Caught, Eliza hastened to arrange Damien’s newspaper as if it had been untouched. She spilled tea into her saucer in her haste, then froze when a man laughed. She looked up and was snared with a single glance.
Captain Nicholas Emerson was leaning in the doorway.
Eliza’s heart stopped, and then it raced. He was as tall and handsome as he had always been, but worse, the effect of his presence upon her was as potent as ever. Her mouth went dry and she could not summon a coherent word to her lips. She had always become a stammering idiot in this man’s presence and hated that absence only made her reaction worse.
Nicholas’ tawny hair was a bit longer than she recalled and it appeared to have more curl as a result. His necktie was loosened and there was stubble upon his chin. The combination gave him a rakish air that made her heart flutter. Indeed, there was a daredevil glint in his eyes, making him seem less honorable than she knew him to be. He was also more tanned than she remembered, and it seemed that his shoulders had become more broad. His eyes were as blue as ever, but there were shadows lurking in their depths when she looked, and a grim edge to his familiar smile.
Indeed, there was a good bit different about Nicholas when she studied him more closely. He seemed larger and more dangerous than he once had been, less predictable and perhaps more volatile. He had been wounded, she knew that from Damien, but she could not discern where he had been hurt. He appeared to be as vital as ever and if anything, his presence made Eliza tingle with greater vigor.
She doubted that Nicholas regarded lovemaking as a chore to be completed at regular intervals.
She would have wagered that those intervals would be far more frequent than Frederick had decreed they should be.
A part of her wanted desperately to know for certain—regardless of the price.
“Mrs. Eliza North,” Nicholas chided. “Surely you, a paragon of the feminine gender, are not reading a newspaper like a bluestocking?” As ever, he teased her and prompted her smile, treating her like a second sister.
“Whyever not, Captain Emerson?” Eliza managed to say, even if her voice was not as even as she would have liked it to be. “I was curious this morning and in need of its distraction.”
Nicholas’ smile broadened an increment, prompting Eliza’s heart to leap. She had always thought him strikingly attractive but had his smile always been so wicked? “Curious? I should not have expected curiosity to be numbered among your many attributes.”
“Oh?” Eliza silently chided herself for such a feeble attempt at conversation.
“Practical, sensible, clear-thinking, reliable—these are the traits I associate with Mrs. Eliza North and surely no others are more appropriate for a parson’s wife. But curiosity? No, no, that is the stuff of temptresses like Pandora and Eve.”
Eliza straightened, finding the litany of her qualities less satisfying than she might have done. “You have been absent for ten years, Captain Emerson. People change.” She sounded prim, precisely as she did not want to sound, but the words were out and the damage was done.
Her companion sobered immediately. “Indeed, they do,” he said and inclined his head politely. “I was sorry to hear of your loss,” he said softly, his gaze searching hers for a heart-stopping moment before he crossed the room to the sideboard.
Eliza thanked him for his kindness, then grit her teeth. All she had wanted was a moment to speak with him, and in less time than that, she had managed to secure his conviction that she was a sensible woman in mourning. She would rather have been a temptress, though she had no idea how to embark upon such an endeavor.
If only that ad had contained an address…
“My lady?” Higgins hovered in the doorway, exuding disfavor as only he could do. Higgins was not easily surprised, not in this household, but his eyes fair fell out of his head as he watched Nicholas help himself to Damien’s brandy.
Eliza protested. “A brandy for breakfast? Captain Emerson, you are intemperate!”
His eyes widened slightly as he turned to regard her, but the merry twinkle she expected to find in his eye was not there. Instead, he seemed predatory, a man who should not be challenged over his choice of indulgence.
“It is true,” he admitted, then added another increment to the glass. “And me, custodian of my sister Helena’s chastity. Appalling, is it not? Someone should do something about my lack of wholesome attributes. Someone sensible and responsible.” He cast her a glance, then turned and raised a brow. He looked positively diabolical and something deep within Eliza began to hum. “Perhaps someone, Mrs. North, like you.” Then he saluted her with his glass and took a long sip, his gaze unswerving.
His was a dare, Eliza did not doubt it, and she began to rise to her feet to accept it.
Then Nicholas smiled a small knowing smile that made Eliza reconsider. He gestured to the decanter. “Would you care for one? You might become intemperate with me, Mrs. North. We could be two drunken wastrels by the time Haynesdale makes his appearance, and all this before the stroke of noon.”
“No, thank you.” Eliza sat down hard and shook her head. “Although I am not certain that I should be thanking you for your offer to share Damien’s brandy.”
Nicholas chuckled darkly. “Probably not.” He sipped the brandy again as he took a seat at the other end of the table. He had already consumed half of what he had poured. Even with the expanse of mahogany between them, Eliza could feel the heat of his gaze upon her. He had carried the scent of wind and sunshine and horseflesh into the dining room with him, and she yearned suddenly to ride alongside him and hear his laughter.
Although Nicholas did not look as if he laughed often these days.
“You smile,” he fairly purred.
“I was recalling the morning you took the horses from the stables at Haynesdale and we rode out together.”
Nicholas laughed. “The squire’s son and the duke’s daughter, and unescorted!” His eyes widened in mock horror. “I could not sit down for a week after that thrashing.” He pretended to wince as he moved in his chair. “Perhaps there is much to be said for good behaviour.”
“Tell me your father did not do as much,” Eliza protested.
