Page 59 of Wicked Designs
She lifted the sill until the bottom half was wide open. Gathering her skirts in one hand, she tucked her legs up and dropped over the edge into a flowerbed.
Emily’s hopes of evading Godric unseen were hampered. A gardener tended to a row of nearby yew bushes with a pair of shears—a stunningly handsome young man in his early twenties. He ran a hand through sandy blond hair that cast shadows above his eyes as he stared at the bushes he was working on. Hoping to sneak past, she started to move, but he turned just as she raised one foot. His gaze caught hers, a bewitching emerald trap she was intimately familiar with.
Her gut clenched, and realization dawned—this man had to be related to Godric. This man before her was a golden haired replica.
But Godric had been an only child—
The man dropped his shears and removed hisgardening gloves. “You, I am guessing, should not be out here alone. His Grace must be looking for you.”
“I…I was taking a bit of fresh air.”
He studied her with amused interest…his eyes that same bewitching green. A distant cousin, perhaps? Surely, he had to share the same blood.
“Fresh air, eh? You couldn’t have just walked out the front door, like a proper young lady? Scampering out of study windows is highly suspicious.”
She waved her hand airily. “Oh, it’s all the fashion in London, I assure you. Excellent source of exercise if one cannot go on a walk in Hyde Park.”
The man smiled. “All the fashion? Be that as it may, I am afraid I must escort you back to His Grace.”
He could have just taken her arm, politely escorting her back to her captors, but he didn’t. He grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up over his shoulder. It seemed they had that in common as well.
“Good heavens!Put me down at once! I assure you it is just a game I am playing with His Grace. He would have found me soon enough.”
“I’m sure he would, Miss. Nevertheless…”
He even talked like Godric. If not for his sandy blond hair, she would have sworn that…but that was impossible.
The young man carried her around to the front of the manor. Cedric and Ashton stood waiting, guns in hand.
Cedric chuckled. “Afternoon, Jonathan. I suppose we’re fox hunting after all.”
“And the hound’s already got her,” added Ashton.
Emily knew she must be offering the rogues an excellent view of her backside and kicking legs.Jonathan put a firm hand on her rump and Emily growled indignantly. Would no man in this world treat her with the respect she deserved?
“Put me down at once!” Emily balled a fist and pounded it into Jonathan’s own rump. “How do you like it?”
Jonathan jerked in shock. “She’s a spitfire!”
Ashton laughed. “You have no idea.”
Despite being a servant, this one seemed at ease with Godric’s friends, even more so than Simkins. Emily filed this away for further contemplation.
“How did you catch the vixen?” Cedric walked around behind Jonathan to look at her. Emily scowled as the blood rushed to her head.
“She was climbing out of His Grace’s study window. I thought His Grace might have misplaced her.”
As if summoned, Godric came storming around the corner. No doubt he had climbed out the same window. Relief softened the anger in his eyes.
“Ah, Helprin, you found her. I wasn’t sure how far she’d gotten.”
“Not far. She barely put up a fight. Just stood there staring at me.” Jonathan slid Emily off his shoulder and into Godric’s waiting arms.
Godric held her firmly in place as she looked away from all of the smiling men. They had yet again wounded her pride, and things continued to worsen.
Godric loosened a coil of rope from his arm.
Cedric and Ashton kept her rooted to the ground while Godric secured her. With a complex knot about her waist Emily found herself anchored to Godric,separated by only six feet. His friends released her. She plucked at the rope and then looked up at Godric, her lack of amusement evident.
