Page 39 of To Tempt Lady (Victorian Outcasts #10)

thirty-six

Marcus couldn’t stop kissing Emma’s neck as she tried to type a letter in the library.

It wasn’t his fault if her skin was so tempting and the sound of her laughter made him dizzy with happiness.

After last night, he wouldn’t doubt her hope anymore.

She commanded his heart, and his heart was a willing subject.

“Marcus, I can’t finish a sentence.” She giggled. “You’re distracting me.”

“You can finish it later.” He lingered on a lovely, soft spot under her ear.

He loved it when she trembled and sighed, sagging against him.

“The letter is for a new charity event. I want to raise money for the workers in Sir Horace’s sites in case they lose their jobs.”

“Good idea.” He kissed the curve of her neck.

“I want everyone to donate generously.”

“Hmm, hmm.” He lowered her neckline an inch, just enough to kiss another spot on her skin.

She closed her eyes but kept typing blindly and pressed a key too hard. The sound of metal snapping jolted her.

“Bother.” She stared in horror at the broken key. “You’re my witness. I didn’t do anything wrong. This typing machine hates me.”

He laughed and hugged her, wiping the worried expression from her face with his lips. “I think you and devices aren’t good friends. I’ll fix it. Don’t worry. I’ll mend everything you break.”

She kissed him back.

Footsteps came from the other side, and he reluctantly stepped back from her.

“My lady?” Stewart’s voice came.

She cleared her throat and pulled her neckline up. “I’m here.”

Stewart came into view. “Sir Horace would like to be received.”

Emma stiffened. “Did he ask for me or Trevor? Trevor isn’t here at the moment.”

“Sir Horace asked specifically to talk to you.” Stewart dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

Marcus shook his head. “You shouldn’t see him.”

Mr. Carr, the solicitor, had quickly set up their case. Sir Horace was going to face a tall pile of charges, and his presence there didn’t bode well.

“I think it’s better if we hear what he wants to say.” She nodded at Stewart. “Show him into the drawing room. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Stewart left, but his frown suggested he agreed with Marcus.

“I’m not sure his presence here will have legal consequences,” he said.

“I’ll send a message to Mr. Carr afterwards to inform him of my conversation with Sir Horace.”

As they walked to the drawing room, nervous energy stirred up Marcus’s blood. The last time he’d seen Sir Horace had been when he’d signed the documents to cede his share of the company to him. After that, Sir Horace hadn’t bothered to see how Marcus was faring.

“Do you want to wait for me upstairs?” she asked.

“I won’t leave you alone with him, and hiding is pointless now. I signed the reports on his building sites. He knows I’m here.”

“It must be difficult for you.”

“I’ve seen worse, and it would be more difficult leaving you alone.”

Sir Horace entered the drawing room still wearing his coat and hat, meaning he didn’t plan to stay long. The years hadn’t changed him. Aside from a few more grey hairs and plumper cheeks, he was the same man who had greedily taken everything from him. As if time hadn’t passed.

Marcus’s anger hadn’t changed either.

“What’s the purpose of your visit?” Emma asked without preamble.

“I won’t be long, Lady Emma.” Sir Horace shot a glance at Marcus but didn’t acknowledge him. His cold eyes didn’t betray any emotions. “You decided to go after me.”

“You decided to put people’s lives at risk,” she said.

Sir Horace didn’t deny that. “I’ll give you the opportunity to think again about your accusations. Withdraw the charges, and I’ll spare you in turns.” He glanced at Marcus again.

She let out an impatient huff. “We aren’t afraid of you.”

“I don’t care about what you fear or don’t fear, my lady.” Sir Horace tugged at his kid leather gloves. “I’m well aware of the fact you care more about people than money, and that you care about one person in particular.” He tilted his head towards Marcus.

Emma’s cheeks flushed. “I think whom I care about is none of your business.”

“You are right. I don’t care whether Marcus stays here or on the streets, but you should know his past carries a few stains society won’t forgive easily. You don’t want those secrets to come out, do you?”

Marcus suppressed a comment. He didn’t care about society’s disapproval; he’d dealt with that years ago, and now it couldn’t hurt him. But Emma would be crushed.

Sir Horace’s cold expression sent goose pimples down his neck. “Do you think you’re strong because you lived on the streets? Do you think life owes you justice and success because you were left with nothing?”

“By you,” he rebuked.

“I come from nothing,” Sir Horace continued. “From a family of eleven. My father drank himself to an early grave, and it was up to me and my elder brother to help my family survive. Yet I don’t complain.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Are we supposed to feel sympathy for you? Whatever your past is, you made choices that have consequences. I seek justice. You seek revenge on society. We have nothing in common.”

“No, we haven’t,” Sir Horace said. “I’m not the only one who comes from the rookery. You would be surprised to know how many politicians share my same past. As Marcus knows, surviving the rookery is all about cooperation and compromises.”

“I think you should leave.” She opened the door. “Stewart, Sir Horace is leaving.”

Sir Horace touched the rim of his hat. “I hope you’ll think about my words.”

When he left, Emma paced across the length of the room, looking as if she needed even more space. “How dare he! And what does his family and friends have to do with anything?”

“He made friends during those years when he rose from the streets to become a successful businessman. The bonds forged on the streets are powerful.”

He’d seen gangs rising and falling because of those strong bonds. People who became successful after living on the streets didn’t forget their friends.

She waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t care about his friends. I already knew about his connections to Parliament. So what? Trevor has his own connections in the House of Lords.”

“He isn’t wrong about the damage your reputation might suffer because of me.”

“We’ve discussed that many times, and I’ve always told you that I’m not afraid of that.

When I was younger, I sometimes resented the fact I would never inherit my father’s title or part of his legacy.

But I changed my mind. The lack of a title means freedom to me.

I can do what I want.” She tilted up her chin, and he couldn’t help but admire her courage and determination.

“To an extent. You’re always an earl’s daughter and an earl’s sister.”

“I’m not going to withdraw the accusations and risk people’s lives for fear of gossip and society’s snub. Sir Horace would need to find something better to threaten me with.” She stopped pacing. “Does he know about you?”

He rubbed his aching temples. “He shouldn’t. But I underestimated my skill to keep my job quiet. I thought Lady Beaumont didn’t know the names of my other clients, and I was wrong. I might be wrong even about Sir Horace.”

She lowered her gaze, and seeing her dejected pained him because she’d always been the hopeful, strong one between them.

“If he knows,” he said, “the truth can damage you and your project.”

“I can’t pretend Sir Horace didn’t do anything wrong and let him work on the houses in St. Giles.

That would be wrong. Even if he spreads what he knows about you and my reputation is damaged, the important thing is that he will be out of the job and stop building precarious houses. That’s what matters the most.”

His heart burst with love and hope. Without her, he wouldn’t dare to dream of a better future.

“You’re truly a wonderful woman.” And he would do his best to make her proud of him.