5. Chapter 5
Emma weaved her way through the busy kitchens at the Royal Arms Hotel.
The supper rush was in full swing. Not a soul took notice of her in her maid’s uniform, which consisted of a simple black dress and crisp white apron.
Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and covered in a white cap.
She kept her eyes cast downward as she headed up the back stairs with a small basket hooked over her arm, containing rags and extra candles.
Her uncle informed her that the Hopwoods were staying in apartments on the third floor.
Once she reached the correct floor, Emma idled slowly down the hallway, pretending to clean and check the brass sconces while she kept an eye on the door to their suite.
It was half past ten—the Hopwoods would certainly be out at their dinner party, but still, nerves fluttered in her belly.
Taking a deep breath, she started down the corridor.
In and out. You’ve done this plenty of times.
A moment later, the door swung open, and the Hopwoods’ maid came out of the suite.
She turned the lock and pocketed the key.
Emma quickly pulled a candle from her basket.
She returned the woman’s polite “good evening” as the older lady passed but kept her eyes down on her basket.
The minute the woman turned the corner, Emma tossed the candle back in and pulled out the tools she needed.
She made quick work of picking the lock to Mr. and Mrs. Hopwood’s rooms. Once inside, she headed for the bedroom and had no trouble finding Mrs. Hopwood’s jewelry.
In the large armoire, she discovered a felt-lined wooden box which held what she sought.
Emma shook her head. Rich people were so careless with their valuables.
She pulled out the onyx-and-diamond bracelet and found a matching pair of earrings.
The lady owned more than just the one set, but Emma stopped herself from taking any more pieces.
Often one or two missing items are just assumed lost, but to clean out the whole box would immediately raise the alarm.
She did not waste any more time in the suite.
She peeked out the door to make sure the hallway was clear.
Slipping out, she gathered her basket to head down the corridor.
A clicking of heels on the front stairs caused her to freeze.
She turned to a wall sconce once again, pretending to change the candle.
As a well-dressed couple made their way past her, she quickly dropped into a deep curtsy, head bowed.
She knew from experience that hotel guests rarely paid attention to the help.
Emma replaced the candle and hurried down the corridor to the back stairway.
At the bottom, she turned left and entered a broom closet where she had stashed her boy’s clothing.
Making quick work of changing clothes, she emerged, swinging the basket and whistling.
She left the hotel through a back door designated for deliveries.
The cool night air filled her lungs. She allowed herself a wide grin as she walked down the street away from the hotel with the loose-limbed gait of a young man.
This was exactly the kind of easy job she had needed to gain her confidence back after last week’s close call at the duke’s house.
Exhilaration coursed through her veins. The inherent risk of being somewhere she should not always made her feel this way.
It had been quite a day. She was too restless to go home to bed, so she turned down Gloucester Street heading toward the tall spire of St. Stephen’s Church.
Soon Emma sat atop the roof of St. Stephen’s, her back leaning against the smooth stone wall of the bell tower.
Tonight was dark, thanks to clouds covering the moon.
A breeze tickled the back of her neck below her cap.
Patches of inky black sky and stars bright as diamonds emerged here and there between the gray haze of the clouds.
This was her favorite spot. Up here, she could sit in silence, no decisions to be made.
Here she could simply enjoy the view and brood.
Today, she was five and twenty.
She’d spent her birthday with her family.
They’d all gone to the park to fly kites and have a birthday picnic, which had included all her favorite foods—smoked salmon tea sandwiches, scones with strawberry jam, and a jar of ripe green olives.
Later, once they returned home, Margie and Abby brought out the enormous chocolate tart they’d made.
Emma chuckled, remembering how it had wobbled dangerously just before they set it on the table.
But no disasters had happened today. The boys had even washed all the dogs so they could be presentable and join in on her birthday celebration.
Watching the children as they sang silly songs and stuffed themselves had filled her heart with such joy.
She was so proud of all of them for the way they always pitched in to help around the house and never complained about the economies she had to implement.
Even though the weight of her responsibilities felt heavy some days, her brothers and sisters always brought laughter and fun into her life.
Uncle Charles had also come to wish her a happy birthday, bearing a large bouquet of flowers.
Before he left, he’d told her the Hopwoods would be at a dinner party that evening at a mutual acquaintance of his.
He shared, with a meaningful look her way, that the couple always liked to stay and play cards late into the night.
Emma knew then that her night would not be relaxing.
Lucy had presented her with a beautiful gown of emerald damask as her birthday present.
When Emma had protested at the expense, Lucy simply smiled and said she had her own ways to find an extra penny or two.
Emma sighed. The dress was gorgeous, but it wasn’t a dress for a chaperone.
That was a dress for gaining attention. Her role was to blend in, to keep watch.
At twenty-five, her chances for marriage and family were long passed.
She had been engaged once. But her schoolgirl dreams of a dashing Prince Charming had been shattered by the reality of the cruel man her father selected for her to marry.
Thankfully, fate stepped in to change her circumstances.
She’d promised to never see her sisters put into a similar situation.
These days, she took care of herself and those who counted on her.
Counting on a man to sweep in and take fix everything was just a silly fairy tale.
Emma ran her fingers over the uneven surface of the onyx-and-diamond bracelet. It was her birthday, and all day she had smiled and done what everyone else wanted her to do, including stealing this bracelet. She stuffed it back into her pocket. What did she want? Did she even know anymore?
Her thoughts drifted to the duke. How did he spend his evenings?
Perhaps by now he would be tucked into his great big bed.
Did he always sleep naked? She grinned. Right now, what she wanted was to see him again.
He would surely be fast asleep by now. He wouldn’t even know she was there.
Her decision made, she stood up and nimbly leapt over the short wall.
She scooted past the bell, descending the ladder to the alcove below.
Anticipation warmed her belly. She would be careful not to wake him.
She’d just go peek in on him and see how he was sleeping tonight.
The walk over was quickly done by the back alleys.
Past sleeping horses and dark carriage houses.
She shimmied up the back wall to Gilchrest House’s gardens.
Pausing at the top, she scanned the extensive grounds and the house.
All the windows were dark, and the gardens empty.
She landed silently in the soft grass. As she approached the west wing, a soft snore broke the silence.
Frozen in place, she peered around a bush.
She spotted a footman dressed in Gilchrest livery, slumped against the wall, sound asleep.
She rolled her eyes and slipped past him.
Turning the corner, she counted the windows. Fourth in from the left—that was his.
Climbing the trellis slowly, careful to not make a sound, Emma slipped over the balcony railing and tried the handle on the French door.
It turned easily. Anticipation fluttered in her belly as she pulled the glass door open.
She slipped inside, closing the curtains behind her.
The dark outline of a chair stood nearby, and next to it a small table.
She took a seat in the stuffed chair, tucking her feet under her.
Facing the sleeping man on the bed, she let her eyes adjust to the dark room.
He slept sprawled on his stomach, only half covered by the blankets, with one arm up above his head and the other hanging down over the edge.
It was too dark to make out his features, but his square jaw and wide mouth were etched into her memory.
His dark hair, usually trimmed short and neat, would probably be mussed from sleeping.
What would it be like to run a finger across those lips?
To sink into his kiss and feel his body pressed against hers again.
Entranced by the idea, she rose and crept across the carpet, drawn to him.
What would it have been like to have had a man like the duke as her husband?
She gazed down at his shadowed form. A warm body to sleep next to in the night.
Someone with whom to share her worries and burdens.
Her heart ached with the possibilities. Emma reached out a hand and brushed a lock of hair from his brow before she even realized what she was doing.
A large hand captured her wrist, startling her back into reality.
Andrew sat up lightning quick, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He tugged her toward him. Moving his hands to her waist, he held the woman in place between his knees. Just like the other night, it was so dark that the woman’s features were shadowed under the brim of her cap.
“I thought you were a figment of my imagination last time.” Andrew gentled his hold on her, not wanting to scare her. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
His mystery woman said nothing. Instead, she reached out a hand, and her fingers lightly skimmed the hair over his ear.
Then they trailed gently down his cheek.
He narrowed his eyes, straining to discern more than just her shadowed shape.
One delicate fingertip danced across his lips, and the pleasure of the featherlight touch sent a shiver down his spine.
In the dark, his other senses were heightened. A hum of pleasure escaped her lips as her fingers glided over his bare shoulders. Her curious hands set his body aflame, but he forced himself to stay immobile, unwilling to break the spell.
She cupped the sides of his face, and the brush of her lips against his was whisper-soft.
Another brush of soft lips, but this time, when she pressed her lips more firmly to his, he kissed her back.
He darted out his tongue to taste her honeyed lips.
She let out that soft hum of pleasure again.
She changed the angle of their kiss, sinking in deeper.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, bringing her closer.
The kiss escalated from exploratory to hot and needy, their tongues clashing over and over as she plundered his mouth.
Andrew slid his other hand up to cup her breast; it was the perfect handful. He brushed a thumb across her nipple through the cotton of her shirt and found it tight and hard. She gasped and broke away. Stepping out of his arms, she stumbled backward a few steps.
“Wait!” He reached out for her.
But she stepped back again, and then she disappeared through the velvet curtains leading out to the balcony. Andrew didn’t bother to give chase. Instead, he fell back against the mattress and sucked in a deep breath. Dear God, he needed a drink.
Emma raced home at full speed. She had never felt so alive.
She had taken an enormous risk tonight, but the reward had been worth it.
That man was sinfully alluring. Even though she could never really have him, tonight had been wonderful.
She would tuck away the memory of that searing kiss to pull out in the future when she was feeling sad or lonely.
Her heart beat a wild rhythm in her chest. Her birthday had turned out to be rather better than she expected after all.