His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance) (3 page)

“No, not quite, my Lord.” Emmaline twined her fingers together, then untwined them and pressed her palms to her knees.

“Then how so?”

“Yes, Miss Devereux, you have to tell,” encouraged Beamish.

Emmaline continued to keep her eyes cast down. Beamish leaned in, awaiting her answer
and an amused expression flitted across Juliana’s face.

Our visitor is
playing to a gallery of one, Lucius thought as he watched Beamish for, far from unaware of her friend’s apparent play acting ability, Juliana appeared to be encouraging it.

“When the gentlemen had gone about their business, I simply asked the groom to saddle Misty for Lady Tunstall.” Emmaline peeped up again from under her lashes and Lucius consciously steeled himself against the power of her eyes.

“You see,” she said hesitantly, “Lady Tunstall had expressed a wish to ride him herself but when her groom was about to put her into the saddle, she became apprehensive. I suggested she have her own comfortable hack saddled so that we could ride together and well, I rode him in her place.”

The stunned silence that greeted Emmaline’s story broke when Beamish and Juliana burst into laughter
.

Lucius kept control of his emotions,
but he couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from lifting.

“I see.” In his mind’s eye he could imagine the groom being quite undone by one blazing look from those blue eyes. The poor man would not have had a chance to refuse. “Resourceful indeed.”

“As I told you,” Juliana said, a smug expression on her face. “And I could tell more . . .”

“Oh, no, Juliana,” Emmaline admonished. “Your brother does not want to hear anything of silly schoolgirl games, and all that was such a long time ago.”

“And on the subject of time,” continued Lucius,” is it not time we returned you to your home, Miss Devereux? Your maid arriving on her own will surely give concern to your family?”

“Indeed, you are correct, my Lord.” Emmaline appeared to be vastly relieved to change the subject. “My Great-Aunt Babbidge is a sensible woman, not given to the vapours you understand, but I fear she may now be seriously worried.”

Lucius crossed to the fireplace and pulled on the bell rope hanging beside it. Its distant peal summoned Mr. Tubb, who appeared in the doorway almost instantly.

“Ah, Tubb,” said Lucius. “Have Noble bring up the town carriage if you please.”

“With the Hungarian team,” added Juliana.

“No, the greys,” corrected Lucius. He turned to Juliana. “Let me advise you, young lady, that my cattle are my business. Those Hungarians are not yet working together as well as I would like. Now, I suggest you go upstairs and make yourself presentable.”

“As you please, Lucius.” Juliana got to her feet, as did Beamish. “Come, Emmaline, we can continue our coze in my rooms whilst I change.”

Beamish held the chair back for her as
Emmaline stood. She murmured her thanks and followed Juliana from the room.

As the door closed, Beamish let out a long theatrical sigh.

“I say, Avondale, did you ever expect to meet such a dashed amazing female? Tunstall’s grey, of all things,” he said. A look of bemusement spread across his homely features. “That will put that pretty Miss Lassiter, who thinks herself the most splendid horsewoman, in her place, I’ll be bound.”

“And I’ll be bound,” Lucius said quietly, “our lives will never be the same again.”

Beamish looked up, a surprised expression in his eyes. “What would make you say that?”

“Beamish, have you not been taking note of that young lady, or are you simply bewitched by her beauty?” Lucius’
said tersely. Beamish, a close friend and usually sharp of mind, could at times be annoyingly dimwitted.

“Well, one could not help but look at her
, could one?”

“No, one could not,” agreed Lucius, his voice soft but heavy with suspicion, “but I think Miss Devereux uses her beauty as a mask.”

Oblivious to Beamish’s protestations Lucius, deep in thought, rubbed his long fingers across his chin.

It wasn’t just the arrival of Juliana’s friend that caused him to ponder. It was also Juliana’s mention of Sir Peregrine Styles.

What could the cad have said or done to make her refuse to acknowledge his title? Was it just that his sister was ever his champion? Or was there something else, something she had not yet divulged to him?

The rumble of carriage wheels in the street outside caught his attention.

“It appears the carriage is ready before the ladies,” he said. “Do you accompany us, Beamish?”

“Indeed, but whilst we have a moment, may I speak with you about Juliana?” asked Beamish, his face a little flushed.

“Juliana? What about her?” Well aware of his sister’s lively mind and considerable energies, Lucius expected to be regaled with another of her woeful escapades. “What has she done this time?”

“N-no-nothing, Avondale,” Beamish stuttered.

“That’s alright then.” Lucius was only slightly mollified. “The girl’s four and twenty and should by now be wed with a home and family of her own.”

“And that’s something that perhaps I, well we. . . “

Merry voices outside the library announced the ladies’ arrival and Beamish lapsed into silence.

Entering the hallway, Lucius cast a glance over his sister and nodded his approval.

“At least we haven’t kept my greys standing too long,” he said.

“Oh, you and your horses!” Juliana scoffed. The ostrich feather trimming her bonnet
quivered with the toss of her head as she swept past him.

“Miss Devereux?” Lucius escorted her and let her pass through the doorway before taking his hat and cane from Tubb.

Emmaline halted on the top step and Lucius stopped beside her, amused at the concentration on her face as she surveyed his
team. She looked up at him as he joined her. Her head would fit perfectly neatly into his shoulder. He frowned. Now where the devil had that thought come from?

“Matched to perfection,” she said approvingly.

He looked down at her. Yes, they could be matched to perfection. Her height was right for him. Her dark locks matched his. He suspected an abundance of curls beneath her bonnet, judging from the way it sat on her hairline. A few tendrils of black hair curled at the nape of her neck.

An overwhelming desire to plant a kiss on the scant inch of bare skin between her bonnet and collar shocked him as did his reaction to her perfume, a mix of gardenias and honeysuckle. He inhaled the tantalizing essence and felt himself grow hard again and cursed under his breath.

Was there passion under that soft skin? He thought there may be, but she wasn’t looking his way
. Despite his wariness regarding any woman’s attentions, it stung his pride to realize she referred to his horses, not him.

“You have a good eye, Miss Devereux. I compliment you.”

He escorted her down the steps, noted how lightly her hand lay on his arm, would have liked nothing more than to tease one of her glossy black curls out from beneath her bonnet.

“Perhaps you would be good enough to give your direction to Mr. Noble?” Lucius said as they reached the bottom step.

Emmaline turned to the groom holding the carriage door open. “Knightsbridge, if you please, Mr. Noble. Montpelier Street.”

“A respectable address,” Lucius commented as he handed her in.

“Did you expect less?” Emmaline demanded, a spark of defiance in her eyes as she raked him with an indignant expression. She took her seat next to Juliana.

“I warn you not to cross words with my friend.” Juliana
smiled at her brother. “She can better you any day.”

“But might be wise to not try,” warned Lucius
, ignoring the smug look on Juliana’s face. His wayward thoughts carried him beyond crossed words to what might come after. Would passion carry her from heated conversation to heated carnal activity?

Damnation.

Why could he not get thoughts of bedding her out of his head?

The carriage
dipped as Beamish entered it. Noble closed the door and put up the step. They travelled in silence, each occupied with their own thoughts as the carriage bowled smoothly along the Knightsbridge road beside the great expanse of Hyde Park and, with few vehicles to hinder them, soon pulled up outside a tidy terrace house.

Lucius noted with approval the freshly scrubbed steps and gleaming bras
sware on the door. Before Noble could descend from the box, a stout, motherly looking person rushed out of the house.

“Have you got my Emmaline there?” she demanded.

“Indeed, Ma’am,” drawled Lucius as he alighted from the carriage. “Please do not distress yourself.”

“Distress? Distress?” The lady fisted her hands on her hips. “I’ve been fair out of my mind with worry.”

Lucius took Emmaline’s hand to assist her from the carriage, aware as he did so that a shocked gasp escaped her lips.

A frown pulled his brows together. He meant only to be polite yet, in assisting her, it seemed he had offended her. Rather than simply delivering her to her home and washing his hands of her, he found himself transfixed.

Continuing to hold her hand he watched the alarm grow in her eyes until, with a little jerk, she broke the contact and in an instant was swept into her great-aunt’s embrace.

“My God, Em, I could box your ears, so I could. Sending Annie home alone like that, and me no idea of where you w
as at!” She released Emmaline and dropped a curtsy to Lucius only now taking note of the insignia on the carriage door. “Well, my Lord, I have to thank you, indeed I do. Please to come inside. A right ramshackle person you must think me for keeping you on the pavement.”

“Relieved, I suspect, rather than ramshackle, Ma’am,” replied Lucius gallantly as he followed her.

“I keep a simple house, my Lord. No wine, only porter or ale,” offered
Mrs. Babbidge as she led the way along the hall and huffed with the effort of climbing the stairs at the end of it.

“Ale will suffice for me and Mr. Beamish, and perhaps lemonade for my sister?”

“Certainly.” Mrs. Babbidge led them into her sitting room. “Please be seated.”

“Why, what a perfectly delightful room,” enthused Juliana, as she perched herself on a button backed chair.

“It is, is it not?” Emmaline glanced around the room. The high ceiling was finished with elegant crown mouldings. French doors opened onto a narrow ornamental balcony. Afternoon sunshine streamed through the long window panes making the room appear light and spacious. She felt safe here and loved it all the more for the sense of security it afforded her.

Removing her bonnet and pelisse she handed it to the elderly retainer who had silently followed them. “Thank you, Giles. How is the rheumatism today?”

“Tolerable, Miss Em. Thank you for asking.”

Emmaline smiled at the man. Mrs. Babbidge, seated on a sofa upholstered in kingfisher blue silk, clapped her hands.

“That’s enough chit-chat, Giles. We mustn’t keep our guests waiting for their refreshment. Off you go.”

Giles bowed his head and withdrew while Mrs. Babbidge turned her attention to Emmaline.

“Now, young lady, perhaps you will introduce us all and then we can have a coze,” she said. “I never thought I’d have a Lord visit under my roof, and that’s a fact.”

Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I trust we are not inconveniencing you?”

Mrs. Babbidge shook her head, making her
lace cap dance on top of her iron grey curls, her cheeks pink with pleasure. “Not at all. It is quite a treat to meet my Emmaline’s friends.”

Emmaline immediately spoke up. “Oh, no, you are quite mistaken. His Lordship was quite unknown to me before this morning. My friendship, you see, is with Juliana.”

Emmaline’s treacherous heart beat faster. No matter that one glance from Lucius could set her blood pounding, her great-aunt could not, must not, think for one moment that he was her friend.

Lucius did not miss the faint flush staining Emmaline’s cheeks
and his face creased into a slow, lazy smile.

“Come now, Miss Devereux,” he admonished gently. ”Friendships have started on less auspicious occurrences, have they not Beamish?”

Beamish laughed. “A bloody nose, to be exact.”

“Aha,” Mrs. Babbidge nodded her head in understanding. “Schoolboy nonsense, I suspect.”

Lucius laughed. “You know boys well, Mrs. Babbidge.”

“I did, my Lord.” Mrs. Babbidge was suddenly serious. “My two both went for soldiering, but didn’t come back.”

“My condolences, Ma’am.”

“Well, that’s all in the past.” She heaved a heavy
sigh. “But now Boney’s banged up on St. Helena and them Peninsula Wars is over there’s much more pleasant things afoot, like parties and dances and such.”

“Does Miss Devereux have vouchers for Almack’s?” Lucius enquired.

“No, my Lord. And very vexatious that is to me, I can tell you.”