“Very good, then do tell him to present himself to me within the next fifteen minutes to ask for
your hand.”
“All right, dear,” Emma said, her face pressed against Trent’s warm flesh, and she gave in to the fit of laughter that had almost overtaken her during her exchange with Vinnie. Then she raised her head and said, “You know more of these matters than I do, Alex. Is fifteen minutes enough time?”
“Well,” he answered consideringly, “it’s now only thirteen minutes, since you wasted two
laughing. And although there are some gentlemen who can not only complete the task in thirteen minutes but also take pride in that fact, I am not one of them. We will do this right or not at all. Now hand me my shirt so I can go present myself to Vinnie. Do you suppose she has the authority to give me your hand?”
Emma climbed off him reluctantly. “Possibly. She
is
six minutes older.”
“I will
of course send word to your father as soon as we return to town.” He pulled one arm through the cotton sleeve. “We’ll wed by special license as soon as I can get everything arranged.”
“Excellent,” she said, lying on the bed with her dress still undone.
Trent buttoned up his shirt and turned his attention to Emma. She let him make her respectable and presentable again and then kissed him with
such passion that he nearly undid all his good work. He pulled himself away and opened the door. “You may as well come along. Vinnie will have more fun gloating if both of us are there.”
“Vinnie doesn’t gloat,” Emma insisted, taking his hand.
They found her sister in the private parlor with a book on her lap. She wasn’t reading but rather staring out the window at the setting sun. “Three minutes
to spare,” she said, turning her head when she caught their reflection in the window.
“I’ve learned by now not to flaunt the dictates of either of the Misses Harlow,” he explained with a smile. Then he walked over to Vinnie, took her hands in his and pulled her into his arms for a hug. “Thank you, my dear friend.”
“No, thank you two for finally sorting out all the misunderstandings,” she said,
brusquely. “I assure you I didn’t have the energy to go another round with either one of you.”
Emma laughed. “Vinnie, I don’t know how you did it but thank you. You’re the best sister in the world, and I love you dearly.”
These heartfelt words brought tears to Vinnie’s eyes. “Ironic as it is, you owe Windbourne your thanks more than me,” she said, trying to lighten the moment. “If he hadn’t
been such a scoundrel, Emma would never have stolen that orchid and the two of you would not have met.”
The duke was unwilling to give Windbourne any credit. “We would have met, I’m sure of it.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s all over. The lovers are reunited, and the villain is vanquished. A very satisfactory ending, no? Now, where’s the landlord? I wanted to request lamb chops for dinner.”
Emma
laughed. It was so like Vinnie to go from the poetic to the prosaic in one breath. “It is not
all
over.”
Vinnie halted her movements, not liking her sister’s tone. “How so?”
“We still have to catch the villain in the Home Office. Windbourne said that someone was feeding him information,” she explained. “We can’t let that man go free, not when the safety of the country rests on it.”
“She’s right,”
Trent said. “He will have to be caught, but we do not have to do it. We will tell the proper authorities and they will apprehend him.”
“But who should we trust with the information? Nobody save the prime minister is above suspicion,” Emma pointed out.
“We’ll tell the prime minister then,” he said reasonably.
“But he’ll have the very same problem. No, it seems clear to me that the only thing
for it is for us to set a trap and catch the villain ourselves. It won’t be very hard, I’m sure. We’ll have Roger spread some false information such as Windbourne told me the name of his informant. That alone should suffice.”
“Suffice in provoking someone to murder you,” Trent growled.
“Exactly, that’s when we’ll catch him.”
“You can’t be serious,” said Vinnie, horrified by this plan.
“Why
not?” Emma was wide-eyed with surprise.
“You could be killed.”
“Pooh,” she said, waving a dismissive hand.
Trent raised an eyebrow at Vinnie. “Courageous
and
sensible, I believe you said.”
Vinnie made a moue of disgust. “That was for your benefit, and it was an outright lie.”
“It’s a sensible plan,” insisted Emma, “and I challenge either of you to come up with a better one.”
“We’ll say
that Windbourne told
me
who his informant is,” said the duke.
“But Windbourne never had a chance,” said Emma.
Although Vinnie didn’t want Roger to put it about that Windbourne had told any of her family the name of the traitor, she much preferred that Trent be the bait than Emma. He was less impulsive. “The informant wouldn’t know that.”
Emma sent her sister an annoyed look. “It doesn’t matter.
Trent will never do. He is too worthy an opponent for anyone to willingly take on. No, it must be a seemingly weak and helpless female; we are continually underestimated by the other sex. We can use that to our advantage.”
Because there was truth in this statement, the duke said, “We will talk about this later.”
“Trent, you must stop her,” ordered Vinnie.
“I cannot stop her, Vinnie, no one
can. Surely you know that by now. But I can be at her side and protect her.”
“Bravo,” cheered the Harlow Hoyden, “that’s just the sort of speech a bride longs to hear her groom make.”
Vinnie rolled her eyes in disgust. “I wash my hands of the lot of you.”
Emma didn’t laugh until her sister’s stiff figure was out of sight. “She can be very dramatic sometimes.”
“Emma, I love you.”
She stopped
laughing. It was amazing how those words, still so shiny and new, could make her heart leap. “I know and it’s very kind of you to say so.”
“I want to make you happy as my wife.”
“Never visit dancers in Chelsea and let me drive the curricle and you’ll succeed to that end beautifully.”
“Dancers in Chelsea?” he asked, trying to discover the relevance of this statement.
“When you were listing
your qualifications as a libertine, you told me you kept a dancer in Chelsea. Or was it an opera singer in Mayfair?” she said, making light of something that had tortured her for so long. “No matter, as long as there are no performance artists in your life, I’ll be quite happy.”
“You have no need to worry on that score, Emma. I ended that alliance weeks ago. I have been unable to think of anyone
but you.”
“Not even the widow Enderling?”
“My God, don’t tell me that’s the reason you said no to my proposal this morning!”
“What?” Emma asked, confused.
“You really do believe I’m a libertine.”
“Bah! Despite your best efforts, you never managed to convince me.”
The duke ignored her feeble protestation, recalling instead the words she had coldly hurled at him when they’d first woken up.
What we’ve just done? Is it not what you do with dancers in Chelsea and widows and any willing female who crosses your path? Isn’t that what you libertines do?
Now, of course, in retrospect it was all so clear. He could even pinpoint the exact moment when everything went disastrously wrong. Instead of stalking off like a wounded tiger, he should have taken Emma into his arms and sworn to her
that what they’d just done was nothing like what he did with a mistress. Emma had needed reassurances, and he left the room to nurse his bruised ego. “Emma, I won’t pretend that I haven’t had my share of encounters, but I’ve never experienced anything that even comes close to last night. And if I were a libertine, which I am not, by the way, my share being considerably less than, say, Carson’s, I
would repent and change my ways for the chance to spend just one more night in your arms. You make me extraordinarily happy, imp, and you make me feel things I didn’t know were possible.”
“A very pretty speech, sir,” Emma said, pleased of course but also disconcerted by the intensity with which he spoke. She lowered her eyes.
Trent placed a finger under her chin and raised her head until her
eyes met his. “It’s only the truth, Emma. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” He stared at her steadily until she gave some indication of understanding and then kissed her gently on the lips. “And as I was trying to say earlier, I want you to be happy as my wife, for I know you have no love of marriage—”
“It is not marriage I mind so much as husbands, Alex,” she rushed to explain. “As you yourself
pointed out, Windbag’s desire to have Vinnie do nothing but raise his children and see to his comfort made him a husband, not a villain.”
“
A
husband, yes, but not
your
husband,” he corrected. “I am not a fool, Emma. I expect you to have interests outside of our marriage. I only ask that you try to avoid danger, and if you cannot then that you take me with you. There will be no more solitary trips
down to the docks.”
“Well of course I’ll take you with me. For one, you are my most trusted ally and for another, you’re great fun to have around.”
“Thank you, my dear, I don’t know when I’ve been paid a higher compliment.”
Emma smiled, beginning to see the advantages of having a husband. No one in society cared what boring, old married ladies did, nor did they expect them to behave with the
utmost
propriety. Perhaps this was where true freedom lay. “Alex, when we are married, will you mind very much if I race to Newmarket alone to try to beat my own record? It was the very devil having to take Roger with me for the sake of my reputation.”
Her husband-to-be laughed. “Not at all, my dear. Indeed, I think I shall take a crack at it myself.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They had barely
pulled the carriages up to the town house before Sarah was running toward them. She saw Emma first.
“Oh, you poor dear,” she said, holding her sister-in-law tightly in her arms. “We have been so worried. You must never do that to us again, you wicked girl The next time you run off, you must leave a note.”
Emma laughed delightedly at Sarah’s censorious tone.
“I didn’t mean to cause trouble, my love. The situation called for immediate action. Once we are inside, we’ll tell you all about it and I’m sure you’ll agree that I behaved in the best way possible.”
Sarah doubted that she’d ever agree to such an outlandish claim, but before she got a chance to say anything, Vinnie stepped out of the carriage. Releasing Emma, she walked over to Vinnie and put
her hands on her shoulders. “Ah, the sensible twin! Vinnie, what am I to do if I cannot rely on your good judgment?”
Vinnie donned a penitent looked that was belied by the twinkle in her eye. “Sarah, trust me, the situation was so unlikely, no one’s judgment could be relied upon to be wholly sensible.”
Sarah, whose interest in what had happened during the last few days was already acute, became,
impossibly, even more curious. Correctly reading her expression, Vinnie said, “Emma is right. Let’s not have a talk on the front walk of the house. We will be inside soon enough.”
Her sister-in-law agreed with this statement and devoted her energies to moving the party indoors. The trouble seemed to be Philip, who was trying to get out of the carriage.
“No, I think I should take you right home,”
said the duke, stopping his cousin’s attempt to hop down on one leg. “The long ride couldn’t have been good for your wound.”
“Don’t be such a flat, Trent. I ain’t going home to lie in bed while the rest of you plot how to catch the master spy,” he protested. “Tell him, Miss Harlow, how I have as much a right as anyone to be here.”
“He’s right, Alex,” said Emma, responding promptly to this plea
for help. “He did take a bullet. Besides, the drive wasn’t that rackety. I missed all but the smallest potholes.”
“Alex?” echoed Sarah. “Since when do you call the duke Al—” Then she digested the rest of the sentence and paled. “Bullet? How did Mr. Keswick get struck by a bullet?”
Emma laid a comforting hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “We’ll tell you all about it in a minute, dearest. Just let us
get Philip comfortably settled in the drawing room. And perhaps we could get something to eat. We hardly stopped on the way, for we knew you and Roger must be beside yourselves with worry. How is my dear brother?”
“He is well.”
“Good. Why don’t you go into the house and see about food? And if Roger is awake he should join us for our discussion. This concerns him, too.”
Realizing that to stay
and argue would only waste time, Sarah agreed. She returned to the house, told Ludlow to help Roger to the drawing room and disappeared into the kitchen to see about a light collation for the group of weary travelers.
Although her interest in the events were keen, all such thoughts deserted her when she saw the duke sitting so close to Emma on the settee. Was he holding her hand?