“Oh, I’m not likely to forget that, Lord Lymington. In caseyou’veforgotten, you nearly threw me out ofyour houselast night.”
Samuel blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t been as bad as that, had he? He was angry with Emma, yes, but he would never dream of doing such a thing.
Emma let out a sigh when he didn’t answer. “It’s not as if I’m alone in this endeavor, you know. I have help.”
“From whom, Lady Crosby? You intend to put a tiny old lady between yourself and a cold-blooded murderer?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Not Lady Crosby. Don’t be absurd.”
“Who, then?” For one wild moment, Samuel wanted her to say she hadhim, but she dashed those hopesin an instant.
“Daniel Brixton, my lord.”
“What, Lady Crosby’s coachman?”
“He’s, ah…he’s not Lady Crosby’s coachman, Lord Lymington. He works for Lady Clifford,just as I do.”
Of course, he did.
Samuel gritted his teeth. “Well, that makes sense, at least. It’s the one thing you’ve said in the past few minutes that does, Emma.”
Her chin hitched up another notch. “I suppose you have another suggestion, a better way to catch this blackguard? Very well, my lord.I’m listening.”
Hedidhave another suggestion, that is, he must, but…damn it, he couldn’tthink. “Why are you doing this, Emma? Why would you risk yourself like this?”
“Why?” She gazed up at him, her secrets and nightmares and all the things she hid right there in her eyes. “Because Lady Clifford did it for me, and nowit’s my turn.”
Samuel’s hands tightened on her shoulders. He couldn’t bear it if something happened to her, if she were hurt in any way. “You can’t save them, Emma. Amy, and Kitty and Caroline.It’s too late.”
“It’s too late for them, yes.” Emma’s smile was sad as she gently disentangled herself from his grasp. “But I can still save myself, Samuel. It’s not too late for me.”
Chapter Twenty
The ball atLymington House
Five days later
“I’m amazed Lord Lymington didn’t insist upon coming into your bedchamber while you dressed for the ball thisevening, Emma.”
Emma was sitting at the dressing table, fussing with the blue ribbons Flora’s lady’s maid had woven into her hair, but after a few half-hearted tugs she gave up, and let the ribbons lie where they might. What did her hairmatter, anyway?
She met Lady Crosby’s gaze in the mirror. “Hehasbeen unusually attentive.”
“Attentive?” Lady Crosby gave a delicate snort. “The man hasn’t let you out of his sight for the past five days. He’s like a hound on a scent.”
A fierce, growly hound, yes—one that heartily resented the fox it was chasing. “He makes even Daniel look negligent, doesn’t he?”
“Positively neglectful, yes. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised to find him outside your bedchamber door at this very moment, waiting to pounce on you as soon as you set foot into the hallway.”
Emma set her hairbrush aside with a sigh.“Nor would I.”
She’d been sure she was imagining it at first, until she caught him trailing behind her one late afternoon as she wandered through the formal gardens. He’d dodged behind a shrub, but it hadn’t done much to conceal him, as he was half a head taller than it was.
Since then, every time she turned around, Samuel was there, hovering at the edges, his dark eyes following her every move. He didn’t speak to her any more than politeness demanded, or appear inclined to engage her in any way.
Emma couldn’t make heads or tails of his behavior, until at last it dawned on her he’d taken it upon himself to defend her from whatever criminals happened to be lurking about Lymington House.
If he’d been another sort of man, his devotion might have raised a fragile hope in her poor, battered heart, but Samuel’s fierce protectiveness had little to do with her. He’d do the same for anyone in his house he believed was under threat.
