14. Chapter 14 #3
Andrew leaned back against the wall and watched as Emma’s uncle exited after the ladies and ambled down the corridor.
Stunned by the conversation he just overheard, his suspicions were laid to rest. Emma was definitely the jewel thief.
But what he learned about Emma’s guardian baffled him.
It sounded as though her uncle encouraged her to a life of burglary.
Even more troubling than the poor influence of her uncle was Lucy’s comment about the danger Emma put herself in.
He hadn’t thought past her visits to him, but if she was sneaking into strange houses regularly, she was indeed putting herself in quite a bit of danger.
He ran a hand through his hair. What he wanted to do was confront her. Berate her for her stupidity. But at the same time, he wanted to pull her into his arms and promise to protect her forever.
Holy hell, what was it with him and rescuing damsels in distress?
He’d done the same for his late wife. Lydia had cried on his shoulder, told him his brother Jack seduced her, and that Jack refused to marry her.
Who would want her now that she was ruined?
Andrew had felt so gallant, offering marriage.
He would save her from gossip and ruin. The betrothal had been encouraged by their fathers; it seemed like the right decision.
Of course, everything Lydia said had been a lie, and look how that had turned out.
A marriage filled with anger and betrayal, and years of estrangement from his brother.
The difference with Emma was that this urge to protect was not just from a warped sense of duty; he was beginning to care a great deal for her.
That had been missing from his relationship with Lydia—love and affection.
Unfortunately, Emma didn’t want saving. She certainly hadn’t sounded like she was looking for a husband like her very practical sister.
He would just have to try to gain Emma’s trust until she allowed him to help her.
He knew she took great pride in caring for her siblings.
But at what expense to herself? He needed to find the right time to confront her with the fact that he knew about her other identity.
Once everything was out in the open, perhaps he could convince her to cease her nighttime escapades.
Andrew returned to the box, still troubled by all he heard.
A footman offered him the tray of wine, and he took a flute, quickly draining the entire thing.
Looking at the empty glass in his hand, he mentally cursed.
Damn this woman. She had him so wound up he’d drunk the wine with only one thought, to quiet his whirling mind.
He wanted another. Hell, he could use a glass of something stronger.
He set the empty glass down with disgust. This was not who he was anymore.
He wasn’t opposed to having a glass of wine when the social situation called for it, but he did not want to rely on spirits to soothe his soul.
What he needed was some space to breathe and think.
He headed to the railing. He stared out blindly as he attempted to calm his emotions.
She came up so quietly behind him, he started when she softly said his name.
He turned, noting the rest of the family stood toward the back of the box, chatting with his mother.
“Look who is melancholy now.” Emma gave him a small smile.
His gaze roamed her face. Was she indeed the same passionate lover who had come to his room in the night? He attempted to come to terms with the truth that the genteel lady in front of him was a jewel thief. A fucking jewel thief!
Her eyes grew wide and her smile wobbled.
Andrew smoothed his expression and set aside his concerns about what he’d overheard.
Tonight was not the right time or place to confront her.
He glanced down at the unadorned creamy expanse of skin above the lace neckline of her dress.
He remembered how soft the skin was there in the lovely hollow between her neck and shoulder.
How delicious she smelled, like vanilla.
“I believe you could use a necklace with this gown. Something to highlight the neckline. Sapphires, I think.” He almost reached out a finger and drew it along her delicate collarbone but dropped his hand back down to his side at the last second.
They were in full view of half the ton, for God’s sake.
“I do not own any sapphires, Your Grace, else I would surely have worn them.” Her fingers fluttered up to her throat, and his body heated watching them dance across her skin.
He forced a smile to put her at ease. “Are you ready for the tragic ending of this performance?” he teased her. “I fear I should have brought more handkerchiefs.”
She tilted her head. Her eyes sparkled with humor again. “It’s the music more than the story that brings me to tears. It is hauntingly beautiful.”
Ting, ting, ting. The chimes rang out.
Andrew took her arm and escorted her back to their seats. As the lights went down, he reached for her hand. Leaning over he spoke softly in her ear. “I find you hauntingly beautiful.” Then he settled back, content for now to be sitting with her hand clasped in his.