“I-I don’t blame you. I truly am sorry, Rose.” He drew in a deep breath. “My brother—” He swallowed. “Our presence was unexpectedly required. We’d almost reached Sussex when I realized I’d…I’d forgotten our meeting. I’m appalled to admit it.” He shoved a hand through his hair. Saying the words aloud struck him with a dagger through his chest. How could she forgive such an act of negligent disrespect? “It was never my intent to hurt you, Rose, and I vow to make up for it from this moment forward.”
The air in her body went out in a rush. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, her eyes closed. “The Peachornsby affair is tonight. I should arrive by ten.”
“No.” He spoke sharply.
Her eyes flashed, her lips curved down, her voice soft. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“It’s too dangerous. I shall find another way.” He wanted to protect her from danger. Her impulsive nature terrified him.
Her chin lifted. A calmness settled over her that should have reassured him but did the opposite. “Is that so?” She came to her feet with a condescending curve to her lips. It was the same look he’d encountered from others who had no use for him but for the deal he could offer from the goods he imported. The room grew noticeably chilly. She went to the table and picked up his coat and brought it to him.
“Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Whitmore.”
“Rose—”
She tilted her head, but her gaze remained remote, unreadable.
Still, if this was the price to keep her safe, it was a price he was willing to pay.
Twenty-Five
Emerson strode from Stanford house and stole through the back garden to the mews and took possession of his horse from a sleepy groom.
The rain failed to wash away her scent that still clung to his body. All orange blossom and righteous fury. He directed his horse past the door he’d exited through rather than the window he’d entered, cursing himself for having forgotten to don a hat.
Damn.Damnher.
He was doing the right thing. Her safety meant everything. The thought shifted the axis he’d built his world on. He should have stayed, forced her to listen, to understand. But explaining something he didn’t understand himself would have only had him digging the hole deeper.
The finality in her voice—quiet, composed, remote—hurt. He rubbed a hand over his chest. The end was inevitable—she wouldn’t have heard a word he said. He’d told her it was too dangerous. Told her he’d find another way.
And all she’d done was tilt her head in that ducal manner that had been ingrained in her since birth and handed him his coat. The chill in the October day seeped through to his bones.
Then it hit him.
Not only had she not listened. She’d ushered him into a trap. And he’d waltzed right in, led by the nose as if attached to a leather strip tied to a diamond collar. Easily so.
Emerson picked up his pace like a wolf denied its prey. Rose Stanford had likely never agreed to anything in her life without argument, especially not when she believed herself right. She was fighting for some unseen cause, and he’d waved the red flag before her lovely deep-green eyes.
She’d go to the Peachornsby ball. Of course she would. And once there, she would do exactly what he’d told her not to—search the marquess’s study.
He could picture it now: her in some striking crimson silk, all fire and purpose, slipping away from the ballroom crush like a duchess with a dagger beneath her bodice. Not even bothering to wait for the shadows to cooperate. She’d dive headlong into danger with nothing but wit and a pair of embroidered slippers.
“Bloody hell,” he hissed, picking up his steps.
If she was going to storm a lion’s den dressed like temptation, someone would have to keep her from getting eaten.
He could engage her brother, but that would only alienate her more.
Emerson reached 10 Manchester and strode through the foyer, barking for Yates.
He entered the hall from the dining room. “Sir?”
“Is my brother about?” Emerson demanded.
“Mr. Massey dressed and mentioned he would be at his club.”
With a sharp incline of his head, Emerson exhaled through his nose. “If he returns, detain him. I must speak with him immediately,” he said. “I don’t suppose he mentioned which club?”
