His mouth continued trailing down her throat. “What is it?”
She pulled back. "Come with me tomorrow night to Lady Thistlewaite's ball. As my husband." After all these weeks, she’d worked so hard, hoping not to embarrass him in a ballroom. She wanted to show him that she could behave like a countess. The ball wasn't merely a social engagement. To her, it meant much more—it was a second chance to prove herself.
He shook his head. "It's not safe for either of us."
Though she understood his caution, it still made her wonder whether his refusal was more than that. "Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"
"That's not true, and you know it."
"Do I?" She lowered her forehead to his shoulder, fighting back angry tears. “I don’t even know if you’ll ever let me become your countess. You keep trying to brush me aside, and we're living apart. I know what everyone thinks about our marriage.”
He gripped her tightly. “I won’t risk your safety.”
She took a breath, straightening a stray lock of hair. “And if there was no danger? Would you escort me to the ball, and admit that I am your wife?”
He hesitated. “If that is what you want. But you didn’t appear to enjoy the last soirée.”
Tears heated her lids, but she would not let herself cry. It was the answer she’d feared he would say. “I feel like I am the wife you never really wanted. And maybe what you truly want is for me to return to Falkirk.”
He cupped her cheek. “It’s not that I don’t want you beside me, Emily. But I won’t watch someone hurt you or the children. My enemies are far too close now so you cannot go out in public.”
Her anger rose up, so painful her eyes burned with the unshed tears. “If your enemies are too close, then why did you come here tonight? You’ve led them right to us.”
He said nothing, as though she’d struck him. She wanted to take back the angry words, to say she hadn’t meant them. But it was too late.
Without another word, he bowed and left.
The tears broke forth, and she clenched her waist, sobbing quietly. So many excuses. So many reasons not to let her be with him.
Right now, she didn’t know if he would ever acknowledge her as the woman he wanted.
Stephen returned to Rothburne House the next morning, his eyes blurring with exhaustion. He’d kept an all-night vigil in Nigel’s study, leaving only when he’d heard Emily’s uncle returning. Damn her for not trusting in him. When all of this was over…
It was difficult to even imagine the future since he’d lived with the danger for so long. Someone had murdered Hollingford, and Stephen no longer believed it was because of the man’s debts or stolen money.
Daniel had known something. Likely he had discovered the opium smuggling, but all records of the cargo and stolen profits had been eradicated.
Somewhere, there existed a list of investors. And among them was the man he sought, a man who didn’t want his involvement revealed.
Stephen sipped at a cup of strong tea and only glanced up when his father entered the drawing room. Alfred did not look well, his hair shot with grey, heavy lines drawing down the corners of his mouth.
“Your mother told methat womanhas returned to London,” his father remarked.
“My wife, you mean.”
Alfred cleared his throat, adding, “Her uncle intends to escort her to Lady Thistlewaite’s soirée tonight. I thought I should warn you of the gossip.”
Stephen rose and went to stand by the fire, staring at the coals glowing on the hearth. He hoped that Emily would abide by his orders and remain at Nigel’s home where she would be protected.
“Thank you for your concern. But I have other, more pressing things on my mind than what a flock of gossiping matrons are discussing.” He stoked the flames, watching the sparks rise up. “I suppose you should know that your own residence is no longer safe. I was nearly poisoned yesterday.”
His father stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Stephen explained about the cat and the biscuits. He added, “I believe that whoever keeps trying to kill me is the same person responsible for stealing the profits fromThe Lady Valiant.”
“Have you any suspicions?”
Stephen replaced the poker and shrugged. “A few. But no proof.”
