Page 149 of Once an Angel
The timeless strains of music drifted on the wind. Emily imagined Justin's strong, graceful fingers striking each key, sending her the strength to murmur, "I could never think ill of you, sir."
"Ah, but after all, it is my word against your guardian's. If only I could show you that land grant for the mine ... do you think he has it in his possession here?"
Emily thought of the morass of papers and books moldering away on the North Island. "I doubt it. He was planning only a brief sojourn to England. He left all his papers in New Zealand."
Nicky shook his head. "How unfortunate. It's all I have to prove my story."
And all Justin has to prove his innocence, she thought grimly. "Even without proof I find you very convincing, Mr. Saleri."
He swung around to face her. Emily forced her expression to remain wide-eyed and ingenuous, hoping she didn't resemble a besotted rabbit.
He eased her hood back from her curls. "Please call me Nicholas, dear. Or even Nicky, if you would forgive my boldness."
His thumb stroked her cheek. He slowly lowered his head. Emily closed her eyes, praying God would give her the strength not to be ill. Before his lips could touch hers, a cacophonous banging shattered the moment. A raucous male voice broke into song:
Naughty Maud, the Shrewsbury bawd,
She'll steal yer purse an' tickle yer rod,
And still leave ya yell in' fer more, by gawd!
Nicky snatched his hand back, wincing. Emily hoped her choking noise would be construed as one of humiliation rather than laughter. She jerked up her hood and took a few hasty steps away.
Nicky dogged her, obviously eager to try a new tactic. "His behavior must be a constant source of embarrassment to you. Has he ever harmed you in any way?"
"Oh, no. I believe he's quite fond of me"—she hesitated for the necessary heartbeat—"in his way."
As they walked on, Nicky took the bait and began to weave his serpentine twists of logic like a web around Justin's story. Each irrefutable strand was sticky-sweet with his charm. He dropped constant hints about the missing land grant until she wanted to clap her hands over her ears and run screaming from his presence. Oddly enough, it was Penfeld who rescued her when he appeared in the garden and engaged their elegant guest in a conversation about the competing merits of Indian and Chinese tea. Shooting him
a thankful glance, Emily excused herself to summon a maidservant to serve refreshments in the salon.
* * *
As she marched through the drawing room, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a hand shot
out and dragged her into a curtained window alcove. "Are you all right?" Justin asked.
"Yes. No." She clutched the lapels of his dressing gown. "I can't bear it. We have to end this soon."
His eyes hardened; their grim determination chilled her. "We'll end it right now if you like."
"No! We mustn't. He hasn't revealed anything yet. We have to push him somehow."
The click of Nicky's boots sounded on the parquet floor. They stood paralyzed until Emily reached up and frantically rumpled Justin's hair.
"What in the hell are you doing?" he whispered.
A heartrending sob caught in her voice. "No, please, Your Grace, I've begged you not to do this."
Justin quickly caught on to her scheme. He ripped a scrap of lace from her collar and shouted, "Come
on, little girl, just one kiss for your new daddy."
They both heard the approaching footsteps pause. Emily emerged from the alcove, clutching her torn collar. She pretended not to see Nicholas tiptoeing toward the doorway behind them.
"Oh, please, sir, you promised not to do it again."
Justin grabbed her around the waist with a leer a bit too convincing for Emily's taste. "Don't fight me, child. You know you enjoy it!"
