Something About Emmaline (8 page)

Malvina struggled off the sofa. “Gracious heavens, Emmaline, why didn’t you say something earlier? You can’t go to Lady Oxley’s unprepared. She and Mrs. Denford will be lying in wait like a pair of lions. The Christians had better odds in Rome. And the last thing you want to do is embarrass Sedgwick.” Malvina paused. “I suppose you know Lady Oxley had plotted for Sedgwick to marry Lilith.”

Emmaline shook her head.

“Oh, well, that is long past. But it doesn’t bode well for you. Lady Oxley will want to make sure she shows your husband what an ill choice he made. No matter that! Anyone with sense and a pair of eyes could see how much better
suited you are to be his wife.” Malvina caught her by the hand and dragged her up from her chair.

Pregnancy was no deterrent to the viscountess when there was a social battle at hand.

“I intend to see that you carry the night and be the envy of all,” Malvina declared, forefinger raised in the air. “But first we need to pick the type of gown that will ensure whatever rift is between you and Sedgwick is well healed by the evening’s end. A night he’ll remember forever.” Malvina winked.

Forever? No, that would never do. Yet she could hardly tell Malvina that all she needed was a fortnight.

“Sedgwick! Fancy seeing you so soon,” Jack called out from a billiards table as Alex entered White’s. “Looking for another round of fisticuffs?”

Alex glanced around the great room. It was nearly empty except for a few fellows deep in play at a card table in a far corner. With the Season over, White’s was more a quiet oasis than a social hub.

Jack glanced at his pocket watch. “That has to be a record, even for you, in removing the Denfords from your house.” He grinned. “And am I to assume you have also evicted your other unwanted guest?”

“No. On both counts.”

Jack froze, his hand in midair about to wave down one of the waiters. “What do you mean, no?”

“Exactly that—no.” Sedgwick ran his hand through his hair. “I came looking for you because I need help. Hubert refuses to leave town—apparently Lilith’s brother is getting married.”

“Oh, yes, I heard. Oxley is set to marry that Mabberly
chit. Demmed heiress. My brother is furious I didn’t make an effort there.” Jack heaved a sigh. “Have heard that Lady Oxley is dead set against the match.”

“Yes, well, that may be, but it doesn’t get the Denfords out of my house.”

Jack nodded. “And once they’ve gone packing, so shall Emmaline.”

“Exactly. Which is why I need your help.”

The waiter arrived and Jack ordered a bottle. Then he sat back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. “How can I be of assistance?”

Alex grinned. “Well, it seems to me you would have some expertise in removing an unwanted houseguest.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You know I don’t have a house.”

Alex cocked a brow. “I really wasn’t referring to you as the host.”

“Now, that’s uncalled for.” Jack sat up, his features set in indignant angles. “I’ve never been called unwanted. At least not to my face.”

Alex said nothing, just sent him a withering stare.

“Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome…once, maybe twice.”

Alex’s gaze rolled toward the ceiling.

“Do you want my help or not?” Jack asked.

“Desperately.”

The waiter arrived with the bottle.

“You paying?”

Alex nodded. The man put the bottle on the table and then left. Once the fellow was well out of earshot, he leaned forward and said, “Now, I think the first thing I need to do is establish who’s divulged my secret.”

Jack heaved a sigh. “Who could have been so bird-witted?”

Instead of being blunt, Alex tried a more polite response. “You haven’t told any of your ladybirds, have you?”

“Me?” Jack’s hand went to his heart. “You wound me. I’ve been the epitome of discretion.”

Alex shot him a hard look.

Jack held up one hand in a pledge. “I have far better things to do with a mistress than exchange
on dits
about your dull affairs.”

Alex wasn’t so convinced, but then again, of all the things his friend was, being indiscreet usually wasn’t one of them.

Jack shrugged off his hurt feelings by helping himself to a healthy measure. “Well, to start off, how many people know the truth about Emmaline?”

“You—”

“I think we’ve already established my lack of motive there,” he said, rubbing his swollen nose.

“You,” Alex repeated. “Simmons. My solicitor, Mr. Elliott, and Mr. Elliott’s wife.”

Jack shook his head. “Any chance of anyone else discovering the truth? Accidental slip to a mistress? Drunken ramblings in front of your grandmother?”

Alex shook his head. He’d considered all this, but in truth, he hadn’t had a mistress in some time and the handful of times he could recall getting foxed were all with Jack.

“What about Hubert? Could he have discovered the truth? He’s a sly fellow.”

“No. Besides, he’d have nothing to gain by divulging the truth.” Alex paused. “Though that wouldn’t stop him from capitalizing on the fact if he knew.”

“Oh, aye,” Jack agreed. “He’d make you pay through the nose.”

“Exactly. Besides, Hubert wouldn’t spend the money to perpetuate such a ruse—or let his decoy run my finances into dun territory in the process.”

“Spent all that, has she? Then I’ve learned my lesson from your example—an imaginary wife is well beyond my meager purse.”

Alex laughed. “Yes, she’s quite the whirlwind. You should see what she’s done to the house.”

Jack chuckled. “Suppose that has Hubert in fits. Would like to see that.” He took another drink. “Still, my money is on your cousin, despite what you say. Never trust a man who won’t buy a round or two.”

“No, I don’t see how it could be him,” Alex countered. “Besides, Emmaline’s nonexistence was always a boon for him, for it leaves me without the opportunity to produce an heir.”

“Not anymore,” Jack said, tipping his glass at him.

“What the devil do you mean?”

“Remember I’ve seen your Emmaline and she’s a tempting piece. Now there’s opportunity, if ever there was.” He paused for a second. “Too bad real wives don’t look like that. Marriage wouldn’t be such a sorry state if one got to marry the pretty and beguiling ones.”

Jack had the right of it there. Tempting was the word for Emmaline. Now that he’d tasted her lips, he knew the memory of her kiss would plague him for some time to come.

And opportunity was what made it worse—for she was under his roof. Sleeping in his bed—with her perfume scenting the sheets, the impression of her lithe form leaving a reminder behind in the soft confines of the mattress. All
he could envision was her there, in some lacy bit of silk, with her hair falling loose and…

“Alex, are you listening?” Jack’s question shook him back to the matters at hand. “Gads, I haven’t seen that look on your face since you were smitten with that opera dancer our first year in town.”

“I was not smitten.” Alex poured himself a drink and avoided Jack’s gaze.

“You were besotted. And you had the same vacant look on your face for a week after you…” Jack’s words faltered to a stop and his eyes widened. “You’ve been with this Emmaline.”

“No. Absolutely not. When would I have had time to—”

Jack leaned back in his chair, a sly smile on his lips. “Perhaps not. Truthfully, that would have been fast, even for me.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Alex said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Fine, have it your way,” Jack said, his eyes alight with merriment. “Have you considered that she wasn’t hired by someone, that she found out on her own?”

“The thought had crossed my mind, but I don’t see how that could be the case.”

“Then we have to go on the supposition that someone discovered the truth and hired her.” Jack appeared to be relishing his role as investigator. “I suppose you can’t just rattle the truth out of her?”

“Like a bill collector?” Alex shook his head. “No, I daresay that wouldn’t be all that honorable.” Besides, it would involve taking her in his arms again, and that temptation was more than he wanted to consider. One glance from her melting blue eyes and he’d be lost again. “I think the better
course of action is to get rid of her. But how am I going to do it?”

“Well, she’s been ill all these years. Why can’t she become ill again?”

Alex thought of Emmaline, rosy and pink, in the finest of health. Soft and supple in his arms.

There wasn’t anything unhealthy about her. Save the way she ignited his blood.

“I don’t know—”

“Women can take ill at a moment’s notice. No one will think twice about it.”

That made sense. When his grandmother felt put out over some slight she sought her bed, and his Aunt Imogene was known to take refuge in her room for weeks with some ague or infirmary—
malades imaginaires,
his grandmother liked to call them.

“Take a lesson from my brother,” Jack offered. “When he and my esteemed sister-in-law deem that I’ve overstayed my welcome, he opens his wallet and sends me on my way—a nice fat draft in my pocket and a mutual agreement that I not return for a good six months. Pay Emmaline off and be rid of her.”

Alex frowned. “I don’t like the idea of giving this woman a farthing.”

“Then keep her,” Jack suggested.

“No—she’ll spend me into debtor’s prison. I’d rather keep you as a friend.”

Jack grinned, with pride, no doubt. “I’m immune to your insults.”

“Well I know.” Alex poured another drink and tossed it back.

Not to be outdone, Jack leaned forward. “There is always your lack of charm. A few hours in your company and she’ll leave town voluntarily.”

Alex laughed. It never worked on Jack, and he suspected it wouldn’t work on Emmaline.

Besides, he wasn’t all that convinced he wanted her to leave.

Which was, in itself, another sign that she had turned his life upside down.

Alex returned to Hanover Square with the resolution that he would open his wallet and remove Emmaline with a healthy bribe. Then, once he determined who had hired her in the first place, he would extract that amount from the fiend.

When he got to the house, he was met on the front steps by a very pregnant Lady Rawlins. He’d always thought Malvina Witherspoon a saucy handful, and Rawlins a fool for marrying her. But seeing her like this, so full of child, cumbersome and almost helpless, he felt a twinge of something he’d never felt before.

Something akin to jealousy.

No, it couldn’t be, he told himself almost immediately. It was just the usual discomfort he felt around women in that state. There was something altogether too disconcerting about a woman with her belly pushing out like the prow of a ship. And right now Lady Rawlins bore a startling resemblance to one of Nelson’s mighty warships.

“My lady,” he said, bowing over her hand.

The cheeky chit had the nerve to wink at him. “Sedgwick. Nice to see you home at last. Emmaline is waiting for
you. The Denfords went ahead without you. If it was me in there I’d have your hide for being so late, but your wife is much more forgiving. Along with other things.”

Demmit.
Lady Oxley’s dinner. He’d completely forgotten about it.

Lady Rawlings squeezed past him and teetered her way down the steps. “I hope you have the good sense to admire my handiwork. I spent the last two hours getting her hair just so. But don’t admire it so much that it becomes mussed before you arrive at Lady Oxley’s.” She winked again and made her way to the Tottley residence across the square.

He was met at the door by Simmons, who seemed as put out by his late arrival as Lady Rawlins.

“Milord, there you are! I have your dress clothes laid out in the second bedroom. You’d best hurry or else your late arrival will arouse comment.” That pointed remark was followed by a not-so-subtle nudge toward the stairs.

Alex turned and stared at Simmons. He was unable to remember the last time the old family retainer had taken him to task. Probably not since he’d gone to Eton.

And before he could comment, remind the butler that the woman upstairs wasn’t his wife, Simmons was calling for Henry to bring the carriage around.

Between Lady Rawlins’s machinations and Simmons’s apparent turn around the bend, he was starting to wonder if anyone remembered this was
his
house.

He made his way upstairs, bypassed the second bedroom and went straight to the master suite. He strode in without knocking and found no one about.

“Emmaline?”

“In here,” she called out.

He crossed the room toward the connected sitting room, to find a screen had been set up in one corner.

“I’m here,” she called out from behind it.

Alex came to a halt in the middle of the room and stared at the Chinese painting covering the partition.

He didn’t dare venture any closer. The memory of her kiss was too fresh in his mind. And while he’d disavowed being besotted to Jack, there was a small part of him that was willing to acknowledge that she was a demmed tempting minx.

There was no need to go adding to his problems by venturing behind a perfectly good screen. One that right now he’d be more than happy to pay the bill for.

“I think we need to come up with a plan for the evening,” he told her. “We will arrive, make an appearance, then just before dinner, I want you to claim an illness. I’ll make our excuses and then we’ll be done before any further calamities can strike.”

“That will never work,” she told him, with a confident air that took him aback.

Wasn’t anyone in his household listening to him anymore? “Whyever not?”

“If I feign an illness suddenly, everyone will think I’m increasing.”

With child? Alex stammered for breath. And he thought his life couldn’t get any more tangled. “You aren’t, are you?”

“Most certainly not!” she replied with enough indignation that he thought he ought to duck for fear her outburst would be followed with a flying hairbrush or some other not-so-blunt instrument.

“I meant no offense,” he said.

“Harrumph.”

Offense obviously taken. He didn’t know why he should feel responsible for her ire—she was the one who’d broached the subject.