Page 8 of If I Loved You
They nodded, though without conviction which alarmed Emma. With one last hug, the Smythe’s and Langdon retreated into the stables, leaving Emma to watch them walk away. She stared at the empty and open door for several seconds, crying and wanting so badly to dash inside with her friends.
“Come,” Lord Benedict called from behind her, his tone finally softer.
Emma turned and drew a deep breath, clinging to Bethany as she walked then to where he held open the carriage door. She hesitated only a moment before stepping inside and taking up one side of the vehicle, holding Bethany on her lap. She watched as Lord Benedict folded his enormous frame into the seat opposite her and rapped his knuckles against the roof that the driver might depart. When his dark eyes then met hers, she removed her gaze jerkily, finding greater interest in the scene outside the window, watching as the picture of what remained of the King’s Arms faded from view.
She allowed only one more tear to slide down her cheek, her fearfulness at the coming unknown causing her great distress. This was eased not at all as the cold man across from her made no attempt at conversation and thus the nearly hour-long drive to Benedict House was made in near perfect silence—broken only occasionally by Bethany’s babbling.
Emma maintained a painfully stiff posture, allowing her eyes to find his person only when she was sure his attention was engaged out the window. Peripherally, she was aware that several times, his detached gaze had settled curiously upon Bethany, but still he said nothing. She felt, too, those few instances when those dark gray eyes shifted to include her—she realized the heat of that gaze to her toes.
Shivering a bit, she tried to regard the man sitting across from her without being noticed. She was honest enough to admit she’d thought him incredibly handsome upon the occasion of their first meeting—that is, until he spoke. But it was hard to overlook that rich and dark hair, naturally set into lazy waves, which fell onto his forehead in such a way a girl might be tempted to risk his sharp gaze just to move those locks aside; and onecould not disregard the powerful figure of the man, for he was taller and broader than most, and seemed to have no need of the padded surcotes so heavily favored amongst the elite; and then there were those eyes—deep and penetrating, bright with passions that surely drove the man, and undoubtedly able to consume her, if he dared.
In a moment of weakness, she might even admit to herself that the picture of his lips, the hard set of those generous lines, had plagued her for several days after his first coming. She’d imagined them softened by a smile, a small smile of wonder mayhap directed at her, and had felt a weakness in her knees just considering this unlikelihood. One last quick glance at the hard contour of his jaw, set to arrogant disregard, and Emma was able to shake herself completely free of these useless—indeed, dangerous—musings and fret instead over her coming future.
EMMA’S FIRST LOOK ATBenedict House proved just as unnerving as she’d suspected it might. Located just north of Southwark, the manse sat deep in a wide valley, the light stone façade of the three-story home bright against the green trees and lawn of the well-manicured property. A large and wonderfully maintained drive wended its way around a man-made pond which sat in front of the house. With a tremendous amount of awe, Emma took no pains to hide her expression as she glanced out the carriage window as they pulled in front of a set of huge, polished wooden doors at the top of a wide expanse of steps.
This time when the carriage stopped, Lord Lindsey did await the service of the footman who came without delay from the house to pull open the door and place a small step upon the ground for their use. The earl exited first, then surprised Emma by reaching into the vehicle for her hand as she struggled only a bit with a now sleeping Bethany.
“Thank you,” she murmured quietly as her feet touched the ground. She glanced upward, following the clean lines of the blonde colored stone, taking note of the enormous windows and imagining that there must be fifty rooms inside this home. But the earl afforded her no prolonged opportunity to appreciate his home, his hand still upon the back of her arm guiding her inside the place, where he was greeted with a near reverent bow by an aging but precise butler.
“Thurman,” the earl addressed his man at the door, “fetch Mrs. Conklin, as Miss Ainsley and the child will need to be shown rooms and have baths readied.”
“Yes, my lord,” intoned the butler, and closed the door beside them to see to this task, not forgetting himself at all to even pass more than a cursory glance over Emma and Bethany’s rumpled and soot-ridden appearance. As the old man disappeared down a nearby hall, Emma took a moment to take in her sumptuous surroundings.
The foyer in which she stood was three stories tall, flanked by a double set of stairs sporting a dark red carpet over the expensive Italian marble of the floor of the hall. Portraits, larger and taller than Emma herself, graced the walls on either side of the stairs, invoking earls and family from decades and centuries ago. The walls upon which they hung were papered in delicate shades of robin’s egg blue, having about it a small and scrolling floralpattern in subtle tones. Directly above her head, suspended from several gleaming chains perhaps thirty feet long was a chandelier of sparkling beaded glass and ivory hued candles. There were, all about this ground floor, doors of shiny dark wood, opening to rooms surely as opulent as this foyer, Emma imagined.
She brought her overwhelmed gaze back to the earl, who seemed to be watching her intently—expectantly—with those unsettling gray eyes.
She might have said something then—anything at all to alleviate this general upset he caused her with those severe glances of his—but was saved this endeavor by the immediate arrival of a graying and plump woman, who bore down upon them from further down the hall, wringing her hands hastily upon her not unclean apron.
“Mrs. Conklin,” said the earl to the woman, who was obviously the housekeeper, “this is Miss Ainsley, and the child is Bethany. They will require rooms for an extended stay and baths and a meal immediately.”
The round little woman bobbed her head dutifully and sized up Emma and Bethany in one sweeping but not unpleasant glance. “This way, then, Miss,” she said, and turned already to ascend the left staircase.
“Shall I carry the child for you?” The earl inquired of Emma, his first true attempt at solicitude, she thought. But she refused him with a small shake of her head, possessively snuggling Bethany against her, and took off quickly to follow where the housekeeper had led. She trudged wearily up the stairs, and once upon the second floor where the woman turned down a long corridor, paid little attention to such evident luxury about her until she was brought to a room near the end of the hall.
In all her young life, Emma thought she’d never seen so pretty a bedchamber as this. She was accustomed to cramped spaces and low-slung ceilings and rustic and sparse furniture. She had never seen such extravagance as these tall walls and painted and papered ceilings; she had never beheld a room where the windows were taller even than herself, or where the furnishings were nearly twice the size of her. Upon one wall, nestled between two heavily draped windows, sat a four-poster bed tall enough that a small and necessary stool rested near one side. It was covered with a beautifully embroidered coverlet in soft shades of pale yellow and blue and more fluffy pillows than Emma would ever have need of in her entire lifetime. There was a huge wardrobe, the wood embellished with intricate carvings, matching perfectly another piece, this one an armoire, which sat opposite the bed. In one corner of the room was an oversized dressing table, painted gaily with flowers and ribbons, and in another corner a writing table, complete with embossed stationery and an inkwell and quill, was positioned adjacent to more windows, that one might view the gardens below at the north side of the house.
Moving around the room upon the thick and plush Aubusson carpet, Mrs. Conklin opened one of several doors, and showed a small anterior room, equipped with a pretty covered cot and stool. Another door was opened and revealed a dressing room, decorated in similar shades of yellow and blue and having mirrors on two entire walls, and the last door showed another full bedchamber, this one having a huge crib and rocking chair.
“’Tis the nursery,” Mrs. Conklin informed her in a friendly tone and then asked of Emma if she were awaiting the delivery of her trunks.
Reminded again of her sorry circumstances, Emma shook her head. “We were only last night burned out of our home,” she told the housekeeper. “We have nothing.”
Mrs. Conklin seemed unperturbed by this news. “Likely of no concern, Miss. His lordship will see to dressing ye, no doubt. ‘Tis lucky ye are that ye escaped intact.”
“Lucky, indeed,” Emma agreed. “I think I’ll put Bethany in the bed here—I don’t want her to awaken afraid, as this will all be unfamiliar to her.”
“A good idea, Miss,” Mrs. Conklin said with a nod and she moved to pull back the heavy counterpane of the four-poster bed.
Emma carefully laid Bethany upon the very middle of the bed, thinking she’d like nothing better than to climb in beside her right now, but imagined that a bath was a more pressing need. She mentioned this to the housekeeper, who was motherly enough to tuck the linens up and around Bethany, who stirred not at all.
“A bath is just what ye need, Miss. Give me a few minutes to boil the water and have the footmen set up the tub in the dressing room.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Conklin,” said Emma and she closed the door behind the woman as she left the room. Glancing once again about the lovely room with awed appreciation, Emma then stripped herself down to her shift, removing her apron and gown, and serviceable boots and stockings, too. Unable then to resist further the lure of the inviting bed, she thought only to rest herself for a moment while she awaited her bath and so climbed in beside Bethany and laid her head upon the sweet-smelling goose down pillows.
Chapter Five
WHEN EMMA OPENED HEReyes, it was immediately obvious that evening had come. Startled, she sat up quickly, unable to believe she’d slept so long and soundly. She turned to find Bethany and was distressed to discover that the space beside her was empty. Jumping from the high perched bed, she dashed about the room, calling for the child. Her panic began to increase when there proved not a trace at all of Bethany, in any of the small attached chambers. Frantic after only a minute, she yanked open the tall, painted door and called again Bethany’s name out into the long corridor. Forgetting then her inappropriate attire when there was no response, she forged ahead and ran down the hall in her bare feet, thinking to summon help in the search. Just as she gained the top of the stairs, the lord of the manor appeared at the bottom, holding a giggling Bethany in his strong arms.
