Tempted By The Roguish Lord. Mary Brendan
but must insist on having my answer from you.’ Joshua had crept up behind her and was curving over her shoulder as though he might touch her face with his lips.
Emma swerved away as the sour smell of his person infiltrated her nostrils. Joshua Gresham and Lance Harley had both brought the whiff of licentious living inside the house. But her rescuer hadn’t turned her stomach. A hint of sandalwood soap had emanated from Mr Harley as well as the night-time aromas gathered from hours of revelry.
‘I would remind you that you had your answer many months ago. I have nothing else to say about it, sir.’ Emma was relieved that she’d managed to sound polite when what she really wanted to do was curse him as a devil.
He returned to pose against the mantel and a set of stubby fingers commenced drumming out a tattoo on the oak shelf. ‘You are intending to hold fast to that decision, are you, and put your father in jeopardy in his twilight years?’
‘I would also remind you that I have asked you before not to blackmail me.’ Outwardly, Emma retained her icy aplomb. Inside, she was anything but calm. Joshua’s detested proposition had been issued after it became apparent that her father would struggle to repay him his money. Her tormentor had been biding his time, believing eventually his threats of retribution would make her submit. She could tell he was done with waiting. His eyes were on her bosom and his tongue was slithering about his lips like an excited worm.
‘I have it within my power to finish the Waverleys once and for all,’ he growled. ‘Don’t think me bluffing!’ He strode up to her so fast that Emma put a chair between them, fearing he might here and now attempt to assault her as he had before. But on that occasion she hadn’t been in her own home!
When the knock came at the door, Emma managed to keep her gasp of relief barely audible. Her friend had fortuitously turned up early.
‘I told you I was expecting company. I must insist you leave as I am going out shopping.’ Emma hurried into the hallway, and when Mrs O’Reilly, who was a little hard of hearing, didn’t immediately appear to answer the knock she did so herself, impatient to let Dawn in and vile Mr Gresham out.
‘My apologies for turning up unannounced...’
Emma’s lips parted in astonishment. Quickly, she pressed them together and closed the door. A heart-stopping second later she realised she had not only been unbelievably bad mannered, but most unwise. She jerked open the door. He was still there as though he’d expected her to reconsider once her reflex to put a barricade between them had been overtaken by common sense.
‘May I come in?’ the Earl of Houndsmere asked with barely a hint of amusement lurking in his voice.
‘Yes... I’m sorry, sir... I... I...’ There wasn’t a plausible reason for her rudeness that she could quickly think of so deemed it best to stay quiet rather than stutter nonsense like a fool.
He seemed to understand in any case, judging from his half-smile. Having the door shut in his face didn’t appear to have bothered him.
But Emma was bothered; instead of being annoyed that he’d returned when she’d told him not to, a sweet, joyous feeling was unfurling within. She banished it. Explained it away. It was simply that of the two men presently bedevilling her peace of mind, Mr Harley was easily the nicer to deal with.
Or he had been so far.
She knew nothing about him and he could yet turn out to be an equal threat to her family. She’d not forgotten mentioning her brother to him. That foolish slip was again pricking at her conscience, but she gave thanks for the fact that at least Joshua couldn’t molest her in another man’s company.
‘So this is your companion, is it?’ Unbeknown to her, Gresham had come out of the parlour. A moment later he got a proper look at the gentleman and his disbelief caused him to gawp for some silent seconds. ‘Houndsmere?’ he eventually burst out in a tone that mingled awe and disbelief.
Joshua Gresham was on the fringe of society, not the exalted inner circle this fellow occupied. Nevertheless he knew him by sight, as most people did who coveted being permitted entry into his glamorous world. ‘I’m surprised to see you here, my lord.’ He executed a stiff bow.
‘I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I can’t remember your name,’ Lance returned, looking at the florid-faced fellow and then at Emma.
Her tawny eyes had widened on him in surprise before narrowing in suspicion. So he’d concealed his true identity. She couldn’t be sure who her Good Samaritan really was.
‘Joshua Gresham, at your service, my lord.’ The introduction was barked out and he jerked another bow, smarting at the inference he was beneath the Earl’s notice.
‘And your business here, Gresham?’
‘Mr Gresham has come to see my father,’ Emma interjected quickly when it seemed that Joshua might explode in indignation at being cross-examined. ‘Now he knows Mr Waverley is not at home, he is about to leave. I believe you are here for the same reason, so will bid you good day also, sir,’ Emma said.
Lance didn’t look at her or acknowledge his dismissal in any way. He merely opened the door and pushed it wide with a finger flick so that the other man could pass on to the step.
Joshua snapped a curt nod from one to the other of them, then strode from the house.
Emma had believed she’d contained her relief in seeing the back of him, but she must have been mistaken.
‘Has he been troubling you?’ Lance asked.
Emma’s wary gaze darted to him, then lingered. It was hard to believe that this startlingly handsome and elegantly attired gentleman was the rumpled rogue who had driven her home in the early hours of the morning at breakneck speed. But indeed it was he. His long chestnut hair was no longer tousled, but neatly styled. The hard blue eyes and cruel mouth were complemented by a clean-shaven jaw and a fresh set of expensive clothes.
She parried his question with one of her own. ‘Shall I tell my father you called, sir?’ Her heart felt as though it were beating furiously enough to burst through her bodice as she moved to the exit. She waited, as she had earlier that day, to see him out of the house. This time he was not so easily despatched.
Lance moved her aside, then shut the door and leaned back against the timber panels. ‘There’s no need to mention my visit if you don’t want to.’
‘I will not, then, as I’m not actually sure who you are,’ she said acidly.
That prompted another smile from him, but he didn’t rectify matters. ‘I’m here to see you, Miss Waverley, as I think you already know. You look well... That reassures me that you suffered no lasting damage after your ordeal last night.’
That took the wind out of her sails. Had he really come simply to check on her welfare? ‘I am very well, thank you, sir,’ she said carefully.
‘Good...’ Under the guise of his concern he took the opportunity to study her from top to toe. She was small and slender yet curvaceous enough to make his hands itch to run from her tiny waist over the swell of her hips. Her heart-shaped face was slowly gathering colour along its sharp cheekbones as she became aware of his scrutiny. Her chin was tilted, her soft pink lips pressed together. She might look fragile as a china doll, yet there was a spark in her feline eyes and steel in her tone when she spoke.
‘You know my name, and you are in my house. I think it only fair you properly introduce yourself, sir.’ She walked away a few steps to break their entangled gazes. Her hand was raised to rub the place where his hold had scorched her forearm. She abruptly placed those fingers back at her side. She wasn’t going to let him fluster her by look or touch.
‘My name is Lance Harley, though some people just call me Houndsmere.’
‘Or they call you my lord.’ She swung about to face him, delicate eyebrows arched enquiringly.
‘I’m an earl so I can claim the privilege if I wish. I don’t expect