Page 24 of To Tempt Lady (Victorian Outcasts #10)
twenty-three
Standing in the hall on her sore feet, Emma looked forward to saying goodbye to the last of her guests and going to bed. The event had been a success. Her guests had been generous, and they’d raised a few thousand pounds to donate to a children’s hospital.
She pasted a polite smile on her lips as she bowed her head over and over to the ladies and lords filing out of Hart House. Trevor did the same although his smile looked more strained.
“Good night,” she said to Lady and Lord Redfern. “Thank you for coming. It was delightful to see you here.”
“Lovely night.” Lady Redfern paused and seemed about to say something.
“Is something the matter?” Emma worried the lady might start chatting and keep her up for another twenty minutes.
Lady Redfern craned her neck right and left as if looking for someone as her husband walked ahead towards the front door. “Nothing. Good night, Emma, Pembroke.”
Trevor bowed without making any effort to smile.
“Who is left?” he whispered after Lady Redfern finally left.
“Only a few people. A bit of patience. I’m tired, too.”
“If I smile one more time, I’ll need surgery to mend my face.”
“Because you aren’t used to smiling.”
“The night wasn’t entirely pleasant. I wanted to punch Lord Wallace, but I forced myself not to. You should be proud of me.”
“What did he do?” she asked.
Trevor tensed. “He refuses to sign a bill that will help women working in a disorderly house find a new job. How asinine can he be? He claims fallen women don’t deserve our effort. I wanted to smack his pompous face in front of everyone.”
She squeezed his arm. “As soon as we finish building those houses, we’ll start a project to help fallen women.”
He brightened in an instant. “I love you, sister of mine.”
Her mouth dropped open in shock, but she didn’t have time to say anything.
Lady Beaumont marched towards her as if in a rage. “Emma.”
“Good night. Thank you for com—”
“May I have a word?” Lady Beaumont gripped her fan.
“Of course.” She exchanged a glance with Trevor who shot his gaze skywards.
Emma walked to a quiet corner and had barely time to smile again before Lady Beaumont asked, “What are you playing at?”
“Excuse me?” She gazed around.
“You can’t keep him for yourself only. You don’t own him.”
She must have had too much champagne because she didn’t follow the speech. “Whom are you talking about?”
“Oh, please.” Lady Beaumont huffed. “I don’t know what you did to him. Blackmail is my guess, which is truly despicable of you, but I’ll do everything to have him back and help him. Poor thing. A stallion like that in chains.”
Oh, horses then.
“I assure you that Trevor is more than careful with his stallion. If he treated people the same way he treats his horses, he would be more popular.”
“You aren’t funny.”
With those obscure words, Lady Beaumont thrust out her bosom and strode away, her bustle swaying like a cat’s tail.
Trevor walked over to her, glancing at the retreating, angry silhouette of Lady Beaumont. “Is something the matter?”
“I have no idea. She said something about me blackmailing someone.”
He sighed. “I wish you were that type of person.”
“Don’t joke.”
“I don’t.”
“She mentioned your stallion. I think. Honestly, I’m not sure.”
A shadow crossed his face. “I treat my horse better than I treat you.”
“That’s what I told her.” She pressed her lips together. “I got told off for something I didn’t do.”
“Lady Beaumont drank too much champagne. Our reserve of Dom Pérignon is dangerously low, and she drank half of it. When we attended her dinner party, she served that horrible champagne made in Saxony. Saxony! Since when did the Saxons know anything about champagne? A bottle of that potion must be no more than a shilling.”
“Trevor, I’m serious.”
“So am I. Horrible drink.” He hid his yawn behind his hand. “I’m too tired. I don’t make much sense.”
“Not even when you’re well rested.”
He waved dismissively. “I need to see Stewart, then I’ll retire. Good night.”
When the footman shut the front door behind the last guest and the house was quiet, she dragged herself upstairs. The soft clinking of the plates and glasses being gathered by the servants came from the ballroom.
Light limned Marcus’s door, and she was tempted to knock. The corridor was empty. The servants were busy cleaning up the ballroom. Trevor was with Stewart.
She stood an inch from the door, opening and closing her hands. To knock or not to knock.
There was nothing wrong with asking her guest how he was faring, and he was obviously still up. Or maybe he’d fallen asleep with the lights on. That could be potentially dangerous. She should make sure he was awake or put out the lights. A matter of safety.
She edged closer to listen and pressed her ear to the door. No sound. He could be either reading or sleeping. She bent over to take a peek through the keyhole. Not a ladylike behaviour, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
She could see the armchair and the edge of the bed, and maybe a corner of the fireplace—
An airflow against her cheek was all the warning she had before the door was flung inwards.
“Emma?” Marcus said as she let out a squeal of surprise.
She straightened up so quickly she lost her balance and bumped into him. He caught her easily, wrapping his arms around her waist. A whiff of his clean citrus scent energised her, and somehow, her face was squashed against his chest.
“What were you doing?” He kept holding her.
“I…” The point was, she had no idea what to say. Whatever she said, she would make a poor impression. “Thank you for your hard work.”
“My pleasure.” Judging from his tone, he didn’t believe she’d come to thank him.
Right then, Trevor’s voice came from the stairs. “…and put that horrible gift Lord Atkinson gave us in the cellar. Or better yet, destroy it. It’ll give me nightmares or bring bad luck.”
“Yes, my lord.” That was Stewart.
The footsteps were getting closer.
She closed her fists on Marcus’s chest to push herself back and get some distance. “I should leave.”
“By all means.” He steadied her.
She went to dash towards her bedroom, but something pulled her back. To her horror, her gold bracelet had got tangled in the chain of Marcus’s pocket watch. In the momentum, he staggered towards her and she towards him, ending up hugging him again.
“Order more champagne as well,” Trevor said, pausing on the top step.
He didn’t face straight forward but over his shoulder to talk to Stewart.
“Real champagne, not that potion from Germany that’s all the rage just because the queen is half German.
I don’t even want to hear the word Saxon related to food and drinks in this house. ”
She held her breath. Marcus moved quickly. He pulled her into his bedroom and shut the door silently.
Footsteps pounded closer from the other side of the door, along with Trevor muttering something. When silence dropped, she released a breath.
“Goodness. He almost caught us.”
“This is the second time.” He pulled at her wrist.
“Don’t pull. I don’t want to ruin the bracelet.”
“It’s stuck.” He dropped his chin to his chest to look at her wrist. “The chain of my pocket watch is wrapped around the clasp.”
“The clasp is delicate. Can’t we cut the chain?”
His dark eyebrows knit closer. “It’s delicate, too. I like this pocket watch.”
“Yes, but repairing a chain is easier than repairing a gold bracelet.”
When he exhaled, her wrist followed the rising of his chest. “Come with me.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
He gave her his lopsided smile. “How is it possible that the clasp got caught in the chain?”
“I might have fiddled with it when I tried to fix it after I almost broke it.”
He started laughing but stopped with effort, if the way he twitched his mouth was any indication. “I thought so.”
To walk together without causing damage to her bracelet, she had to stay flush with his body, and a fluttery tingle started in her belly.
“I should have a small pair of nippers here.” He opened the drawer of his nightstand. “What were you doing outside of my door?”
“Just passing by.”
He stopped the search to raise a sceptical eyebrow. “You were spying on me through the keyhole.”
She laughed nervously. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I do that?”
“You tell me why.” He picked up a pair of nippers.
“I was…relieving my back after dancing.” She winced inwardly. She was a terrible liar.
“Do you relieve your back by bending over keyholes?”
“It’s not against the law.”
“It’s not normal, either. Stay still, please.” He slowly cut the small links of the chain, lifting her wrist. “How was the evening?”
“Odd. Well, normal until Lady Beaumont, she’s married to the Viscount of Beaumont, told me something strange.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “Anyway.”
He stopped working with the nippers. “What did she say?”
She waved dismissively with her free hand. “Something about me blackmailing someone to force him to do something. I didn’t follow the speech.”
He clenched his jaw. “Strange indeed.”
She had the impression he meant to say something else.
The cutting edges clicked when he cut the links. “Done.”
She gingerly removed her wrist. “Thank you.”
He clicked his tongue at the broken chain. “Pity.”
“My clockmaker will have it mended in a heartbeat.”
“You paid for it, after all.”
She glared at him, rubbing her bracelet. The playful atmosphere was ruined.
“Is something the matter?” He lifted a shoulder. “Isn’t that true?”
“Yes, but the way you said it sounded like you regretted coming here.”
“I don’t. It’s that I haven’t had such fine clothes or a fine watch in a long time. If not for your generosity, I would still be on the streets.”
“It’s not generosity. I can afford it. There isn’t generosity without sacrifice, and buying good clothes for you and Jesse is no sacrifice at all.”
His expression softened. “I’m used to taking care of myself.”