The Trouble With Emma (14 page)

“Emma Bennet,” Lady de Byrne called out from the doorway, her ringing tones as unexpected and unwelcome as a bucket of water. “Here you are! Do come in at once, both of you, or you’ll miss coffee and dessert.”

Hugh’s godmother turned with a rustle of silk and went back inside.

“And catch our deaths of cold?” Knightley said against Emma’s lips, and smiled as he rested his forehead briefly against hers. He released her. “We’d best go in.”

Emma nodded, her skin flushed where he’d touched her and her lips still tingling. “People might talk,” she agreed, and turned to precede him inside.

“But isn’t that the point?” he added, and caught her hand in his. “To make people talk?”

“Oh, absolutely.” His fingers were warm and strong as they twined together with hers and pulled her back towards him. “To make them all gossip until our ears burn.”

“Then we should make it look good,” he said, all teasing gone from his voice and his expression serious. “Give the gossips plenty of fodder.”

She found herself drawn once again into the warm circle of his arms. “This should work a treat,” she agreed, her voice barely audible as she glanced up at him in the darkness. She was glad he couldn’t see the blush that heated her cheeks.

“Yes, it should do. And this, as well…”

He lowered his head and kissed her again. Despite herself, Emma was lost once more in the heated press of his lips, and the hard, enticing length of his body against hers; and the scent of him, so male and deliciously sexy, overwhelmed her senses, leaving her incapable of speech, or thought.

And every inch of her skin tingled and yearned for his touch.

“Mr Knightley,” she murmured, and caught her breath. “I…we should stop, I think.”

“Right. No use overplaying our hand. Besides,” he added in her ear just before he released her, “we’ve been more than convincing tonight. Well played, Miss Bennet.” He gave her a mock bow. “We should both be onstage.”

“We should,” she agreed, and her smile remained in place despite the swoop of disappointment she felt at his words. “We were quite good. We fooled Lizzy completely.”

And as she stepped back inside, blinking as her eyes once again grew accustomed to the light, Emma began to think that perhaps she was the biggest fool of all, for believing – even for one second – that Mark Knightley was serious in his show of affection for her.

Chapter 25

“Em,” Lizzy said breathlessly as she drew her sister into the kitchen a short time later on the pretext of giving her a tour, “how are you and Mark getting on?”

“Very well.” Emma forced a smile. “You’re right, he’s lovely.”

“Isn’t he?” Lizzy beamed. “He’s scarcely let you out of his sight all evening.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I saw the two of you snogging on the terrace like a couple of teenagers. I knew you’d be perfect for each other.”

Emma still heard the echo of Mark’s voice
.

I think we’ve been more than convincing tonight, don’t you?

“Lizzy,” she began, “about that –”

“There you are.”

Emma glanced up to see Mark Knightley standing in the doorway. His dark, ocean-blue eyes met hers.

Was he really interested in her, she wondered, even the tiniest bit, or were his attentions tonight all a game?

“Hello, Mark,” she said, and gave him a polite smile. “I was just on my way back. I had to speak to Lizzy.”

“Actually, it’s your sister I’m looking for.” He smiled past her at Lizzy. “I came to say goodnight, and to thank you for a most enjoyable evening.”

“Oh! You’re leaving so soon?”

“Yes, unfortunately. I promised Eleanor I’d let the boys stay over at mine tonight, so she and Robbie can have some time to themselves.”

“That’s lovely,” Lizzy said, “and very thoughtful of you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

“And I’m sure I’ll regret it.” He lifted his brow. “Nick and Colin are a right handful even at the best of times. But they’re good fun.” His eyes met Emma’s once again. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Bennet. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He turned to go.

“Mark, wait.” Lizzy glanced at him and turned to Emma. “Have you seen his new car? It’s an Aston, and absolutely gorgeous.”

“I’m sure it is,” Emma said, and shot daggers at her sister.

“Why don’t you take Em downstairs for a quick look?” she suggested, and smiled at Mr Knightley. “Perhaps you might even take her for a spin soon? You’ll love it,” Lizzy added as she bestowed a wide and wholly innocent smile on Emma. “It’s very James Bond-ish.”

Lizzy’s pretext to throw the two of them together was as transparent as Sellotape. “I hate James Bond,” Emma retorted. “And I really don’t think –”

“Oh, you know men and their cars. They love to show them off. Don’t you, Mark?”

“Always.” He cast a questioning glance at Emma. “Miss Bennet?”

“It’s not necessary,” she said firmly. “Really.”

“Go on, Em,” Lizzy urged, and nudged her forward. “Don’t keep Mark waiting.”

“I’m not keeping him
waiting
,” Emma said peevishly. “I don’t know the first thing about cars.”

“I’d be happy to show you,” he said. “This is your only opportunity, before my nephews get in and leave sticky handprints and candy wrappers everywhere and spoil the new-car magic.”

When they found themselves outside on the pavement a few minutes later, Emma turned to face him.

“I’m
so
sorry. I don’t know what’s got into Lizzy tonight. She seems determined to throw us together at every opportunity.” Her face went warm. “It’s mortifying. And
very
annoying.”

“I suppose it’s our own fault. We were a bit too convincing tonight. She’s only fanning the flames of what she believes to be the spark of an attraction between us.”

She shot him a quick glance. “An attraction that isn’t real,” she pointed out.

“No,” he agreed, his voice low. “Not real at all.”

“Are you going to show me your car?”

“I’m not,” he said, and remained where he was.

“You’re not?” Emma looked at him in surprise. “After all that? Why?”

“Because you don’t give two hoots in hell about my car, or the RPMs, or the luxury-appointed saloon.” His lips curved up in the darkness between them. “Am I right?”

She laughed. “You are. Is it terribly rude of me to admit that?”

“Terribly rude,” he agreed, and stepped closer. “No wonder I don’t really like you.”

“No wonder at all.”

“I’m not really doing this,” he said as he took her in his arms and drew her gently forward. “Or this.”

His mouth was firm and warm on hers. Emma felt the slight stubble on his jaw, felt it abrading her skin with delicious friction as he deepened the kiss. She was helpless against the seduction of his lips and tongue and she wanted to stay wrapped up in his arms forever…

…even though it wasn’t real.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to pretend, would it, just for a few lovely, head-spinning moments? It wouldn’t hurt to succumb to the bliss of his arms around her and the feel of his body pressed against hers…

Emma lost herself in the feel of him, sliding her hands up the length of his back as their lips melded, parted, melded again.

She became conscious of a car horn honking as it drove by on the street, of someone whooping and catcalling ‘get a room!’ from a passing car window. Emma stiffened.

As if he sensed her embarrassment, Knightley loosened his hold on her, and his smile was apologetic. “Sorry about that. It’s not usually my habit to snog on the street in full view of the world.”

“It’s all right.” She blushed, glad he couldn’t see her distinctly in the darkness, and stepped back. “It’s not my habit, either. But none of this is real, at any rate, so it doesn’t matter.” She glanced up at the brightly lit windows of her sister’s townhouse. “It’s all for Lizzy’s benefit.”

He seemed about to say something, but changed his mind.

“Nothing like winding someone up,” he agreed, and smiled. “Goodnight, Emma. I’ll see you soon.”

She stared at him in puzzlement. “You will?”

“The programme,” he reminded her. “We start production of
Mind Your Manors
next week. I imagine we’ll run into each other pretty often.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I’d forgotten…you’re a writer.”

“Don’t forget associate producer,” he added with a smile, “and script consultant and general dogsbody, as needed. So don’t think you’re shot of me just yet.”

“And here I’d
so
hoped to be rid of you,” she said, and laughed. “Goodnight, Mark. Safe journey.”

“You too.”

With a nod and another smile, he clicked the key fob and got behind the wheel – the car, she noted, really
was
gorgeous, and very James Bond-like – and drove away.

As she made her way back up the front steps, Emma felt a strange mixture of hope, elation, fear, and uncertainty.

Despite her undeniable attraction to Mark Knightley, she didn’t know if what he felt for her in return was real…or merely playacting.

She suspected it was the latter. But a small part of her hoped it was the former.

“Emma?” Lizzy called out as she opened the front door. She peered at her sister and drew her inside. “Well?” she asked in a low voice.

“Well, what?” she retorted.

“Did Mark kiss you? He did, didn’t he?”

“Since I’m sure you were hiding behind the drapes, watching our every move, yes. He did.”

“And –?”

Emma turned to face her in exasperation. “And it was very nice. Now, do you think I could possibly get a slice of that chocolate
gateau
before it’s all gone?”

Chapter 26

“How was your visit with Lizzy, girls?” Mr Bennet asked over tea late on Sunday afternoon. “Did you have a good time in London?”

“Emma did.” Charli smirked. “She and Mr Knightley were inseparable at Lizzy’s dinner party last night.”

“Is that right?” he asked. “I didn’t know he’d be there.”

“Lizzy invited him for dinner,” Emma said, and stirred her tea. “Along with nine other people,” she added as she shot her sister a glance of irritation, “including Lady de Byrne and Imogen.”

“And how is Lady Georgina? Are she and Imogen getting along?”

“Yes, they are.” Hugh’s godmother and her daughter Imogen, estranged for many years, had recently mended their fences when Imogen returned home to Rosings with her son. “She sends you her regards.”

“I should go and visit her, I suppose,” Mr Bennet said, and set his cup down. “Which reminds me – it’s time I got you back to school, Charlotte. Are your things packed?”

She jumped up. “Not everything. Give me ten minutes.”

As she hurried up the stairs, he turned to his oldest daughter. “Is there something going on between you and Mr Knightley that I should know about, Emma?”

Nothing like winding someone up
, Mark had said just before he left last night.
I’m all for having a laugh at someone else’s expense…especially if that someone deserves it.

But was the joke at Lizzy’s expense, as they’d intended? Or her own?

“No, daddy,” Emma said, her words firm as she pushed her chair back. “There’s nothing between us at all. Would you like more tea?”

***

On Monday morning Simon and Jacquetta returned to Litchfield Manor, along with a television van and several members of the
Mind Your Manors
production crew.

Mark Knightley, thankfully, was not among them.

As Emma left the kitchen, where she’d made a fresh pot of coffee for the programme’s presenters, she sidestepped several cables snaking across the hall.

“Mind your step, miss.”

She looked up. A youngish man in jeans and trainers gave her a polite nod. A camera was hoisted on one shoulder.

“Thanks for the warning.” She held out her hand. “I’m Emma Bennet.”

“Tom Carter,” he said, and thrust out his own hand. “Best boy.”

“I’ve no idea what that means,” she admitted, and smiled as they shook hands. “But I’m pleased to meet you nonetheless.”

The front door swung open as Martine arrived with a caddy of cleaning supplies in hand. “Mornin’, Miss Em. Did you and Charli have a good time at your sister’s in London?”

“We did.” Emma swept her with an admiring glance. “You’re looking very well.” Although she didn’t mention it, Martine looked as if she’d lost some weight.

“Thanks. I thought about what you said, so now I run every morning, and again when I get home. Plus,” she added, “I gave up the Maltesers and wine gums. And I only had one drink down the pub with my mates on Saturday.”

“Only one?” Tom asked, and raised his brow. “Hardly worth going out for one drink is it?”

“It is if you’re watching your carbs,” Martine retorted.

He eyed her up. “Your carbs look fine to me.”

“Martine, this is Tom Carter, from London,” Emma said. “He’s with the production crew.”

“London, is it?” the girl said, and lifted her eyebrow. “No wonder he’s so cheeky.”

“Tom!” A man appeared in the doorway. “I need your help unloading this truck. Quit flirting and get your arse out here.”

“Pardon me, ladies,” Tom said, and brushed past them. “I’m needed.” He gave Martine a wink and disappeared out the door.

“That one’s full of himself,” Martine said. “I hope the rest of the crew aren’t as cheeky as him.”

“Never mind that. Tell me,” Emma asked, “how did you and Mr Churchill get on?”

“Me and Mr Churchill, miss?” Her face was etched with confusion.

“He took you home from the party last Sunday, remember?”

“Right! I almost forgot.” She laughed. “Mum nearly had a heart attack when he dropped me off in that flash car of his.”

“He seemed quite taken with you at the party.”

“With
me
?” She regarded Emma in surprise. “Oh, no, miss. He was just being nice, that’s all. We had a laugh.”

Although convinced that the girl was wrong and had misread the situation, Emma let it go. “I see you’ve abandoned your usual makeup in favour of something a bit more natural,” she said.

“Yeah.” She eyed Emma doubtfully. “Do I look all right? I’m not too washed out, am I? I did my makeup this morning, just the way you showed me; but I’m not used to wearin’ so little slap on my face.”