The Seduction of Emily (7 page)

Emily’s father was dying, leaving his daughter heir to the other half of the business. The ruse was that a marriage contract was drawn up to ensure the money remained in both founders’ families. Further investigation led Will to discover just how trapped Emily was. If either party refused to marry, the willing party received everything. Milne and Emily each had solid motivation to marry the other.

Will curled his hands into fists. If they divorced, she’d be entitled to her half but then what? How would they work together in harmony? Would she sell to him? To another? Will’s vision turned red. Milne, in one way or another, would come out the winner.

He closed his eyes. His plan to seduce Emily meant she would lose everything she was entitled to if she broke off her engagement. He needed to leave her out of it. Find another way to hurt the bastard. And what? Leave a woman who no longer served a purpose in his vengeance to a man who didn’t deserve her—worse, would undoubtedly hurt her.

Emily Darson had haunted his dreams for the last five nights. He woke in the early hours with his arm slung across the bed as though he reached for her in the night.

How could a woman like that be engaged to Milne? The thought of the scum touching her, talking to her—God, even looking at her—made Will want to vomit. He tightened his jaw and grappled to get his temper under control. The man was vermin. Shit on his damn shoe.

The situation was a delicate one. He’d walked blindly ahead and by doing so hit a brick wall. His plan was messed up, no matter which way he looked at it. Going after Emily would cost him dearly. He liked and respected her. She was strong, her humor intelligent and quick. Will rubbed his hand over his face. It was lust at first sight. It had to be lust. Anything else was inconceivable.

Her eyes sparkled with secrets and mischief. She challenged him with every syllable that tripped from her tongue and she fit within the circle of his arms as though made for him. He would endeavor to find a way to make Milne pay as well as save her from the fate of becoming Mrs. Nicholas Milne. But how could her entitled fortune remain hers too?

He wouldn’t hurt her or make her think a future lay between them. He wouldn’t do that when he had nothing to offer her . . . if, of course, he felt that way about her in the first place.

If he could release Emily Darson from what bound her to Milne, it would go a long way toward soothing his guilt for deceiving her. To tell himself he was her savior was the only way Will could keep focused, keep planning Milne’s demise. If the wheels he set in motion crushed him along the way, he would ensure Milne felt their fatal tread first.

He wandered across the few feet of space in his tiny rented room and rested his hands on the peeling windowsill. The sky held the rosy hue of twilight. Beyond the roofs of the town houses, the magnificent treetops that graced the grounds of Victoria Park—which lay so close to Royal Crescent—called to him. He smiled.

“A perfect evening for a walk. Do you not agree, Miss Darson?”

He pushed away from the window and whipped his coat from the bed. Plopping his hat on his head, he headed out the door. It was time to take a step in the right direction; enough time had passed since the ball. He would “drop by” Royal Crescent. . . .

Will pulled his coat together tighter and marched ever closer to the perfect place from which to observe Royal Crescent. All he wanted was to ascertain which house among the renowned semicircle of Georgian residences belonged to the Darsons. Surveillance of a target was an invaluable part of a successful outcome—well-timed execution. He needed to be vigilant not to be seen too soon or too often.

“Good evening, young man. Everything all right?”

Will jumped at the sound of a booming male voice to the side of him. Straightening, he touched the brim of his hat. “Absolutely, sir. Just taking in the beauty of Bath at twilight.”

“Indeed. Indeed. The houses never fail to impress, do they not?” The man nodded toward the Crescent.

“They’re magnificent.”

The conversation lapsed as Will followed the man’s gaze across the park toward Royal Crescent. Will wondered if when the architect, John Wood the Younger, designed it he had any idea it would be considered one of Bath’s architectural masterpieces. Despite the semicircle of houses being finished over a hundred years before, people still held it in high regard and Emily living there spoke volumes as to the worth of her father’s tobacco company.

Will scowled. She deserved her half. A woman like that should be surrounded by beauty. The creamy-yellow stone of Royal Crescent glowed like butter beneath the setting sun. It was a sight to behold.

He cast a surreptitious glance to the man at his side.

He looked to be in his mid-forties and most likely of similar age to Emily’s father. He cleared his throat. “I understand Darson of Darson/Milne tobacco lives there. I was lucky enough to meet him and his daughter at the Assembly Rooms last week. I believe they have a house on the Crescent. Do you know the Darsons? Lovely people.”

He laughed. “Everyone knows Oliver Darson, sir. A great man. Such a shame illness has struck him so harshly.”

“Yes, he struggled somewhat at the ball. Is there nothing to be done?”

The man stared at the houses, moving back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Alas, I believe his lungs are the problem and they say it is only a matter of time. I often see the physician entering the property.”

Will followed his gaze as his heart beat faster. “Yes, yes, they live at number 22 I think Miss Darson told me.”

“No, no, number 24, sir.”

Will bit back a smile. “Ah.”

“Anyway, I must be off. I only came out to stretch my legs. My wife will be wondering where on earth I am. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.

Will took it in his. “You too, sir. You too.”

The gentleman walked away and Will’s grin broke free. Number 24. With his hands clasped behind his back, Will walked on with an air of nonchalance. He came to an opening in the trees that served as the perfect vantage point to view that particular house.

He stared as the smell of flowering lavender and freshly cut grass whispered through the air on a soft breeze. As soon as Milne understood Emily was Will’s for the taking, he would find something else with which to torment the bastard. Some way or other he would take her from him without Emily losing her inheritance. He frowned. There had to be a way. The sooner Milne understood Will intended to pursue him like a cat after a rat, the better.

His mother’s voice came into Will’s head, reminding him if he let Milne take over his life, his adversary had won. He heard her begging him to release the bitter resentment from his heart lest he die a cold and lonely man. She dreamed of him married, a successful entrepreneur with his children playing at his feet and his wife sitting at his side.

He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed the tears at the back of his throat. His children. Her grandchildren. A wife. His mother had such romantic dreams.

When hunger struck and they neared the end of their rent money, Will rushed out and returned with pocketfuls of stolen booty. His mother tutted and clipped his ear, sending him to his side of their rented room to get on with practicing his letters. Despite her chastisements, she took the bread, fruit, and fresh milk he’d pilfered, eking it out to last them as many days as possible.

Will snapped his eyes open as a raggedly dressed street urchin bolted out of nowhere and shoved him backward. He sped past Will with no fear of recrimination or remorse.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Will cupped his hands around his mouth. “Get back here.”

He took a few long strides forward, intending to give chase when a nearby cacophony of panicked female screeching resounded.

“Help! Oh, please, someone help us!”

Will broke into a sprint and raced along the path. A few yards ahead of him. a woman lay on the ground, her skirts pulled above her knees revealing flesh-colored pantalets, her bonnet tilted atop her head. A younger woman was crouched down beside her, sporadically comforting her or shouting for help at the top of her lungs.

“Ladies? Are you all right?” Will dropped to his knees beside them.

The woman sitting on the floor clutched her ankle. “Annie, please. Calm yourself. I will be quite all right.”

Will concentrated on her ankle. It was swelling with each passing second. Without thinking, he gently eased his thumbs along the tender flesh, checking for any breaks.

“I say . . .” The woman objected.

“It’s all right, Miss. Nothing appears to be broken, but an ice pack will help with the swelling. Let’s get you up off this cold ground.” He met her eyes and his heart stopped. “My God, Miss Darson.”

She snapped her eyes from her ankle to him. “You!” Her face colored and she slapped his hands from her legs. “Don’t you dare touch me. Drop my ankle at once.”

Will’s heart kicked back into place as he grinned. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I apologize. I was just trying to help—”

She huffed out a breath. “Yes, by mauling me.”

“I was hardly mauling you.”

Her eyes flashed at him. “Yes, Mr. Samson, you were. Now, thank you for your interest but my maid and I are quite capable of returning home unaided.”

Will looked in the direction the boy had fled a few seconds before. “Did that young lad who passed me like a cannonball do this to you? If he did, I won’t rest until I track him down and hang him by his underpants on a lamppost outside the Theatre Royal.”

The young girl giggled. Will looked up and winked. Her face immediately flushed to the color of a ripe tomato. He returned his attention to the beautiful and dishevelled Miss Darson. She moved to get up.

“Whoa, whoa. What are you doing?” He held his hand to her leg once more. “You cannot possibly walk.”

She glared. “Of course I can. Do not mistake me for a silly woman who isn’t capable of looking after herself.” She looked at the girl. “Annie, if you take my hand—”

Will cupped her elbow. “Miss Darson, please. Let me help you.”

“I am perfectly all right. Annie?”

The maid grasped her other elbow. Miss Darson trembled and her voice shook whenever she spoke between grimaces. Will’s stomach tightened with an emotion he daren’t contemplate. Her hair hung down in tendrils from beneath her bonnet, and the side of her face was streaked with mud, yet all he saw was her wonderful dark eyes and voluptuous figure . . . and a determination that was highly attractive.

“Please, Miss. Let this man take your arm.” Annie stared, her eyes wide with panic. “What on earth will Mr. Darson say if I tell him a gentleman tried to assist you and we refused his help?”

“It is me who is refusing his help, not you. Father will only reprimand me so stop your fretting and help me forward.”

Annie straightened. “No. I will not do this.”

Emily glared. “Annie, you will do as I ask right this instant. What on earth is the matter with you?”

Will cleared his throat. “Miss Darson, clearly your maid—”

She snapped her head around. “Did I ask your opinion?”

“No, but—”

“Then let me deal with my maid as I see fit.” She looked to Annie. “Well?”

Will looked to the ground lest she see his smile. The woman was a firecracker he suddenly longed to whip into his arms, march across town, and toss into the famous healing waters. His smile widened when he thought of her sodden clothes clinging provocatively to her curves. . . .

Annie’s voice cut short his fantasy. “Pardon me, Miss, but you know that’s not true. Mr. Darson will say I haven’t looked after you properly and then where will I be? He’ll send me to bed with docked wages and I need that money to help Mama—”

“All right. All right.” Miss Darson lifted a hand. “Enough.”

She met Will’s eyes over Annie’s head. Her reluctance to even look at him could not have been more clearly etched on her face. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. “Fine. Mr. Samson, would you be so kind as to assist me home?”

He bowed. “It would be my pleasure. It is barely more than a hundred yards to the Crescent, so I’ll carry you safely home in no time.”

Her eyes widened. “You will do no such thing, sir. I refuse to allow you to pick me up like a bag of meal—”

Will swept her into his arms and her words died on her sharpened tongue. Annie hurried to rearrange Miss Darson’s skirts over his arms to protect her decency. Will glanced at the maid. Judging by the amused glint in her eye, Annie was enjoying her mistress’s state of indisposed surrender as much as he was. Miss Darson, on the other hand, struggled against him, her eyes flashing venom and shock.

“Put me down right this minute. I swear my father will hunt you down and shoot you dead when he learns of you manhandling me this way.”

Will lifted an eyebrow. “And what of your fiancé? Surely he’ll wish to pummel me more? Or is Milne weaker than a dying man?”

“I do not mention Nicholas because woe betide you if he should hear of this.”

Will laughed. “Woe betide me? I am quaking in my boots, Miss Darson. Absolutely quaking, I tell you.”

Before she could say anything else, Will strode forward, carrying her across the grass toward the Crescent, hoping she’d soon exhaust herself of pummelling his chest and swinging her booted legs back and forth. For such a slender woman, she was anything but fragile. Twice he almost dropped her when she reached around and painfully pinched the flesh at his shoulder blades, and three times she called him names that no lady of her status should know, let alone utter.

His back smarted and his shoulders ached by the time they finally reached the pavement around the Crescent.