“So, your cousin has run away from home and you are searching for her.”
“We believe a rogue to be at the bottom of it,” Stamford continued. “That she goes to meet him and if they are allowed to…as you say, elope, that it will be the worst for her.”
“We seek to save our beloved cousin’s honor,” Dunkeswick said quickly.
Nathan spread his hands. “What does this have to do with me, gentlemen?”
“Has anyone come to your house seeking shelter? We tracked her onto your lands,” Stamford said.
The seat he had chosen creaked, Stamford was leaning forward. Nathan caught the sound of hands being clasped together. A posture of intensity and concentration.
“I have been informed of no visitors. When was this?” Nathan said.
“This evening,” Stamford said.
There was a keenness to his voice that made Nathan think of blades.
That one bears watching. He smells…rabid. The other is more of a gentleman. He bears a title at least. I have little good to say about militia officers. Peace-time soldiers!
“As I have said. There have been no visitors. None,” Nathan said emphatically.
He threw back the last of his wine, swung out his arm to place the glass precisely on a side table, and then stood, turning from the sound of one voice to the other to address both men.
“Now, if you will excuse me. It is late and I was about to retire for the evening. I will offer both of you rooms at Hutton for the night if you wish to partake. I cannot think that any…tracking can be accomplished at night.”
“We have dogs,” Stamford put in flatly.
“Even so. You have my permission to scour the grounds for signs of your fugitive by daylight. I would rather not have men stalking my land at night, with dogs or without. Does that sound reasonable?”
“Eminently. I thank you for the offer,” Dunkeswick said. “It is most generous.”
Nathan caught the sharp intake of breath from Stamford that was the signal of a challenge. But it went no further and he imagined that a sharp look had passed between the two.
If that is all there is to their story, then I’m a Frenchman.
“Capital. I will have servants show you to the guest rooms and…” Nathan took in a sharp breath through his nostrils, lifting his head, “…from the smell of damp earth, leaf mold, and mud, I would imagine your clothes could do with laundering. They will be ready for you in the morning.”
He turned on his heel and took his leave, followed by Dunkeswick’s gratitude. Once away from the Sea Room, he slowed his brisk pace, eventually coming to a halt. The cool evening air was stroking his right cheek. He reached out and gently felt the vase that stood before the window from which the draught came. The shape, the raised pattern inscribed upon it told him the color while the scent of flowers communicated the location. He knew precisely where he stood and what was around him from that information.
I should retire. Emily has retired for the evening and these two gentlemen will be safely ensconced in the servant’s wing. Why am I looking for reasons to visit Emily?
Absently, he caressed the vase, fingertips following soft, curving lines. It was not the object that he was visualizing now. He imagined the soft curve of hips, the satin skin, the warm breath. Before he knew what he was doing, he had changed direction and was walking toward the rooms that had been assigned to Emily. He could not explain the decision but beyond his comfort and ease in her company, he felt that she would wish to know who the two visitors were.
Why, I cannot think. There is no possible reason their mission could be of interest to Emily Carlisle. But, the instinct is practically screaming at me to inform her. And that the information will not be well received.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Gemma found three fully stocked wardrobes in her bedchamber. She ran her hands over silky dresses and satin night dresses, so soft they almost defied touch entirely. There were shelves of shoes and boots, bonnets, and scarves. Every color and style was represented. The woman for whom they had been intended appeared to be similar in shape and build to Gemma, for which she was very grateful. Her own clothes felt stiff with dirt and the stains of her travels. She did not think she could bear to continue wearing the same clothes for much longer. Taking the opportunity, she had undressed, stripping out of every stitch until she stood naked before the first wardrobe.
Catching sight of a full-length mirror set into one of the doors, she paused to look over herself. Long, shapely legs and curving, feminine hips. She angled her leg, pointing her toes and admiring the shape.
I am not unattractive, though I have been denied most opportunities to socialize by my cousins. I wonder why. And why they have suddenly decided to…to…
She could not bear to think of the words she had heard, sliding from Dunkeswick’s mouth. Eugene, as she had known him when both were children. She would not think of him so any longer. Her eyes moved up her stomach to the breasts, of a respectable size of shape. Running her hands up her sides, she cupped and then caressed her bosoms. Closing her eyes, the image of the Duke came to her mind, unbidden. She imagined his blind hands coming into contact with her breasts but then lingering. Under her fingers, nipples became hard and she dug her toes into the thick carpet as she gave each a tweak between her fingers. One hand went to the side of her neck and into her hair while the other moved from breast to breast. There was a tension within her and she felt it was close to breaking point.
When it did, a fire would erupt within her and she would be burned up in it. More than anything she wanted a release from the anxiety and the tension. It had always been there, she realized. At least since her father’s death. It had come to a head with the revelations of this evening. The words that she had overheard and then soon been caught eavesdropping on. Words that had set her running for her life. There was a tapping at her door, deferential but insistent. She remembered the two visitors, two gentlemen, and a thrill of fear ran through her.
How could I forget that? How could I be so bewitched by a handsome face and a luxurious wardrobe. I must keep my wits about me. Perhaps, I need to tell the truth to the Duke and seek sanctuary.
