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Chapter 15
"Where is she?"
Hart regretted the way Bess flinched at his harsh tone, but he was being as reasonable as was possible. Her rough red fingers clutched tight to the edge of the front door. "I'm sorry, Your Grace. Truly. My mistress is not at home."
"Oh, I expected that she would not be home. The play's not nearly lively enough here. Where has she gone?"
Bess shook her head. "She doesn't inform me of her plans, sir."
Hart sighed and leaned an arm against the doorway. "No, I suppose she does not."
"My apologies." Bess bowed her head, mouth drawn down in regret.
"Not your fault." No, it certainly wasn't Bess's fault. Lady Denmore was fully to blame. "What the hell has gotten into her?"
"She . . ."
He glanced up to Bess, surprised the woman would answer the mumbled question.
"She has been . . . upset, Your Grace."
Unease crept through his gut and he straightened from his slouch. "Upset by what? By whom?"
Bess shook her head, but Hart thought immediately of the most annoying of the rumors he'd heard over the past two days. "Lancaster?"
"Your Grace?" Her face turned pink.
He told himself it was completely inappropriate for him to quiz a servant for information. "Lord Lancaster? Is he the reason for her upset?"
"No, sir." But her face was red now and growing brighter by the second.
"I see." Hart spun on his heel and stalked back to his carriage. She couldn't be having an affair with Lancaster. She'd said she didn't want that, and Hart had believed her. But the rumor that she'd been seen sneaking from his home after dawn . . .
No. Perhaps Hart himself had upset her. She'd seemed nervous, almost frightened, by his honesty the other day. And now . . . now all the rumors pointed to a woman out of control. She was placing large bets on card games, engaging young men in ridiculous dares, flitting in and out of unsavory parties until the sun broke over the horizon. And she was completely ignoring Hart and his frequent notes.
His stomach had been burning with anger for forty-eight hours now, and it seemed unlikely he'd feel better any time soon. Attempts to track her down in one of her smoky lairs the night before had failed. The woman was as slippery as an eel. But tonight. . . tonight he would find her, and Lady Denmore would discover that his patience was at an end.
"He left?"
The housekeeper didn't look up when Emma stepped from her small office. "Bess? The duke has gone?"
"Yes."
She ignored Bess's clear disapproval and turned her back to her. "Finish fastening the dress then." The amber skirts reflected the flickering candlelight, beautiful as long as you didn't know that mud stains had ruined the hem. Bess had purchased it the morning before and worked two days at fitting it to Emma. She'd also added rust-colored bands of printed silk to the double flounces of the skirt and the wide sleeves. Emma had tied a ribbon of the same color around her throat.
She looked lovely and felt like the fraud she was. Hart's notes had first conveyed worry, then irritation, and finally anger. She had hurt him with her reckless disregard for him, for her reputation. And while she resented his betrayal and the disastrous events he'd set into motion, she couldn't pretend that he'd been malicious. He couldn't have known what would happen when he contacted Matthew's father.
Still, he hadn't trusted her, and that made it so much easier to do what she needed to do. She wasn't trustworthy and there was no need to pretend she was.
Realizing that Bess's tugging had stopped, Emma turned to find the woman standing with arms crossed. "Thank you, Bess. Two more days. Three, at most. Then we will be done with London, just as you wanted."
"He's been good to you."
Emma cocked her head, not bothering to pretend she didn't understand. "Yes, Somerhart has been good to me. But not exactly honorable, wouldn't you agree? He wants to be my lover, Bess, not my husband. He has no say over what I do or where I go."
"He cares for you."
"Yes, just as I'm sure he cares for his favorite hound. The duke is a rich and powerful man. I would not worry over him if I were you."
