Helena huffed. “A few more hours won’t makea difference.”
“A few hours could makeallthe difference! In another few hours, you could both be gone.” Emma lowered her voice with an effort. “Once Daniel’s delivered you to Lady Clifford, he’ll come back here and wait for Caroline. I promise it, Letty.”
Helena said nothing, but Emma could see wasn’t convinced. Short of dragging Helena out of here kicking and screaming, there wasn’t a chance Emma could get her to leave the PinkPearl tonight.
“I’m sorry, Emma.” Helena gave her a pleading look. “I’m Caroline’s only friend here. I can’t simply abandon her. You can’t ask it of me—you, of all people, who are so protective of me.”
“Not protective enough.” Emma’s jaw was tight. “If I were, I would have persuaded you to leave this place years ago.”
“One more night, Emma, I swear it, and if anything goes wrong, I’ll alert Daniel at once.”
Emma’s hands opened and closed at her sides, grasping at nothing. She’d never felt more helpless in her life, but there was little she could do. If she lingered any longer arguing with Helena, Madame Marchand would be sure to discover them. “Go, then. Quickly, before Madame Marchand misses you.”
Helena rushed forward and pressed a kiss to Emma’s cheek. “One more night only, Emma.I promise it.”
One more night.
Emma hardly had time to draw a breath before Helena was gone, swallowed back into the depths ofthe Pink Pearl.
One more night that would last a lifetime.
* * * *
“What a pleasure to see you again, Lord Lymington. Are you interested in female companionship this evening, or have you returned to the Pink Pearl to teaseus once again?”
Samuel had burst through the door of the Pink Pearl and started immediately for the library, scanning the entryway as he went. There was no sign of Helena Reeves, but the same redhead he’d offended last week was smiling up at him with pink, painted lips.
“Neither,” he snapped, not bothering to hide his scowl. “I need to findHelena Reeves.”
“Ah, so it’s Helena this time, is it? Have you finished with Caroline already? Inconstant man!” She giggled, tapping his chest with her fan.
“Is Caroline here?” Samuel asked, ignoring her flirtation. “She’ll dojust as well.”
“I’m certain both Caroline and Helena will be overjoyed to find you consider them interchangeable, my lord. Alas, Caroline is not here this evening. Helena is, though I haven’t seen herfor some time.”
“Where did you see her last?” Samuel was trying to remain calm, but it had taken him ages to disentangle himself from the company at Lady Tremaine’s. Lady Emma had at least a half hour’s start on him, and God knew half an hour was more than enough time for herto wreak havoc.
In short, he was ready to squeeze the redhead until useful words spilledfrom her lips.
“Oh, here and there.” She smirked up at him, clearly enjoying her game. “First, she was in the music room, then I believe she was upstairs for a time with Lord Dimmock, then I saw her wandering down the hallway outside the library—”
Samuel didn’t wait to hear more, but strode across the drawing room and down the adjacent hallway, his boots ringing against the marble floors with every step. He passed the music room, then threw open the library door, not at all sure what he’d find onthe other side.
What he did find was…nothing.
No Helena Reeves, and no cloaked wraith drifting through the glass doors, but it was colder in here than it should be, as if the door had justbeen open, and—
He paused as he caught a subtle shift in the light coming through the glass, the hint of a shadow drifting across the stone terrace and into thegarden beyond.
Lady Emma hadn’t yet made her escape.
Samuel darted across the library, taking care to stay on the carpets so his footsteps would be muffled. The shadow had vanished by the time he reached the glass doors, but she couldn’t have gotten far.
He pushed the door open, closing it behind him as he stepped onto the terrace. He was angry with Lady Emma when he found she’d slipped his grasp this evening, yet for reasons he didn’t care to examine, he didn’t choose to reveal her secret comings and goings to Madame Marchand.
His labored breaths echoed in his ears as he crossed the garden, hoping he wasn’t so far behind her she’d disappear into the darkened streets of London before he could see which way she’d gone, but when he reached the corner, he glimpsed a slight figure hurrying down the street.
No cloak this time, no deep hood to hide her face, but he would have known her anywhere, regardless. So graceful, her movements so fluid—he’d as soon forget the way Lady Emma moved as he would her scent, or the taste of her lips, or the unbearable eroticism of her low, sweet voice.
