“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said demurely.
“Oh, come now, if you call Cedric by his name you must call me Godric.” The seductive glint in his eyes flushed her with heat. How could this be the same man that minutes ago growled at her and pulled her fully beneath him? Emily’s face flamed with embarrassment, but no one noticed.
The Marquess then chimed in. “And call me Lucien. I don’t like to ‘lord’ myself over my new friends.”
“Perish the thought.” Ashton sniggered as he andCharles walked in. Charles’s face was drawn with weariness, but he was still as handsome as the others with his golden hair and gray eyes.
“Morning, all,” Charles mumbled as he plopped down on Godric’s other side.
A flicker of concern washed through Emily as she took in the man’s appearance. His clothes were immaculate, his tan breeches snug on his muscled thighs, and his silver satin vest sparkled faintly in the morning sun. But his sleep-tousled hair was unkempt, the wild halo of a rogue angel about his brow. Strain laced his eyes and his voice sounded rough, like a man who’d screamed until hoarse. Something wasn’t right about this…she could sense it.
The room seemed filled with companionship, and an air of intimacy between them that struck Emily as beautiful in the way only true friendships could be. For a brief moment she forgot the dangerous circumstances that brought her here and lost herself in the shared smiles and teasing banter of the rogues.
What would it be like to be counted among their friends? As their captive, she was very alone, like a hungry dog that looked through a butcher’s window on a winter’s night. The chill of this position stung deep inside her soul. Emily ducked her head and took a bite of her breakfast.
In the span of a few short minutes, she’d come to understand them better. They were reasonable men, even if they had wickedly seductive tendencies where women were concerned. If she approached them with logic, and argued her case for freedom…
Maybe if I tell Godric I could produce Uncle Albert’s account books, he could take it up with the magistrate. Then justice would be meted out and she could go back to London.
“Coffee, Charles?” Before the man answered, Godric poured him a cup.
“Can someone pass the toast?” Charles asked.
Cedric slid the toast rack in his direction. Emily at first only nibbled on her food, but soon hunger overtook her, and she dug into her well laden plate.
Emily discovered what was so oddly comforting about this meal. The five men were so at ease with one another. They were almost like a family. What could have drawn these five men together so?
Charles spread liberal amounts of raspberry jam on his toast, gleeful as a boy stealing cherry tarts from the kitchen.
“Charles, you had better eat more than just toast. Have some fruit.” Ashton slid the tray of pears, apples and plums past Emily and Godric.
“Fine, fine.”
It amused Emily to watch them mother Charles. Her tiny smile caught Charles’s attention.
“I expected them all to fret over you, Miss Parr, allowing me to escape their coddling for a few days, but you’ve failed me,” he teased. “Shame on you.” The earl’s eyes were a sharp grey, clear and deep in their intensity.
Emily’s cheeks flamed when Charles’s gaze slid along her body.
Lucien’s voice broke the tension that settled because of Charles’s wandering gaze. “Would you like us to fretover you, Miss Parr? Perhaps that ought to be your job, Charles.” Lucien ducked behind his newspaper, narrowly avoiding a sliver of pear that looked suspiciously like the one Charles had begun to eat.
“Please, I would have no one fret over me,” said Emily
“Well, fret we shall, Miss Parr, because I fear you will attempt a third escape,” Godric said.
Emily returned her attention to Godric. She had begun to appreciate the other men and enjoy their company, circumstances aside. Godric however… The man deserved another well placed slap. It was just her luck that marriage to him would mitigate her ruination, assuming she could even convince him to such a course of action. She narrowed her gaze and pursed her lips. To her sheer frustration, the duke laughed.
Ashton spoke up, his blue eyes fixed on her. “Third? As in, she tried a second time?”
Emily stared down at her plate. She was to be mocked now? The merriment that came at her expense spurred them on.
“She tried to escape through my bedchamber, practically stole the keys right off my wrist.” He jangled the keys she’d fought for over the table. Emily nearly sagged in relief when Godric failed to mention that he’d tackled her to the floor in the hallway outside.
Charles smirked into his coffee cup. “Bet you woke him right up doing that.”
Godric pretended to stretch and thumped Charles soundly on the back. He spilled his coffee, and his eyes cast daggers at Godric.
“Manners, Charles, manners,” Ashton intoned in a schoolmaster’s voice. “Now, Miss Parr, could we beseech you to refrain from any further attempts at escape? I assume you know why you were brought here, and that leaving now would only create more scandal. Best to ride out the storm and let Godric see to your needs while you remain here.”
