Page 105 of Wicked Designs
Relief filled his lungs. She was his world, his everything.
“Goodnight, Godric.” Emily’s voice was sleepy and soft. The intimacy of this moment was perfect. Life could have stolen everything else from him, but as long as he had Emily, he could survive.
“Goodnight, darling.” He fell asleep with his lips pressed into her hair. Guilt still lingered, but Emily—angelic, loving Emily—had erased so much self-loathing.
How had he lived without her for all these years?
CHAPTER 17
Ashton woke the next morning with a horrible crick in his neck. He had fallen asleep in a chair outside Godric’s door. He yawned and rubbed the tight muscles on the back of his neck. What a night.
Ashton dared to peek into Godric’s room and found his friend cuddled up with Emily as though the two would never part again.
He shut the door and returned to his chair.Godric, you will marry her. There’s no other way to keep her safe and yourself sane.
No one had woken him to change the guard as scheduled. Rather than let anger rise up in him, he merely smiled.
How strange it all was that an act of abduction born of Godric’s wounded pride would end up like this? With Godric hopelessly smitten by a singularly unique young lady every bit his equal.
Simkins came up the stairs carrying a tea tray, whichmeant he must have wanted to have a private word with Ashton without the other servants overhearing.
“Would you care for a cup of tea, Lord Lennox?” Simkins asked.
“Yes, thank you.” He took the offered cup of steaming tea. “What hour is it, Simkins?”
“It is a little past nine in the morning.”
Ashton ran a hand along his chin where pale two day stubble already shadowed his jaw. “Nine, you say? Lord… We’ve slept too long.” He took a sip of tea. “Is anyone else awake?”
Simkins smiled. “No, my lord, you are the first. The entire house is quite exhausted from the previous day’s events. I let the staff sleep in until eight-thirty this morning. I hope His Grace won’t mind.”
Ashton flicked his head towards the closed bedroom door. “I’m sure he won’t. He has other things to concern himself with at the moment.”
The butler grew serious. “May I speak with you, my lord? I have a favor to ask.”
“Name it,” Ashton said, without hesitation.
“Much has occurred these past few days. His Grace has endured many things.” Simkins kept his voice low. “Stability is needed in his life.”
“Stability?” Ashton took another sip. The hot liquid felt good on his throat. “I suppose you have a suggestion?”
“I hope—that is to say, I wish—for you to suggest to His Grace that he should do the right thing by Miss Parr and marry her. It wouldn’t do for me to make such a suggestion.”
“Because you had to give notice over the matter of the pistol.”
“Oh no, my lord. His Grace forbade me from leaving his employment until I had paid for the hideous vase I broke. Then proceeded to drink so much he forgot I had ever offered my resignation in the first place. No, though I did what I could to tend to His Grace’s needs growing up, I’m afraid when it comes to matters of the heart my instruction was quite lacking. You are the better choice.”
He put his cup down. “Let me ask you something, Simkins. Why doyouthink he should marry her?”
Simkins stood erect and regal, still holding the tray. “I have never seen His Grace so concerned about another soul in his entire life, except perhaps for you and your friends. But that is a love he knows and understands. Comradery, if you will. With Miss Parr, he may not recognize that his passions are fueled by a deeper yearning. Perhaps you can help him see that.”
The butler’s words, the weight of importance he’d placed on his duties to Godric and the St. Laurent family, moved Ashton deeply.
“Rest easy, Simkins. I quite agree with you. I’ll speak to the others and we will raise the matter with him.”
“Thank you, my lord. It comforts me to know he has chosen well in his friends.” Simkins bowed his head and retreated down the stairs with his tea tray.
Ashton finished his tea in the quiet silence of the empty hallway, contemplating their other problem. The threat of Blankenship had never left his mind. It was unwise to remain at Godric’s estate while Blankenship plotted Emily’s capture.
