“I know about Meggie. And her father. And whatyourfather did to them.” She blurted the words without thinking. “And I don’t blame you for hating him. Any man who would do such a thing… Well, he doesn’t deserve the respect of a man such as you. But are you certain you have all the facts?” His father had denied everything. And she knew how stubborn his son could be.
Blakely lowered his brows and shook his head in confusion. “How could you possibly know about that?” He sounded more perplexed than angry.
Except his scowl had deepened and now he directed it toward her. “Tell me how you know about Meggie.”
If only her mouth would consult with her brainbox before taking over. “I… well, I overheard a conversation once.”
Blakely drew his eyebrows together. “No one knows anything except me and my father, and I suppose the henchmen he hired years ago. And the only time I’ve discussed it out loud—” He caught himself. “The Crabtree library.”
He burst from the chair and began pacing the room. After crossing it all of three times, he came to a stop directly in front of her. His hands dropped to the armrests, effectively trapping her, and he bent down to peer into her eyes. “My dear Miss Goodnight, were you hiding in the library that night? Did you intentionally eavesdrop on my personal conversations?” And then outright shock crossed his features. “Did you? Were you…? When I…? With…?”
“Yes, yes, yes, and yes,” she answered dismissively. “And for the record, I didn’t do so intentionally. I was there first. Before I could bring my presence to your attention, you already had her skirt around her ears and, well, you know the rest.”
The earl blinked slowly a few times and then shook his head in what Emily guessed was some sort of bewilderment.
She continued her defense. “Once you were doingthatto her, I could hardly pop out and say, ‘Hellooo! By the way, you two, you’re not alone!’ Now could I?”
He backed up slowly and dropped into the chair he’d vacated. “I. Am. Utterly. Positively. Speechless.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyhow. What I wastryingto tell you is that I admire the position you’ve taken with the duke. A lesser man would have yielded to the pressure by now. But are you certain he did it?”
“You… saw everything?” He seemed caught up on this particular detail of her narrative. “I don’t suppose you closed your eyes?”
Upon such a ridiculous notion, she sighed and thenrolledher eyes. “Wouldyouhave?”
He glared in her direction.
“It’s not as though I’m allowed many opportunities to learn of these matters. You must realize. I’m not even certain I’ll marry.” Except she had to. Either that or wither away in Wales.
“So, you viewed it as something of a…” He scratched his head. “Learning experience?”
Emily nodded. “I’d always thought the act was performed with the woman lying on her back, though. I suppose you could do it both ways?” She cocked one eyebrow at him questioningly. Perhaps he could shed some light on all of this… for educational purposes, of course.
Marcus rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He had not slept at all last night. In fact, he’d resorted to running circles around the corridors, and up and down the staircases. After he’d done that, he’d washed up and tried to sleep, but… nothing. And so, he’d saddled his horse and ventured into the nearest village. Once there, he’d awakened the mercantile owner and had him fix Miss Goodnight’s spectacles. Simple as that.
She’d become rather emotional, it had seemed. Silly female.
And now.
Now, if he was correct, she was asking him to explain different positions in which one might undergo sexual congress!
She’d watched him with Vivienne!
Dear God!
What had she thought? Had she enjoyed watching? Reverse the situation and likely he wouldn’t have exposed himself either, to be perfectly honest. But he certainly wasn’t going to admit that toher.
At the thought of watching Miss Emily Goodnight, skirts over her head, being taken from behind… No, no. He didn’t like it at all. If anyone were to throw her skirts up over her head, it would be him.
And where, dear God, had that thought come from?
If, and that was a very big if, he ever swived this impertinent wench, he’d do more than throw her skirts over her head. He’d—
No.
She’d asked him a question. He cleared his throat noisily.
“There are several positions, in fact.” And then he remembered. “Isn’t this covered in that book of yours? That book about womanly pleasures? Do you really require me to explain these things to you?”
