Samuel raised a hand to his hair with a frown. “What do you mean? Nothing’s happened.”
“Oh, something’s happened, I assure you. Did Fletcher abandon youthis morning?”
Samuel winced at mention of his valet. “No, I sent him away.” The last thing he’d wanted after a night spent tossing in his bed was to endure Fletcher’s fussing, but he could have dismissed the man with abitmore cordiality. It wasn’t his poor valet’s fault he hadn’t slept a wink last night.
Or any night, really, since he’d first laid eyes on Emma Downing.
“Well, that explains it.” Lovell took up his teacup, but instead of drinking from it he continued to stare at Samuel over the rim with a perplexed expression.
“For God’s sake, Lovell.” Samuel slammed his own cup down with more force than he’d intended. “Just say it, whatever it is, and get it over with, so we can move on.”
“Very well, then. Your hair is a trifle,er…disheveled.”
“Well, what of it?” Samuel grumbled. “What does it matter what my hair looks like?”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter, if you don’t mind that it looks like a small animal has been burrowing in it. And where’s your cravat?”
“My cravat? It’s right…” Samuel fumbled at his neck, but his fingertips met only bare skin. “Oh. I thought I’d…I suppose I forgot it.”
Lovell’s face softened. “Never mind. As you said, it hardly matters. I’ve an idea, Lymington. Let’s have a ride together this morning. A nice, long one. We haven’t ridden together in ages.”
“What about your leg?” Lovell had only been able to sit a horse for short distances since his injury.
“Better and better every day, and we can always return if it begins to ache. Come, Lymington, no one will wonder about your hair if you’ve been riding all day.”
Samuel returned Lovell’s cheeky smile with a half-hearted one of his own. He didn’t care for the idea of moping about Lymington House all day, wondering where Emma was, but he didn’t fancy a ride, either. He didn’t fancy anything. “I don’t think I’m up to ittoday, Lovell.”
Lovell’s smile vanished. He opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again, hesitating.
Samuel sighed. “Go on.”
“This business with Lady Emma, Samuel. I think perhaps you should—”
“She’d notLadyEmma, Lovell. Just Emma, or rather, MissEmma Downing.”
“Emma Downing isher real name?”
“Yes. At least, she says so.”
Lovell fiddled with the handle of his cup, a troubled look on his face. “Do you believe her?”
Yes. His answer was instant, surprising Samuel, but doubt followed right on its heels. “I don’t know what I believe anymore, Lovell. She’s lied to us all, over and over again—”
“Good morning, Lord Lymington, and Lord Lovell.”
Samuel’s head jerked to the door of the breakfast room. Lady Crosby was standing there, her lips tight with outrage, and beside her stood Emma,her face white.
It was clear they’d overheard every word.
Lovell shot to his feet, his cheeks flushing. “Lady Crosby, and Lady Em—that is, good morning to you both. May I help you each to a plate?”
Lady Crosby gave him an offended sniff. “No, thank you, Lord Lovell. We’re perfectly able to help ourselves. Come along, Emma.”
Emma trailed after Lady Crosby without a word. Samuel struggled not to follow her with his eyes, but it was no use. No matter how much he might wish it wasn’t so, when she was in the room, nothing else existed for him.
But she looked different this morning,unlike herself.
Her hair wasn’t disheveled, as his was, nor was a single item of her clothing missing. There was no indication at all she’d spent the night tossing in her bed as Samuel had, but she didn’t look anything like the London belle, the lovely, elegant creature who’d set thetonatwitter with her triumphant debut at Almack’s.
