She heard him call after her but this only made her run faster. She ran round corner after corner until she was sure she was safe from her pursuer. She collapsed against a railing, gulping in air, hoping to discover where her mad dash had taken her. The light from the full moon showed that she was in a residential road away from the main thoroughfare. Tall houses loomed on either side, their windows dark and uninviting. What had she been thinking of? No girl of sense would leap from the safety a carriage and take to the streets unprotected.
She felt her fear flood back; it would have been better to have faced Sebastian, but it was too late to repine. If she could retrace her path and return to the main route at least there she might recognize her whereabouts.
Her slippers were ruined, her dress and cloak torn, her elaborate hairstyle in disarray. Then she remembered her jewels. Her fingers flew to her head; the tiara was still in place. She pulled it out and then carefully removed her long ear bobs and unfastened her necklace; there was no point in advertising her wealth.
She opened her reticule, luckily still suspended from her wrist, and was about to drop them in when she reconsidered. Perhaps her jewellery would be safer concealed somewhere on her person. She dropped the precious items into the bag then hastily lifted her skirts and tied the ribbon to her drawers. She smoothed down her skirt and could see no telltale bulge. Satisfied she had done all she could protect her mother's heirlooms she began to walk back, hoping her stupidity would not end in disaster.
Even Sebastian's anger began to seem preferable to being alone, cold and footsore, at midnight in a deserted London street. Her heart skipped as, in the distance, she heard the welcome sound of carriage wheels on cobbles. She increased her pace, the sooner she was back on the main thoroughfare the better.
She emerged, bedraggled and weary, to see the tail-lights of a carriage bobbing away in the distance. The wide street was otherwise abandoned. No linkmen, no gentlemen returning foxed, from their clubs. She had no idea where she was or what direction to turn in. It started to rain. Miserably she trudged on. She rounded the corner and on seeing a group of young bucks walking down the opposite pavement shrunk into the shadows, hoping they would pass by unaware.
“What ho? I spy a fair damsel,” one of them called, and leaving his companions to follow if they wished, he lurched from the path and headed towards Emily.
She had no option, face them or flee. She stepped away from the wall and back straight, expression severe, she waited, every inch a lady, however unlikely that might appear. The inebriated young man stopped. He bowed almost pitching onto his face in the gutter. He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.
“Can I be of assistance, my fair lady? You appear to be in some distress.”
Emily tried to think of a plausible explanation. She could hear the rattle of a carriage approaching at speed. Then the crash of a door and running footsteps and she was swept from her feet into a crushing embrace.
“You little idiot! What were you thinking of?” Sebastian turned to her would be rescuer. “I thank you, sir, for your kind offer, but my fiancé is safe with me.”
The first of the man's two companions had, by this time, joined him and, even as drunk as they were, they realized that their prey was lost to them. This tall, formidable gentleman had murder in his eyes. They backed away, bowing and muttering pleasantries, leaving Emily and Sebastian alone on the path.
Uncontrollable shivers racked her body and her knees began to buckle. “Come, sweetheart, I will take you home. We can talk in the morning when we are both recovered.”
Emily snuggled into Sebastian's warm arms and felt safe and cosseted. From fearsome ogre he had been transformed, in her muddled mind, to gallant saviour. On arrival at Lessing House, he carried her swiftly through the deserted corridors and left her in the capable hands of her maid, who was beginning to wonder why her young lady always returned injured and in disarray, when in the Viscount's company.
Emily did not stir until noon the next day. She suffered no ill effects from her exploits but her beautiful evening dress and cloak were ruined beyond repair. She had a leisurely bath and selected an especially becoming sprigged muslin morning-gown in pale peach. Her head was aching a trifle so she asked Jenny to braid her hair loosely and leave it in a single, shiny plait hanging down her back.
The enormity of her behaviour, from the public humiliation of her fiancé to the stupid leap out of the carriage, filled her with remorse and shame. She knew she had to face the reckoning sometime, so it might as well be now.
“Jenny, do you know if Viscount Yardley is in the house?”
“Yes, miss, he sent a message enquiring after your health and said he would be waiting for you in the library, whatever time you rose.” Emily shuddered. “Are you unwell, miss? I hope you have not caught a chill from your experiences last night.”
“I am sure I have not, thank you. I am very fortunate to feel no effects, apart from a stiff shoulder.”
Her maid offered no comment. How anybody could manage to fall from a moving carriage she could not imagine, unless that Viscount had been up to his tricks again. And why had Miss Emily's reticule been fastened to her drawers? It was a mystery, and no mistake.
“Do you wish me to accompany downstairs, miss? I could sit quietly and act as chaperone.”
“It's a kind offer, but no, I think not.” Emily almost smiled, as she imagined Sebastian's expression if she arrived with her maid in tow.
She paused outside the library to steady her racing pulse and tidy her skirts. Her head was throbbing and her shoulder ached abominably. She smiled ruefully, it was no more than she deserved. She wanted to turn and run back upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedchamber, but that would only postpone this unpleasant interview.
Gathering her failing courage she pushed open the door and stepped in, unconsciously bracing herself for an onslaught of abuse. Sebastian had been staring out of the window at the rain dripping from the trees. He heard the door and swung round, his expression severe. But when he saw the beautiful, ashen faced girl, framed in the doorway, his face changed instantly to concern.
He strode across to take her limp, cold hands in his, chafing them to bring back some warmth. “Emily, you pea-goose, you should not be up. You do not look at all the thing.” He led her, unresisting, to a well padded settle, pulled up close to the fire. “Sit here, sweetheart. I have already rung for some hot chocolate. Maybe that will restore some colour to your cheeks.”
This unexpected kindness was Emily's undoing. Her eyes filled and tears trickled unchecked down her face.
“God's teeth! I am a brute,” she heard him swear, not for the first time. Then she was on his lap, with his arms firmly around her. “I do not mean to frighten you, darling, you must know that I would never harm a single hair on your head.”
Emily raised her tear-stained face to his, a watery smile curving her lips. “Unless I drive you to it by my irresponsible and unforgivable behaviour.”
He chuckled, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “I admit last night my intention was to spank some sense into your lovely head.”
She settled more comfortably into his arms. “And now?”
“And now, I find to my astonishment that I have forgiven you, again.” He frowned, his
Emily raised her eyebrows. “I can assure you, I have no intention of jilting you in public a second time.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “I do not give a damn for that. I am talking about jumping from a moving carriage and running away into the night. I have never been so scared. Even Boney's crack troops have not engendered such fear in me. I thought I would not find you in time.” He bent his head and touched his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.
“I find,” he said, when he finally raised his head, “that you have stolen my heart, little cousin. I did not know such a thing could happen, and so fast.”
Her smile was radiant. “And I, although I have fought hard not to, have become besotted with you, Cousin Sebastian.”
“What ever are we going to do about it?”
“I cannot imagine, I am quite at a loss.”
In answer he pulled her tightly to his heart. “Can you feel it, darling? It beats just for you. How soon can I persuade you to marry me?” He smoothed her hair, and touched his lips softly to her bruised face. “I can not imagine why you love me, Emily. I have behaved appallingly. I am, I promise you, known throughout Europe as a
