Page 31 of The Copper Heir
“Emmaline Drake,” she quickly corrected him.
He stood silent for a moment as the housekeeper greeted her, realizing just how little he knew about this woman who was quickly becoming an obsession and just how badly he wanted to know everything. Inclining his head, he continued, “She’ll be staying for a while, too, as our guest.” He emphasized the word just to watch Emmy’s back stiffen. Fighting a smile, he allowed his gaze to rove from her back to her bosom, which wasn’t flattered the least bit in the drab, conservative dress she had borrowed. “She’s a special guest. Please make sure she has everything she needs.”
“Of course, Mr. Jameson. I’ll have a room near her sisters’ room readied for her.”
He clenched his jaw at the formal salutation. They had discussed that nonsense before, but she refused to refer to him as Hunter in front of company. The woman had tended him through every childhood fever and illness. He saw theformality as fake civility while she saw it as a necessity to some nonexistent social balance he’d never understand. She had accused him once of being unable to see how life really was due to his privileged upbringing. Glory had accused him of the same. But life was too short for that nonsense, and if it was his privileged upbringing that made him realize that then he was all the more thankful for it.
“I hope you don’t mind I sent Ed into town to fetch more clothing for them. Mr. Pierce failed to bring any with him.”
Finally sparing a glance to the two young girls, he noted the blonde hair that Zane had mentioned, but he couldn’t see any similarities between them and their sister. They stared back at him with wide grey-blue eyes, not the clear blue of his Emmy.
His Emmy.
He couldn’t stop thinking of her as his no matter how hard he tried. If it kept up, when this was over he’d have to buy himself a week at Victoria House and pray that if the women didn’t make him forget her, the whiskey would dull the ache of her loss. Somehow he knew that it wouldn’t be easy to see her go.
The girls wore almost matching dresses of pink and white ruffles that must have come ready-made from one of the dress shops in town. He opened his mouth to ask if Ed had gone to Madame Dauphine’s. He had sent enough business her way that the proprietress would hesitate to mention the odd request, if asked. The last thing he needed was word getting out that he had the girls here; he was already risking a lot by keeping them all at his house. But then he glanced at Emmy and figured the question could wait until he was alone with the housekeeper. She didn’t need to know how many women he’d bought dresses for in the past. Even as he thought it, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to take her there as well. To watch as she picked out fabric and designs, as she was measured and fitted. To know that she wasn’t reduced to hand-me-downs and coarse material thatabraded her skin. To tell her that money was no object and she could buy to her heart’s content.
Raking a hand over the back of his neck, he said, “It’s fine, Willy. I hope you had him get enough. They’ll be visiting for a few weeks at least.”
“We’ll be prisoners, you mean?” Emmy stared at him, not flinching when he stared back.
“Of course that’s what I meant.” He spoke the words firmly but softly and they settled into the suddenly stale air of the porch. He hated that she had pushed it to this, but she had to understand that he was in control. As kind as Willy was, she was on his side.
Willy proved his point when she completely ignored the statement and assured him that Ed had picked up enough clothing. His heart ached when Emmy’s bottom lip trembled just for an instant when she realized the housekeeper would be no ally. It was so subtle that he probably wouldn’t have noticed had he not been so attuned to the woman’s every damned nuance. He wanted to tell her that he would be her ally, that he only wanted to take care of her, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him and he couldn’t hold it against her because he had kidnapped her. Instead of replying, she stiffened her shoulders and her face hardened with them. She didn’t say anything else, just turned her attention back to the girls who had started chattering again.
Without a word, he leaped down the steps and grabbed the reins of his horse, following his men to the stable across the open yard.
Chapter Fifteen
Emmy watched him walk the dirt path toward the stables with a hollow pang of longing in her chest that she tried her best to ignore. It irritated her that as her gaze roved over his broad shoulders she still felt a tug deep in her belly and that she craved his tender words from the night before. How could he be so willing to send her back to Ship after their night together? She tried to tell herself that it hadn’t really meant anything, but she couldn’t stop seeing the intensity of his face as he’d held himself above her, or the way he had looked deep into her eyes as he’d moved inside her. Her heart along with her body still ached from him, but he seemed to have already forgotten.
She was a fool.
Instead of letting herself dwell on that, she turned her attention back to her sisters, who were each talking over the other in a bid to tell her about their adventure of the past week. The name Mr. Pierce was being shouted, who she was sure couldn’t be the giant she knew. They described him as kind, having kept them entertained on their trip with stories of thenoble men who used to ride the plains. He hadn’t been stoic or threatening, the awful attributes she would have attributed to him. He’d been smiling and kind. Though she was very grateful that the girls had viewed their situation without fear and, indeed, with excitement, she couldn’t reconcile their experience with what she knew to be true.
The housekeeper ushered them inside where Emmy stopped to admire the two-story foyer that was all polished, honey-colored oak and wrought-iron. Tall doors, two sets on each side, flanked the wide entry hallway that ran the length of the house. The first set, leading off from either side of the huge burgundy and gold Persian carpet, were open to parlors with tasteful, comfortable-looking upholstered furniture. But she didn’t get the chance to explore, because the girls pulled her along to the staircase as she stared in openmouthed awe at the expense that must have gone into such luxury.
Curving and elegant, with a wrought-iron handrail with spindly, decorative supports, the stairs were wide and led them to the upper floor where a plush, burgundy rug covering the gleaming wood floor greeted them on the landing. A right turn would have taken them across the foyer to the south wing, but the girls pulled her to the left and stopped at the first door on the right.
One glance at the room and she knew that it had been a nursery at some point. A crib was pushed back into the far corner surrounded by baskets of baby toys: rattles, wooden carriages and horses, and even a brightly painted rocking horse carved from wood. Though Rose was nine and liked to consider herself as big as Ginny, who was three years older, the child still lurking within her came out as she ran to the horse clearly made for a younger child, making Emmy smile. “Look at this, Em! Do you think I could keep it when we go home?” Grinning, Rosemounted its brightly painted saddle and demonstrated how to ride it.
Ginny ran across the large room to the armoire and opened it to show her all the new clothes that a Mr. Ed had brought for them to wear. They were all dresses in various pastels with more ruffles and lace than she had ever seen in one place before. Ginny smiled and ran a reverent hand over the fabric. “Aren’t they lovely?”
“Yes, absolutely beautiful.”
“I gave Rose the ones with ruffles, but I’m keeping both of the pink ones. I’ve never had anything besides gray and dull gray. Do you think these will turn gray after we wash them?”
Every dress the girls owned was secondhand and had been washed so much their color had long since faded. Blinking back very sudden and unexpected tears at this show of how much the girls had been deprived of, Emmy turned her gaze to the rest of the room. It held two small, matching beds neatly made up in dark green bedclothes. A desk set against one wall was complete with a bookshelf filled with books on arithmetic, astronomy, biology and all the other subjects a child might need to learn. Another bookcase was filled to the brim with more toys: wooden drums with skins stretched tight across them, a brightly painted wooden flute, blocks, and even male and female dolls dressed in fine evening wear.
She stood horrified. This must mean that Hunter was married and his wife and children had been stowed away somewhere. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she made her way deeper into the well-appointed room. Every item a child might need could be found here. Walking to the desk, she picked up one of the books with a shaking hand. The Young Man’s Guide to Becoming a Gentleman was embossed in faded letters on the drab brown cover.
Sons. He definitely had sons.
But as she was placing the book back, Rose called her name and she misplaced it so that it fell to the side of the stack of books. The cover flipped open, revealing Hunter’s name written in the painstakingly correct yet immature handwriting of a child. Placing the book back in its spot, she noted the initials “HWJ” carved into the side of the desk with the uneven efforts of a child. She tried to imagine the boy he had been playing here in the room. She’d see a gangly boy with dark blond hair swept down over his eyes and that same mischievous smile and her heart would ache, but then the image would be replaced by the handsome, imposing man she knew him to be. This had been Hunter’s childhood room. Did his sons claim the room now?
A voice warned that she shouldn’t make assumptions, he’d have told her if he was married. But another voice reminded her that he would have no reason to tell a whore. The problem was that she didn’t know which voice was the rational one. That scared her very much. For as long as she could remember, she’d lived by the idea that as long as she made the reasonable, rational choice then everything would turn out fine. Now that everything was turned upside down, she just didn’t know which that choice was.
The next hour passed in a blur as the girls, who had already explored every inch of the nursery, showed her every toy and its purpose. She had never seen them so happy back home at the farm. Their toys there had been so limited it shamed her to think of it. They’d never held any sort of musical instrument or even had a book full of children’s stories. Emmy had read some of her books to them, always editing so the plots were appropriate and interesting to them. They’d never even had free rein to just play, with chores and meal preparation always taking up so much of their time, especially when Ship and his men were home.
