His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance) (9 page)

Emmaline, expecting that Noble’s retort would earn him a stern rebuke, was amazed to see a wide grin split
Lucius’ face. “You keep my cattle so well, Noble, I had almost forgotten that. Very well. Beamish, hand me those reins.”

Lucius quickly mounted and the party
returned to Montpelier Street at a sedate walk.

Giles had been watching for them and
came forward to hold Psyche’s bridle while Lucius helped Emmaline dismount. He offered Emmaline his arm to escort her to her front door. After a moment’s hesitation, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.

“While you are in London please ride Psyche as often as you wish. The more exercise she has the better behaved she is. Just send word to Noble when it suits you.”

“You are very kind, my Lord.” Emmaline stopped on the top step and turned to face him, a question on her lips. “Just how many horses do you keep in Town?”

“Oh, a dozen or more,” Lucius replied carelessly.

“You must be very rich.”

“Disgustingly so.” Lucius caught her hand, his grey eyes teasing her as his lips brushed the backs of her gloved fingers.

A tremor of desire shimmied through her frame and Emmaline knew he heard the hitch in her breath. He was like a cat playing with a mouse and she pulled her hand quickly from his grasp. How dare he!

“Until our next meeting, Miss Devereux.”

He bowed to her and Emmaline stood in the doorway and watched with her heart in her mouth as he strode across the pavement, took his reins and mounted his horse in one fluid, powerful movement. Juliana lifted her hand and waved goodbye as the group of riders moved off in a clatter of hooves.

Emmaline wa
ited until they disappeared from sight before entering the house to find Mrs. Babbidge in a fine fluster.

“You have
not one, but two invitations,” she announced. “I said you would be in demand.”

“And to where have I been invited?” Emmaline
asked as she removed her hat.

“The first is to a soiree
with Countess Esterhazy, who writes she is sending her carriage with a chaperone, a Miss Stevens who is a distant relative, and that is to be followed by a dinner party with Lady Darnley.”

A groan of dismay escaped
Emmaline’s lips and she was immediately reprimanded by her aunt.

“Enough of this, Emmaline,” Mrs. Babbidge snapped, her patience exhausted. “You are being granted an opening that many a young lady would wish for.”

It was a truth with which Emmaline could not argue. She handed her hat, riding crop and gloves to Annie and then followed her aunt into the parlour. A pitcher of lemonade and several glasses sat on a tray on the sideboard. She poured herself a glass of the refreshing beverage and sipped on it as she turned to stare out of the window. It overlooked a small garden at the back of the house and, though the borders were prettily planted with a colourful array of flowers, her thoughts were in too much turmoil to take comfort from it.

Mrs. Babbidge, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval, seated herself and took up her knitting from the basket on the floor beside her chair. The needles clicked furiously as the yarn sped through her flying fingers.

With a sigh Emmaline took a seat opposite her.

“How can I do this, Aunt?” she pleaded. “How can I hide who and what I am?
It appears I am unforgettable yet I wish to be forgotten. My education and experience is beyond most of my peers and because of that many would consider me an unsuitable prospect as a wife.”

“You remember what your grandpapa told you?”

“Yes.” Emmaline hung her head with a sigh. “Pretend I am just another beautiful face until there is a ring on my finger.”

“Well, then.” Mrs. Babbidge laid her knitting in her lap. “Em, it has to be done.”

“But it is so dishonest, Aunt!”

“
If you had more of your mama in you perhaps you wouldn’t find it so hard.”

At Emmaline’s gasp of dismay Mrs. Babbidge looked up
.

“
Are you saying my mother was dishonest?”

“No, silly.” Mrs. Babbidge thought for a moment. “Only that your mama had the knack of fitting in wherever she went. Now your papa was bull headed from the start, but
he learnt from her and that enabled him to, well . . to do the things he did.”

At the mention of her papa Emmaline fell silent. She missed him so.
It was he who first taught her Greek and Latin, had shown her books on animal husbandry and, with her grandfather away, allowed her to practise the economies she gleaned from them without hindrance. Using an atlas, he explained Napoleon Bonaparte’s progression through Europe, taught her the history and politics of the countries ravaged by war. She was educated even before she went to Miss Fotheringay’s School for Young Ladies in Bath.

“I do understand, Great-
Aunt, I really do.”

“There, my lamb. It will work out for the best, you’ll see.”

Thoughtfully Emmaline went upstairs. If she had to marry there was only one name that came to mind.

Lucius.

Of all the men she had ever met only he set her limbs and lips trembling. Only he who sent the blood racing through her veins and made her heart thump so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

What little conversation th
ey had engaged in intrigued her for he was as quick witted as she. And beneath his gruff exterior there was real kindness. She had heard it in his voice when he spoke with Juliana, had seen it in the way he cared for his lame horse.

Intelligence
, which she was sure matched her own, shimmered like quicksilver in his eyes. And, most unnerving of all, he seemed to have an instinctive understanding of her, knowing when to tease to his best advantage and when to leave her quietly fuming.

There was no denying it. He was the most attractive, infuriating and possibly dangerous man
with whom to consider marriage. She was sure he was not averse to her. And he was rich. That would satisfy her grandfather.

But, if she could contrive to seduce and marry Lucius, would that satisfy her?

CHAPTER 7

Lucius closed the library door and
went to the table that served as his desk. The discarded edition of Plato that Emmaline clutched to her breast the first time he saw her lay on its scarred surface.

Picking it up, he carried it with him as he went to s
tand in front of the fireplace. A small fire had been lit for, in spite of it being early May, the room was a little chilled. He warmed his free hand over the bright flames.

Dammit
. Why couldn’t he get her out of his head?

Smart and obviously capable, she appeared to share his love of horses and shown herself to be a skilled horsewoman. Her unruly tongue frequently ran away with her. How many times might she have come close to actually biting it? Hardly the kind of wife suitable for a gentleman.

Wife? He pulled back the hand he held over the flames and curled it into a fist.

No, no, no. He shook his head. Marriage was not in his
plans. One close call was enough. As yet only two and thirty, his publicly declared intention not to be leg-shackled until his fortieth birthday had been entered in the betting book at Brook’s.

That he was powerfully attracted to her he could not deny, for why else would he have these unusually strong sexual urges?
His circle of paramours, he knew, considered him a skilled and generous lover, but not one of those ladies stirred in him the reactions as did one thought of Emmaline Devereux.

Sounds
in the hallway interrupted his thoughts and irritation rippled through him as he recognized his elder sister’s strident voice. Lucius took a seat, rested his elbows on the table and awaited his sister’s entrance.

W
earing a colourful, if not fashionable, crimson pelisse over a mustard yellow morning gown trimmed at the neck with a fichu of lace, Lady Caroline Chulmleigh surged in as though on the crest of a wave.

A much beribboned
, wide brimmed straw hat sat on top of her carefully coiffed curls, the white egret feathers trimming it swaying in syncopation with her sprightly step.

“Good Lord, Caro, what are you wearing?” Lucius looked her up and down in dismay.

“Good afternoon to you, too, brother,” Lady Caroline nodded h
er head in greeting, making the feathers sway even more. “It is so good to see you.”

“That’s as maybe,” replied Lucius, unruffled, “but were I
Chulmleigh I would beat you before I allowed you to leave my house wearing a hat like that.”

Lady Caroline
smoothed the brim with her gloved hand and reviewed herself in an ormolu framed mirror on the wall behind her.

“My milliner assured me it was the latest style,” she said, turning her head to better review her image.

“And assured herself of your blunt in her pocket into the bargain,” retorted Lucius as he watched her.

“How horrid of you to say so.
” Lady Caroline swept to a chair on which she proceeded to arrange herself.

“Horrid
maybe, but truthful.” Lucius watched her spread her skirts so as not to crease them. “To what do I owe this honour, Caro? You never visit me unless you want something, so ‘fess up.”

He watched Caroline purse her lips as if thinking before speaking.

“Does your milliner’s bill bring you a little too close to Queer Street?” prompted Lucius.

“Of course n
ot!” Caroline looked shocked. “And say what you like about Chulmleigh, he is never tight fisted. No, no, it is quite another matter, a matter of some delicacy in fact.”

Colour stained her cheeks, contrasting poorly with the colour of her pelisse. An expression of extreme discomfort played across her homely features.

His patience fraying, Lucius waited for his sister to enlarge on the problem clearly upsetting her.

“As your older sister,” she began, “I in some way feel
in loco parentis
as it were.”

“To whom?”

“Well, to you, of course.”

Lucius straightened in his chair, an expression of disbelief on his face.

“To me?”

“Indeed, and to whom else? What sort of sister would I be if I did not care about the latest
on dits
surrounding my brother?”

“Ah, I see.” Lucius pushed his chair away from the table and stretched out his long legs, carefully crossing them at the ankle
s. He tucked his hands in to his coat pockets and dropped his chin onto his chest. “So your visit is something of a fact finding mission rather than any concern for my health and wellbeing?”

“Well, of course I am concerned about your health, and as for your wellbeing my one concern is what I am hearing about your latest chit.” Caroline held her breath. Her brother’s relaxed pose belied the temper
she knew to be brewing beneath his outward calm. At last he looked up at her and she almost quailed beneath the savage expression in his eyes.

“What latest chit?”

“Rumour has it you have a diamond of the first water residing under your roof.” Lady Caroline’s nervousness at addressing her brother extended to her twitching fingers. She tucked an imaginary stray curl under hat before folding her hand firmly in her lap. “If this is true, I have to tell you I am shocked, quite shocked. Even for you it would be crossing a line. I had thought better of you. What were you thinking?”

“Rumour is correct about a diamond of the first water,” Lucius said. “Incorrect that she is residing under my roof. And as for you, Caro,” he got to his feet and
prowled to and fro, “
I
am shocked that you should have so immediately believed such a rumour. My reputation may well be deserved, but when, dear sister, have you ever known me to be so want for sense as to ensconce a mistress under this, or indeed any roof of mine?”

“
Your reassurance that it is not so is all I need,” Lady Caroline said soothingly, hoping to offset any angry response from him that, try as she might, she never succeeded in controlling. “I could scarce believe my ears when Lady Beauchamp apprised me of what she believed to be your situation.”

“My situation?” A frown drew
Lucius’ brows together. “Caro, you puzzle me even more. To what situation are you referring?”

“Luc
ius, please do not be obtuse!” Lady Caroline almost stamped her foot. “Who is this girl you are supposedly squiring around Town?”

“So now we get to the truth of it,” he muttered, turning to face his sister. “I surmise you are alluding to Juliana's friend, Miss Emmaline Deveraux.”

“Oh.” For a moment Lady Caroline looked quite downcast but quickly rallied. “So how is it that we have never before heard of or even met this girl?”

“They were at school together and corresponded thereafter. And that,
Caro, is about as much as I know.”