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She gave him a practiced smile of sympathy, her red lips parting, though the look didn’t reach her eyes. “Anything we can to do help?”
The answer was yes.
But his gaze swung to the sitting room to the right where several women waited in various stages of undress and a frown pulled at his lips.
One was too thin, another not thin enough. Too old, too young, not pretty enough. Too blonde. Not one of the girls appealed. With a low rumble of frustration, he looked back at Madam Chamberlain. “A bath and dinner in my room will suffice.”
Her brows notched, her eyes filled with a question she was too professional to ask, even as she nodded her understanding. “Of course, my lord. Anyone in particular you’d like to deliver them?”
The invitation was clear. And he’d meant to accept so why didn’t he? “No, thank you. Though, I’ve an early appointment tomorrow morning so if you might see my jacket pressed before then?”
“Yes, my lord.” She smiled demurely, all the while assessing him. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair again, the long locks catching in his fingers. “My hair. Can someone trim it?”
“Esther can, she’s quite good with her hands.” Madame Chamberlain cocked her head meaningfully.
“Send her up before my bath and dinner then,” he said as he started up the stairs. Making his way into his small room, he left the door open for the delivery of the tub even as he took off his coat and tugged off his cravat.
Removing the vest as well, he waited for the tub to be dragged in before he crossed to the desk and began penning a note to Mr. Barrow, then Wingate, and finally his Aunt Clara. The black sheep of the family, Clara had become an actress at the age of eighteen. She’d never married, though Jacob was certain she’d led an, er, colorful life.
Esther came in with a small leather roll in hand. “My lord?”
Esther was a short, pleasant-looking girl who giggled a great deal. She’d never been his sort, which actually suited his current mood. Pushing his chair into the middle of the room, he sat as Esther unrolled her tools, then began clipping his dark strands with fast, efficient scissors.
Giving him a hand mirror, he checked her work in the reflection before giving her a nod of approval. “Good. Thank you.”
She rested a hand on his shoulder, leaning down so her own face peeked into the small mirror’s reflection. Then her lips grazed the lobe of his ear. “Anything else I can for you, my lord? Anything at all?”
Her offer didn’t tempt him in the least. And annoying as that was considering the ache in his balls, he gave her a quick no before sending her on her way.
He finished his letters and then sunk into a bath. Tomorrow he’d see what else Barrow knew. With any luck, he’d have Emily secured at Wingate’s estate by this time next week and then, perhaps, he’d feel like himself again.
Because as he soaped himself up and scrubbed his skin, he rumbled with dissatisfaction. Emily was disrupting his wellbeing.
That evening, Emily wandered the halls searching for what, she knew not, but she found herself in her father’s study.
Slowly, she ran her hand over the mantle. Normally, there would be a fire… She grimaced at the stark reminder that her father wasn’t here. Her throat clogged with emotion even as her hand grazed his favorite leather chair. Swallowing down the lump, she moved behind the desk where her gaze landed on her father’s strong box.
Her lips parted as she stared at it. Would she find any evidence of their financial troubles inside?
She needed a solid plan. Marriage seemed the best option. But to whom—a merchant, a lord? To decide, she’d have to learn more about her situation. Did she have money to pay an investigator to find her brother? Would Jacob help her with that?
She thought about the moment she thought he was proposing. Her heart had leapt with…she pushed away the thought before she could complete it. He had been clear that he didn’t wish to marry, and she ought to find a man who wasn’t quite so… She searched her mind for the proper phrase…. Perhaps morally fluid?
Opening the third drawer to the right, she easily found the key that sat in the back left corner. her hand shook as she reached for the small object. How often had she seen her father retrieve this same key?
Fingering the cool metal in her hand, she crossed to the box and inserted it into the lock. It clicked open and she lifted the heavy lid finding the contents neatly arranged inside.
Her father had always been tidy.
Thumbing through, she found various documents and memorabilia, some of which made her stomach twist with grief as she started at them. To the right, however, was an envelope labeled “Emily.”
She gasped to see it and with a trembling hand, she reached down. What would she find? A personal letter? An apology for the state of the barony?
Breaking the seal, she pulled the sheets out and at first stared with confusion. They were legal documents…
But then words popped out at her. Diamond. Quality. Value. She gasped, suddenly remembering.
