Something About Emmaline (15 page)

Malvina grinned at him and patted a spot beside her. “I’m sorry it isn’t a son.”

Rawlins peeked at the child and smiled from ear to ear. “She has your disposition,” he teased. “What more could I ask for?” Then he laid a tender kiss on his wife’s head and sighed mightily, like he’d been holding his breath all night.

Alex glanced away to give them their privacy and his gaze fell immediately on Emmaline. She sat in a chair, her
eyes glassy and dazed. Her color was gone, and she looked as if she had witnessed more than she could comprehend.

He knelt by her side and patted her hand. “Emmaline, Emmaline, are you well?”

“Oh, Sedgwick,” she said. “You should have seen her. She did it. It was terrible, but she managed to do it. And the baby is well, and so is Malvina. Thank you for letting me be here.”

Before Alex could say anything, the midwife interjected, “Her ladyship has you to thank, ma’am. Without you here, I don’t think she would have come through.” She turned to Alex. “I’ve seen my fair share of births, milord, and I aver that your wife is a credit to the happy ending you see here. She gave her ladyship a reason to live, the will to get through a difficult time.” The midwife finished wiping her hands.

“I didn’t do anything,” Emmaline said. “I have no skill in these things.”

“Modest, you are,” the midwife said. “You gave her your strength and the will to live when she’d all but given up. I know these things, but when a woman gives up, she’s lost for certain.”

Emmaline shook her head again. “It was all Malvina.”

“You go ahead and say that, but I know the truth.” She glanced over at Alex. “When her time comes, send for me. It would be my honor.” The woman finished gathering up her supplies and tucked them carefully into her woolen bag. Before she left, she paused and said to Emmaline, “If you don’t mind me asking, milady, what was it you said to Lady Rawlins to help her pull through? Professionally speaking and all.”

Emmaline blushed, and from the bed Malvina, who must
have heard the woman’s question, laughed. “Don’t you dare repeat a word of it, Emmaline Denford. Not one word.”

Emmaline grinned. “Never, Malvina. I promise.”

Rawlins glanced up at Alex. “Suppose that is a good motto all around.”

Alex knew what he meant. What had been said during the night went the way of the night. “Decidedly.”

They all four laughed in companionable merriment.

Rawlins tipped the blanket down to look at his daughter. “What name shall we give her?” he asked his wife.

“Lucinda,” Malvina said, her forceful personality back in good order. “Lady Lucinda Emmaline Witherspoon.”

A
lex offered Emmaline his arm as they walked home. Hanover Square was still and quiet, as was Number Seventeen when they entered.

Though the rest of the house still slumbered, there was Simmons, ever loyal and ever patient, waiting in the foyer for their return. “My lord, my lady, how fares Lady Rawlins?”

“Very well,” Alex told him. “She delivered a fine daughter this morning. Lady Lucinda
Emmaline
Witherspoon.”

This perked up Simmons. He bowed his head to Emmaline, very aware of the honor bestowed upon her and, in some regard, upon this newest addition to the
ton
. “And Lady Rawlins?” he asked.

Sedgwick laughed. “When we left, she was writing out Lady Lucinda’s application for Miss Emery’s Establishment. It seems choosing the right finishing school cannot be put off or left to chance.”

Simmons laughed. “I am well pleased to hear it.”

Alex turned to ask Emmaline for her account, but there was no sign of her. She was gone. He glanced around the foyer and then spied her trudging up the stairs, looking for all purposes like a condemned man walking up the steps of the gallows.

The butler beat Alex to the mark. “My lady,” he said, “is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” she said quietly from the landing. “I won’t take long. I have but to get my bags.”

Simmons shot him a look of pure alarm that mirrored the exact thing Alex was thinking.

Get her bags?

“My lord—” Simmons began to protest.

He didn’t stop to listen to the rest, for he was after her in all due haste, taking the stairs two at a time. She was already in the bedchamber, opening the cabinet where her valise was stowed, by the time he caught up with her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting my things.” She didn’t even look at him.

So she thought that she’d failed! Lost their bet. She had, with her far-fetched tales but she’d redeemed herself in so many other ways that he didn’t know where to begin. For she’d been more of a lady tonight than any of the other women in the room—coming to Miss Mabberly’s aid when everyone else was merely contented to let the poor girl suffer her fate. Not to mention how she’d helped Lady Rawlins.

Emmaline hadn’t lost their bet, she’d won it quite handily.

Won it?
Egads, what was he thinking? Here he had his out. A way to extract himself from this mess. He’d have his life back. His ordered, predictable, staid existence exactly as it should be.

Suddenly that prospect wasn’t as bright and golden as it
promised. For how could he know that happenstance would come his way more than once?

So perhaps there was another way to handle this mess…at least for the time being. Certainly if he was to let her stay, there would have to be some ground rules.

He was still the master of this house, after all…

“I don’t remember giving you permission to pack,” he said, utilizing his most pompous tones.

This brought her gaze wrenching up. “I beg your pardon,” she sputtered. “I’m not allowed to take my belongings? While you may think me a thief, I’ll have you know I’ve never taken anything that—”

“
Sit,
” he commanded, pointing at a chair.

She looked about to protest, but he wasn’t the twenty-second holder of the Sedgwick title for nothing. He pointed at the chair again and cut her with his most direct stare. The one family legend claimed the very first baron used to send the infidels running while serving Richard the Lion-Hearted.

Emmaline looked to be made of sterner nerve than the Saracens, for she shot him an aggrieved look, yet it lasted only a few moments and she sat nonetheless.

Sometimes having a stuffy, no-nonsense reputation had its advantages. “I will ask this question again: Who are you?”

Her lips pursed. “No one of consequence.”

“I disagree.” He met her surprised glance with a level stare. Tonight had changed so much. To see Rawlins, the epitome of the untouchable Corinthian, opening his soul in such a manner, had left Alex questioning everything he believed in.

Could it be true? That one could fall in love with a woman in just a matter of hours?

There was no denying that there was something about Emmaline that tugged at his heart. And yet her deceptions as Emmaline and this Miss Doyle left him with no choice.

Unless
…

“No, Sedgwick. You were right earlier. I am no lady.”

He shook his head. “Emmaline, I was wrong to say that. Everything about tonight proves otherwise—your kindness to Miss Mabberly. The extraordinary service you lent Lady Rawlins.”

“Sedgwick, don’t—” she started to say, glancing away from his praise, waving her hand at him. Her hand stalled in midair, then came to rest over her mouth to cover a large yawn. “Really, I didn’t—”

“I would like you to stay.”

Now she did look at him. Wary and unwilling to believe she’d heard him correctly. “You want me to what?”

“Stay.” He paced a few steps back and forth, some wild vestiges of a plan forming in his mind. “I would like you to stay for a fortnight.”

“Why?” She folded her arms over her chest, her suspicions coming to the forefront.

“Because…um, well…” He glanced around the room, seeing anew the changes she’d wrought. “Because I would like you to finish your work here. I can’t bear to see the house go unfinished. And between you and me, if you don’t see the task done, Lady Lilith will step in.” He closed his eyes and shuddered. And then opened them a bit to judge her reaction.

Sleepy as she was, she smiled at him. “I know I told that
story, and I’m not sorry I did. If you had heard Lady Oxley—”

He shook his head. “You needn’t explain, Emmaline. You won the wager.”

“I hardly see how I did.” She rubbed her brow, her eyelids closing with heavy surrender.

What a night she’d had. He could scarcely believe she was still awake.

“Our wager was for you to pass as my…as my…” He was obviously having problems spitting out the words
my wife,
and finally settled on, “Lady Sedgwick, and you did that. I see no reason to quibble over your means.”

“So you truly want me to stay?”

He nodded, then began to pace again. “But I have certain conditions. First of all—”

But when he turned around, he discovered that his conditions would have to wait.

The lady had fallen asleep, a happy smile on her face.

He sighed and knelt before her, brushing a few stray strands of blond hair away from her face.

Oh, what the devil am I going to do with you, Emmaline?

Well, until he had that puzzle solved he thought the best course of action was to let her sleep. So he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

She stirred in his arms, then nuzzled closer. “Thank you, Sedgwick,” she whispered, as he lowered her to the mattress and covered her with the spread.

“No,” he said, to her now-sleeping form. “Thank you.”

And he meant it for so many reasons, most of which he dared not fathom.

Emmaline awoke hours later. Sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains, casting the room in a warm glow. There
in the comfort of the bed, still caught in the half sleep between dreaming and waking, Sedgwick’s words echoed clearly through her hazy thoughts.

Stay, Emmaline
.

He’d asked her to stay. She still didn’t quite believe it, wondering if his request had been but a flight of fancy conjured by Queen Mab.

No, it couldn’t be true.

“Yes, I did ask you to stay.” This time the words were not imagined, but from the man himself.

She sat up and looked around until she spied Sedgwick leaning in the doorway between the bedchamber and the sitting room.

“How did you know what I was thinking?”

“You looked ready to leave again.”

Perhaps she was still asleep, for she could swear that she heard a trace of trepidation in his words. Did he really want her to stay? Especially after all the trouble she’d wrought last night.

“You fell asleep before we could reach an agreement,” he said, leaving his post at the door, moving closer to the bed.

Wearing navy breeches and a white shirt, he looked more like a highwayman than a nobleman. Especially since the bruises around his swollen eye were now a disreputable rainbow of purple, black and dark red.

Highwayman, indeed! She knew better than to fall in love with one. And she should be applying that same reasoning to her heart with concern to the baron. He was just as dangerous to her future plans as if he were riding along the North Road, pistol in hand, crying out “Stand and deliver!”

Why that spontaneous kiss they’d shared in the carriage
should have been warning enough. The very thought of his lips covering hers stole her breath, jolted her body awake with awareness, her nipples hardening as she recalled how it had felt to have his hands caress her there, her very private core becoming tight with an ache that cried out for that selfsame touch.

Oh, if just having him near did this to her, she doubted she would be able to maintain a professional stance for an entire fortnight.

No matter what was at stake.

She glanced up at him, and spied that same recognition in his eyes. That he was sharing the very same recollections.

And when she glanced down at herself, she realized he might be having memories of a different encounter…one she certainly didn’t remember.

“Where are my clothes?” she demanded. Demmit, she wore only her shift. If she was going to be honest, her anger was more from the fact that she didn’t recall him undressing her than at the fact that he’d done so to begin with.

“I didn’t do anything…I mean to say…” His brow furrowed. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable out of your gown. I assure you I was a gentleman about the situation.”

Oh, bother Sedgwick and his wretched honor. He hadn’t even tried to take advantage of her.

“Thank you,” she finally said, tugging the sheets modestly up to her chin. Just then, the clock on the mantel chimed the hour, and her gaze flew there. “Dear heavens! Why, it is past three.” She sprang from the bed, catching up her wrapper and heading to the cabinet.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To work. I have much to do,” she told him, taking out her plain gown and a clean shift and stockings. She paused and glanced over at him.

He looked well rested and rather content. Too content.

She glanced down at herself again, wondering if he’d been as honorable as he professed. Truly, she’d had some rather intriguing dreams about him. “Where did you sleep?”

“Here,” he told her, his brow quirked in a teasing arch.

“Here?” she asked, glancing at the bed and looking for a second indentation in the mattress.

“Madame,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’ll have you know that Simmons kindly set up one of my grandfather’s old campaign cots in the sitting room.”

She peered around him, spying the long, narrow bed tucked in there. “How long have you been awake?” she asked, as she slipped past him into the other room and dodged behind the screen to get dressed.

“Long enough to know that you talk in your sleep,” he said, following her into the sitting room.

“I do not,” she said, glancing around the side of the screen.

He shrugged. “I swore I heard my name coming from that room. Several times.”

Emmaline felt a blush steal over her cheeks. “I would never be so indiscreet.”

“So you admit you were dreaming about me?”

“Never,” she told him.

“So you say. But we both know the truth, now, don’t we?”

Incorrigible man. “What are you doing, lurking about in here?” she said, thinking it was the better part of valor to change the subject.

“Waiting for you to awaken.”

She snorted, glanced in the mirror and sighed at the state of her hair. “Do tell the truth, Sedgwick. You are a terrible liar.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

She came out and stopped in front of him. “Why are you here?”

“I’m waiting for you.” He said the words with such determined force that she stepped back from him. “Emmaline, I was waiting for your answer. Will you stay?”

Stay and be ruined. Stay and have her heart broken. Oh, she shouldn’t, but her reply came forth before she could stop it. “Yes, Sedgwick. I’ll stay.” She bit her lips and cursed herself silently. Now she was in for it. “But if I am to stay, there will be conditions.”

“Agreed, for I have a few of my own.”

Of course he would. This was Sedgwick, after all. She edged past him, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable standing so close to him, even now that she was dressed. “What do you require?” she asked, settling onto the settee on the other side of the room, folding her hands primly in her lap.

“First and foremost,” he began from his post by the door, “I want you to finish the house.”

“Carte blanche?”

“Your heart’s desire,” he offered.

She didn’t dare tell him her heart’s desire, but at least she could realize some small part of her dreams by turning Number Seventeen into
the house
she’d always imagined. “What else?”

“You must agree to stand up with Miss Mabberly.”

She didn’t think she’d heard him correctly. “At her wedding?”

“Yes,” he said. “I think she would find some comfort having you there.”

Emmaline felt her breath catch in her throat. His peers thought him dull and uncaring? Ridiculous! “Oh, Sedgwick—”

“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t look at me that way. I simply thought you were kind to her, and if the poor gel must marry Oxley, let her have some solace in the day.”

“You want me to stay for Miss Mabberly’s sake?”

“Yes.”

“And for nothing else?”

“No.” He paced a few steps. “Well, perhaps I have another reason. Your assertion earlier that having the
ton
see Emmaline and make their association to you makes sense. You should quell most of the speculation about my wife, if only…”

“If only what?”

“You quit telling these ridiculous stories about me.”

She flinched. “I’m ever so sorry about last night. But you weren’t there. Lady Oxley said the most insulting thing about you, and I felt that as your wife—”