Twilight with the Infamous Earl (12 page)

“I have a room where you may fix your hair and compose yourself,” her friend said, her gaze flickering to the empty doorway as if she expected her brother to appear. “When you are ready, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the family.”

Emily nodded, wondering how long she could avoid facing Frost again.

*   *   *

“Why is Regan vexed with you?” Dare asked several hours later when he managed to catch Frost alone.

“Is she vexed?” was his innocent reply. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“There has to be some reason she has been glaring at you all afternoon,” his brother-in-law said, unperturbed that his wife had been barely civil to her brother.

“Another hint was the smack on the back of your head she delivered when she walked by you,” Hunter added, overhearing Dare’s comment. “I haven’t seen Regan this angry since the day you suggested that my plan to whisk Grace to Gretna Green would go smoother if I poured laudanum into her wine.”

Aye, it had taken his sister a few weeks to recover from Hunter and Grace’s elopement. They had succeeded in the getting the couple married, but she had not approved of the duke’s high-handed scheme.

“If I recall, Regan was angry with you, not me,” Frost argued. “You had made a mess of things with your bride-to-be. I was just being helpful.”

His friends exchanged glances. They had both been on the receiving end of Frost’s help, and learned there was always a price.

“Just be grateful that Grace eventually forgave me,” Hunter muttered as his gaze sought out his duchess.

Frost observed that Grace was engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation with Reign and Sophia’s daughter, Lily Grace, who was inordinately pleased to share a name with the Duchess of Huntsley. No one pointed out that she had been named years before Hunter had claimed his bride, and Grace was delighted by the young girl’s adoration.

“Your duchess gave you your heir,” Frost said. “When are you planning to give her a daughter?”

Hunter looked incredulous. “Our son is two months old, Frost. Necessity might have forced me to rush her into marriage and to produce an heir,” he went on, his eyes clouding with guilt. “However, I can afford to be patient.”

Frost nodded at the giggling child who was preening with Grace’s bonnet on her head. “Look at them. Your duchess doesn’t seem to mind her fate, gent.”

If Hunter had a whit of sense, he would steal his wife away from the gathering and start working on the daughter that she obviously longed for.

“Hunter may be easy to distract, but I’m not,” Dare interjected. “What is going on between you and Emily Cavell?”

“Nothing.”

At least not at the moment.

Dare’s eyes widened in growing wonder. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Frost did not have to feign his bewilderment. “How so?”

Hunter slowly nodded. “You’re correct, Dare. How long has this been going on?”

Both gentlemen were daft. “I have no idea what you are babbling about.”

“Hmm … defensive,” Hunter noted. “And he’s clearly lying. Another sign.”

Frost privately conceded that he might deserve their teasing—he had enjoyed tormenting them as they struggled to win their ladies’ hearts. Even so, his generosity was not infinite.

“I picked up Miss Cavell from her residence at Regan’s request,” he said tersely. “Everything else is solely conjecture on your part.”

“Regan and I caught them kissing at the Fiddicks’ ball,” Dare tattled. “He also chased off some young rakehells that were bothering the lady.”

“Amorous and protective,” Hunter said, speaking in a serious tone suggesting that Frost’s actions held some hidden meaning. “Have you declared your intentions to Miss Cavell’s family?”

Something close to panic churned in his gut. “What? Are you both mad? I have no desire to marry Emily Cavell or any lady. Sin had mentioned Miss Cavell’s hatred for Nox, and I thought it best to keep an eye on her.”

Dare rubbed at his nose. “Need I remind you that your interest in the lady was evident?” He deliberately glanced down at the front of Frost’s trousers.

Hunter laughed. “How did I miss this?”

“You haven’t missed anything.” So what if kissing Emily Cavell had hardened his cock? He was a man in his prime. He would have had the same reaction with any woman. “I was restless and sought to amuse myself with the lady.”

“Which is precisely why Regan is furious with you,” Dare said, speaking to him as if he were thick-witted. “Nox has been denounced in the past by the
ton,
and our doors remained open. I would not trouble yourself with one lady’s disapproval. Miss Cavell is harmless.”

Frost disagreed. Emily was breaking down his control and peace of mind. Earlier, when he had been kissing her in the anteroom, and had wondered how far he could have pushed her, he had longed to tug on her bodice until he gained access to her breasts. Would she have cradled his head, allowing him to cup those generous mounds and suck her nipples? Would she have protested if his hand had slipped under her skirt or would she have squirmed against his fingers, begging to be touched? If he had not heard Regan’s approach, he might have sated his curiosity.

It was out of character for him not to share the details of affairs. However, Emily’s friendship with Regan complicated matters for him. He had to tread carefully, or even his friends would dissuade him from his course.

“Halward has taken an interest in Miss Cavell,” Frost exaggerated, though he sensed he was not straying too far from the truth. Nor did he believe it was a coincidence that Emily had encountered the man twice. “The man has not made any secret that he would like to take control of Nox, and I suspect he is not above using the lady to help in this endeavor. It serves our purposes to offer her protection, even if she is unaware of it.”

It served his interests as well.

Emily was wary of him. With Regan’s assistance, she had managed to avoid him, but he was content to let her sulk. He planned to end this nonsense when he offered to escort the lady back to her family. His sister might huff and protest, but she would not stand in his way. After all, she had been the one to ask him to collect her friend.

Neither he nor Emily was comfortable with the notion that they were attracted to each other. Frost was not troubled by lust. It was healthy, and expressing it was pleasurable while it lasted. Having Emily Cavell in his bed was something he craved as strongly as food. However, unlike his past lovers, the lady would expect and deserve more from him. Unfortunately, he knew he was incapable of satisfying her heart as thoroughly as her body.

Chapter Fourteen

“No need to trouble yourself, brat. I will see Emily home.”

Frost had made the announcement to his sister hours before dusk could cast its shadow over London. He had brought her to the Pashleys’ residence; logic dictated that he would be the one to bring her home.

Emily had felt Regan’s questioning gaze on her, but she did not acknowledge it. Thankfully, her friend had not pressed her on what she had overheard within the narrow anteroom in her house. To her surprise, Emily had enjoyed the gathering.

As Frost had predicted, she had been introduced to the other Lords of Vice: Dare, Reign, Sin, Vane, Hunter, and Saint. It was obvious by the tales that had been shared and their unguarded affection for one another that the gentlemen had a long history of friendship and rivalry. With the exception of Frost, all of the gentlemen were married, and she could not fault their choices in wives. She liked every one of them, and all of them had done their part to make her feel welcome.

Of course, there were speculative glances among them as she and Frost circled each other. He was the sole bachelor of the group; it was natural his friends would wish to see him settled with a wife at his side.

If anyone had bothered to ask, Emily could have told them that she was not that lady. Or perhaps they already knew.

To prove that she was not afraid of him or the attraction that seemed to flare to life when he was close, Emily had stared into Frost’s exotic turquoise-blue gaze and thanked him for offering to take her home. He appeared startled that she was not fighting him. In truth, she was equally surprised, but there was something alluring about flirting with the forbidden.

And Lord Chillingsworth was not the type of man any respectable lady would encourage.

It was a quiet drive home. Perhaps it was due to the long day filled with lively debate and conversation, but neither felt inclined to speak. Emily found the silence comforting. She smiled to herself, thinking that Frost hardly qualified as a restful companion. He challenged and annoyed her. He teased and made her laugh. Then she thought of Lucy, and what joy she felt faded into the shadows. She was flirting with a gentleman who might very well be her enemy and the reason why her sister took her own life.

I am stronger than Lucy.

The fierce thought shamed Emily. Her sister hadn’t been weak. She had been beautiful and generous; she had wanted to be loved. She had trusted the wrong man and her spirit had been broken.

“Here we are. Safe and relatively untouched,” Frost said with a trace of humor as he secured the reins and disembarked from the phaeton to see to the horses.

Emily waited in the carriage for him to finish his task. He walked around to the side and held out both hands. Unsteadily, she started to rise, but Frost took matters literally into his hands. Without permission, he grabbed her firmly by the waist and lifted her to ensure her skirt was not smudged by the wheel of the carriage. His strength was impressive. There were no visible signs of exertion on his face when her feet touched the ground.

“Thank you, my lord.”

With a casual shrug, he said, “I’ll seize on any excuse to put my hands on you.”

He extended his arm to her.

If her mother or sister was watching, they would be distressed to see her arguing with the earl. To placate any observers, she placed her hand on his coat sleeve. “You cannot speak to me thus.”

“Why do you persist in tempting me to prove you wrong?” Together they started up the front walk. “Or is it that you secretly desire my touch?”

“No,” she exclaimed a little too vehemently. “Do you know what you are, Lord Chillingsworth?”

“You have figured me out?” he asked, sounding impressed. “Quick, clever, and utterly kissable when you are vexed—I might have to marry you, after all!”

Her stomach fluttered like a jar filled with moths. She refused to allow him to unbalance her again. “You are spoiled. You call your sister a brat, but I believe the nickname aptly applies to you.”

“Pet names for me, too?” he teased. “Next you will be begging for my kisses.”

“You are so accustomed to ladies falling at your feet that you have little respect for them,” she said, refusing to be dissuaded from speaking her mind before she lost her courage. “These silly creatures foolishly offer their heart and favors, while you … you—”

She was horribly embarrassed that she had worked herself up to such a state, she was on the verge of crying.

Frost halted, the teasing light in his blue gaze winking out as she grew increasingly agitated. “What do I do, Emily?” he asked quietly.

“You seduce them, and—and cast them aside. It is your nature. You leave them heartbroken, friendless, and lost. In a fit of despair, they…” Emily shook her head, reluctant to continue.

“No, finish it,” he said, his expression shuttered. “What does this mysterious lady do?”

Emily brought her fist to her mouth and sobbed. “She kills herself when she learns that she is carrying her lover’s child.”

Frost nodded almost absently. “Your sister.”

“Lucy.” Emily sniffed, then realized she had forgotten to tuck a handkerchief away in her reticule. She blinked as Frost produced one from a hidden pocket. Accepting it, she murmured her thanks. “My sister’s name is Lucy. Good evening, Lord Chillingsworth.”

“Wait!”

She halted and glanced back at him. His tense, angry expression was no encouragement to linger.

“Lucy Cavell. Your sister was Lucy Cavell.”

“She has been dead five years, my lord. Has so much time passed that you have forgotten her name?” she asked. The sadness expanding in her chest was almost unbearable.

“Let me get this straight. You think I callously seduced and abandoned your sister?” He took several steps toward her. When she edged away, he laughed bitterly. “This is rich. Aye, I knew a Lucy Cavell. I have not seen her in years, and did not connect the lady with you.”

And why should he? She looked nothing like Lucy.

She turned to leave.

“One more thing before you dash off,” Frost called out, his words causing her to stop. “I was never Lucy’s lover.”

With her hands curled into fists, Emily squeezed her eyes shut so tightly she would likely suffer a headache from the abuse. She fought to keep her emotions bottled inside. If she let go, she feared she would start screaming.

She did not conceal her anger and unspoken hatred toward the gentleman who inspired feelings that would betray the memory of her sister. “You, Lord Chillingsworth, are a liar.”

Frost stared at her as if she were a stranger. “If you were a man, I would call you out and put a bullet in you for such an insult.”

“Then it is a good thing that I am not a man,” she said, shaken by the cold fury in his voice. “Because I would die knowing that I was able to return the favor.”

“You have the wrong gent, Emily,” he said when she tried to turn away.

Her instincts told her that he believed what he was saying. It only proved that she knew little about men.

“Did I mention that I was the one who found her? I was fifteen years old, and could do nothing to save her. She was dying, and no one heard my cries as the hem of my skirt soaked up her blood.” Emily twisted the handkerchief in her hand. “She was out of her head from the blood loss, but she whispered to me about the baby, about her mistakes, and begged me not to make the same ones.”

Emily wanted to slap him for the pity she saw on his face.

He shook his head. “You must have been terrified.”