It had been an afternoon of torture.
Lord Bartleby, an irascible earl from a neighboring estate, had come by after breakfast, demanding an audience over some pressing business regarding a shared wall on the eastern border of theirtwo properties.
At least, Bartleby deemed it pressing. Samuel didn’t give a damn one way or another about the wall, but Bartleby could talk on the subject forever, it seemed. By the time he left Samuel’s study, Samuel’s head was pounding, and he would have sworn there was blood trickling out of his ears.
If it had ever occurred to Samuel the man could drone on and on at such length about height, drainage, and proper English granite, he never would have let the old bounder set foot in his study.
Thanks to Lord Bartleby and his damned border wall it had been an entire afternoon wasted, and now Samuel was late for tea. He flew upstairs and dressed with such haste he left his dressing closet turned upside down and poor, harried Fletcher in despair.
When he entered the drawing room, there was only one thing on his mind—only one thing he wanted.
Emma.
“Good afternoon, Lymington.” Lord Dunn was lounging on one of the settees, one booted foot dangling over his knee, a cup of tea in his hand.
Samuel paused in the doorway. Where was Emma? Come to that, where was everyone else? A tea tray rested on the table at Dunn’s elbow, but he was alone in the room. “HaveI missed tea?”
“Lady Lymington was here, but she’s since retired to her rooms with a headache. Lovell’s gone for a ride on the eastern edge of the estate, and Lady Flora and Lady Silvester went to the conservatory to see if the apricots had ripened.”
Samuel frowned. “What of Lady Crosbyand Lady Emma?”
Dunn shrugged. “Still abed, I imagine, after the ball last night.”
Lady Crosby, perhaps, but not Emma. She’d promised to meet him for luncheon. He’d been trapped in his study with Bartleby then, but he’d expected he’d see her at tea. “Were they not at luncheon?”
“I’ve no idea, Lymington. I’ve only just ventured into tea myself. I drank too much champagne last night, and I’ve had a devil of a headache all day.”
“You haven’t been out riding, then?” Dunn’s boots were wet, and the hem of his riding coat was splattered with mud. “For a man who’s just left his bed, you look a mess.”
“Kind of you to say so, Lymington,” Dunn drawled, smirking. “An extra lump of sugar in your tea, perhaps, to sweeten your temper?”
Samuel wasn’t interested in tea, or in anything else but finding Emma, but he couldn’t rush off and abandon Dunn without sharing a cup with him first. Surely, he wasn’t quite such a besotted fool he couldn’t manage a cup of tea?
“Sugar won’t do it, Dunn.” The only thing that would restore Samuel to good humor was one fair-haired, blue-eyed lady with the sweetest lips he’d ever kissed, but he strode into the drawing room anyway, joined Dunn by the fire, and served himself a cup of tea.
Before he had a chance to raise the cup to his lips, however, Lady Crosby burst into the drawing room, her hair tumbling from its neat bun, and her face as pale as death. “Oh, Lord Lymington, thank goodness I’ve found you!”
Samuel shot to his feet, startled by her wild appearance, and his teacup slipped from his hand and tumbled to the carpet. “What is it, Lady Crosby?”
“I can’t find Emma! She was supposed to fetch me for tea when she returned, but I fell asleep, and didn’t realize she never—”
“Returned from where, Lady Crosby? Where did she go?”
Lady Crosby was wringing her hands. “To the folly! The one behind the kitchens, next to the pond.”
“The folly!” Pure panic swept over Samuel. That folly was in a remote part of the grounds, down a wooded pathway, and not visible from the house. “Please tell me she didn’t venture so far from the house alone.”
“N-no, not alone.” Lady Crosby had become so agitated by this point she was struggling to catch her breath. “She fetched Daniel to go with her.”
Daniel Brixton should be menacing enough to deter even the most hardened villain, but if his presence had been as discouraging as it ought to have been, thenwhere was Emma?
“Dunn, go after Lovell, and fetch Felix Humphries. Tell them they’re needed at the folly at once, and that I’ll meet them there.” Samuel didn’t wait for an answer, but flew from the drawing room out to the stablesat a dead run.
He started calling Brixton’s name once the stable was in sight, but there was no answer, and when he burst through the doors, he found the place deserted. Aside from an occasional equine snort and shuffle of hooves, all was still and silent.
Daniel Brixton had been everywhere during the past weeks in London, shadowing Emma’s every move, and lurking on the darkened streets outside the Pink Pearl. Whichever way Samuel turned, Brixton was there, shoving his enormous bulk between Samuel and any hope he had of a private moment with Emma.
Now that Samuel actually needed the man, he was nowhere to be found.
