A small knot of dread gathered in Morgan’s stomach, cinching it tight as though he were one of those dandies who had taken to wearing men’s corsets. The gentle tap of nerves inched along each knot of this spine. He kept a wide smile on his face.

The last thing he needed was Emma prodding at his anxiety. His wife had been looking at him rather too closely since their arrival here. Normally he would not complain one jot about a woman staring at him—if it were in admiration, that was. But she had taken to studying him with this narrowed look of curiosity. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought she knew his secret.

Emma and her sisters showed no sign of tension. Arm in arm, Emma walked along the country path with her oldest sister Amelia. Catherine and Julia walked together and were apparently bickering about something, though he could not tell what. All he heard was the occasionally squeak of indignation from each woman. Regardless, the sight did make him smile.

Nicholas Wentworth and Guy remained at the back of the lot alongside him. Apparently, they were all to go on a picnic. Each man had been rounded up and ordered to carry various baskets and blankets so that they might enjoy the wonderful weather. He supposed at least they had that. If it were to rain, he was not sure Emma could have persuaded him to leave the house. Rain and the countryside combined could lead to disastrous outcomes, as he knew all too well.

“Do keep up,” said Julia over her shoulder.

“Now why would I wish to do that?” said Guy, glancing meaningfully at her rear.

Julia sucked in a breath and shook her head. “You are incorrigible. There are innocent ears here.”

“My ears are not so innocent,” Catherine protested.

“Well, they should be.” Amelia wagged a finger at the youngest sister.

Morgan had to agree with Guy. The sight of his own wife was quite enchanting and a welcome distraction from his surroundings. Grass grew up to calf height and old footprints were imprinted in the dry mud. A few puffs of clouds dotted the sky and the sun beat down with a gentle touch of warmth. It was not at all like the day that his parents had died, and yet he could not keep that shiver of fear from coiling its cold touch around him.

It was ridiculous. He was not in a carriage. There were no thunderstorms. Not even a river nearby. There was nothing to remind him of his parents and their accident, and yet his mind continued to flit to it. God, he longed to be back in London where all thoughts of the tragedy could be quashed under a busy schedule of dinner parties and card games.

He urged his attention back to Emma’s rear. Unlike Catherine who stomped along with unbridled energy and Julia who walked with purpose, Emma walked with a gentle sway that was intrinsically seductive. He had this sneaking suspicion that there was a wildly passionate woman that he’d yet to meet in her. He couldn’t say why. It was perhaps the way her eyes lingered on his lips or drifted over his body sometimes. Or possibly when he saw the heavy intake of a breath. Their kiss had almost certainly set his mind on this sordid path. But seeing as he had vowed to wait until she was completely ready, he would have to wait.

And take many, many, cold baths.

“This is perfect.” Emma indicated to an open patch of grass over the other side of a stile.

Guy stepped over first and, between them, they handed over the collection of baskets and blankets before helping the women over. Morgan offered a hand to Emma and took far too much pleasure in the simple touch of her hand to his. It was worsened when she stepped down and stumbled slightly into him, brushing him no doubt innocently with her body.

Bloody hell, this trying to be a gentleman business was not as easy as he had thought. The sooner they returned to London and became man and wife in the true sense, the better.

The women busied themselves arranging the food out on the blankets.

“Perhaps we should help,” suggested Wentworth.

“Not like that,” said Catherine to Emma.

“No one shall be able to reach them there,” Emma replied, moving a platter of cherries to the other side of the blanket.

Guy shook his head. “Unless you want your manhood handed to you on a platter, I suggest we leave them to it.”

Wentworth chuckled. “Especially if Catherine is involved.”

“I heard that.” Catherine grinned at them and stuffed a cherry into her mouth.

“Not yet,” Amelia scolded. “Can you not wait?”

“It was only one cherry,” the youngest sister protested.

“No honeymoon then, Morgan?” Guy asked.

He shook his head. “This is as much of a honeymoon as we’re having.”

“I know you’re not a fan of travelling but did you not want to get your wife alone for a while?” Guy asked. “I would have extended ours had we not had to return to organize the crop planting.”

“You forget that your marriage was under slightly different circumstances,” Morgan reminded him.

Guy had been utterly in love with the woman and she felt the same it seemed. Morgan liked his wife very much but as for love...he could not say if he was even capable. He’d never felt it before. He certainly hoped the affection between them would grow. It had worked for his parents, after all. They had not even met before their marriage but they’d made an immense success of it until their untimely deaths.

Guy leaned in. “I’ll confess I was surprised you capitulated so easily. Wentworth here was getting ready with the threats.”

Wentworth shook his head. “You cannot say you were not either. Not after seeing how upset Julia was.”

Lifting a brow, Morgan grinned. “So you are saying if I had not agreed to marrying Emma, you would have hurt me? Even you, Guy, my almost lifelong friend.”

Guy shrugged. “Julia was upset.”

“I see how it is. Wives before friends.”

Guy chuckled. “Especially when you have a Chadwick for a wife. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

“He will indeed,” Wentworth agreed.

“I will confess marriage was the farthest thing from my mind that night but surely even you do not think I’m enough of a cad to ruin a woman and leave her stranded, Guy?”

Morgan found himself distracted by Emma when she walked past him to empty yet another basket. She bent over, affording him a fine view of her rear. His mouth dried a little.

“Are you sure it is just that?” Wentworth asked.

Christ, her body was shapely. Yes, she was slender with high, petite breasts and thin arms but that arse. It curved ever-so-perfectly. His hand would fit a cheek just so.

“Morgan?” Guy gave him a nudge.

He twisted his head back to the men and saw amusement in their expressions. “Pardon?”

“Are you sure it was just the risk of ruining Emma that enticed you into marriage?” Wentworth pressed.

“Of course. What other reason would there be?”

“You would not be the first man to fall under a Chadwick sister’s spell,” Guy murmured.

“I hardly knew her,” Morgan protested.

“Or perhaps you were rather envious of my married state.” Guy’s eyes were lit with amusement.

“Hardly.”

The word came out less strong than he’d intended. He’d been content with his life had he not? Certainly, Guy had seemed to settle into marriage perfectly and Julia was an excellent woman, helping Guy with his business, and also his errant brother Stephen who had remained in London seeing as he could now be trusted not to gamble and drink irresponsibly. His friend’s happiness had seemed to grow tenfold since marrying her, but that did not mean he’d had any thoughts of marriage, especially not to a woman he hardly knew.

Even if she did have the most beautiful arse in all of England...

Guy kept his voice low. “Say what you like, Morgan, but I think, deep down, you fancied having a little redhead of your own.”

Morgan shook his head and laughed. “If you say so.”

It was nonsense, of course. The few times he’d met Emma in Hampshire, he had been thinking of nothing more than returning to London.

He scowled. There was that time at the garden party when he’d noticed her, though. He’d forgotten about that. She’d been trying to show a card trick and it kept going wrong. Little creases appeared between her brows and she chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to get it right. But it hadn’t meant much. It was merely an observation.

He glanced at her and found her looking at him while she unwrapped a loaf of bread. Her cheeks grew rosy and she swung her gaze away. If circumstances were better, he’d appreciate being able to make her blush. Once they were back in London, he would concentrate on making this a real marriage, he vowed inwardly.

“Are you men finished standing around doing nothing?” Julia demanded, hands to hips.

“We did not wish to get in the way.” Guy held up his hands.

“Let’s eat,” Catherine said. “I’m starving.”

“Catherine,” Amelia scolded lightly. “A lady never comments on her bodily needs.”

“Good thing I am not a lady. And you cannot pretend to be one either. Not with your bo—”

“Catherine.” Emma cut in sharply.

“What? He’s family now.” Catherine looked at Morgan.

He glanced between the women and their husbands, trying to fathom what on earth he had just caught himself in the middle of.

“It’s fine,” Amelia said. “Like Catherine said, he is family.” She smiled at Morgan.

“Whatever does she mean?” Morgan sat on the blanket next to Emma.

“Um.” Emma chewed briefly on her lip. “Amelia writes books.”

“She does?”

She nodded. “They are a little scandalous.”

“I see.” He looked over to Amelia who he had always thought of as the most sensible of the girls and tried to imagine her penning naughty stories. It was hard to picture but then there was certainly more to these women than a few freckles and wild hair.

“She was concerned about it harming our reputations should it ever get out, so we keep it quiet. But she’s right, you are family now. I should have mentioned it before.”

He shook his head and gave her fingers a brief squeeze with his own. “Nonsense. We have hardly had the time to catch our breath. I do not expect you to spill every family secret straight away.” He grinned. “Although if there are any more scandalous secrets, I would not mind being told all now.”

Emma smiled, creases appearing around her eyes. A genuine smile. And one he rather liked. In London, every smile that had come from her had been uncertain and false. He sighed inwardly. It would be in the damn country that he could get her to smile.

“I think that’s it for now,” she assured him.

“A shame. I was rather hoping you might have some yourself that I could work out of you.”

Her lips parted. He heard the intake of air. Leaning in, he let his gaze skim over her cheeks and land on her mouth.

“I say, what luck!”

Morgan whipped his head around and peered up at the person who had interrupted their moment. Piggy eyes looked in his direction but not at him. No, they were fixed far too intently on Emma.

“Mr. Bartholomew,” declared one of the sisters though Morgan was not sure who. “Whatever are you doing here?”

Morgan straightened and eyed the man but his gaze continued to linger on Emma. “I recently let a house nearby. Langmarsh Hall, do you know it?”

“Oh yes, we did not realize it was already let out,” said Amelia.

And Morgan did not realize Bartholomew had the funds for a sizeable house here. Apparently, the merchant was doing well for himself and was determined to show it. But he’d already lost out on Emma so why the devil was he interrupting their picnic?

It had been almost pleasant until that blasted man had come along.

“??? House is a little way from here. Are you lost, Bartholomew?” Guy asked, swinging a look Morgan’s way.

“Not at all.” The man smiled genially.

The flash of teeth made Morgan tighten his fist.

“I was doing a little exploring” Bartholomew explained. “I was told there was some excellent nature spots and that the village is not without its amenities.”

“It’s certainly has everything one could need,” Amelia agreed.

“And what beautiful surroundings. I find myself feeling quite privileged to live near here.” His gaze latched onto Emma once more. “You must be quite relieved to be home, Miss Chadwick, after the business of London?”

“She is the Lady Radcliff now,” Morgan said through gritted teeth. Heat rolled up his arms and into his neck. He could hear his breaths press through his nostrils. Why the man was still interested in Emma, he did not know, but he didn’t like it one bit.

“Of course, a slip of the mind.” Bartholomew tapped his hat. “Are you pleased to be returned to the countryside, my lady?”

“Um.” Emma glanced at Morgan. “Yes, indeed.”

“Will you not join us for our picnic?” Catherine piped up. Julia hissed something at her. “What? We have plenty of food.”

Morgan clenched his jaw. This was going to be a long afternoon indeed if he was to suffer Bartholomew eyeing up his wife.