It was trying, extremely so, to observe and know she was taking on a dangerous task and not be there to defend or protect her, though he knew that she didn’t need his assistance. Hell, he’d likely be more of a distraction than aide, but it still was challenging to master that aspect of his personality. But master it he must, and against his will, when she showed up in the carriage or by some predetermined point after each house, he released a silent breath of relief.
But now that the initial explorations were finished, they had made plans to seek out their first target, the one with the odd note, by visiting one of the more distasteful gambling hells in London that night.
However, with several hours to spare, he had decided to make some adjustments to his house, starting with the gate locks.
It had taken longer than he had expected, so his valet had been rushed in to prepare him for the night out, but it was worth it. The gate’s lock was more secure, he’d added a bell to the top of the servants’ entrance — much to the odd looks of the kitchen staff — and he had asked the staff to clean and light fires in several unused rooms in another wing, just to throw off Jaxsen. The last part was simply for his own amusement. Even if it proved fruitless, it made him smile to think of causing her any irritation.
Heaven only knew how much she had caused him.
Emerson studied himself in the reflection as his valet finished the final tie of his white cravat, then stepped back and gave a curt bow.
“Very good, Marcus,” he praised the valet then shook his hands, clenching them and relaxing them by turns. Restlessness ruled him before any sort of work for the War Office, but as soon as the mission began, his blood cooled as if the work acted like ice in his veins and mind, adding a sharp focus. “I’ll be late,” he said.
“Yes, my lord.” Marcus bowed and then quit the room, leaving Emerson with his thoughts.
He glanced to his pocket watch and decided it was time. The carriage was already around front when he stepped from the house, and he nodded to the footman who opened the door for him.
He would be traveling to the hell alone tonight. Jaxsen would meet him there at some point. But his objective was to locate Wessix, if he was indeed in attendance, and identify if any of the other gentlemen they had targeted earlier — especially the first one, Lord Daverson -- were present as well. He wasn’t sure what the plan was past that, but he had the distinct impression Jaxsen had her steps all laid out.
She didn’t strike him as the type who relied on spontaneity.
The coach lurched forward and pulled him into the darkened night, his thoughts his companions as he played different scenarios in his mind for how the evening could turn out. Soon, they arrived, and he held back a shudder as he stepped from the carriage and nearly collided with a nobleman swinging his hat as he sang a ditty, clearly already deep in his cups. Emerson gave a curt nod to the man and started toward the entrance.
Cigar smoke and the potent scent of brandy greeted him as his eyes adjusted to the low light, hindered by the smoke. Tables of Hazard, Loo and Faro circled around, making a path to a bar rather serpentine in nature. Bold laughter echoed from several courtesans, their claw-like fingers curving into the shoulders of their protectors as they gambled away fortunes. Their mercenary eyes studied Emerson as he passed, as if assessing his wealth and whether he had any interest.
Good Lord, this was one of the many reasons why he avoided such places like the plague.
A delicate touch grazed his back, tiptoeing between his shoulder blades before arching over his shoulder and holding fast. He stilled and abruptly turned to face whatever lady of the night had apparently decided to select him as prey. A cold remark died on his lips as he met Jaxsen’s quirked brow, daring him to reject her or make any scene other than a welcoming one.
This part of the plan she had failed to share.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, he wondered if she’d failed to share it because she knew he’d not approve.
Not that it mattered.
He was following her lead, not the other way around. But this was a bad idea; he could feel it in his bones.
Nothing good would come from this.
Her painted lips spread into a flirtatious smile, exposing even, white teeth. A lush tongue licked her plump lower lip as she arched herself slightly, the movement drawing his gaze down on instinct.
His body heated with approval at the sensuous curve of her dress, leaving little to the imagination. But imagine, he did.
Proving his earlier statement utterly true.
Nothing good would come from this. But he never thought the threat would be his own lack of self-control.
Forcing a calm, he regarded her, gave a disapproving expression, then acted the part she was clearly asking him to play.
“Ah, love. You made me wait far too long. What a minx.”
Her eyes lit with amusement at his words. “And here I thought I was the one waiting?” She winked. “I saved a seat for you.” Her lips were smiling, but her gaze had sharpened, and she glanced to her left, at a Faro table with a few empty chairs.
“My favorite,” Emerson replied. He flickered his gaze from hers to study their surroundings on instinct. Noticing they had attracted attention, he had a shiver of understanding light through him. Actions spoke louder than words, so as he glanced back to her, he softened his gaze. The curve of her waist fit perfectly in his hand after reaching for her. The expression in her eyes was momentarily confused then shifted to anger when he smacked her ass and pulled her close before leading them to the Faro table.
He would deal with her ire later, but to everyone watching, he’d just staked his claim on her as her protector. No other gentleman would expect her attentions, and she’d not have to watch her actions as carefully because, as far as others were concerned, she had been taken.
By him.
