Page 12 of The Viscount's Promise
Goodness, he could see now what Tristan had been talking about. When that girl gave you the full force of her smile, it was blinding. And here she was unpracticed, without artifice. Malcolm wondered, with no little fear, what she would be capable of once she realized the true extent of her power.
“I will certainly consider it, Lady Daphne,” he said with honesty, for he couldn’t promise a thing to her. Not until he found out where Lady Emily would be on the morrow. He had a job to do, after all.
As the rest of the group discussed possible plans, he turned to Lady Emily. To his shock, she was looking at him with a surprisingly direct gaze.
It felt as if a fist had been planted in his gut. He could not have torn his eyes from her if he had tried. As he watched, her lovely pewter eyes widened, her mouth opening in a small oval. The charged moment, while mere seconds long, felt an eternity to Malcolm. Then she flushed and returned her eyes to her lap, and the spell was blessedly broken.
Shaken, he drew in an uneven breath. What in the name of heaven had that been about? But he had meant to ask her something, hadn’t he? He shook his head to clear it, felt the answer fall into place. Ah, yes, he’d been about to question her on her plans for the following day.
He leaned in toward her, saw her suck in a quick breath. When he looked down, he saw her hands grasped desperately on to one another. The skin above her gloves, he noticed with fascination, had pimpled. Clearing his throat, he attempted to focus once more on the matter at hand. “And do you plan on joining your sister’s outing on the morrow, my lady?”
She darted a glance toward him, her eyes clouded with confusion and wariness. She may as well have yelled “Why do you care?” But she merely inclined her head stiffly. “Where Daphne goes, I go.”
He smiled. “Then I shall go as well.” There, let her make of that what she would.
Her expression as she turned away said she’d rather he take a flying leap off the nearest bridge. Malcolm’s smile widened as he turned back to the group. She surprised him more and more at every turn. Shadowing Lady Emily might be more entertaining than he’d imagined it would.
Chapter 5
Emily set out the following morning for the rose garden on the east side of the property. The irony that she was taking a preliminary walk to prepare herself for the brisk walk to the village later in the day did not escape her. But her spirits were too agitated to remain indoors a moment longer.
Already breakfast had come and gone. The majority of the older men had left hours earlier for the quiet morning of fishing that had been planned for them. Emily’s mother, along with Lady Tarryton, was currently holding court on the side lawn a short distance away, watching over the games of archery and lawn bowling that had already commenced. The younger people were in their rooms, preparing for the trip into the village, where they planned on buying the local shops out of all manner of ribbons and flowers to go with their wedding finery.
Emily would go. Yes, she would go, and join in with the younger people, and play chaperone to her sister as her mother had requested of her. But she was not happy about it.
Nor was she happy to be burdened with the company of one other member of their little expedition. Truly, what was Lord Morley playing at? If his attentions to her after his arrival had seemed suspect, his blatant annoyance of her the evening before was downright baffling. Why did he insist on pressing his company on her? Couldn’t he see she had no wish to be in his presence? She had made no secret of it, certainly, though her hostility had only seemed to amuse him.
Her steps became more agitated, quickening around a bend in the path. Immersed in her frustrations, she came too close to a rose bush, her skirts catching on the thorny branches and tugging her to a stop. Blowing out an aggravated breath, she twisted, the better to extract herself with as little damage to her gown as possible.
A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She cut her gaze toward it. A low, dark shape lurked in the shadows of the tall hedges that lined the garden. That it was an animal was clear. But what kind? It kept its head low to the ground, the glint of one eye the only discernible feature.
Centered with disturbing intensity on her.
A frisson of fear worked its way down her spine. Her fingers, which had stilled on the material of her dress, began to work frantically to free it from the thorns. She kept her eyes fast on the beast. It was larger than a fox. But how much larger was a mystery. Emily’s mind whirled, trying to think what feral animal might be lurking in the wilds of Northamptonshire. Bears were long gone from Britain, and the creature before her was too small for a stag. Were there still wolves in the area? No, surely not, for hadn’t she read somewhere that most of the wolves had been eradicated in the time of the Tudors? That did not mean, however, that they were completely gone, did it? Panic was beginning to set in. And her skirt, no matter how she tugged on it, would not come loose. She opened her mouth to call out for help. Someone would have to hear and come to her aid. At that moment, however, the animal gave a pathetic whine that stopped her cold.
She knew that sound well; she had grown up around Willowhaven’s kennel of hunting dogs, and the noises of canines were deeply ingrained into her memory. Many an afternoon in her youth had been spent visiting the new litters of pups that often graced their pack. All fear gone now, she dropped her fingers from her skirt, holding her hand out with slow and careful movements. The whine had indicated it was not of a malicious mind. With luck she could beguile it from its hiding place. “Come along, then,” she called out softly, making her voice singsong and pleasant. “You’ve no need to fear me. I won’t harm you.”
The animal raised its head a fraction. There was a rustle of movement, and it appeared by the shifting shadows that it was coming closer. Emily’s heart began to pound. Where had the dog come from? Why was it out here in Willowhaven’s garden? That could all wait, however. For now she must coax the beast from its bower. She clicked her tongue at it in encouragement, heartened at what she thought was the shadow of its tail wagging slowly behind it. A bit more, she thought, straining her arm toward it.
Just then the animal stopped, the shimmering glint of its eye indicating a shift in attention. Before she could so much as blink, it turned and bolted. Emily had just enough time to see a long tail and dark flanks before it ducked back through the hedge and was gone.
Disappointment crashed through her. What could have spooked it? A moment later and she had her answer as a familiar voice broke into her troubled thoughts.
“Why does it not surprise me one bit that you’ve managed to ensnare yourself in a rose bush?”
Emily spun about. There was a loud rending sound as her skirt ripped free of the thorns. Right then she couldn’t have cared less. “Drew!” She launched herself forward, straight into her brother’s arms.
Lord Andrew Masters, younger than her by a mere year, was one of her very favorite people in the world. Possessing the incredible good looks and ease with people that the other Masters children seemed to have in abundance—and she alone lacked—he had the amazing ability to charm himself out of almost every scrape. She had not seen him for a good long while; now that he was home again after such a lengthy absence, she intended to make the best of it. A small twinge of worry for the beast in the bushes snagged at her, but she endeavored to put it from her mind for now. She could not very well go chasing after the animal, anyway. She would have to wait and watch and hope that it would come close again for her to do it some good.
Drew dropped her back to her feet. Emily looked up into his face, so carefree and handsome. His eyes twinkled merrily. “You all almost had the wedding without me. Could you not have waited to locate me before you went ahead and planned something so momentous?”
Emily laughed, her mood suddenly much improved with her brother’s appearance. He had been gadding about in such a havey-cavey fashion since he had left university, they had feared their letters would never catch up to him. Thankfully it seemed at long last they had. Nothing else could have made the joyous occasion of Caleb’s wedding even more of a blessing.
“We’re lucky they are having any kind of a wedding at all, for I have it on good authority that Caleb was very keen on eloping. Have you seen Mama?”
Her brother appeared affronted at the mere thought. “What’s this? You expect me to visit with Mother before I come to see my favorite sister? Blasphemy.”
“She will have your head, you know,” Emily said, only half teasing. “She has been nearly frantic with worry over your absence. And I take it you have not seen Caleb either?”
