Chapter 14 #2
“A splendid idea! I think I have a book on the Portuguese mango trade …”
Back in her room, Emmeline changed for bed, putting on a light cotton nightgown and draping a wrapper around her shoulders. She climbed into the bed, fluffed her pillow … and stayed there, motionless, as the wheels in her head turned.
The wait was torturous—surely, she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.
She had to go check out the pendant. She wasn’t sure what that would confirm, but she had to touch it, examine it; and she couldn’t do that in front of the duke.
He might grow suspect if she expressed a sudden interest in the pendant, especially after she’d read the book.
The hour was late, and the lights had been turned down for the evening, only a few candles illuminating her way as Emmeline tiptoed down the hallway and bent over the railing of the staircase, checking the foyer.
All was calm and silent, and no light came from under the door to the study.
She continued down, put an ear to the door, and listened.
Still quiet.
Another door closed somewhere in the house—further away, but enough to make her panic. She stifled a squeal and slipped inside the study.
It was pitch black. The curtains were drawn, preventing her from seeing an inch in front of her. She tried to orient herself based on memory: the writing desk should be over there, which meant the bookshelves would be to the left of her …
Something stirred. Close by.
In the room with her.
She stepped back and bumped into something—someone. A tall, hard, but warm figure. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand covered it.
“Shhh,” the figure whispered. “Stay quiet. I won’t hurt you.”
A man’s voice—familiar, perhaps, although it was hard to tell from the whisper.
Oh, no. Daniel had said he’d be in the study with the duke. And this wasn’t the duke—he wasn’t tall enough.
“Daniel?” she mumbled through the hand covering her mouth.
He shifted, and the hand dropped. “Miss Grey?” He was still whispering.
She turned to face him, but in the dark, all she could discern was a vague outline of a head and shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I was—I was looking for a book to read. Your father has such an interesting collection.”
“Yes.” His voice, a shade above a whisper and strangely raspy, came after some hesitation. Perhaps he and the duke had an exhaustive post-dinner discussion.
If that was the reason, they should do it more often. There was something indescribably attractive about that voice. As he shifted, perhaps to leave, his clothes brushed against her thin nightgown, and her imagination bloomed in the dark.
She had to know if that kiss was a fluke.
“Wait,” she whispered, lifted an inch on her toes, and pressed her lips to his.
He froze. Did she do it wrong? Trapped with this indecisive awkwardness, she stayed for a moment, embarrassment trickling into the initial pleasure at the contact.
And then he kissed her back.
He was tantalizingly gentle, kissing her upper lip first, and then the lower, and then teasingly pressing against her, a soft nudge to make her part her lips.
She let him in; a light, honeyed taste that spun her head and set her fantasies aflame.
A tiny moan came from somewhere—her, probably—as she leaned into him, absorbing his warmth through the nightgown.
A string of sparks flew from her chest all the way down to her toes.
The previous kiss stood no chance of comparing.
It couldn’t even be called a kiss—not when this existed.
She’d never read about anything like this in a book.
She’d never felt this heavenly; like they were one, like he was giving her life and dreams and joy through the taking of her lips and the soft mingling of their tongues.
And for once, it wasn’t all in her head.
Her legs tingled; her belly fluttered; her entire body was abuzz with this entirely strange, and yet comfortingly familiar feeling.
This was it. This was … right.
His hand came up, thumb caressing her cheek.
“Daniel,” she whispered.
He stopped. His hand froze, and his breath tickled the corner of her mouth.
Without another word, he moved away and disappeared through the door.
Emmeline didn’t know how long she remained in the same pose, her fingers touching her lips as if that could preserve his touch. The warmth from his body slowly left hers. Her eyes adjusted, and gradually, the study was revealed in its dark blueish shades.
She shook her head, but it did very little to shake off her thoughts. Hadn’t he liked the kiss? It felt like he did. But then, what was wrong? And what was she even—oh, the pendant. She came to examine the pendant.
She moved to the shelves, straining her eyes. Books, the globe—there was the velvet box! She leaned in, doing a double take to make sure she saw right in the dark.
Starry Night was gone.
***
Theo sat on the storage box in the stables, the oil lamp next to him illuminating the midnight blue pendant in his hand. As he turned it in his fingers, tiny silver specks caught the light, shining like stars in the sky.
He checked Wescott’s letter again, even though he knew the words by heart. What you’re looking for is a necklace with a tear-shaped pendant. The material should be a dark blue mineral, shining silver. The pendant, or even the stone itself, might be separate from the necklace.
This was what Wescott wanted him to find.
Starry Night.
And he’d found it thanks to Emmeline’s wild story.
Well, he would’ve found it eventually. It wasn’t hidden at all, as if the duke didn’t think he’d committed a crime by obtaining the necklace. Had he? Theo didn’t know, and he didn’t know why Wescott wanted it, but here he was, doing the earl’s bidding because it was the right thing to do.
And maybe, if the duke was a storybook villain, it was the right thing to do beyond Theo owing a debt.
What absolutely was not the right thing to do, however, was that kiss.
Theo sighed, looking across at the stall where Lord Farenham’s champion stallion, Nero, calmly observed him.
“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” he said to the horse.
Nero neighed.
“An absolute, utter nincompoop. Don’t say otherwise. I know it’s true.”
Nero shook his shiny black mane.
He didn’t need to wonder what he’d been thinking when, amidst his great robbery, Emmeline burst into the study and bumped into him before he could slip away.
The answer was simple—he hadn’t been thinking.
When she stood so close to him, it was like back at the castle, and when she suddenly kissed him …
He gave in.
And now he was damned. Damned for feeling her lips once, damned for remembering exactly how her body felt, pressed against his, damned because she was someone else’s fiancée—not just someone, a duke’s heir!—damned because it wasn’t as if he was free of obligations, either.
It was a small mercy she’d somehow mistaken him for Lord Farenham; at least that way, she thought she was kissed by her fiancé, and not her faux stable boy. A much better outcome.
Even if it didn’t feel like that.
He jumped off the box. Time to focus on the important things. Emmeline would eventually want to examine the pendant, and find it missing, but from what he understood, she didn’t need it for anything, so he hadn’t ruined her plans. He should mail it to Wescott as soon as he could …
But once Wescott got it, would he summon him to London? How soon would that be? And was sending this precious artifact through the mail even safe?
It would be for the best, to leave. But he thought of the day behind him, and Emmeline’s joyous, beaming face as he accepted their partnership …
If he let her, if he could afford to, she could make his life magical. Fantastical.
Chaotic.
He didn’t want to leave yet. He’d only be a friend to her; he’d commit no more stupidities, because neither of them could afford it. But he would help her and go along with anything she wanted.
It would make her happy—and that was all he needed.