Read Something About Emmaline Online
Authors: Elizabeth Boyle
Alex stopped, one foot poised on the stairs. He couldn’t have heard Simmons correctly. For he swore he heard concern in the butler’s voice.
Concern? For this imposter? Alex held his temper in check for the moment. And lowered his voice. “Simmons, you know as well as I that whoever is up there isn’t my wife.”
Simmons nodded. “Yes, my lord. But no one else does.”
That’s good news.
But it still didn’t explain the more important question. “What were you thinking, letting
her
into the house?”
The butler heaved a great sigh, as if untangling himself from a mighty coil. “She arrived on a Thursday night.”
Alex groaned. Of course, she arrived on the one night Simmons traditionally took off.
“Thomas, the second footman, was the only one about,” Simmons said, continuing his tale. “He didn’t know what to do, so he went and fetched Mrs. Simmons. By the time I got home, her ladyship had been put to bed and two of the maids sent for to return to service.” He leaned forward. “I could hardly put her out with everyone fussing over her like that. There would have been talk.”
Alex glanced once more up the stairs. “So how many people have seen her?”
Simmons flinched. “Enough.”
“What do you mean by
enough?
Or rather,
who
do you mean?”
The butler squirmed again. “If it is any consolation, my lord, your wife seems quite popular. So much so, that—”
Alex didn’t want to hear another word about it. He started up the stairs. Ensconced in his house for well over a month and she’d already become popular. He wanted to groan.
There was only one solution.
This wily minx was about to make him a very contented widower.
As Simmons had said, it had been a very busy afternoon at the house on Hanover Square and Lady Sedgwick had sought her bed early, dropping into an exhausted, dreamless slumber in the secure peace of her home.
That is until the door of her bedchamber burst open. It rattled on the hinges and banged into the wall with a furious slam.
Emmaline sat bolt upright and stared at the caped stranger marauding into her sanctuary as if he had every right.
So she did what any lady of the
ton
would do when her honor was in peril. She pulled a small pistol from under her pillow and pointed it with dead-eyed aim at the intruder.
So perhaps she hadn’t gotten this lady of the manor part down completely, but it was what
she
would do.
“Stay where you are, sirrah, or it will be the last thing you do.”
He ignored her warning completely, coming closer. The candle he held aloft cast a circle of light around them both. His gaze fell first on her face, then like any raving midnight visitor, it strayed lower, to the opening of her lacy nightrail.
Instinctively, she used her free hand to gather it up, blocking his view.
Thus thwarted, his gaze fell to the pistol in her hand and one regal brow rose. “Put that away!”
“I will not,” she said, her hand shaking. She didn’t really want to kill anyone, but the way her hand was starting to tremble, she was afraid she was going to accidentally shoot the miscreant. Worse, now that he held the candle up, she could also see that he was devilishly handsome and well dressed.
Hardly some Seven Dials cutthroat.
From the imperious twist of his lips, the strong line of his jaw, to the upright, impossibly steely stance, he had to be wellborn. Gads, probably some drunken rake out to make a name for himself by seducing Sedgwick’s wife.
That put his intentions in an entirely different light. He didn’t look like the type of man a woman would deny easily.
Herself included. She’d always had a weakness for impossibly handsome men, especially dark-haired ones. They were as irresistible as the rustle of a new deck of cards being shuffled.
Then she stopped herself—what was she thinking? She had a reputation to uphold. She was a lady now. At least for the time being.
And as a lady, she had a duty to protect her virtue. Yes, that was exactly what she should do, she decided, as she
took one last regretful look at the magnificent man before her. “Simmons! Simmons! Help!” she cried out.
“He won’t be forthcoming,” the villain told her.
More’s the pity,
she wanted to say, but still she couldn’t let this arrogant lout get the best of her.
At least not without the appearance of a struggle.
She waved the gun at him again. “My husband will not take kindly to this intrusion.”
The fellow just laughed, his gaze raking over her with a measure of appreciation. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”
Well, if Sedgwick doesn’t mind
…Emmaline shook off that errant thought. “I assure you, he will kill you for this.”
“I doubt it.”
Smug bastard.
She sat up straighter and pointed toward the door. “Get out.”
Of course, when she’d pointed at the door, she’d had to let go of her nightrail, and it fell open again, giving him a generous view of her breasts.
Her order was completely ignored. Instead, he came closer until he stood at the foot of the bed. Emmaline scooted up the mattress, dragging the sheets with her, pulling them up to her chin. “When my husband returns from…from…”
Oh, demmit, where was it that Sedgwick had his ancestral home?
“Westmoreland,” the fiend offered.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied. “When my husband returns from Westmoreland, rest assured, he will kill you.”
“Have you ever considered, Lady Sedgwick, that perhaps he already has?”
“Has what?” she asked, the pistol trembling anew in her hand.
“Returned.”
It was at that moment that Emmaline Denford, Lady Sedgwick, realized she was about to shoot her husband.
The very notion startled her so much, she dropped the pistol. And then the damned thing fired for her.
A
lex closed his eyes and waited for his last moment. Luckily for him, it whizzed past. The bullet, that is, not his earthly existence. Slamming into the wall behind him, the lead ball sent a shower of plaster down.
“Oh, my!” Emmaline exclaimed. “This is terrible.” She bounded out of bed and headed toward him.
He had to say one thing for Jack: When he’d picked out an Emmaline, he’d gotten her all wrong.
The gel was glorious.
Her blond hair fell to her waist in long, tempting curls. He wasted only a sparing glance at her breasts, for he’d already witnessed enough there. No, it was the lithe, long legs that captivated his imagination, the rounded curves of her hips, the wide and generous turn of her lips that stirred his blood.
No, indeed, leave it to Jack to get Emmaline all wrong.
The Emmaline he’d always envisioned was a slight, modest chit of decent breeding. There was something wild
and disconcerting about this woman—nothing boring or staid about her—and she was heading straight for him, obviously to throw herself into his arms and plead for his mercy.
And really, what harm would there be to hold her just once? To allow her to ply him with kisses and her favors, before he tossed her out in the street?
She was his wife, in a manner of speaking.
But if he thought her concern was for him, he was in for a shock. Emmaline sped past him, as heedless as the bullet from her pistol.
“Do you see what you did?” she said, her finger pointing accusingly at the gaping hole in the wall. “Look at that! Do you have any idea how expensive that paper is?” She heaved a grievous sigh and shook her head woefully. “All my work. ’Tis ruined. Utterly ruined. The entire ambience of this room is lost.” She looked about to fall into a spate of tears.
Her work ruined? She’d nearly blown his head off and she was worried about the demmed wallpaper?
He held the candle up and stared at her, wondering if Jack had found her in Bedlam. No, she looked in her right mind, albeit a furious one.
Just like any wife who’d found her newly redecorated boudoir spoiled. Sedgwick cringed and reminded himself she wasn’t his wife. And this wasn’t her room.
Then he glanced again at the wallpaper. The brand-new wallpaper, alongside new blue drapes, a new armoire in the corner and the list went on of furnishings and paintings and knickknacks quaintly adorning the room, none of which he’d ever seen before. Over the mantel, where before a dour Holbein of the eleventh baron had hung, there sat a lovely
watercolor of Sedgwick Abbey, a dreamy, wonderful rendition of his beloved home.
“What have you done to
my
bedchamber?” he bellowed. He made a point of emphasizing the “my” part to make sure she understood that this was not her room.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” She patted him on the chest, her palm warm and familiar against his jacket. “I knew you’d love it.” Then she sailed out of reach and went back to the bed, catching up a lacy, frothy confection that she tossed over her nightrail. It did little to cover her, only adding to her soft, feminine wiles. “You don’t mind, do you? It was such a dreary place, I can’t see how we ever got a good night’s rest in it before. Why, it was like a mausoleum.”
In truth, the removal of the eleventh baron had lightened up the room considerably. He’d never been able to guess how his relations had ever conducted any marital business in the chamber with that dour face keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings.
No wonder the Sedgwick barons had been so reluctant to marry for so many generations. But he didn’t know if he liked a stranger banishing one of his ancestors to the dustbin.
“Madame, I want you out of here,” he told her, getting back to the business at hand.
“So formal, Sedgwick,” she said, gliding around him like a wary cat. “’Tis me, Emmaline, your dear wife.”
“You and I both know that isn’t your name.”
“Ah, but it is now,” she said, smiling at him. Her hands glided over her hips. “I think it fits perfectly, don’t you?”
“You presume too much,” he told her, his hand snaking out and catching her by her wrist before she could sidestep him. He towed her toward the door with every intention of sending her packing.
Out of the house, out of his life.
But Emmaline had other ideas. She dug her heels into the carpet.
The new carpet,
he noted.
“Sedgwick, what will the neighbors think if you toss me out into the streets in the middle of the night?” She shook at his grasp. “I won’t go quietly.”
“You will if I tie a gag around your mouth.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she sputtered. “I’m your wife.”
He cocked a brow at her. “Consider this the end of our marriage.”
She hadn’t lied to him, she wasn’t about to go easily, catching hold of the doorjamb and hanging on with the tenacity of an alleycat. “Demmit, Sedgwick, this isn’t funny.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, letting her go.
She straightened up and smoothed out her robe. “Now, if you will just hear me out, I believe we can—”
He wasn’t listening to anything she had to say. She’d turned his perfect existence upside down, possibly brought ruin and shame to his good name, and most likely put a dent in the family fortunes that would take several generations to repair.
Not to mention whatever she’d done to the eleventh baron.
So instead of falling prey to her pretty pleas, he snatched her up by the waist, and in one quick motion hoisted her onto his shoulder. Her nicely rounded bottom sat right next to his face, with the rest of her trailing down his back.
Her breasts pressed against him, while a wild and exotic perfume assailed his senses. His body responded instinctually, clamoring for him not to throw this bounty of feminine
wiles out the door, but toss her onto the bed and demand his marital due.
Luckily for him, he wasn’t ruled by his senses. Family duty and obligations always came first. But for once, he had to admit the clarity of his purpose and duties wasn’t as obvious and golden as it usually was.
“Oooof,” she sputtered. “Put me down, you cad!” Her fists pounded on his back.
She thought him a cad? He’d never been called a cad before and rather liked it. Relishing his new role, he decided to show her just how boorish he could be, and gave her backside a nice, solid spank.
“Ouch! That hurt.”
“Yes, quite my sentiment when I saw the bills for all the havoc you’ve wreaked on my life.”
“That gives you no right to brutalize me,” she complained.
“Madame, I should have you locked up and transported.”
“You wouldn’t dare—”
His response was another slap to her bottom. Now that he had started along the road of villainy and caddish behavior, he found it quite invigorating. He marched down the stairs, his gaze fixed on the front door. He’d throw her into the carriage and tell Henry to drive to the worst part of Seven Dials and set her loose among her own kind.
She’d probably find an entire block of tempting, redecorating vixens there to commiserate with.
“This isn’t done,” she said. “I am your wife.”
“I doubt the courts would agree,” he said, surveying the course ahead. Three more steps, then across the foyer, into the carriage and she’d be gone.
After which, he’d find Jack and kill him.
“You’ll have a fine time explaining yourself, now, won’t you?” she argued. “You can’t prove I’m not Emmaline Denford.”
He’d give her one thing, she had nerve. For she was right. He couldn’t go to the authorities. But that didn’t mean he was going to stand idly by while she ran up his bills and paraded herself about society.
No, the only way to end this charade was to get rid of Emmaline. Then he’d deal with the aftermath.
And while that plan seemed the best one, given the circumstances, even as his boot hit the marble of the foyer, his hopes for a quick end to his marriage faded from sight. The front door opened and while Alex looked up, thinking he was going to see Henry coming inside to inquire as to his wishes, there, to his horror, stood his cousin Hubert Denford and his wife, Lady Lilith, their mouths agape at this unseemly display.
Not Hubert,
Alex wanted to groan. Of all his relations, why did it have to be Hubert and Lady Lilith who arrived in such a timely manner? The rest of his greedy cousins and wastrel relations could be happily bought off, but not Hubert.
“I tried to tell you, my lord,” Simmons offered from his post near the door.
Lady Lilith clucked disapprovingly at the shocking display before her, while Hubert struggled to maintain the same dismay as his wife, though he wasn’t above taking a less-than-subtle survey of Emmaline’s bare limbs and her curved backside. In Hubert’s eyes glowed the same avarice that went with all of his presumptions when it came to the Sedgwick barony.
Hubert was, after all, the next in line and liked to remind
everyone of that fact often enough. His cheekiness had been one of the many reasons Alex had concocted a wife, if only to keep his relation from becoming too comfortable in his tenuous position as heir apparent.
But with Hubert’s eyes raking over Emmaline, Alex felt a new fury. It wasn’t like the lady was indeed his wife, but Hubert didn’t know that.
Dropping Emmaline to the ground, he hastily shoved her behind him. Hopefully, well out of sight.
“Cousin,” Hubert began. “We didn’t know…that is, we would never have intruded…that is—”
From behind Alex, Emmaline piped up. “Oh, Cousin Hubert, I told you before that dear Sedgwick wouldn’t mind if you and Lady Lilith stayed with me. Family is, after all, family. Isn’t that right, my love?” She placed her hand on Alex’s shoulder, a gesture that sent a message of marital intimacy he didn’t need right now.
Especially with her lithesome figure pressed up against him. If she thought her charms and curves were going to save her, she was wrong. Very wrong.
Just the same, he put a bit of distance between them.
“How was the opera, cousins?” Emmaline asked. “I was so distraught to turn down your kind invitation.”
Cousins?
he thought as he shot a glance at her. Just how long had the Denfords been in residence?
“You might have made it tolerable,” Hubert told her. “Always nice to have someone along, eh, Lilith? For I don’t understand most of that caterwauling and—”
Lady Lilith wasn’t so toadyish. She came straight to the point. “Sedgwick, you aren’t supposed to be here.”
“No, I’m not,” he said. “However, some new business brought me back unexpectedly.”
Hubert’s eyes flickered with interest. “New business? Mind sharing it with me, eh, Sedgwick? Always looking for the right opportunity.”
To climb upon my back and suppose a station you are utterly unfit to assume,
was the response Alex bit back.
Instead, he replied, “Nothing that I fear is likely to bear any profit.” For this, he received a very unfeminine nudge in his back. He stumbled forward and Emmaline just shrugged at his cousins, as if she hadn’t a clue as to her husband’s discomfort.
Hubert’s bushy brows knit together, suspicious and intent, and Alex knew his cousin would only strive harder now to insinuate his way into this mysterious prospect. His best hope was to find some bone of an opportunity to toss out and send the fellow off in the wrong direction.
While at the same time keeping him as far away from Emmaline as possible.
After a few more moments of awkward silence, Lady Lilith took charge. “I fear we are intruding, and we shall leave you two to…to…”
“A little midnight supper,” Emmaline offered. “Sedgwick arrived just
famished.
”
The way she said the word in long purring tones made it sound like the sustenance her husband was seeking would not be found in the kitchen.
“Then we should let you get to your…your meal,” Hubert offered as he took his wife by the arm.
Lady Lilith shot another scathing glance at the pair of them, drawing her skirt close as she passed by. The daughter of an impoverished earl, Lady Lilith had the haughty reserve of a duchess. And worse yet, the ability to gossip like a fishwife.
Alex closed his eyes. Now the entire family would not only think of this woman as his wife, as his Emmaline, but would hear the tales of their supposed lascivious practices.
In the very foyer, mind you,
he could hear Lady Lilith saying in a scandalized voice.
In front of the servants, no less.
“Will we see you for breakfast?” Emmaline called after them merrily.
“I think,” Hubert said, chuckling with boorish tones, “the better question is whether you and my cousin will be there.”
Lady Lilith sniffed and tugged her husband up the last stair and they disappeared from sight.
When Alex glanced down at her—well, actually glowered—her brows tipped with an innocent arch, as if she hadn’t the vaguest notion what had him in such a foul mood.
“Ah, hmm,” Simmons coughed. Stationed as he was in the corner, Alex had forgotten he was still there. “If there isn’t anything else you’ll be requiring, my lord—”
“No, no,” Alex told him. “Go to bed. I can settle this on my own.”
The butler fled from the foyer, moving with due haste.
And once they were alone, Alex turned toward Emmaline, still very much of a mind to toss her out the door. Wisely, she’d retreated to the stairs, her hand clinging tenaciously to the post.
“Did you want a tray, Sedgwick?” She nudged her bare toe at the floor, then glanced up at him from beneath her fair lashes. “Or is there something else you require?”
“Did you see her?” Lilith sputtered as they made their way to the guest room in the back of the house.
“Yes, I saw her,” Hubert answered a little too enthusiastically.
He was rewarded with a thwack from her fan. To avoid a second one, he said nothing more, but rather opened the door to their room and allowed his wife to stomp inside.
“Parading about in the altogether. Land sakes, what was Sedgwick thinking, hauling her about like some savage—for one and all to see?” Lilith yanked off her spencer and tossed it on a chair.