Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection. Louise Allen
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They stopped at a slatted wooden gate and John opened it. “No, I didn’t. Why would you ask that?”
He ceremoniously bowed her through the entrance to the herb garden, where they were immediately cast in the shade of the towering evergreens. “I don’t know. It simply occurred to me that, if you didn’t care for the people who cared for them, then perhaps the only reason you cared for your brother and nephews at all was because of an accident of birth. We can’t choose our relatives, Emmaline. Only our friends.”
“You’re only trying to make me feel less guilty.”
“I know,” he said, leading her to a curved stone bench at the center of the small garden. “Am I succeeding?”
She sat down, gracefully arranging her skirts around her, and looked at him. “Why, yes, I believe you are. Charlton and his sons are dead, and I’m sorry they didn’t lead better lives while they had the chance. I think I could weep for that.”
He joined her on the bench. “Now?”
Emmaline was slowly twirling the rose stem between her fingers, and looked up at him in some confusion. “Pardon me? Now what?”
“I was asking if you were going to weep now,” he explained, biting back a smile.
“Oh. Oh, no, I don’t think so. But at the service it will be better if I don’t disappoint Vicar Wooten. So then I shall think about what might have been.” She sighed. “What might have been is always so sad, isn’t it? What we could have done, what we should have done. What we missed because we didn’t dare to—”
John brought his mouth down on hers, cutting off any chance that either of them would ever look back at this moment and think, If only.
He pulled back slightly, smiling into her eyes. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t seem to resist. In fact, I still can’t...”
This time when he kissed her he also slid his arms around her, pulling her closer against his chest. She responded by sliding her arms around his back, signaling without words that she didn’t dislike what he was doing to her.
What she was doing to him.
A kiss. A simple kiss. And yet his world was tilting on its axis. He prodded at her with his tongue, and she responded by opening her mouth to him, and the flame she had lit inside him the first time he’d seen her threatened to consume him.
He kissed her hair, her perfect shell-like ear, her throat. He heard her quick intake of breath as he moved his hands forward, to her rib cage...and then slowly slid them upward, to cup her firm breasts.
“John...” she breathed, but not in protest, as she still held him tightly, her head tipped back as he dared to press his lips against her bare flesh above the neckline of her gown.
Her mourning gown.
Christ!
He took her hands in his and raised her to her feet, not letting go of her as he looked deeply into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I had no right...”
“You were not lacking an invitation, Captain Alastair,” Emmaline told him quietly, shifting her gaze to the ground at her feet. “Shall we just put this down to an aging spinster feeling reckless, even desperate, on the event of her twenty-eighth birthday?”
“I don’t think so, no. Not unless we explain my behavior with the notion that I’ve been too long at sea, and haven’t seen a woman in months and months, so that any woman will do. You’re not that old, Emmaline, and I’m not that young.”
She smiled weakly and pulled one hand free, turning so that they could retrace their steps to the house. “You’ve quite the way with words, or else I’m eager to be convinced.”
She shivered then, only slightly, as the setting sun had slipped behind a blanket of thick clouds, and John slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer beside him as they walked along the path.
“I had an idea as I dressed for dinner,” he told her as they approached the doors to the main saloon. “I’ve remembered the name of the brother of Josiah Coates, my steward aboard ship. Phineas. Yes, I’m positive that’s it. Phineas Coates. He’s with the Bow Street Runners, but Josiah told me the man is unhappy with his position, so that he’s actively seeking employment as a valet. Josiah and his other brothers are all gentleman’s gentlemen, in one form or another, you understand.”
“Not really, not yet,” Emmaline admitted as they stepped inside the main saloon, to see that Grayson had already ordered the evening tea tray, a not-quite subtle hint that he believed her ladyship should soon be saying her good-night to the captain. “But you’ll explain?”
John availed himself of the well-stocked drinks table, pouring a glass of wine while Emmaline prepared a cup of tea for herself. He returned to the main seating area, but did not sit down.
“Josiah left for his home at the same time I was coming here, to Ashurst Hall. I know his direction, and I’m sure he’ll be there by the time a letter from me reaches London.” He didn’t add that Josiah had only gone to the city to visit his widowed mother before heading to Warrington Hall, as that was information best kept to himself for the moment.
“Ah, you’re thinking this Phineas Coates might be the man who can find Rafe for me.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking. You could go through the War Office, but the extremely busy people there might not consider the mission as important as you’d like.”
“And, since Mr. Coates is a Bow Street Runner, he should have no problem in running down Rafe if we tell him what we know, that my nephew is in Paris. He could even, considering the man’s desire to leave the Runners, offer his services as the new duke’s valet, and stay with him, accompany Rafe home to Ashurst Hall. All very neat and tidy.”
“Only if you’re agreeable. I don’t know Phineas, but I can vouch for Josiah.”
“Very well, then, that’s what we shall do. I’ll write to Rafe tonight, and you can include the letter along with your instructions? And, yes, I’d feel much more comfortable if this Mr. Phineas Coates stayed at Rafe’s side until he’s home safe. I might even suggest they stop in London for a few days, to do something about Rafe’s wardrobe. The boy has been in uniforms for half a dozen years. Now he has to dress himself as befits a duke. Oh, dear, I wonder if he’s going to like that. He left here a boy, but he’s a man now. I wonder if he’s going to like any part of this, to be truthful. He had no ambitions in this direction, and no training, when it comes to that.”
“Three hearts away from the title, two of them young and I’ll assume vital, I can see why your nephew might not have considered that such a day might arrive. The title, this estate and, I’m sure, several others? He’s inherited considerable responsibility. Is he up to it, do you think?”
Emmaline nodded. “Rafe is a good, sound person, boy or man, I’m sure. He may be somewhat discommoded to see how his sisters have blossomed in his absence, and I don’t envy him having to ride herd on his mother once she decides she is now the dowager duchess—but, no, I have no serious qualms for the title now that it is in Rafe’s hands.”
She put down her cup. “John...about what happened in the gardens...”
He shook his head slowly. “No, let’s not talk about that now. You’ve had a long and extremely trying day, one way or another, and I certainly wasn’t any great help to you.”
“I feel as if I’ve just been told to take myself off to bed,” she said to him, smiling. “All right. And I’ll have that letter for you in the morning. Oh, and I suppose there are others I’ll need to write. To some distant aunts...perhaps the newspapers?”
“Tomorrow, Emmaline. There is nothing you can do anymore tonight that can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“Do I look that exhausted?”
“No, Emmaline. You look that