felt a pang at her words, yet deep inside she knew it was true. Drawing a fortifying breath, she waved and went into the house. Perhaps she would find Hart waiting for her in the little parlor at that very moment.
He was not there, however, and by noon the next day there was still no sign of him. Not even a note! What could it mean? It seemed he must truly regret their interlude in his library, but if he now meant to keep her at a distance, she would not submit.
After picking at her midday meal, Emeline joined Louise in their study, where she found her studying the sketch of Hart’s ancient sword.
“Oh, good, there you are!” Louise paused to polish her gold-rimmed spectacles.
“Don’t you want to delve back into our research?
Just because his lordship hasn’t asked recently how we are coming along, that doesn’t mean we can stop what we’ve been doing.
I confess I live in fear that our monthly income from him will cease if we cannot show more results.
” She replaced the glasses over her slim nose and blinked.
“Besides, I find that I am more intrigued than ever since your outing to Amity Park. Aren’t you? ”
Emeline couldn’t begin to explain to her cousin what she was really thinking about, but she did see an opening. “Yes, you are right! And Hart may have brought other relics from Woodcroft Priory. I am feeling a bit restless, so I will walk over to see him now and ask.”
“On a day like this?” Louise looked out the window at the gathering clouds. “You don’t wish to drive with me to the Reading Room instead?”
“Oh, no, you know me. I don’t mind the rain!” For good measure, she added, “And in addition to asking about the artifacts, I would like to see Monte.”
Louise’s sighed. “Dear Monte! I should love to visit him too. Do you think—”
“No.” Emeline leaned down and looked at her cousin. “Let me be plain. I must see Hart alone, speak to him alone. About a personal matter.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Do you imagine that I am oblivious to what has been happening between you?” Louise patted her hand. “I can assure you, I am not.”
Her face felt warm. “Well then, if you don’t mind, I will leave you to your work.”
With that, heart pounding with excitement, Emeline stopped in the kitchen to ask Dora to heat water for a small bath, then hurried upstairs to dress.
Of course, it was quite possible that Hart wouldn’t even be at his new home, if home was the right word for it.
But she meant to be prepared, just in case.
A half-hour later, after bathing in a few inches of steaming, lavender scented water, Emeline let Dora help her into her demi-corset and layers of petticoats. She chose a new gown of soft, patterned lilac and cream foulard, belted at the waist and set off by a white silk bonnet with lilac ribbons.
As Dora set the bonnet on Emeline’s upswept raven curls, she gave a sigh of appreciation. “Oh, ma’am, you are a vision.”
Emeline scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. “Do you think so? Excellent!” Her appearance had never mattered much to her, but today she checked each detail: the rosy color that washed her cheekbones, the appealing tint of her lips, the black lashes that set off her striking violet eyes.
Dora looked on, eyes wide with curiosity. “Will you be attending a party, ma’am?”
“Perhaps. I do hope so,” Emeline replied enigmatically. Reaching for her reticule, she added, “If I do not return this evening, please tell my cousin not to worry. And now I must summon a hackney.”
A rain shower was in progress when Emeline arrived at the handsome brick house on Wigmore Street. She was relieved to see that lamps burned in some of the windows. No doubt Hart was unpacking. Perhaps he had meant to come to talk to her but had simply lost track of time.
Holding her umbrella in one hand, Emeline used the brass knocker to rap at the door. Only a minute passed before the heavy portal swung open and William stood before her, clearly startled.
“Miss St. Briac! How nice to see you.”
When he didn’t immediately invite her in, she smiled warmly. “Thank you, William. May I come in? A storm is brewing.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Even as he ushered her into the stair hall, Emeline could see that he wasn’t certain how to proceed.
“You must be wondering if his lordship is expecting me,” she said helpfully.
He blinked. “Is he?”
“No. But surely, he won’t mind. Is he in the library?
” Removing her mantelet, she handed it to him along with her wet umbrella and went into the library.
This evening, a cozy fire was burning there, and several lamps were lit around the room.
A magnificent desk now stood before the tall windows and a pair of wing chairs flanked the fireplace.
Emeline scanned the rows of burnished walnut bookshelves that were only partially filled, until her gaze fell upon Mrs. Peachey standing next to one of the boxes.
“Oh, Mrs. Peachey, how lovely to see you again!” Crossing to the older woman, Emeline warmly clasped her hand. “How I envy you, unpacking all of his lordship’s wonderful books. If I were in your place, I fear I would spend weeks, for I should want to peruse every one of them.”
Although Mrs. Peachey seemed genuinely glad to see her, she was pale, and Emeline saw the worry lines in her brow.
“What brings you to this house, Miss St. Briac?” The housekeeper cast an uneasy glance toward the staircase that led up to the next floor. “Lord Jasper did not tell me you might visit.”
“I have come to speak to him about…an important matter,” she confided. “I know it is very improper for me to come here alone, but I hope after spending years with his lordship, you are not horribly shocked.”
Mrs. Peachey twisted her hands together. “And Lord Jasper is expecting you?”
“No!” Her tone was tinged with charm. “But I mean to see him all the same. Is he upstairs?”
“He is, but I think William should announce you. I mean, it might be…” Her voice trailed off.
Something in the housekeeper’s nervous manner added to Emeline’s lurking sense of disquiet, but she smiled all the same. “Please don’t worry, ma’am, or trouble William. Just go on with your unpacking and pay no attention to me.”
In spite of her show of bravado, Emeline’s heart pounded like a drum as she climbed the broad stairs. Suddenly it came to her that Hart might have another woman in his bed.
No. She straightened her shoulders. That could not be.
The stairway opened onto a spacious landing, and the corridor that extended in both directions was quite dark.
All the doors appeared to be closed. Now what?
Emeline knew a moment’s panic. Somehow, she had expected to discover his room immediately, even with the door standing ajar.
Perhaps she should have asked William to go ahead after all.
As she stood there in the shadows, a soft “woof” reached her ears. She broke into a wide smile. Monte!
Emeline followed the sound to the end of the darkened corridor where a thin bar of golden light shone under the last door.
She heard Hart speaking in a muted, ironic tone but could not make out the words.
Woof! came a canine reply. The notion that Hart had Monte with him and the two of them were having a conversation made her heart swell.
Her hand was shaking as she prepared to knock, but then she heard Hart’s voice again. “Now what do you want? More dinner?”
Woof, woof!
“You are a four-legged tyrant, you know. Go downstairs and appeal to Peachey.”
A moment later, as Emeline stood there, poised to knock, the door flew open.
Her heart was in her throat as she confronted Hart’s tall, imposing figure, silhouetted against the firelit bedchamber. His silver-flecked hair was in disarray, he wore no coat or neckcloth, and his snowy shirt was open at the neck.
Blinking, he gave his head a quick shake. “Are you some sort of cursed mirage?”
She put up her chin. “That is not a very civil greeting.”
“What the devil are you doing here?”
“May I come in?”
He drew a harsh breath. “In here?”
“You are a trifle slow tonight, my lord. Have I disturbed your nap?” Sailing past him, she looked around the room until her eyes fell on the decanter of brandy and nearly empty glass that stood on a table near the fire. “Or perhaps strong spirits are to blame for your muddled wits.”
“My wits are not muddled!”
Monte now hurried toward her, emitting little yips of joy, and Emeline crouched down to receive his affectionate kisses. When the dog seemed satisfied, she whispered to him, “There is a treat waiting for you downstairs.”
Watching as Monte raced from the room, Hart closed the door behind him. “I’m not going to ask how you were admitted and came to find my bedchamber,” he said, frowning. “Let us go straight to the part where you bid me goodbye and go on your way. No one need know you were here, alone with me. Again.”
The emphasis he placed on the last word made her smile as she rose to her feet. Removing her bonnet, she set it on a velvet-upholstered chair.