Page 33 of To Tempt Lady (Victorian Outcasts #10)

thirty-one

Emma was glowing. She was convinced that if she closed the window shutters of her bedroom, her skin would appear luminous in the dark.

After she and Marcus had hugged on the floor, he’d escorted her back to her bedroom and had kissed her again. A sweet, good night kiss she still felt on her lips.

Contrary to what she would have thought, she’d slept soundly through the night and awakened rested and full of energy and full of thoughts of Marcus.

She’d spent the morning in the library typing letters for Trevor with her recently repaired typewriter. Her glance kept drifting towards the small room where she’d shared wonderful moments with Marcus.

She’d told him they wouldn’t discuss the future, but the more time she spent with him, the more the future worried her.

Her papa had always told her she was too naive, that life was a battle of nasty surprises, and for the first time, she’d wondered if he’d been right, if she would lose Marcus before she had the chance of being with him.

“My lady,” Stewart said.

She hadn’t heard him coming. “Yes?”

“Hid Lordship wishes to see you in his study.”

The interruption bothered her, but she didn’t want another argument with her brother.

She knocked on the door to Trevor’s study, her mood shifting from hopeful to concerned, which was something new to her. Her hope had always been a faithful companion.

“Come in,” Trevor said.

He wasn’t alone. Marcus was sitting next to him.

“Afternoon, gentlemen.” She stared at him for a moment too long, and her body tingled with sensations, remembering the kisses and touches in the moonlight.

They stood up when she entered.

“There you are.” Trevor studied her. “You’re still flushed.”

“I’m fine. Truly.” She sat on the chair in front of his desk. Marcus showed a fleeting smile. “What did you want to tell me?”

Trevor gave her one last sceptical look.

“Marcus studied the documents from other construction sites of Sir Horace. I had to ask a few favours to get them, but never mind. He found the same pattern we’ve seen in St. Giles, repeated across each one of his works.

He uses the same suppliers at every site although the costs he declares don’t match the costs reported in the suppliers’ catalogues.

So Marcus was right. Sir Horace is a thief. ”

“He’s a polyhedric fraud. Still a fraud,” she said. “Tell the truth and shame the devil.”

“That’s the plan.” Trevor smiled with a smug look of triumph she’d rarely seen. Usually, he was never satisfied with anything unless it was a stallion. “But I want to be cautious. I won’t attack Sir Horace openly, not yet.”

“Why not?” She couldn’t remove the disappointment in her voice.

Trevor lifted a shoulder. “He’s friends with a few powerful politicians. I want to find the right way to attack him without having it come back on us.”

She frowned. “I disagree. We should bury him with everything we have.”

“Patience.”

“Cowardice,” she rebuked.

“Still, it’s great news, isn’t it?” Marcus said, likely tired of another argument.

“Yes, in fact, a celebration is in order.” She tossed a challenging glance at Trevor before facing Marcus again. “Would you and Jesse join us for dinner?”

Trevor’s smirk vanished.

Marcus remained serious. “We discussed that many times.”

“Yes, but I think we could indulge in a small celebration after what you discovered about Sir Horace. Trevor? Jesse would be incredibly happy to have dinner with us.”

Trevor straightened a pile of documents. “It’s too early for a celebration. This is but the beginning. As I said, I don’t want an open war against Sir Horace.”

“Where’s your optimism?” She returned the attitude.

“I’ve never had it. That said.” Trevor stopped tidying the desk. “The boy has been quiet and well-mannered. Mrs. Daubney told me he helps in the kitchen every day and is a hard worker. I have no objection.”

“Thank you, Trevor. I knew you would change your mind.” She hugged him, and he smiled.

Quick footsteps approached. Mrs. Ferguson rushed into the room. Her chatelaine clinked when she stopped. “My lord.”

“What is it?” Trevor quickly lost his good humour.

Mrs. Ferguson swallowed between quick pants. “My lord, Jesse is gone.”

“What?” Trevor and Marcus said together.

Mrs. Ferguson composed herself. Her dark gown made her cheeks look very pale.

“Mrs. Daubney left him in the kitchen. He was peeling some potatoes while she went to the costermonger. When she returned, the potatoes had been peeled, but the kitchen was empty and the back door was open. No one saw him. We searched for him everywhere. He isn’t in the house. It’s been a couple of hours now.”

“It’s not possible.” Marcus walked around the desk.

“He’s probably hiding somewhere,” Trevor said. “No need to panic. We’ll search the house again.”

“I’ll check the garden.” Emma ran downstairs, followed by Marcus.

“He would never leave without telling me,” Marcus said as they took the path weaving through the garden.

“Perhaps he was bored and left for a walk.” She searched around the bushes.

“Jesse?” Marcus called. “Come out!”

“Let’s take a look at the shed.”

The door screeched when he opened it. Garden tools and bags of seeds competed for space. No trace of Jesse.

“Where could he be?” Marcus raked a hand through his hair.

She walked along the hedgerow. “Did something happen? Did Trevor scold him?”

“Hey, I’m here, and I did not!” Trevor stood behind her. “I barely spoke to him, and every time he walks past me, he lowers his head and speeds up.”

“I wonder why. Why would he leave then?” She paced on the path.

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Trevor held up a hand.

“Well, maybe that’s the reason he left. You’ve been quite harsh to him.”

“I don’t think it was Trevor,” Marcus said. “He decided to go somewhere for some reason.”

“He’s a clever, resourceful lad,” Trevor said. “He knows how to survive the streets, does he not?”

Emma skidded to a stop, crunching the ground with her boots. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That he has more experience than an earl’s son his age.” Annoyance was etched on Trevor’s face.

“He’s an eleven-year-old boy, alone in a big city, convinced that you don’t want him here!”

Trevor’s nostrils flared. “I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“So it was a compliment, wasn’t it?”

“Yes!”

“I know you too well. You never pay a compliment to someone.”

“Well, maybe Jesse deserves it!”

“Please.” Marcus stepped between them. “Let’s split into groups and search the neighbourhood.” He turned to Trevor. “If you want to, of course.”

“I bloody want to, all right? I’ll ask the footmen to help.” Trevor marched towards the house with angry strides.

“I apologise for his words,” Emma said.

“I think he was honest when he said it was a compliment.”

“If Jesse left the house because of him, I’ll give him some compliments.”

Marcus smiled. “Let’s go.”