CHAPTER 7
Oxfordshire
Michael narrowed his eyes when the bright sun slowly peeked above the horizon. He’d ordered the driver to pull the carriage aside about half a mile from the main house so he could trek the rest of the way without alerting the household. The crisp air felt good on his face. Being stuck in the cramped carriage all night left him feeling restless, and he was more than eager to move about and get his blood flowing again.
The Chathams’ weddings traditionally commenced just before noon in the parlor surrounded by family and friends. He doubted Kyra still slumbered, especially on her wedding day. Most days she arose early and broke her fast soon after she was dressed. His mother and William, his elder brother, on the other hand, often slept until well after nine in the morning. He’d have a bit of privacy with her before he had to return to Southampton to board the Himalaya.
He had no plans to see William today. An altercation was most likely to occur between them. The day he’d left university to roam the desert of Egypt with Bedouin nomads, was the day William refused to acknowledge he had a brother. Seeing him would only cause his mother undue agony over her sons’ strained relationship. Not today.
A swift breeze rushed by causing loose leaves on the grass to scatter about. The day he kissed Emma, the wind had blown so wildly they were forced to take shelter indoors. That damned bloody kiss had tasted so delightful and innocent. Or, had it been an act to entice him from the beginning? How many men had she seduced since? One? Half a dozen? Did it matter? The inability to wipe her off his mind was utterly pathetic.
Bloody fool!
He focused on his steps and allowed the chilly morning air to numb him.
When he turned the corner, he saw Chatham Hall, a large two-story with stone-colored brick walls, a steeper slate roof, and two large chimneys on both ends of the house. His mouth dipped into a sharp frown. He recalled a lake beyond the dwelling and passed the clearing of scattered trees, a place he had not ventured into since Ashley’s death.
He pulled his coat collar up and lowered his head. Stepping out of the tree-lined dirt road, he went around the back of the house. When he’d been a young lad, he used to sneak in and out of the house through the servants’ door at dawn, freely roaming about the property without a care in the world.
Those days were long gone.
Timing everything to perfection, he entered through the servant’s entrance. No one around. Good. When he turned a sharp corner, he had a near miss with the cook. She exited the kitchen and hummed merrily while she went about her duties. He would hate to be discovered by her. The woman had no sense to keep a secret, even if her life depended on it. He quickly made his way through the familiar twists and turns and into the main living quarters without being detected.
By now, Kyra should be in the morning room breaking her fast. When he passed the library and parlor, he stopped in front of the entrance and listened. The door was ajar and he heard the clank of utensils on plates. Good.
He quietly opened the door and entered, what he viewed instantly causing him to halt—you again!
Emma’s blood recoiled when she saw Michael emerge from the hallway, nearly dropping her fork. What the devil is he doing here? It took several seconds to gather her wits and school her features the way Tomkin had taught her. He must have followed her. How else would he know to come here? That thought sent molten fury erupting from the pit of her stomach, that is, until she noticed his unforgivable scowl drawing into an annoyingly devastating grin—blast him!
But it wasn’t directed at her.
In awkward silence, Emma saw Kyra glaring at Michael. His appearance, however, did not betray him—cool and hard, even as he stood there smiling at Kyra, as if he’d just reunited with his long-lost love. But she knew the truth behind his calculated moves. Her eyes slipped further down and she realized he was still wearing the same clothes he had on when he had put a knife about her neck.
“Michael…?” Kyra’s tone revealed uncertainty. “Is that…you?”
He nodded and graced Kyra with an even brighter smile, and Emma’s heart tugged a little with envy. He could be quite charming if he wanted to. She knew that much.
“You have a beard.” Without delay, she walked up to him and hugged him, as if they’d known each other their entire lives.
Perhaps they’ve been past lovers? Possibly. But somehow she could not imagine Kyra madly in love with anyone other than her fiancé. So, then, who was he to her?
He rubbed his beard. “I suppose I will need to shave soon.”
Kyra reached out and dared to touch his beard. “It’s interesting, I think. But it won’t do in London, I fear.”
“I don’t plan on staying long.”
Even now he made no attempt to acknowledge her presence. How rude! Emma fidgeted in her seat. Perhaps she should leave and give them some privacy?
Kyra’s mouth twisted, regarding him with contempt. “After years of absence, I would think my brother would at least stay for my wedding?”
Brother? A sense of relief charged through Emma, an unnerving one at that. Why did it matter to her if they were lovers? But the truth gnawed at her heart. Somehow it did matter, deeply, but that didn’t mean she had to acknowledge it. The thought of Michael being related to Kyra, someone she’d come to know well, made her feel quite disconcerted—the mission, the danger. If something were to happen to him, his family would, no doubt, be devastated.
“Why do you think I’ve come all this way?” Michael said softly. “Certainly not to indulge in one of cook’s notorious pies, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Kyra chuckled and beamed at her brother. “Why did you not tell me of your coming?”
“It was faster than to write. You should have informed me of the news.”
“You were half a world away.” She pulled a wayward glance at her brother. “I know you. You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Poor brother. I did not want you to blame yourself because you had responsibilities in India.”
Emma turned away. She shouldn’t be here. Looking out the bow window, she saw a rose garden. Perhaps she should take a walk and give them the privacy they need? Yes, a good idea.
Before she had the chance to escape, Michael graced Emma with what she could only describe as an adept smile, but his dark eyes spewed venom. “And who is this lovely young lady you’ve not introduced me to?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. What is the matter with me,” Kyra blurted out, quite apologetically. “I want you to meet a friend of mine, Miss Emma Willoughby,” she said. “Emma, this is my brother, Michael. Make her feel welcome. This is her first visit to Chatham Hall.”
Emma managed to get out a curt greeting, but her friend didn’t seem to notice. Kyra was happy and that was all that mattered to her for the moment. They conversed and Emma listened quietly and tried to finish her breakfast. He made no attempt to cast a glare or even cutting remarks at her. Indeed, he feigned not a care when she knew it was quite the opposite.
While Kyra tried to include her in their conversation, he cleverly avoided any lengthy exchange with her with, “yes” and “no” brief responses. Just as well, but after nearly thirty minutes of this exchange, she felt suffocated. She needed some fresh air. It would do well for her to leave so they could converse freely.
“Excuse me.” Emma stood, the sound of the chair scraping the parquet floor. “I seem to be suffering from a headache this morning. I think I will lie down for a few minutes, if you don’t mind?”
“No, of course I don’t mind,” Kyra said. “Do you want me to go with you?”
She shook her head. “You two have much to discuss. Don’t worry about me, I will be fine.”
Emma left the morning room and sighed in relief. But the thought of being ensconced in the guest room with nothing to do didn’t seem to suit. Perhaps a walk in the lovely rose garden would do her well? It would help to clear her head and gather her wits. Yes, that was an excellent idea. A walk would do well for her and give her time to face Michael again.
She scurried down the hallway to the front door, but before she could escape, she felt a large warm hand on her wrist and she startled—Michael. Sparks of heat surged through her when he linked his hand with hers.
“Must you sneak up on me like that?”
He pulled her closer to him. “Come with me.”
“Why? Where are we going?” Hand in hand, he guided her down the hall with the swift motion of his long, muscular legs. Coming to a stop at the library, he peeked in and when he seemed satisfied, he pulled her in with him and closed the door.
Instantly, he turned and barricaded her so she could not escape, her back to the wall.
“Did Tomkin send you here?”
Her heart thumped violently. Meeting his piercing gaze, the benevolent gentleman in the morning room no longer existed. But she knew first hand just how gentle he could be, and his passionate kisses that left her dreaming of the impossible.
“No,” she said, her brows drawing together. “Why would he do that? Tomkin knows nothing of my friendship with your sister.”
He studied her intently. “I don’t believe you.”
She couldn’t let him intimidate her despite the fact that his broad chest felt more like a cage. “Of course you would say that,” she bit back, looking squarely at him. “You refuse to believe anything I say, so why do you bother asking?”
“She’s innocent and my family knows nothing of what I do.”
“That is now quite obvious,” she said. His lips parted, just a little, the soft lips that had once uttered promises to her she dared not repeat now. Her eyes darted up to see the resolute glint in his stare. She knew he would not free her until he was satisfied, or someone walked in on them. “I am only here at your sister’s request. Kyra has been very kind to me and I could not refuse her when she’d asked me to be by her side on her wedding day.” She knew now their friendship could not last after she left Chatham Hall, she concluded with disappointment washing over her.
“Let’s pretend for a moment that I believe you,” he said. “Why did you not tell me you befriended my sister?”
“I did not know she was your sister until just a moment ago. She mentioned having twin brothers. How was I supposed to know you are one of them when you and Kyra do not share the same surname?”
“My mother remarried a year after my father passed away. Kyra’s father passed a month before Kyra was born,” Michael answered.
A muscle quivered at his jaw and she was certain he didn’t believe her, but she didn’t care if he believed her or not. She came to fulfill a promise because Kyra had, in many ways, saved her. Her missives were full of joy, hope, and humor about life, everything her life was not. “As I have already said, she was kind to me.” Emma’s annoyance bled through her tone. “If you are finished interrogating me, I’d like to leave.”
Michael made no attempt to let her go. Raising his arm, he gently touched her cheek and caressed it with his thumb. A flicker of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips and her defense melted away. “If you are lying to me, you will pay dearly, I promise you that. I intend to keep you by my side for the duration of your stay.”
What was that supposed to mean?
A knock at the door alerted them and Michael quickly stepped back to a safe distance.
“Is anyone in here?” Kyra said, opening the library door. “Michael? Emma?” Kyra curiously gazed at both of them. “I don’t understand?” Kyra’s eyes darted to Emma, then suspiciously to Michael. “Do you know each other?”
“Forgive me, I should have told you sooner.” Michael said to Kyra. “I do know Emma—quite well, indeed. She’s my fiancée.”
What? No, no, no! Dread pooled inside her. What is he thinking? Really, this could have been prevented if he only allowed her the brief moment of solitude. She would have answered all of his questions had he given her time to do so.
“We met several months ago at a shop in London on Bond Street.”
At least, that portion of the lie was true.
“I proposed to her last night and she graciously accepted.”
Kyra looked dumbfounded. Emma’s concern for all these lies deepened.
“I’d like to keep that information between us, if you don’t mind, that is until we are ready to announce it formally.”
Kyra’s confused expression slowly morphed into a wide smile when Emma nodded to confirm Michael’s story. In a swift motion, her friend threw her arms up in the air with cheer and embraced Emma. “Why did you not tell me? You’ll soon be my sister.” Kyra linked her arm with Emma and started walking out of the library.
This was a disaster. How was she going to explain this to her when all this was over?
“I want to hear all about it. How you met and your first thought when you saw my brother?” Kyra asked, looking back at Michael with a smirk. “Was it love at first sight?”
Love? Not quite. He’d proven to be quite insufferably strong, determined, pig headed, oh, and let’s not forget stubborn, stubborn, stubborn.
“Please, you’re a hopeless romantic, Kyra.” Michael trailed behind them. “I doubt Emma wants to discuss our engagement. After all, we’re here for your wedding.”
Kyra rolled her eyes. “Men, they know nothing about romance.”
“Emma isn’t your typical female.” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “Far from it, actually.”
Kyra nudged Emma on the arm and winked. “See…,” she whispered to her. “I am certain he loves you or he would never have said such words in my presence.”
Love? The more precise word would be odium, distrust, loathing…anything but that.
“I can hear you, you know,” he said to the women as he trailed behind them.
Kyra waved her hand at him in dismissal.
Michael caught up to them and gently pulled Emma toward him in a possessive motion. “I would like some privacy with my fiancée, if you do not mind?”
My fiancée? Those words stirred assorted feelings, ones she did not care to ponder.
Kyra looked at them with giddiness and smiled wide. “Of course. You go ahead and have all the privacy you need.”
“What is all the bloody ruckus so early in the morning?” a man barked as he turned the corner near the stairs and abruptly stopped in front of them in the hallway.
Very familiar piercing blue eyes glared at them in an angry growl.
Kyra leaned toward Emma and whispered in her ear, “My brother, William, the Earl of Chatham. He’s quite moody until he breaks his fast.”
“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Lord Chatham said to Michael. “And who might you be?” He observed Emma with a crook of his brow.
The lustful drawl in Lord Chatham’s tone was quite unmistakable. While they may be twins, there was a hint of mischievousness in his brother’s demeanor, not as grim and demanding as Michael’s. Perhaps that may be due to the fact Michael was a spy, a trained killer, while his brother’s responsibility confined him to the more lavish, domestic affairs of his family and his parish.
Kyra went to Lord Chatham and linked her arm through her brother’s arm. “Isn’t this wonderful, dear brother? Michael is here and he’s brought…umm…a friend with him.”
To Emma’ estimation, the twins clearly held a grudge, whatever that may be. Was that the reason why Kyra failed to discuss in depth about her family?
“They have come all this way for the wedding. Isn’t that wonderful news?”
“A friend, you say, huh? Is that what you are calling it these days?” Lord Chatham blurted out.
“Careful how you address my fiancée, William,” Michael warned.
Just then Kyra intervened by standing firm between William and Michael. “William, I will not stand for this on my wedding day. James will be here in a few hours and we need to prepare for the ceremony.” Kyra smiled at Michael. “Go, both of you. I want to speak with William.”
Michael walked side-by-side with Emma to the rose garden at the back of the house. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to demand answers. He waited until they were a safe distance away to finish his business with her.
“It is evident my sister believes you to be her friend.” He didn’t wait for a response. “I don’t care what your intension are, only that if you hurt her or my family in anyway, I will make certain you pay dearly.”
She halted the instant he finished speaking. Glaring at him, her lips became thin like a taut string. “You’re a blind arrogant arse,” she bit back. “For your information, and not that I owe you one, I have no intensions of hurting anyone, least of all your sister. Once the murderer is caught I plan to leave London for the duration of my natural life. So you see, Mr. Whitfield, there is no need for vile threats.”
He didn’t say anything he wouldn’t have said to anyone whom he thought might harm his family. But the indignation in her tone made him doubt. Was she telling him the truth? With her it was difficult to tell, especially after what had transpired between them. Perhaps she’d been telling him the truth that she had come solely to attend Kyra’s wedding because his sister wanted her here. The wind suddenly blew and stands of dark hair cut cross the line of freckles he’d once counted with delight—twelve to be exact.
“Where will you go?” As if that mattered, but he asked anyway. He told himself the further she was from London and his family, the better it would be for everyone.
“America. I hear there are plenty of prospects for a woman like me.”
Woman like me? The tone of her voice sparked his own guilt. Perhaps he’d been a little too harsh on her as of late. Aside from the fact she hadn’t showed that fateful night, she promised him nothing, owed him nothing. As for Geoffrey, she’d done what he would have done many times over to extract information he’d needed for King and Country. Hell, he’d taken lives to get it by order of the Crown.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.” She continued to walk away from him, toward the scattered trees.
Leave her be. “Emma,” he called out. Not bothering to acknowledge him, she continued to pick up her pace. He caught up to her and forced her to face him, searching for something he did not quite understand himself. Her expression was passive now, like a delicate weathered flower dangling from its vine. Her defiant resolve, her resolute strength, and unending determination ceased. Why hadn’t he seen it before? That weary look in her eyes gripped his heart without his approval. Perhaps he didn’t want to see it? Had his anger blinded him to what was in front of him? That she’d lost all that was dear to her in this world in a blink of an eye?
“Your father was an honorable man. I’d looked up to him as a young lad starting out in this business. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Her lips quivered. “Thank you, he was.”
“It will get easy with time.” She smiled faintly at him. “And starting over somewhere new will be good for you.” The moment he said the words to her, it seemed as though a large weight had been lifted off her, as if she needed to hear the words.
“I think so too.” She fiddled with her thumbs, then met his eyes again. “How will you explain this to your sister when this is all over?”
“I’ll tell her the truth,” he said. “That you have no desire to marry me and it would have been a mistake to continue otherwise.” The last few words he spoke snagged a nerve, cutting him deep. It was a foolhardy notion for him to think of proposing to Emma the night she never showed, to think they’d be happy together. It was pure luck on his part she didn’t show that night because their life would have been filled with misery on both ends. They could never fully trust each other, and she was too stubborn to allow him to protect her and take care of her as a husband should. He didn’t need that kind of grief in his life.
“I see.” Her brows rose. “I suppose it’s better that way. But I do wish we didn’t have to lie to your own sister.”
“Sometimes it’s necessary to protect those we care about,” he said.
“I can’t argue with that,” she said, pulling her gaze away as if to hide the shame of it.
A flash of guilt sparked in her eyes. Could she possibly be remorseful? Not a chance. “Besides, it shouldn’t matter to you what I tell her, as long as you promise me you’ll never come back here again.” He noticed a scant emotion flash before her eyes. An ember of curiosity took root in him. Surely, she knew her friendship with Kyra could not continue after today, she said so herself. But something else in the way she looked back at him didn’t sit well.
Compunction. Pity.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I was an utter fool to believe you’d think nothing of my not showing up to meet you at the ruins that night. But I see now I owe you an explanation.”
You own me more than that. “Don’t complicate the situation. What is done is done, besides, it was a distraction I needed and you provided it for me just in time.” His pride would not allow her to continue in this line of inquiry.
Her gaze soured. “A mere distraction?” she said, her tone bordering dejection. She didn’t wait for a response. “I see. I am relieved to know that you didn’t harbor any ill will.”
“I didn’t. In fact, I should thank you. You saved me the time and energy of calling on my mistress from Bath.” He didn’t have a mistress in Bath, nor had he shared his bed with her, to taste the virginal nectar, so the point, he supposed, was moot but his pride would not let her make him into a fool.
He should have listened to his own bloody advice. After all, it had been mere weeks when he made the decision to propose. What the hell was he thinking?
“I see,” she said.
For a moment he thought she looked as though she had more to say.
“Good,” she said, coolly. “Now that matter is settled, can we at least, for the duration of the mission, pretend not to hate each other?”
I don’t hate you, Emma. “Agreed.”