next day. She walked with Amelia, and then rode in the afternoon, hopelessly aware of the saddle rubbing against her sensitive flesh the whole time. Amelia’s tattle about the varying qualities of the menfolk didn’t help either. Suddenly, the word ‘man’ only prompted visions of Lyle and Darleston naked.
Lyle she saw at breakfast. Darleston she glimpsed once or twice around the grounds, but he never seemed to be still long enough for her to appreciate the moment. Towards evening she found herself wandering the ground-floor rooms seeking him out. The fact was, she missed his presence, even though the thought of his touch terrified her. However, if she could stay with him in the same room as the other guests, then he wouldn’t be able to do anything without raising suspicions and frowns. She eventually tracked him down to the library, where he was taking an early aperitif with Bathhouse, Connelly and Phelps. Phelps had her father’s recent litter of spaniels bounding about his feet. He and Bathhouse tossed an apple between them that the dogs kept trying to catch.
They all stood when she entered. ‘Good evening, Mrs Langley,’ they chorused, making her feel like an elderly governess. Darleston returned to his chair first. Emma walked past him to the window bay. She took a book from a shelf and sat looking out of the mullioned lacework panes at the lawn. Only a minute or two passed before his shadow fell across her lap, although it felt like nine or ten.
‘Have you had a pleasant day?’ he asked.
‘Passable. And you, milord?’
‘Darleston, I beg you. I don’t think we need to stand on such formality.’ She could almost hear the thought echoing through his head: she’d seen him fornicate and what could be more intimate than that? Well, engaging in coitus with him, the very notion of which left her trembling.
‘Darleston,’ she repeated, noting that he hadn’t invited her to call him Robert as Lyle did. ‘How did you like the boxers?’
The light from the candelabrum above caught the red of his hair as he shook his head, turning the strands a brilliant copper hue. Shadows masked the glint she expected to see in his dove-grey eyes. ‘I haven’t been there yet. You’d have to ask one of the others about their merits.’
‘Oh – I thought since I hadn’t seen you about the house today that you’d accompanied my father.’
Darleston smiled and shook his head. ‘Other plans.’ The way he grinned dared her to ask him what. He’d been with Lyle, of course. They’d been together. It didn’t take any imagination to figure out how they’d been engaged.
Suddenly bereft and bitter, she said the most ridiculous thing imaginable: ‘Are you my husband’s lover?’ As if she genuinely needed him to confirm it, considering what she’d seen.
It was a good thing that the spaniels were yapping so much over chasing apples and kerchiefs, otherwise the question might have raised a lot more than his eyebrows.
‘I think you know the answer to that only too well. Are you going to tell me that you object? I shan’t believe you, considering the questions I’ve been asked.’
Emma’s nostrils flared as she pursed her lips in vexation. The taste of bile lingered on her tongue. Yes, she knew they were lovers. And no, as a matter of fact, she didn’t like it. She didn’t like that she was being left out.
‘If it’s true, then why did you do that yesterday?’
He cocked his head. A frown creased his brow.
‘In the amphitheatre,’ she explained, still too cross to realise that she wasn’t being precise enough in her questions. ‘If you’re engaged with Lyle, why did you try and kiss me?’
Darleston continued to stare blankly at her a moment, making her think that she’d read it all wrong and that he hadn’t meant to kiss her at all. Then his expression transformed and a devilish smile spread across his lips and ran straight into the depths of his eyes. ‘Because when a lady studies a man like
Lyle she saw at breakfast. Darleston she glimpsed once or twice around the grounds, but he never seemed to be still long enough for her to appreciate the moment. Towards evening she found herself wandering the ground-floor rooms seeking him out. The fact was, she missed his presence, even though the thought of his touch terrified her. However, if she could stay with him in the same room as the other guests, then he wouldn’t be able to do anything without raising suspicions and frowns. She eventually tracked him down to the library, where he was taking an early aperitif with Bathhouse, Connelly and Phelps. Phelps had her father’s recent litter of spaniels bounding about his feet. He and Bathhouse tossed an apple between them that the dogs kept trying to catch.
They all stood when she entered. ‘Good evening, Mrs Langley,’ they chorused, making her feel like an elderly governess. Darleston returned to his chair first. Emma walked past him to the window bay. She took a book from a shelf and sat looking out of the mullioned lacework panes at the lawn. Only a minute or two passed before his shadow fell across her lap, although it felt like nine or ten.
‘Have you had a pleasant day?’ he asked.
‘Passable. And you, milord?’
‘Darleston, I beg you. I don’t think we need to stand on such formality.’ She could almost hear the thought echoing through his head: she’d seen him fornicate and what could be more intimate than that? Well, engaging in coitus with him, the very notion of which left her trembling.
‘Darleston,’ she repeated, noting that he hadn’t invited her to call him Robert as Lyle did. ‘How did you like the boxers?’
The light from the candelabrum above caught the red of his hair as he shook his head, turning the strands a brilliant copper hue. Shadows masked the glint she expected to see in his dove-grey eyes. ‘I haven’t been there yet. You’d have to ask one of the others about their merits.’
‘Oh – I thought since I hadn’t seen you about the house today that you’d accompanied my father.’
Darleston smiled and shook his head. ‘Other plans.’ The way he grinned dared her to ask him what. He’d been with Lyle, of course. They’d been together. It didn’t take any imagination to figure out how they’d been engaged.
Suddenly bereft and bitter, she said the most ridiculous thing imaginable: ‘Are you my husband’s lover?’ As if she genuinely needed him to confirm it, considering what she’d seen.
It was a good thing that the spaniels were yapping so much over chasing apples and kerchiefs, otherwise the question might have raised a lot more than his eyebrows.
‘I think you know the answer to that only too well. Are you going to tell me that you object? I shan’t believe you, considering the questions I’ve been asked.’
Emma’s nostrils flared as she pursed her lips in vexation. The taste of bile lingered on her tongue. Yes, she knew they were lovers. And no, as a matter of fact, she didn’t like it. She didn’t like that she was being left out.
‘If it’s true, then why did you do that yesterday?’
He cocked his head. A frown creased his brow.
‘In the amphitheatre,’ she explained, still too cross to realise that she wasn’t being precise enough in her questions. ‘If you’re engaged with Lyle, why did you try and kiss me?’
Darleston continued to stare blankly at her a moment, making her think that she’d read it all wrong and that he hadn’t meant to kiss her at all. Then his expression transformed and a devilish smile spread across his lips and ran straight into the depths of his eyes. ‘Because when a lady studies a man like
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