A Dangerous Game (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 2) Page 16

  Emmeline continued down the hall and descended the stairs. She was fortunate enough to see Pratt at the base of them.

  The butler acknowledged her with a tip of his head. “Good evening, milady.”

  Coming to stop in front of him, she said, “I would like to travel to Whitstable tomorrow morning at first light. I intend to tour my property, Lockhart Manor.”

  “I will see to the transportation, then,” he replied. “Will Lord Oliver be accompanying you?”

  “He will not, but my lady’s maid will be traveling with me.”

  Keeping his face expressionless, Pratt remarked, “If you do not object, I shall send along additional footmen to ensure your protection.”

  “I am not sure how long I will be staying in Whitstable,” she revealed. “Will you inform the driver and footmen of this?”

  “But you will be returning to Hawthorne House?”

  “Of course,” she said, hoping her words were in earnest.

  Pratt gave her a brief smile. “If you will excuse me, I will start on the preparations for your journey.”

  “Thank you, Pratt,” she acknowledged.

  The words had hardly left her mouth when the main door opened and Harriet and Jane stepped into the entry hall.

  When Jane saw her, she rushed over and embraced her. “I was so worried about you,” she declared as she leaned back. “Madalene informed me that you weren’t feeling well and had gone home.”

  Harriet removed her gloves and placed them on the table. “I do hope you didn’t let those gossips get to you,” she remarked. “You need not concern yourself with them.”

  “That was not the reason I left,” Emmeline admitted.

  Jane looked at her expectantly. “Then why did you leave?”

  Not ready to reveal the real reason, Emmeline replied, “The ball was overly warm, and I felt faint.”

  Jane gave her a look that implied she didn’t believe her. “I see,” she muttered.

  Harriet walked over and placed a hand on her sleeve. “After you left, Oliver was quite despondent,” she shared, lowering her hand. “He adjourned to the card room, and we did not see him for the rest of the evening.”

  “It was delightful,” Jane whispered.

  A giggle escaped her lips, and Emmeline brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

  Harriet gave her daughter a disapproving look. “That is awful of you to say.”

  Emmeline clasped her hands in front of her as she shared, “I hope it is all right, but I intend to travel to Whitstable tomorrow.”

  “Why is that, dear?” Harriet asked.

  “I would like to tour Lockhart Manor,” she revealed.

  Jane frowned. “But Whitstable is a full day’s journey in a coach.”

  Emmeline bobbed her head. “I intend to stay for a few days, as well.”

  “Have you told Oliver about your plans?” Harriet asked.

  “I have not,” she replied, “but I only just decided to make the journey.”

  Harriet eyed her with concern. “Did something happen at the ball that we are not privy to?”

  Bringing a smile to her face, Emmeline said, “I just think Oliver and I might benefit with some time apart, at least for the time being.”

  “And you think that is wise?” Harriet asked.

  “I do,” Emmeline responded, her smile dimming, “and I am confident that Oliver would feel the same.”

  “Perhaps you should delay your journey until after you have spoken to Oliver,” Harriet suggested.

  Emmeline shook her head. “I intend to depart tomorrow morning,” she said firmly.

  Jane spoke up. “Would you like me to travel with you?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Emmeline replied. “I will be traveling with my lady’s maid. She is seeing to packing our trunks now.”

  Harriet pressed her lips together. “I daresay that this is not a good idea,” she remarked.

  “I shall return before you even notice that I am gone,” Emmeline pressed.

  “Since I see that I won’t be able to convince you otherwise, I believe I shall retire for bed,” Harriet said.

  As Harriet walked up the stairs, Jane leaned in and whispered, “What did my brother do?”

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  Jane arched an eyebrow. “Clearly, he did something for you to be running away from him.”

  In a low voice, she confessed, “I told him that I had feelings for him, and he informed me that he didn’t feel the same.”

  “My brother is an idiot,” Jane muttered under her breath.

  “I won’t disagree with you.”

  “And that is why you are running away,” Jane said knowingly.

  Emmeline nodded. “I just need some time to sort out my feelings.”

  Jane gave her a pointed look. “I understand, but you must promise that you will return.”

  “I can promise that, but I can’t say how long I will be gone.”

  “Just don’t stay away for too long,” Jane asserted. “I will miss you.”

  A genuine smile came to Emmeline’s lips. “Thank you for being my friend.”

  “No matter what happens with my brother, I will always be your friend,” Jane stated. “I can assure you of that.”

  “I’d better go see if Mary needs any assistance with packing,” Emmeline said, taking a step towards the stairs.

  Jane gave her a reassuring smile. “I hope you find what you are seeking at your estate.”

  Turning on her heel, Emmeline started walking up the stairs as she attempted to quell her growing concerns that perhaps she wasn’t making the right decision to journey to Lockhart Manor in such a haste. But it mattered not. She would leave tomorrow at first light, with or without Oliver’s permission.

  The moon was high in the sky as Oliver staggered along the pavement towards Hawthorne House. He had spent the evening drinking and trying to forget the devastated look on Emmeline’s face before she departed from the garden earlier.

  “We had an agreement,” he muttered under his breath. “You can’t just go and change it because of something as trivial as feelings.”

  So why did he feel as if he’d betrayed Emmeline? He had managed to control his emotions. Why couldn’t she? Emotions made you vulnerable, and he refused to be vulnerable with anyone. No. He had carefully crafted barriers around his heart to prevent himself from feeling anything.

  Oliver stopped across the street from Hawthorne House and stared at the darkened townhouse. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go home. Emmeline was there, and he didn’t think he could face her again.

  “You there!” a man shouted as he approached him. “There is no loitering in front of Hawthorne House.”

  Oliver turned to face the guard and said, “It’s all right. I live here.”

  The liveried guard came to an abrupt stop. “I apologize, Lord Oliver,” he replied. “I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “No harm done.”

  “Would you care for me to escort you to the gate?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he assured the guard. “I can return home on my own.”

  The guard’s eyes roamed the street. “These streets aren’t safe at night, milord,” he said. “I would feel more comfortable if I walked with you to the gate.”

  Oliver tipped his head. “Thank you.”

  Together, they walked towards the entrance of Hawthorne House, and the guard stepped forward to unlock the gate. He opened it wide enough for Oliver to pass through before he closed and locked it. Oliver stopped and glanced back at the gate, wondering if he had made a mistake in coming home.

  It’s too late now.

  His feet felt like lead as he walked through the cobblestone courtyard. The door to the townhouse opened, and Pratt greeted him with a smile.

  “Good evening, milord,” he said.

  Oliver huffed as he stepped into the entry hall. “What is so good about it?”

  Baldwin’s voice came from the door to the dra
wing room. “You look awful, Oliver.”

  “Thank you.” Oliver untied his cravat and let the ends hang down. “I have had a rough night.”

  His brother had a solemn look on his face as he approached. “We need to talk,” he said in a low, hushed voice.

  “About what?”

  “It is best if this is done in private.”

  Oliver held up his hands and asked, “Why is that?”

  Baldwin frowned. “Have you been drinking?”

  “I have.”

  With a shake of his head, Baldwin said, “I have never known you to become inebriated before.”

  “There is a lot you don’t know about me,” Oliver spat out.

  Baldwin gestured towards the rear of the entry hall. “We should adjourn to my study to continue this conversation.”

  Oliver reluctantly followed his brother towards his study. As he stepped inside of the room, Baldwin closed the door behind him.

  “Why don’t we start with what in the blazes are you thinking becoming inebriated while on assignment?” Baldwin asked sternly.

  “I am not on assignment,” he replied. “Corbyn told me to take a few days off after I got arrested.”

  “You were arrested?”

  “I was, and I spent a night in jail until Corbyn could get me released.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Oliver shrugged. “I suppose it hasn’t come up.”

  “You should have told me,” Baldwin pressed as he walked over to the drink cart. He picked up the decanter and pulled the stopper out. “Why did Corbyn tell you to take a few days off?”

  “Because I am getting awfully tired of babysitting members of Society,” Oliver declared. “All I do is tattle on my friends.”

  “Is that what you believe you are doing?” Baldwin asked as he poured himself a drink.

  “I have helped create a list of all the members of the ton who have radical views but, mostly, they are just schoolboys spouting nonsense.”

  Baldwin placed the decanter down. “What you are doing is important,” he assured him.

  “Is it?” Oliver huffed.

  “Besides, you just helped bring down a radical group and stopped a French spy from blowing up Fieldstone Square.”

  “No, you did that,” Oliver asserted as he went to drop down onto the settee.

  “I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

  “I can’t imagine that is true.”

  Baldwin picked up his glass and walked over to the settee. “What is it that you want?”

  “I want excitement, danger,” Oliver admitted. “Instead, my cover is one of a rakehell and gambler. The most despicable member of Society.”

  “Then ask to be reassigned.”

  “I did, but Corbyn says I am in the perfect position to keep spying.”

  Baldwin sat across from him in an upholstered armchair. “That is a conundrum, then.”

  “Why couldn’t I have been the one who was assigned to go to France and help the French royalists bring down Napoleon?”

  Leaning back in his seat, Baldwin said, “I was assigned that mission, despite knowing how dangerous it was, because I didn’t care if I lived or died.”

  “You ran away from your responsibilities, leaving us to pick up the pieces.”

  “That is true.”

  Rising abruptly, Oliver walked over to the window and looked out. “At times, I want to run far away from my life, as well. But I am not in the position to do so.”

  “Why are you so unhappy?”

  Oliver spun around and tossed his arms in the air. “I don’t know,” he declared. “I’m just angry.”

  “Who are you angry at?”

  “At everyone!” he exclaimed.

  Baldwin leaned forward and placed his drink on the table. “You must be careful. Your feelings could get you killed,” he warned.

  “For which, I wouldn’t mind.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Don’t I?” Oliver questioned.

  His brother eyed him with concern. “You have a wife that you must think of now.”

  “A wife.” He chuckled dryly. “Yes, I do have a wife, and I can’t tell her a blasted thing about my life.”

  “It is for her own protection.”

  “Is it?” he asked. “I have a wife who has feelings for me, but I can’t reciprocate them without putting her in harm’s way.”

  Baldwin sighed deeply. “I understand what you are going through.”

  “I know you do, but you were fortunate enough when Madalene discovered the truth about you.”

  “I must admit that I was very blessed.”

  “I won’t be so lucky,” Oliver said, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Instead, my wife thinks I am incapable of being faithful to her. I see the questions in her eyes, and it is like a dagger to my chest.”

  “The scandal in the newspapers will die down—”

  Speaking over him, Oliver declared, “I am not speaking about the newspapers or the idiots that are placing bets at White’s over the state of our marriage.”

  “Then what are you speaking of?”

  “Emmeline doesn’t trust me based on my own actions,” Oliver said. “I have lied to her on multiple occasions since we arrived home from Gretna Green.”

  “I am not sure what to say.”

  “Neither do I.” Oliver leaned back against the windowsill. “I have no idea how to rectify the situation.”

  “Do you want to?”

  Oliver gave him a blank look. “What are you asking?”

  His brother took a sip of his drink, then asked, “Do you want a real marriage with Emmeline?”

  “Even if I did, it is impossible,” he replied. “I would have to give up being an agent, and I am not willing to do that.”

  “Why would you have to give up being an agent?” Baldwin inquired.

  With a blank stare, Oliver replied, “How would I continue to explain my absences?”

  “Regardless, you don’t need to work,” Baldwin commented. “I can increase your monthly allowance—”

  Oliver cut him off. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve acquired my own sizeable fortune from gambling.”

  “Then I will purchase you an estate, and you can retire to the countryside to live the life of a landowner.”

  “That sounds terrible.” Oliver shuddered.

  Baldwin grinned. “I assure you that it is not as bad as you think.”

  “I want danger and excitement, not boredom and balancing the ledgers.”

  “Since I have retired from being an agent, I have discovered that being married is all the excitement that I can take.”

  Oliver smiled. “I am going to tell Madalene you said that.”

  “I did want to speak to you about something rather uncomfortable,” Baldwin said, setting his glass down.

  “Which is?”

  “Emmeline has decided to travel to Whitstable tomorrow.”

  Oliver knotted his brows. “Did she state why?”

  “Did she not inform you that she inherited a small estate in Whitstable, known as Lockhart Manor?”

  “She did not.”

  Baldwin gave him a look of pity. “She asked Pratt to arrange for the transportation and will be departing at first light.”

  “How long is she going to be gone?”

  “I am not sure,” Baldwin said, “but she assured Pratt that she would return in due time.”

  Oliver pursed his lips together as he stared at his brother. “Perhaps this is for the best.”

  Baldwin’s mouth dropped. “How is this for the best?” he asked in disbelief. “Your wife is running away from you.”

  “Didn’t she say that she would be returning?”

  “She did.”

  “Then I should respect her decision to be alone.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Baldwin declared. “You are just going to let your wife leave, willingly?”

  “What would you have me do?” h
e questioned. “Should I force her to stay at Hawthorne House with me and be miserable?”

  Baldwin shook his head. “You are a bloody idiot.”

  Oliver straightened from the windowsill. “Not everyone can have a perfect marriage like you and Madalene.”

  “I fought for Madalene,” Baldwin countered, “and you are letting your wife go without a fight.”

  Cocking his head, Oliver asked, “Pray tell, has anything changed between us? Am I suddenly free to tell her the truth about me?”

  “No, but—”

  “I will not yield, no matter how much you attempt to argue with me,” he interjected.

  “Then you don’t deserve her.”

  Tossing up his arms, Oliver exclaimed, “Don’t you think I already know that?” He walked swiftly to the door. “From now on, stay out of my blasted business.”

  Oliver opened the door and slammed it behind him. He headed towards the entry hall and rushed up the stairs. As he walked down the hall, his eyes became fixed on Emmeline’s door and he came to a stop in front of it. He brought his hand up, but he couldn’t seem to find the courage to knock. Nothing had changed between them. It would be best if he let her go.

  At least she could be happy… without him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emmeline watched in amusement as her lady’s maid’s head bobbed up and down as she tried to sleep in the coach. They had been traveling all day, and the sun was on the horizon as they arrived in Whitstable.

  Mary made a snorting sound as her eyes flew open. She blinked a few times, then said, “Please say that we are almost there.”

  “We should be,” Emmeline replied. “We are traveling through the village as we speak.”

  Mary glanced over at the window. “We have been in this coach nearly all day.”

  “We did stop to swap out the horses.”

  “That we did,” Mary remarked, “but it was only long enough to use the privy and stretch our legs.”

  Emmeline smiled as she teased, “You have been complaining since we left Hawthorne House.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize,” Emmeline said. “I just find it humorous you hate riding in a coach as much as you do.”