She hesitated. “Charles is your best friend. You were often at our estate, according to my maid. Both she and Charles agree that you were kind to me and rarely treated me as the bratty little sister I must have been.”
He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. She was lying. He could see the truth in those blue depths. And the pain. He should never have asked. Prudence demanded he leave her here and not see her again until he was free.
Prudence be damned. His head bent until his lips lightly brushed hers. Desire washed over him, tearing words from his throat that he had never before uttered. “Dear God, Em, I love you.” Crushing her to his chest, he kissed her.
Heat engulfed him. This kiss was nothing like those they had shared in the past. Whatever door had opened to expose her mind had also released her passion. She opened her mouth to his kiss, drawing his tongue deep inside and caressing it. Her hands slid deliciously up his chest to circle his neck and thread his hair. She arched into his embrace as though she were starving for his touch.
Happiness bubbled to the surface, the first he had known in months. Convention no longer mattered. He cared nothing for his father’s antagonism or society’s outrage. He must have Emily for the rest of his life.
But even as his fingers slipped beneath her bodice to tease her excited breasts, the last vestige of conscience urged patience.
Wait! Do it right! Protect her reputation until you can expose Fay.
Yes, he must expose Fay, though he needn’t do it publicly. All he needed was a sword he could hold over her neck that was equal to the one she had suspended above his.
Emily moaned, reminding him that unless he stopped immediately, they would both be dishonored. He pulled his hand away from her soft flesh, seizing one last kiss. So rapturous was her response that his thudding heart drowned the soft sound of approaching feet.
* * * *
Fay listened to a boring discourse by Lady Clifford as they wandered toward the folly. Or pretended to listen. She was bursting with excitement, her plans on the brink of fruition.
Jaime Potts had noted that Lady Emily retired to the Grecian folly every afternoon without her maid. It had been no trick to lure Frederick here. The rustic American was so untutored that he didn’t even realize Lady Anne would never have sent a missive requesting that he meet her in the folly at four o’clock. He should have arrived about three minutes ago. Politeness would force him to converse with Emily long enough for Lady Clifford to find them
sans
chaperon and demand that he do the honorable thing.
Fay allowed a smile onto her face as they rounded the last corner. It was even better than she had planned. The couple in the shadowed depths of the folly was engaged in a passionate embrace.
“My goodness!” gasped Lady Clifford. “Emily!” The man lifted his head and turned, instinctively protecting the girl from view.
Fay heard nothing else as she teetered on the verge of swooning. Damn Drew! He couldn’t even wait until after the wedding to establish that bitch as his mistress.
* * * *
Drew turned at the sound of Lady Clifford’s voice, fury and guilt driving passion into hiding. The audience couldn’t have been worse. Lady Clifford was already hysterical over Emily’s indiscretion. And Fay seemed on the verge of murder. Whatever rumors Emily had heard must be true. Rage twisted Fay’s face. Beyond being unscrupulous, she was evil.
“Horrid, spiteful girl,” sobbed Lady Clifford. “What have I done to deserve so vulgar a daughter? No gentleman will offer for you now.”
“Quiet,” he ordered, glaring into her face. “Are you so unnatural a mother that you would condemn your own daughter without a hearing?”
“Unnatural!” she sputtered wildly.
“Exactly. You ignore anything you don’t wish to hear and readily manipulate her to achieve your own ends. I found her crying because you had unjustly accused her of improprieties she had not committed and had criticized behavior accepted by much of society. I admit that in comforting her distress I overstepped the bounds myself, and I must apologize for that. You can be sure that no one will hear of the incident from my lips. Or from those of Miss Raeburn,” he added, turning such a savage look on Fay that she whitened.
“I won’t let you take the blame for this, Drew,” swore Emily, straightening to face her mother. She had managed to smooth her gown – at least to a casual eye – but her hair was tumbling down on one side. Yet her obvious embarrassment couldn’t hold a candle to the glare she directed at Fay, furious that the woman would look askance at anything she and Drew might do. “That kiss was hardly one-sided. And I can’t consider it a crime.”
Damnation!
Drew nearly cringed. Emily’s words made things worse – as she would have known if she’d stopped to think. Society expected both ignorance and absolute innocence of its daughters. Not even amnesia had driven that knowledge from her mind, but his attentions must have scrambled her wits.
Lady Clifford abandoned hysterics, reading such a lecture that Emily appeared ready to lash back. He felt the same urge, but he couldn’t intervene again. Fay grabbed his arm and jerked him aside.
He deliberately removed her claws from his sleeve and smoothed the fabric, flicking aside a mote of dust. It was time she learned that he was in charge. Once she accepted that his desire was all that mattered, jilting her would be easier.
“That girl leaves now,” she hissed, further inflamed by his disdain. “You won’t make me a laughingstock by entertaining your whore in your home.”
“Your vulgarity worsens every day,” he growled in return. “I’ve an urge to end this farce this minute.”
“Farce?” she squeaked.
“Quite. I find the prospect of acquiring a Billingsgate fishwife more onerous than distressing a man who will be dead before many months have passed.”
“Try it and I’ll see you disinherited,” she vowed, curling her hands into fists. “Or under sentence of death for murder.”
Before he could respond, Frederick emerged from the trees and glared. “What is the meaning of this contretemps?” he demanded of Fay.
“Nothing that need concern you,” she replied. “Lady Emily has merely shown her true colors to the world.”
“Your doing, I suppose.” His anger was obvious.
“What does that mean?” demanded Drew.
“She tried to talk me into eloping with Lady Emily two days ago. I should have suspected some plot when she accepted my refusal without argument. Today I received a note, purportedly from Lady Anne, asking that I meet her here at four o’clock. Knowing that she had not sent it, I stopped at the Hall to warn you of Fay’s schemes. Not until I was sure the trap no longer awaited me, did I come here to confront her.”
Lady Clifford abandoned Emily and began berating Fay for her lack of breeding.
Drew smiled, then turned back to Frederick. “I will settle with her in a moment. Perhaps you can arrange for someone to accompany her from now on. Someone besides Miss Testmark,” he added.
Frederick nodded, then joined Lady Clifford in denouncing his cousin.
As soon as their attention was fully engaged, he slipped to the back of the folly where Emily had all but collapsed. “Buck up, my love,” he whispered, reaching back to fasten her gown. She had been unable to manage one of the tapes. “I wish I could spare you the scolding you’re in for, but this certainly settles the question of my betrothal. I’ll search for evidence that will keep her quiet, but regardless of my success, nothing will induce me to wed the witch.”
She nodded. “You’d best consider how to break the news to your father.”
“If I can’t silence her, I will let my word stand against hers. I’ll not drag Randolph’s character through the mud.”
“Of course you won’t. But you haven’t much time. The wedding is less than a month off. You must notify the guests before they set out.”
“I know.”
The argument was winding down, making further conversation impossible. Frederick was soothing Lady Clifford, giving Drew a chance to again draw Fay aside.
“I’ll not tolerate any more of your mischief,” he said coldly. “If you do or say anything, no matter how insignificant, that calls Lady Emily’s character or behavior into question, you can consider our betrothal at an end. No more chances, Fay.”
“But—”
“I mean it, Fay,” he interrupted. “Father’s life is near an end. When I compare a few months of disillusion for him to a lifetime of having to endure your spite, disillusion seems the better bargain. Don’t force the choice on me. You’ll lose. And as to criminal charges, living in seclusion has distorted your understanding of society. There isn’t a court in the land that would accept your word over mine.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Frederick grabbed her arm and dragged her away. Lady Clifford and Emily had already departed.
Drew sat down and dropped his head into his hands. Why had he kissed her? It had happened less than five minutes after his self-reminder to stay in control. The fact that it was far from their first kiss was irrelevant. He was morally tied to another. Future intent could not excuse ignoring his betrothal. And even if he could twist logic far enough to condone the kiss, making love in the folly was idiotic. The place was far too public, as events had proved. Her reputation would suffer.
Only a cad would lose his control so thoroughly. But beyond that, he had handed Fay a powerful weapon. Neither his threats nor Frederick’s watchdogs could keep her under control. She had always been vindictive – and very creative about it. He need look no further than this plot to get rid of Emily. What would she do now that it had failed?
He shuddered. Charles would have to stay close to Emily for a few days – provided he would listen long enough to grasp the problem. Once Lady Clifford got hold of him, he could well end up facing his closest friend.
* * * *
Cherlynn locked herself in her room with a sigh of relief at finally escaping Emily’s family. Lady Clifford had ranted for nearly an hour about honor and duty, swearing that if word ever got out, Emily would die a spinster, ostracized by society. Charles had then taken over the scolding. She had managed to talk him out of challenging Drew, but he had already left for London to fetch Dr. McClarren. The moment the man declared her recovered, they would leave Broadbanks.
She feared that this day had irreparably damaged Drew’s friendship with Charles. Only a full explanation of Emily’s efforts to save Drew’s family might repair it, but that was impossible. Charles would never condone her intentions. If he had any idea of her plans, he would whisk her all the way to Yorkshire without bothering to consult the doctor. Even explaining after Drew broke with Fay might not reinstate the relationship.
McClarren would find her healthy, of course. She could have left a month ago. Nothing could divert Charles at this point, so she had only two days to complete her mission. Her first step was to call on the village gossips, though that would have to wait for morning. It was already past visiting hours. And she needed time to work out her approach. Would they wish to help Drew, or had Randolph’s vitriol poisoned their minds?
Grimly focusing on that question, she shoved all memory of Drew’s kiss aside. She would think of it only after returning to her own time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You sent for me?” asked Cherlynn from the library doorway. She hadn’t planned to see anyone before dinner – she needed the time to get her emotions under control – but Drew’s summons had changed her mind. Had he learned something new about Fay?
Please be true!
If she didn’t get back to her own time soon, she was going to commit a worse folly than kissing him.
Her vow had lasted barely an hour. All the feelings she’d been studiously suppressing rushed back the moment she saw him. His arms had felt so good! It had been too long since she had been crushed against a man’s body, and longer yet since she had enjoyed it. But this was not the time to think about Drew’s well-muscled chest or hungry lips. Not if she wanted to survive this encounter with both her sanity and Emily’s virginity intact.
Drew set aside the
Times
. “Close the door.”
He was sitting in one of the chairs before the fireplace. She silently complied, then took the other.
“I must apologize for my behavior in the folly,” he began softly. “It was inexcusable.”
“Are you sorry you kissed me?”
“Of course not!”
“Then I refuse to accept your apology. We both enjoyed it and would have changed nothing except the audience. We won’t discuss it again.”
“But I should not have forgotten my training as a gentleman,” he protested.
“So chalk it up to my amnesia. If I’d remembered my manners, I would have protested in a most maidenly fashion, and you would have stopped. Thus the fault is mine.”
He started to protest, but the twitch of her lips gave her away. He suddenly grinned. “You’re roasting me, aren’t you.”
“Of course. There is nothing wrong with sharing a kiss with someone you care for.” His grin turned her stomach on end, distracting her until she hardly knew what she was saying.
His head shook. “Em, you’re going to have a devilish time if you keep that attitude. But we’ll leave that for now. I’ve been thinking about Fay’s scheming ever since we left the folly. She hates you – which is another sin you can lay at my door. Overhearing my argument with Randolph would have told her how much I love you. Try to remember the night you fell. Do you have any idea who was nearby?”
“It’s a waste of time. My first memory is of you picking me up from the hearth.”
His eyes widened. “You were conscious?”
“Only for a moment. When your arms closed around me, I knew I was safe, so I let it go.”
“Safe.” Excitement filled his voice. “It’s an odd word to use – unless you were in danger. In one of your deliriums you claimed to have been pushed. Try to remember, Em. Who pushed you?”
“I don’t even know that I
was
pushed,” she said crossly. “It’s no use, Drew. The memories aren’t there.”
“Think, sweetheart,” he urged. “Please?”