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Authors: Barbara Dawson Smith

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BOOK: Once Upon a Scandal
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His lordship? Her heart leaping to her throat, Emma halted in the doorway. There, in a high-perch green phaeton at the curbstone, sat Lucas with her daughter on his lap. It appeared he was instructing Jenny on how to hold the ribbons.
Stunned, Emma stood with her gloved hand pressed to her aching bosom. What an endearing picture they made, the loving father teaching his little girl. It was a glimpse into the joyous family they could never be.
Jenny spied her and waved. “Mama, look at me! I’m driving the carriage.”
A picnic basket was lashed to the back of the phaeton, and a groom held the single black horse. The sight gave Emma an unpleasant jolt.
Lucas
was going along on their outing? He couldn’t. She’d told Sir Woodrow to meet them at Hyde Park.
“Don’t look so frightened,” Lucas called. “The seat isn’t so high as it appears.”
He smiled at her, and she felt herself tremble as she walked forward to take his outstretched hand. How handsome he looked when he smiled. What had put him in such a good humor this morning?
His fingers closed around hers, warm and firm, causing a flutter of anticipation inside her. She grasped the hand rail, placed her foot on an iron rung, and allowed him to swing her up into the open carriage.
She settled herself beside him on the leather seat, and his smoldering appraisal of her seemed to heat the cool October morning. She was glad she had chosen a flattering gown from her new wardrobe. The gold and green satin spencer showed off a skirt of moss silk trimmed with pale green ribbons. A matching bonnet covered her upswept hair.
Their legs were pressed together, and his enigmatic stare held hers for what seemed an eternity. Was he still furious about her unfair accusations? Or was he remembering their erotic encounter behind the screen, when dark desires had overwhelmed her, when he had plumbed her deepest yearnings and transported her to heaven?
“Mama?”
Emma felt a tug on her skirt. She pulled her gaze from her husband and looked down at Jenny, perched on his lap. “Yes, darling?”
“Papa says I may help him to drive.”
Emma was reaching out to tuck a stray curl into Jenny’s pert crimson bonnet. Only then did her words register.
Papa?
Appalled, Emma flashed a glance at Lucas, but he was giving instructions to the groom. And then she noticed just how dizzyingly far down the cobbled street lay. She clapped one hand on Jenny’s shoulder and the other on the flimsy side rail. “I don’t know if this is wise—or safe. Perhaps we should take the coach—”
“Nonsense,” Lucas said crisply, his gaze boring into hers. “Have a little faith in me.”
“In
us,”
Jenny piped up. “I’m driving, too.”
Lucas flashed a grin at her. “Indeed you are, sweet pea. So long as you allow me room to see our way.” He shifted her on his lap and wedged her between his thighs.
Emma had only a moment to wonder at his easy acceptance of Jenny. Then the groom mounted the rear pageboard and the phaeton set off with a jolt, the black horse prancing, harness jingling. The cool wind rushed at Emma, and she was torn between clinging to her bonnet or her daughter or the hand rail. Dear God. What was she doing? She was heading into disaster.
Oh, why hadn’t she made up an excuse about forgetting her handkerchief? She could have dashed back into the house and penned a note to Sir Woodrow. The footman might have delivered it in time. But one look at Lucas had addled her brain.
Jenny giggled in delight. “We’re having an adventure. Aren’t we, Mama?”
Emma caught the flash of deviltry in Lucas’s eyes as he glanced at her, and suddenly all her worries blew away with the wind. The high spirits she had repressed for too long came forth in an overwrought laugh. “Yes, it’s an adventure. A wonderful adventure.”
Deftly guiding the phaeton through the crowded streets, Lucas had the carefree look of a young buck. The wind whipped his dark hair into dashing disarray. The white cravat and buff-colored coat emphasized his bronzed skin, his well-muscled physique. She wanted to be here with him; she wanted it with all her heart and soul.
Was this love?
Instead of holding on to the rail, she slipped her hand beneath his arm and leaned against him. She had never before felt so … alive. The pressure of his thigh against hers spread warmth throughout her body. What would it be like to let him consummate their union and join their bodies? The prospect held a shining allure. She would go wherever Lucas wished to take her … .
And then she realized they were heading northward rather than to Hyde Park. “Where are we going?”
“Out of town,” he said with a keen glance. “To Hamp-stead Heath. Do you mind?”
“No. No, of course not.”
It was the answer to her prayers. Sir Woodrow would be perturbed when she and Jenny failed to appear in Hyde Park at the appointed time. But better that than a confrontation. She was in no mood for quarrels today. She would send Woodrow a mollifying note on the morrow.
Within the hour, they left the hubbub of the city and drove through a rolling countryside dotted with ponds and striped by forest and pastureland. There were stone farmhouses and stubbled fields, shorn of their summer crops. An occasional manor house perched grandly on a hill.
Jenny kept up an incessant chatter. When she asked for the twentieth time, “When are we going to be there?” Lucas
chuckled, answering, “Now, sweet pea. Right ahead.” He pointed with his whip to a sunny meadow.
They found the perfect spot for a picnic near a stand of tall beeches. A stream trickled merrily over the rocks. As Emma prepared to unpack their picnic luncheon, Lucas caught her arm. “Not yet,” he said. “I’ve a surprise first. For the half-birthday girl.”
The groom brought over a large, flat package that had been lashed to the back of the phaeton. Jenny tore off the brown wrapping, and a fantastically decorated object fashioned of red paper emerged into the sunlight.
“What is it?” Jenny asked. “There’s a strange creature on it.”
“It’s a dragon kite I brought all the way from China.” As Lucas picked it up, the paper rustled in the wind. “Would you care to fly it?”
The girl’s eyes and mouth rounded in awe. “May I, truly?”
“Of course. Come, I’ll help you launch it.” He looked at Emma. “With your mother’s permission.”
Emma could only nod. She couldn’t trust herself to speak, so touched was she by his gift to Jenny. What had wrought this change in him?
Baffled yet happy, she followed them into the meadow, heedless of the heath grasses and bracken that brushed at her hem. Lucas tramped ahead with the kite, Jenny skipping at his side. Then Emma sat down on a large flat rock while he explained the principles of flight.
“First, we’ll set the kite on the ground here, and I’ll get it airborne for you. Then you can take hold of the ball of string and fly the kite. But you must hang on very tightly, lest the wind snatch it from you. Ready?”
Jenny nodded, her worshipful eyes fastened on him.
Lucas peeled off his coat and gloves and handed them to Emma. She clutched them in her lap, inhaling the scent of him. Trailing twine behind him, Lucas took off at a run into the meadow. The kite caught the wind and lifted, then wobbled and dipped. Even as Jenny and Emma cried out in dismay,
another gust carried it aloft, a red dragon with a long golden tail that flashed against the blue sky. Jenny went running after Lucas, who had slowed to a walk, his head tilted back to watch the bobbing kite ascend higher and higher. He handed the ball of string to Jenny and bent down to speak to her.
Something very sweet tightened inside Emma. The sensation stung her eyes. She blinked, shaken by the blur of tears. She had not wept since that long-ago night of her wedding, when Lucas had spurned her because she had been pregnant with another man’s child. The very child he now taught to fly a kite. His brother’s child.
If only she could tell him. Would it be so dreadful for Lucas to know the truth, to shed herself of this terrible secret?
He stood watching Jenny fly the kite. Her laughter trilled on the wind. After a moment, he came striding toward Emma, his hair tousled and his bootheels crunching over pebbles and dry grass. The crease of dimples in his cheeks softened his harshly handsome features.
He seated himself beside her on the broad rock. His scent came to her, deep and male, stirring heat inside her. “This brings back old times,” he said, watching the kite. “My brother and I used to fashion kites out of newspaper and scraps of cloth. It seems a lifetime ago.”
Emma tensed. It was almost as if he’d read her mind. Now was her chance to tell Lucas the truth about Andrew. A heaven-sent opportunity. Or was it a temptation from hell?
She couldn’t imagine Andrew as a young, innocent boy who flew kites. She wanted to think he’d been a brute who’d tortured cats and plucked the wings off butterflies. “You and Andrew,” she said, her mouth dry, “were you good friends?”
“The best—and the worst.” A half-smile on his face, Lucas hooked his arms around his knees. “We were only two years apart in age, you see. And since he was the youngest, my mother spoiled him outrageously. I’m ashamed to admit
to taking great delight in teasing him about being a baby. We had many a fistfight over the topic.”
“You did?”
“Unfortunately, yes. But we had our share of fun, too—fishing, catching tadpoles, climbing trees.” A suspicious brightness entered his eyes, and his voice grew raw. “Andrew was keen on joining the cavalry the moment he reached eighteen—I suppose to prove to me he was an adult at last. Somehow he persuaded me to buy him a commission. Ever since, I’ve regretted it, bitterly regretted not refusing him. His death … came as a tremendous shock to all of us.”
If Wortham were to learn the truth, it would destroy him … . He would hate Andrew.
The confession lodged like a festering thorn in her breast. Lucas had loved his brother dearly. And seven years ago, while the family was in deep mourning, she had taken advantage of Lucas’s grief by pretending to love him, by trapping him into marriage. She couldn’t break his heart again.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured hoarsely. “So terribly sorry—for all that’s happened.”
He nodded, his eyes on the kite. “Let’s not spoil this day. Ah, it’s been so long since I’ve sat idle.”
The question popped out before she could stop it. “Where do you go each day?”
Lucas slanted an oblique glance at her. “Lately, the docks.”
“The docks?” That was the last answer she had expected. Yet she knew so little about his life. “Have you a business concern there?”
“Quite an important concern, yes.” He seemed to weigh his words with great care.
“But not today?”
He smiled secretively, his gaze turning back to the highflying kite. “Let’s just say I found something yesterday. Something vital that had been lost. Something that belonged to someone dear to me.”
Dear? Surely he didn’t mean … his mistress.
Resentment flashed in Emma, but she swiftly subdued it.
It was ridiculous to assume that foreign woman occupied every moment he spent away from Wortham House. Besides, Emma could think of nothing significant the woman could have lost at the docks, other than a piece of jewelry, which would be long gone by now. “What did you find?”
“Never mind. It has nothing to do with you.”
He looked so smugly pleased that it piqued her curiosity all the more. “It’s certainly put you in high spirits.”
“Yes. It enabled me to fulfill a personal quest. A quest that brought me halfway around the world.”
“What sort of quest—?”
His finger came over her lips and lightly rested there. “Enough.”
A slow pulsing started deep in her belly. She was aware of the masculine feel of his fingers, warm and firm against her mouth. Without thinking, she nudged her tongue between her lips and tasted his skin.
His eyes darkened. His hands moved to cup her jaw, and he leaned closer to her. But he didn’t reward her with the kiss she craved.
He reached down and cradled her breast instead. “Don’t play games with me, Emma. Lest you find yourself being used like a strumpet.”
A tingling awareness sizzled through her. All lightness had fled his expression. But she felt no fear, only a rush of passion. She wanted the dark side of him, too, the harsh, tightlipped stranger and the clever, merciless seducer. They were all part of Lucas.
Her husband.
She placed her hand on his cheek, and the faint bristles prickled her palm. “I’m sorry I accused you of treating me like a strumpet the other night,” she whispered. “I lashed out at you because I was confused … and shaken.”
He stared coldly, giving her no encouragement. She was aware of his hand, still heating her breast. Jenny’s gleeful cries sounded faint in the distance. They were alone, the two of them. And Emma ached to explain feelings she couldn’t quite fathom herself.
“It wasn’t fair of me to blame you, Lucas. I
wanted
you
to touch me—I wanted every glorious moment of it. I never dreamed such rapture existed—I was frightened by it. But ever since, I’ve dreamed of …” Her voice faltered to a stop as she recalled the pain, the degradation, in her past. She couldn’t take the final leap of faith. But she wanted to do so. Oh, yes, she did.
BOOK: Once Upon a Scandal
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