Page 66 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
It was a discouraging thought, but early morning was a time for discouraging thoughts. Emma considered it a moment, then rejected it. “I cannot see how that would be so,” she argued. “A ship would need to know precisely how many were on board, concerning matters of space and food.”
“I am sure you are right,” he said, happy to agree with her.
And so she had read through the manifests two more times, grumbling the second time about ship captains and bad handwriting. On the third reading, her voice was subdued. Finally, after the clock chimed three, she put down the lists.
“They’re not here,” she admitted.
She sat on the floor beside the sofa, leaning against it. He reached down and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Emma, do you really think they ever left Ireland?” he asked quietly.
She was silent for a moment as she rested her cheekagainst his hand. “Yes,” she said finally. “They were in good health, and it was Eamon”—her voice faltered—“Eamon who confessed to everything.” She drew up her knees and rested her chin on them. “Do you know, the interrogators pressed him for other names of accomplices, and he recited the whole family graveyard.” She turned her head to regard him. “No. Eamon implicated no one else alive. They had no reason to kill Da and Sam too. No reason.”
“Well, then, we must find theMinervaand theHercules,” he said. “Give me a hand up, Emma.”
She stood up, rubbed the small of her back, then helped him to his feet. “I suppose it can keep until you return from Bath,” she said as she placed the lists on the desk.
“Emma, you have my permission to return to the docks and check some more,” he said. “Only please take the footman with you and enough petty cash for bribes. Oh, and return the lists tomorrow.”
She nodded. “I’ll make sure you have receipts for anything I spend.”
“It’s not necessary, Emma.” He opened the door, surprised how dark the hall was, then remembered that everyone else was long in bed. “I’m so tired,” he said, more to himself than to her.And discouraged, and wondering when this will end for you.
They walked upstairs together, and she said good night to him on the landing that led to the servants’ quarters on the third floor.Emma, stay with me, he thought suddenly.It’s only a few hours before dawn, and I’m a little low in spirits.
He shook his head at the thought and wished it would go away.
But there it was, dancing about in his head like a little shadow puppet.I would like to hold you in my arms.
“My lord,” Emma said, her hand on the railing.
He looked up expectantly, wondering if by some miracle she could read his mind and was not opposed to the idea.
“Yes, my dear?” he asked, his voice soft.
He could hear her chuckle in the gloom, even though he could not see her. “You should know that I made another confession yesterday morning.”
Her tone was playful, but not amorous, so he put away his own roguish thoughts. “Say on, Emma.”
She must have sat down on the stairs, because he heard a rustle of skirts, and her voice was lower. “When I went to Fae Moullé, we ... I encouraged her to cheat you. The receipt we compiled for her milliner’s shop was greatly more than she really needed.”
“Emma, you’re a rascal,” he said, amused where a month ago he would have been angry. “You wanted to cost me money.”
“I hated you, my lord,” she said simply, her voice coming at him so quiet from the darkness of the stairs. “You were just another Englishman.”
He felt his way to the landing again and rested his arm on the newel post, not certain of where she was. “Well, what penance did the priest suggest?”
She laughed and got to her feet, and he could tell that she was farther away than he thought. “Remember, I told you he was Irish too! He told me to pray for your soul, but only if I thought I wanted to.”
He joined in her laughter. “And do you?” he asked finally.
“I already have,” she said quickly, and she seemed almost surprised at his question. “Good night, my lord. I’ll be in the book room for your instructions in the morning.”
And then she was gone, hurrying up the stairs to her little cubbyhole under the eaves. In another moment he heard a door close quietly.
Chapter 19
Could it be thatthis is what the French aristocrats felt like on their way to the guillotine?Lord Ragsdale thought as the Partridge carriage rumbled on its sedate way to Bath. He could almost imagine the cheering, cockaded crowds milling about and ready for a whiff of blood.
But this is absurd, he thought as he smiled down at Clarissa Partridge, who had captured his hand so possessively and pressed her thigh against his in a manner that was faintly pleasant.When they clamp me to the board, slide me under the blade, and we are pronounced man and wife, I will be the envy of my generation. Envious males will probably drink my health in clubs all over London and marvel at my good fortune.The thought sent a shudder through him, which he could only ascribe to feet of the coldest sort.
