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“We attended school together.” He looked at his aunt. He didn’t add that Ash had taught him about what it meant to be loyal and true. They weren’t traits that featured heavily in his family.
“Oh yes. I remember him. Same warm brown hair and eyes as his sister.” Clara looked over at Emily whose mouth had pinched into a pained, straight line.
“He was a very good friend to me.” Jacob remembered a time that he’d snuck out of the school after hours. He’d gone to meet a girl. A rake even then, but it was Ashton who’d gotten him back in and covered his absence so that he wasn’t expelled.
Emily gave a very tight nod. “And brother to me.”
He could hear the pain in her voice. Briefly he wondered if he’d hold up as well as she had considering the circumstances. Emily was a fighter, he realized, all in her own ways. “We’ll find him as soon as we have you settled.”
Her breath caught as she leaned forward. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course.” He sat up a little straighter, wishing he could touch her. Lace her fingers through his. Run his thumb over the silky skin on the back of her hand.
But he could do none of those things and so he watched the scenery amble by for hours until they finally reached an inn where they could stop for the night.
After escorting the ladies inside, he booked each of them a room and then they settled in a private dining room where they had a very quiet dinner. Emily had hardly said a word since they’d left London and Clara seemed deep in thought. He was too. Had he deserved Ashton’s friendship back then? Did he now? He was trying to do right by Emily, but thus far he’d lied and cheated her away from the city. Then again, Barrow didn’t deserve the truth.
Finally, Clara rose, excusing herself to retire upstairs. She gave him a meaningful stare before she left the private dining room.
Much of Emily’s food was still on her plate and he leaned forward, softly urging. “Sweetheart, you should eat.”
Emily blinked, her gaze focusing on his. “Oh. Sorry. I’ve been distracted.”
“Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
She shook her head. “I thought I hated ambling about my family home alone. And I did. But leaving is somehow worse. Like I’m losing pieces of them.” She pressed a hand to her stomach.
He winced. “I lost my father too. Several years ago. We weren’t close but I still felt adrift.”
Her eyes clouded with pain. “Did the feeling go away?”
“It did.” He did reach for her hand then, threading her fingers through his. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time this morning. I…” Did he explain?
Her gaze lifted to his. “Don’t be. We’re similar…” She swallowed then. “You’re a bit like my family now and that means we’re bound to fight.”
He gave a terse nod, but those words didn’t sit quite right either. They should. He was doing this out of loyalty to her brother. He’d been like a brother to Jacob, which meant Emily should be like his little sister. But she wasn’t and Clara’s words about marrying Emily came back to him.
Which was ridiculous. He lived in a brothel. He drank and whored and he’d promised himself that he’d never subject himself to marriage. Not after what he’d seen happen between his parents. He let the world think him a reprobate because it kept anyone from holding him to standards.
He slid his fingers from Emily’s. “Family does fight.”
She nodded and then dutifully lifted her spoon. “Tonight, I’ll start looking through the documents that I brought from my father’s office.”
He wanted to object. She needed rest. But he needed some distance. “I’ll wait until you’re done eating and then I’ll escort you upstairs.”
She took a few more bites, then pushed her chair back. “I’m ready.”
He stood too, reaching for her hand once again. He shouldn’t picture what it might be like to bring her not to her own bed but his.
But he did anyway. Christ. It was going to be another long night.
CHAPTER SIX
Emily sat reading letters until her eyes crossed, not that she’d made any progress in their investigation into her affairs. They were filled with the driest information on ledgers and number of sheep. Still a picture was emerging. Her father’s holdings were healthy in terms of production and finance. Mr. Barrow was a liar.
She blew out in a long, frustrated stream of air. She’d be so relieved to reach Aubrey and Wingate. They’d surely know what to do.
A knock sounded at the door and she rose, crossing the room. “May I help you?”
