Page 29 of Choosing Her Earl at Last
“That will have to suffice.” Colin nodded in acceptance. “I do ask that you allow Michael and I to approach the coachman first to ascertain whether there is foul play afoot.”
“That is reasonable,” Emmeline conceded.
“Thank you.” Colin nodded in respect. “Michael …” He turned his attention toward his cousin. “How do you wish to proceed?”
The rest of the carriage ride to the Frampton townhouse was filled with plans as to how to extract the most information from their source, how to follow him afterward so as not to be noticed if necessary, and how to proceed with their planned meeting without their absence from the ball being noticed. “You cannot be outside alone with two men that are not your family, unchaperoned,” Michael pointed out.
“I will think upon a solution,” Emmeline reassured him as the carriage came to a halt in front of her family’s townhouse.
Michael descended from the carriage and reached in to offer Emmeline his hand as she stepped out onto the street. Lightning heat passed between them with such ferocity that it temporarily robbed Emmeline of breath.
She looked up into his hazel eyes, and for the briefest moment, she thought she saw the old Michael staring back at her, the one who had loved her. Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, and Emmeline entered her house, wondering if she had actually seen anything at all.
Chapter 12
“Mother, Father, it is good to see you both,” Michael said warmly when his parents arrived. He ushered them into his London townhouse and instructed the butler to bring them something to eat and drink.
“When we received your letter informing us of what happened with Rebecca Frampton, we immediately set out for London. How is the family? Has there been any news?” his mother explained as she allowed a maid to take her hat and reticule.
Michael shook his head, motioning for his parents to take a seat on the settee near the library’s large fireplace.
“No, there has not been any news on the matter since I wrote you. The family are living each day that passes in fear and sorrow as one might imagine.”
“The poor girl,” his mother said, wringing her handkerchief in distress. “I cannot bear the thought of what she might be enduring this very moment. She was always such a bright-eyed, inquisitive youth.” Tears filled her eyes.
“She used to run around our country estate following after Michael and Emmeline, trying to do everything that they did, whether she was big enough for it or not. Such a sweet girl.”
“How is Colin taking it?” Michael’s father asked as he came to sit beside his wife, taking her into his arms to provide comfort.
“He blames himself,” Michael answered, taking the seat across from them. “He believes that he should have been able to protect her.”
“It is none of the boy’s doing,” Michael’s mother insisted, her heart going out to her nephew.
“When a man cannot protect the woman that he loves, whether it is his fault or not, it strikes the heart as a most painful failure,” Michael’s father explained to his wife, kissing her softly on the top of her head as she leaned into his embrace.
“The poor dear,” she murmured sorrowfully as more tears escaped her eyes. “Forgive me, my son. I appear to be more tired than I thought,” she admitted, brushing the tears away and attempting to gather herself into some sense of decorum.
“I understand. Shall we have an early supper so that you might rest?” Michael offered, taking mercy on his parents.
His mother nodded in agreement. “That would be lovely if it is no trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” Smiling in reassurance, Michael rose from his chair and requested that Mr. Quincy arrange for an early supper instead of tea so that his parents could eat and retire early for much-needed rest.
The butler bowed and scurried away to speed things along.
Michael turned back toward the library door and paused in the threshold as he watched his parents interact with one another.
They were one of the most loving couples that he had ever had the privilege to observe. It brought him joy to see them just as much in love with each other as they had ever been. His heart clenched in pain at the thought of never getting to experience such happiness for himself.
Straitening his shoulders, he reentered the library. “I have had the maids prepare your bedchamber for you. Would you care to retire before we dine?”
“Yes, please,” Michael’s mother replied, rising from her seat. She came and stood before her son, placing a loving hand on his cheek. “We will speak further then.” She gave him a gentle pat, then sailed past him with her usual elegance.
Michael’s father joined him upon the threshold. He laid a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder. “She has been worryingherself into quite a state over your remaining in London for the Season.”
Michael laughed in surprise. “She would be the only one. All I have heard this Season has been how I should not have been absent to begin with.”
“That is because most others do not know you as your mother does.” Giving Michael’s shoulder a squeeze, he moved past his son to follow his wife.
