The anger that had consumed him dissipated like the sun burning off a heavy fog. “Truly? Her auntsoldher?”
“Yes,” she bit out. “That is what Viola claims. It corroborates with what I overheard.” Her fury toward him had shifted.
“’Twas a brave, if asinine, thing you did, Rose,” he admitted grudgingly. Still, his temper surged back at what could have happened. “But blast it, it was too dangerous.”
Next to him, her body stiffened, snapping rigid. “Howdidyou find me tonight?”
Not a question he was prepared to answer, but honesty compelled. “I had arranged with my brother to enter the house. To stop you from an ill-advised search in favor of undertaking the task myself.”
“They would hang you by your thick neck, you imbecile.” She said this with little heat, not thrilled, however, to recognize the truth in her statement.
“What do you propose I do, my lady?”How do I keep you safe? How do I find the bastard blackmailing me? How do I reconcile the change coming over me regarding the brother I thought so ignorant and impulsive? And…and you?No answers emerged, only more questions in the form of not just keeping Rose safe but other changes in him—toward her, toward Benjamin. Except he had no wish to bed his brother!
He was an idiot. She was on the hunt for a title, not a mister.
“You refuse in allowing me to assist you. I can get in places you can’t,” she said with stubborn, yet truthful, resolve. “And I don’t mean sneaking you into peerage libraries and studies.”
Emerson barely restrained a groan and kept silent the rest of the way to Upper Brook Street.
She didn’t seem any more inclined to speak than he.
He pulled the phaeton to a stop before the Stanford House gate and alighted. The heaviness settling over him nearly felled him to his knees. It certainly couldn’t have anything to do with a prickly baroness who bedeviled him beyond measure.
He handed her down, prepared to let her walk to her door alone—
She stopped and peered at him. She hadn’t worn a hat, leaving the silken curls lopped atop her head, with tight ringlets losing their battle and streaming past her shoulders to blend into the dark of night. “I expect you could use a glass of brandy.” A slight smile tipped her lips. “As it happens, I recently received a fine case from a mysterious donor. French, of course.”
Something in his chest hitched at that tiny curvature. “Indeed.” In an instant, the heaviness weighting his shoulders lifted. He smiled back. “After the night I’ve had? Yes, I could use a brandy.”
Winston met them at the door, his expression devoid of readability. But disapproval radiated from him in waves. It was a familiar sensation Emerson had dealt with his entire life.
To her credit, Rose stripped off her gloves and cloak and tossed them to her butler without a look in the man’s direction.
Emerson chose to retain his own cloak and followed this so very proud woman into her plush drawing room.
She waved her hand in the direction of the decanter.
Taking her up on her offer, Emerson poured two small glasses and strolled back to where she stood next to a fire blazing in the grate, handing her one.
She took a small sip then raised the glass, furrowing her brows, as she studied the amber contents. “Goodness. I had no notion the difference. This is quite lovely.”
“From my private stash.”
After a second sip, she moved to a comfortable settee and sat down. “I’m grateful Stanford never discovered the difference,” she said, shuddering. “He was a horrid sot.” A couple of minutes passed, and she looked up at him. “Could you please take a seat? It strains my neck to look up so far.”
“All right,” he said slowly, lowering onto a chair rather than sitting beside her, fearing he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. The vulnerability he glimpsed occasionally tempted him beyond measure. “Is there a purpose to this extended visit?”
She stared into the fire without speaking for a time, sipping at his very fine brandy. Then she said quietly, “Thank you for…for being there tonight. Admittedly, there was a terrifying moment.”
“Only one?” he said lightly. Almost teasing. The moment was…comfortable.
She smiled at that. Outright. No pretention. No hesitation.
It was a shared moment like nothing he’d ever experienced. He turned his own gaze to the flickering flames, letting the calm settle through him.
In that calmness, something she’d said earlier niggled at him. “Did you say you could get me in places?”
“I did. And I can.”
