The Princess and the Peer (9 page)

“Forgive me, my lord, but it has been a long day.”

“Nick,” he said gently. “Surely we can dispense with the formalities, at least when we are alone.”

Emma wasn’t sure that was a wise idea. Yet in that moment, she couldn’t seem to deny him. “Very well. Nick.”

He smiled. “Emma.”

Before she knew what he intended, he reached out and skimmed the back of one knuckle over the curve of her cheek and across her temple, pausing to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

Fire blossomed in a sizzling arc across her skin, her lips parting on a sharp, swift inhalation. She shivered and lost herself in the silvery depths of his eyes.

“Loose curl,” he murmured.

“What?” she whispered, wondering if he could hear the erratic thrumming of her heart where it pounded beneath her breasts.

“You must have lost a hairpin,” he explained. “No doubt it will turn up eventually.”

“Oh.”

His mouth turned slowly up at the corners, showering her with one of his most charming smiles, made even more devastating in the low, champagne-colored light from the candles.

Honestly,
she thought, as her toes arched against the leather soles of her shoes,
he oughtn’t be allowed to smile like that. There really should be a law.

Then, as suddenly as he had reached out, he lowered his hand to his side and stepped back. “Shall we return to the main part of the house?”

“Yes, of course.”

In silence, they proceeded slowly from the room. He accompanied her through the house, pausing briefly in the front hall to set down the candelabra before they continued up the stairs. Neither of them spoke until they came to a halt in the upstairs corridor that led to her bedchamber. One of the servants had placed a lit branch of candles on a hall table that gently illuminated their way.

“This is where I shall leave you,” he said, turning to meet her gaze. “I wish you sweet dreams.”

“May you enjoy the same, my lord.”

“Nick,” he reminded softly.

“As you wish,
my lord
,” she returned with a sudden impishness.

“But I do wish. Good night again,
Emma
.”

He swung around to leave.

“My lord,” she called at his retreating back. “
Nick.
”

He stopped, turning to meet her gaze once more. “Yes?”

“I was just wondering what you have planned for tomorrow.”

“Planned?” He raised a puzzled brow.

“Yes,” she said, linking her hands together in front of her skirts. “My friend and I… Well, she was going to show me some of the sights here in the city.”
Or at least I presume Mrs. Brown-Jones would have shown me the sights,
she amended silently. “But since I am staying with you, I thought perhaps you might do the honors.”

A slow smile curved over his face. “Did you, now?”

Her own hopeful expression dimmed slightly, but she refused to be daunted. “Yes.”

He said nothing.

“So?” she added coaxingly. “Where are you taking me?”

A laugh burst from his chest. “Where would you like me to take you?”

“Oh, any number of places. The possibilities are almost endless.”

He chuckled again. “You’re assuming, of course, that I am free to escort you to all these endless places. Have you considered that I might have business on the morrow?”

“Oh,” she said, striving once again not to feel deflated. “Do you?”

“Perpetually, it seems,” he remarked wryly. “At least according to my steward, who sends me daily reports detailing the activities on the estate and the stacks of correspondence that go with it. Then there are the various and sundry duties required here at the town house. Somehow my days are always well occupied.”

“Then it seems to me that a respite from all that would do you a world of good. What better way to relax than to take in the sights of the city?”

“But you forget. I have already seen the city,” he reminded with a crooked smile.

“Not with me.” She sent him a winsome smile. “Showing London to someone new will give you a chance to see the metropolis through entirely different eyes. I just know we’ll have a lovely time together.”

He barked out another laugh. “You’re irrepressible. Do you know that? No wonder you didn’t last as a governess. You probably refused to take no for an answer about anything.”

She twisted her hands against her skirts and leaned closer. “But you aren’t going to say no either. Are you, my lord? Please say you will you show me the city. Please, Dominic,” she added softly.

Something wild burned in his eyes, a dark flash of heat that was there one instant, then gone the next. She blinked, wondering if she had imagined it, his face now as smoothly composed as ever.

“I suppose one day’s outing would do no harm.”

Her pulse sped in triumph, and with another emotion she refused to let herself explore. “Thank you, Nick.”

He scowled, looking as if he already regretted the decision.

“What time shall we leave?” she pressed, refusing to give him a chance to renege on his promise.

“Ten o’clock? Will that do?”

She nodded. “Ten o’clock sounds perfect. I suppose your aunt will accompany us.”

“Yes, I suppose she will,” he agreed.

Emma gave him another wide smile, ignoring the little twinge of disappointment the realization brought. Foolish, she told herself, since Lady Dalrymple seemed a most interesting and pleasant lady, even if she did have a penchant for making outrageous and erroneous assumptions and remarking on them out loud. It wasn’t as if Emma wanted to be alone with Lord Lyndhurst. Seeing London was all that mattered, no matter who her companions might be.

“We shall make a very merry trio,” Emma stated buoyantly.

“Indeed. I am sure we shall,” he said. “Well, good night, then, and sleep well.”

But as Emma watched him stride away, she had the suspicion she wouldn’t be getting much sleep again tonight, after all.

What in the world have I gotten myself into?
Nick asked himself with a rueful shake of his head, as he walked into his study a couple of minutes later. Striding across to the small mahogany liquor cabinet in the far corner, he removed the stopper from the crystal brandy decanter and splashed an inch of the aromatic brew into a snifter. With the glass in hand, he went to his favorite armchair near the hearth and relaxed into the chair’s comfort.

If you’d asked him this morning if he’d have two women living under his roof by nightfall, he would have laughed and
called the questioner mad. Yet here he sat playing host not only to his aunt but to a wayward young woman with an apparent penchant for trouble. What’s more, he had just agreed to squire her around Town, and if he hadn’t misread the hopeful glint in her earnest blue eyes, she wasn’t going to be satisfied with only a single outing.

Idiotic, his friends would call him to have willingly volunteered to disrupt his life and his household in such a manner. Then again, he couldn’t deny that having Emma White in his house for a week seemed likely to provide exactly the kind of diversion for which he’d been longing.

So where shall I escort her on the morrow?
he mused.

Contemplating the possibilities, he swirled the rich golden liquor inside the snifter before tossing half of it back. The brandy burned like a small flame in his throat, the flavor lingering warmly on his tongue.

A museum?

No, too ordinary.

An art gallery?

Too tedious.

The Tower of London?

Too expected.

No, what he needed was somewhere exciting, unusual, something that would have her gasping aloud in amazement.

And suddenly he had the solution.

Smiling, he leaned his head against the back of the chair and imagined her delight, the way her hyacinth eyes would glow in wonder, the rosy color that would stain her cheeks and mouth as she took in the display unfolding before her eyes.

Anticipation surged through his veins, strong enough to surprise him. He hadn’t been genuinely excited about anything, he realized, not since he’d left the sea behind and returned to bury his brother. Not since he’d been forced to return to England and confront all the old loose ends, the confining expectations from which he’d once struggled to be free.

Over the past few months, he’d been learning to accept his new life, his new responsibilities, but he couldn’t say he was happy about either. Yet in less than a day, Emma White seemed to have managed the trick of truly amusing him, of making his life seem not such a very bad thing after all.

He would have to be careful this week. He liked Emma; she was the most fascinating woman he’d met in far too long to recall. It would be an easy matter, he suspected, to like her a great deal more, and that was a development he neither wanted nor could afford.

No, he would provide for her care this week, entertain her enough to keep her out of trouble, then send her on her way without regret or indecision.

Satisfied, he tossed back the rest of his brandy and reached for the book on ancient naval warfare that he was in the midst of reading. Opening the leather-bound volume, he located his place in the book and began to read. But to his consternation, a one-of-a-kind pair of blue eyes kept interfering with his concentration. Several tries later, he finally managed to put her from his mind.

E
mma dreamed of fog that night, deep gray and nearly impenetrable. She struggled through it, running, as she searched for something that was always just out of her grasp. Then slowly the smoke turned to eyes, the eyes coalescing into a face and finally a man. She reached for him, but he eluded her grasp, vanishing into mist beneath her fingers.

She awakened with a start, lying quietly for several long moments as the odd dream began to recede. Slowly, the previous day’s events seeped into her consciousness, incredible as they might seem. She gazed around the cheerful yellow bedchamber with its pretty bluebird wallpaper, and was relieved to discover that the town house was real and not some figment of her imagination.

I really am in London!
she thought, flinging her arms over her head with a sudden exuberance.
The sun is shining and the whole city awaits! What’s more, Nick is taking me on an outing.

With a beaming smile on her face, she tossed back the covers and leapt from the bed. Crossing to the armoire, she inspected the meager selection of gowns she had managed to pack. They were all plain and barely fashionable—the comfortable attire of a student. Once Rupert arrived, she was to be measured for an entirely new wardrobe for her presentation
to London Society and her future fiancé. Until then, her old dresses had been judged adequate for her needs.

Actually, it was fortuitous she hadn’t had anything but well-worn gowns from which to choose. An impoverished governess could hardly be expected to own an elegant wardrobe and most certainly not the kind of expensive silks and satins that a royal princess would wear.

After deciding on a day dress of medium blue wool, she rang for the maid.

Half an hour later, a happy smile still on her lips, she strolled into the morning room. Nick was there, seated alone at the dining table with a newspaper open near his elbow. “Good morning,” he said, rising politely to his feet.

“Good morning.”

He waited until she had settled herself in a chair opposite before he resumed his seat. She watched as he reached for his cup and drained the contents.

Bell, the servant with the eye patch, approached, a tall silver urn in hand. “Coffee, miss?” he inquired.

“No, thank you. Tea, if you would be so good.”

“Right ye are, miss,” he said as he filled Nick’s cup with the streaming ink black brew. “I’ll be back with a pot fer you in a pinch. What else would ye like? Eggs? Toast? Pancakes? I expect Cook could rustle up just about anything ye’ve a mind ter eat. Personally, I’d have the corned beef hash and eggs the captain jest finished. Good, weren’t it, Cap’n?”

Nick folded his paper into a new shape and returned it to the place near to his elbow. “It was excellent,” he agreed without correcting the servant’s familiar behavior.

The fact that the servant called him
Captain
confirmed her earlier assumption that Bell had once been a member of his crew. She wondered if any of his other staff were former sailors, although none of those she had encountered so far had Bell’s admittedly relaxed demeanor.

“The corned beef hash and eggs then, since it comes so highly recommended,” she told him, interested to try the decidedly
English fare. “And a bowl of fresh fruit, if there is any to be had.”

The servant grinned widely. “Knew ye’d be a sensible girl and not eat like a bird, even if ye are on the thin side of skinny. Can’t abide females wot won’t take but a mouthful. As fer that fruit, I’ll have Cook fix ye up something grand, even if I have ter run out to the market fer it myself.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Emma replied, marveling at the novelty of finding herself holding such a lengthy conversation with a footman. She was even more surprised when Bell grinned and gave her a wink before he left the room.

Nick’s face had remained impassive through the entire discussion, his attention apparently fixed on his newspaper. “Forgive Bell,” he said without looking up. “He could never hold his tongue aboard ship either. His loud mouth nearly landed him in the brig more than once.”

She hid a smile. “I must confess he isn’t in the common way, but it’s quite all right. He is merely”—she paused, as several vivid terms came to mind—“exuberant.”

Nick barked out a laugh. “He is that.” Lifting his cup, he drank a long swallow of coffee in spite of the tendrils of steam still wafting from its dark surface.

He must have a steel coating on his tongue, she thought whimsically, or perhaps it was made of silver given how glib he could be when he chose. Wishing suddenly that she had her own beverage with which to occupy herself, she picked up her linen napkin instead and laid it neatly across her lap.

“How did he come to be in your employ?” she asked.