Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The orchestra played beautifully at the Ford’s annual ball, and Lord Danforth swept Ember into a graceful turn. Even for his age, he was still elegant on the dance floor. Susan had much to say about her aged husband but even she had to admit he was skilled in his manners.

Ember purposefully avoided Dahlingford after the row with Robert. She knew her brother was right, but there was that slight bit of rebellion in her to do… Well, to do anything but that which Robert suggested.

Too bad Dahlingford was the catalyst for their argument. She could not tease Dahl without causing a ripple of consequences that might have a lasting impact. Ultimately, Robert was right. She rolled her eyes at the admission.

Tomorrow, she was leaving for Redfield. The trunks were packed, the children were overexcited about the journey in the carriage, and she had purchased a few whatnots designed to make her feel and look like anything but a widow.

She still enjoyed being a woman and sometimes she felt lost in the role of mother and the designation of widow. But was it really any less of a loss of her identity than when she had become a wife?

The temptation of Dahlingford had little to do with intercourse and much to do with companionship, and dare she say it—admiration.

Men did not admire widows. Nor mothers.

She stepped on Lord Danforth’s foot. He grunted.

“Oh, Albert. Lord Danforth, please forgive me.” Dancing with one’s best friend’s husband was always a safe pastime.

He turned her quickly, continuing the waltz as if she had not committed a glaring offense. She had waltzed for years . “Yes, yes. Not to worry Lady Chester.”

He slowed and they came to a halt on the far side of the Ford’s ballroom. Ember begged his forgiveness again, but he shrugged, bowed and made his way toward his wife, who stood talking with a group of ton matrons. Ember stared at his back as he made his way through the crowd.

Dahlingford was to blame.

She couldn’t help but think about how it had been. Young and desperately in love, but proud and irrational. Love was wasted on the young. Rarely did they appreciate what they had, including her.

And over time, he had changed so much. He was no longer the Dahlingford of her youth. The man he was now existed in gossip and half-truths, rumors and exaggerations. Not in the streams and hayfields, family dinners and phaeton rides in their home county.

“I believe this is my dance,” Dahlingford said. He stood beside her, shoulder to shoulder.

“You are not on my card, my lord.” Somehow, she had gotten the smart words out of her mouth. He had caught her unawares and her heart tripped anxiously.

He reached for the dance card she held. “I informed Suthcliff that his mistress was looking for him and he disappeared. He’s going to be shocked to discover that his wife is in the room to which I directed him. Should be an interesting reunion.”

Ember glanced up at him. “Your tale is humorous, but I’m still not dancing with you.”

“The more vehement your denials, the more sure I am I will succeed. Come. It’s just a dance.”

Ember allowed him—reluctantly, she told herself—to lead her back to the dance floor. The set of songs she had reserved with Lord Danforth still played and Dahl swept her into a waltz. Better she say nothing than to encourage the man. He was right. She did not want to be the lady who doth protest too much.

“I owe you an apology, Ember.”

“For being you?”

He smiled, tightlipped and without displaying those dazzling teeth that could blind the unsuspecting. “No. Robert took me to task. Evidently, we were spied misbehaving at Hyde Park and Robert caught wind of it.”

“He told me.”

“That’s it? He told you? You’re not going to join his attack? Outline my manifold sins? Forbid me from ever speaking to you?”

“I’ve tried that before, but you ignored me.”

“Another misstep on my part.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

“Hmm.” He squinted at her. His hand gripped her waist tighter. “It seemed to matter to your brother.”

“It doesn’t matter, because you don’t matter to me. Not in any real sense. If we are the subject of current ton fodder, there is nothing I can do other than hold myself above the fray and avoid you at every opportunity.”

“And you’ve been doing a grand job of it.” She felt his hand slip lower on her hip. They turned quickly and he pulled her full against him. Her lower body rubbed against him. The stark hardness of his erection grazed her—shamelessly, shockingly.

She held back a gasp but felt the heat of close contact wash up her body and settle at her chest and neck.

“Lady Lindley is quite attractive. I can’t imagine why you broke off your arrangement with her.”

“You’re a woman. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Did she no longer please you in bed?” she asked.

“No, she did not, since you ask.”

“Well, Dahl, I feel I should tell you now. I won’t please you either. The whole tedious business when one is too tired. The clumsiness, the mess. And for what? Three minutes that could have been better spent reading a good novel.”

“One night, Ember. One night and I won’t bother you about it again. And I suspect you will be able to sell your book collection afterward.”

Ember laughed but felt a sting of hurt in his words. That is why she could never trust Dahl. One night would be enough for him. He would satisfy himself, rutting with her body. She would be forgotten in the morning, if he actually stayed in her bed longer than the few minutes it would take to penetrate her and leave his pleasure behind.

The dance finally ended. “As always Dahl, your dancing skills are perfect, and your manners polished. Now be a good boy and run along to your next conquest.”

Dahlingford smiled enigmatically. “Walk with me to the garden.” He wasn’t really asking, her arm firmly wrapped in his and held captive by his hand.

Over Dahl’s shoulder, Ember noticed a woman pushing through the crowd. “Lady Lindley is coming this way. She appears most determined to reach your side.” In fact, she was jostling her way through the crowd in a manner most unbecoming of a lady. Ember had to admit Lady Lindley was lovely—voluptuous in a jealousy-inducing way—and very forward.

Dahl glanced back over his shoulder and grunted.

“Come with me now. You will be doing me a huge favor and I promise I’ll behave.” He clamped her arm tighter and led her, nearly indelicately, toward a set of wide double doors on the far end of the ballroom, leading to a long balcony and large rose garden maze below—the roses long dead this winter and wet leaves pasted to the ground. It smelled of freshly spilled rain drops or the crisp hint of a few snowflakes.

As soon as he swept her through the double doors, he took a few steps to the left and drew her into a darkened corner of the marble veranda that swept the length of the house.

Dahlingford drew her close. She had little chance to protest. She braced her hands against his chest and attempted to push away.

“Hold still for a minute.”

“You promised.” The words sounded with a lack of will. She need only walk away from him instead of allowing him to draw her nearer, while he pretended to hide her from prying eyes.

Another couple walked through the doorway arm-in-arm, not even bothering a glance in their direction. Lady Lindley followed on their heels, lifting her skirts and heading quickly down the stairs toward the darkness of the garden. She’d forgotten her shawl. She wouldn’t last long in the damp winter air.

“Come with me,” Dahl said.

He grabbed Ember’s hand again and started down the length of the balcony, slowing as they passed two other sets of double doors and finally, reentering the house.

“What are you doing?” she hissed as he wrapped her arm in his and slowed to a more sedate pace.

“Lady Lindley has had one too many dramatic spells for my taste. Last night, she fell weeping into my arms, begging me to take her back. You’ll be able to read all about it in tomorrow’s edition of the Tattler .”

Ember giggled. “Dahl, stop.”

He turned and stared. “Do you wish for me to be caught in another of her theatrical performances?”

“You could just speak to her.”

He shook his head. “Lady Lindley received her congé along with a well-written missive and a lovely emerald necklace. What else was there to say?”

“You didn’t tell her personally? Lud, Dahl, you are lucky someone hasn’t put a bullet or blade through your black heart.”

“It was over. Why prolong her anguish by delivering the news in person? It is bad enough I have had to dodge her at every function I’ve been to in the last few weeks.”

Ember laughed again. “The piper must be paid. I had no idea your life was such a misery that you had to hide from your former mistresses.”

“You laugh now. You didn’t see the quality, or size, of that emerald.” He led her around a potted shrub and out of the main ballroom only to come upon Ember’s brother, facing away from them.

Dahl took a step backward and then swept her in another direction, away from the crowd. “As big as this mansion is, you’d think a body could find a private place to speak.”

“We don’t need privacy. Whatever you wish to talk about can be done in the open.”

“Can it?” His brows winged, a slight smile at his lips. Ember caught a glimpse of the boy she had loved. Did love . In the present. Here and now.

As he led her into another room, Ember had to wonder at her lack of will where Dahlingford was concerned. He had always been entertaining, even when they were younger. His appeal went deeper than his overt sexuality, to her way of thinking, but Dahl never showed that side of his character anymore. Topping his last exploit seemed to be his modus operandi.

Once inside the room, Dahl moved to close the door.

“We’ve had our bit of fun. I’d prefer the door remain open,” she said.

He shut the door. Only two candles lit the room. Ember held her breath. Had she lost her reason? Wasn’t she the one who had proclaimed only a few days ago she could resist him? Yet she meekly played along with whatever game he had planned.

Was it so wrong to allow him to flirt? To be the object of his pursuit once again? To finally fulfill those secret desires she’d always had about Trenton James. Desires she’d denied when she’d found out she couldn’t have him.

He faced her, that smug smile on his face, and he pulled her into his arms. His lips were on hers before she had a chance to agree.

Which she swore she would not do. She braced her hands against his chest and pushed hard. He stepped back and stared down at her. “You came with me, Ember. Don’t play the affronted matron now.”

“You are such an ass, Dahl. What is it women seen in you?” She stepped away, allowing her gaze to rake him from head to toe.

“I could show you.”

She had to bite back a laugh. He was never serious.

She brushed around him and walked farther into the room. Something about his quick arousal, his insistent demand to have her now , reminded her of her marriage bed. Gerald would walk into her room in the dark of night, lift her rail and proceed with intercourse, thrusting his tongue in her mouth and his manhood into her body with little prelude and certainly no warmth or affection.

Shouldn’t there have been something else for an event so intimate?

Did other women just put up with such insensitive behavior?

Were other women tempted to try once again in the hopes of something better?

No, she couldn’t. Not with Dahlingford. Maybe someday when her children were older and she lonelier. And braver.

She seated herself in an overstuffed brocade chair and glanced at Dahlingford as he approached. Occasionally, there had been nights when she had warmed to her husband’s touch only to be left wanting—and wondering—after his sudden release.

Dahl seemed as impatient and uncaring as her husband, interested only in his pleasure. Still, women clamored to reach Dahl’s bed.

He lowered into a chair opposite her. “You cannot deny we have unfinished business, Ember. I’m thinking it would solve several issues at once.”

“There are no issues.”

“Would you think me insincere if I said you are as beautiful now as you were when you were sixteen?”

“Please, don’t. I would rather we had honest discourse than flattery designed to get you what you want.”

“Would it work?”

“No.”

“One must try.” He regarded her with an intense gaze. “I would make it worth your while.”

“Are we still talking about the same thing?”

“An arrangement, perhaps?”

“You are persistent, but I don’t need your money.”

“I wasn’t talking about money.”

Dahlingford wondered at his doggedness. One night was all he wanted. Bedding her would be the culmination of years-long desire. Years. Ember was ethereal, a shimmering light visible from the corner of his eye that would disappear the moment he turned to stare.

She laughed, the sound sensual and full of life. “Trenton James, would you not prefer a woman warm and willing? One who might hang on your every word and croon in your ear about how handsome and strong you are?”

“I think that woman is you,” he said.

“How long have we known each other? Have I ever hinted I wished a liaison?”

“There was a time when I thought so.”

“I was a child. And you were…” She waved her hand, unable to find the word.

“No, you were a spoiled brat who thought hurting me was sport.” She couldn’t deny her behavior. Proud, sure of her beauty and determined to get what she wanted, she had spurned him in a temperamental fit. And her father had obliged her every wish.

And he’d foolishly played into her hands by acting out with petty revenge.

Everything had gone wrong.

“Too much time has passed.” She grew serious again. “We should remain as friends so we have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to regret.”

“I would rather regret the trying than continue to live with the questions. I’ve lived a lifetime of regret wondering about us.”

She blushed, revealing a hint of a smile. Dahlingford knew the compliments struck home even if she denied it. She’d been without a man too long, both physically and emotionally. Words would bring about her capitulation, more than the pleasure he could give her. He only needed to find the right combination of words. “The arrangement I spoke of?—"

Susan burst into the room, looking breathless and surprised. Dahl cursed under his breath.

“There you are,” she said. “Lady Ford is running hither and thither looking for her daughter. I told her I would check these rooms, and here you are.” She smiled brightly. Dahlingford wasn’t fooled. “You haven’t seen her, have you?” she added as an afterthought.

“No,” he said brusquely. Susan would throw herself under a moving carriage to save Ember from any hurt. He could respect that if it were anyone else wishing to impugn Ember’s good name.

“We were just discussing the house party at Redfield,” Ember said, deflecting him and engaging Susan. He could do nothing but allow the trite conversation to continue.

Dahlingford gazed at Ember. She was a prize. Even with Susan in the room, even with all of Ember’s denials, his cock was willfully disobedient. The tumescence between his legs wouldn’t be assuaged again tonight. Not by the woman he wanted anyway.

Ember was right. Association with him would sully her reputation, but it was about time she had some fun.

She had never hated him. But she had also never agreed with him.

He wasn’t the man for her, but logic didn’t dictate his need. It never had. While she was married, there wasn’t an opportunity. Whispering in her ear in the middle of a ballroom would have gotten him called out. Defending himself would have been easy but hurting Ember’s husband was a risky proposition.

Events had always conspired against them. Pride, death, poor decisions, stubbornness, husbands, mistresses. But nothing was impossible, not with his determination and skill.

They were both free now. They were both free to fan the fires of past lusts.

He had to know if there was still something between them. Some small cinder that hadn’t been extinguished.

Her words were sharp, but not definitive. He thought there was some spark that would burn them up in flames given the right fuel.

“Lady Chester, the vintner is here again,” Mr. Dove said.

“Dove, my carriage is waiting. The children are screaming to be off, and you wish for me to speak with the vintner? Please, see to it. Or better, refer him to Mr. Marshall.”

“Mr. Marshall is out of town. Again.”

She waved Dove away and started up the stairs. Time was at a premium this morning and she had no wish to have a lengthy discussion with a tradesman—not when she had hired a man for the task, or rather Gerald had hired him a year before his death.

She was very anxious to be on her way. Excited might be an overstatement, but she did have to squelch the urge to smile for prolonged periods.

“He insists, Lady Chester.”

“Oh, bother. Show him to the sitting room and I will be along shortly. See that tea is prepared.”

She climbed the stairs and stopped midway. “Oh, Dove? Where is Mr. Marshall? I don’t recall him telling me he would be gone. Is he visiting his mother?”

“No, Lady Chester. I believe he is in Paris.”

“Paris? Whatever for?”

“I am not privy to his itinerary.”

She nodded, then made her way to the nursery. Chaos spilled out as she walked in. The boys were terrors while they were in London. In the country, she could set them loose to ride, fish and climb trees without a worry. Oh, there were the daily accidents, cuts and bruises, but she never had to deal with their bickering and pent-up juvenile urges. An hour at the park was hardly enough. Bess had her hands full of lively, dangerous boys.

“Mama, when are we leaving?” Evert asked.

“As soon as I take care of some last-minute business. Only then will we load the carriages.”

“Mama, I don’t want to ride with Bess. She makes me read and there is ever so much to see when one rides in a carriage, don’t you think?” Richard asked.

“If I find you are disobeying Bess, you will be walking to Redfield.”

When they traveled, Ember found it was easiest for everyone if they split up the boys. Bess would ride with Evert and Richard, Ember’s oldest and youngest sons. The middle child, Victor, would ride with her where he would be dutifully obedient to his mother without his brothers to harangue.

“Where is Victor?” Ember asked as she glanced around the room. What was he into now?

Bess pointed to the other side of the room where Victor was sprawled on his belly, ordering metal soldiers in what appeared to be a reenactment of Waterloo.

“Victor. Up. Put the soldiers away and take your valise downstairs so it can be loaded into the carriage.”

“We won’t leave for hours yet.”

“ Now. If Bess must come to assist you, I will have those soldiers melted down.”

Victor laughed. “Mama, you say that all the time.”

“This time I mean it. Bess, have the children downstairs promptly at ten. I intend to be on the road before we lose one of the boys.”

Ember stopped a moment in her room to collect her reading book, her current stitchery work and a small leather portmanteau. They were well-provisioned for the journey, including two baskets of food stored in the carriage boot.

“Oh, Lady Chester, it there something I can do for you?” Iris Bidwell asked, just as Ember returned to the room. Iris had been her lady’s maid for seven years and usually rode with Bess when they traveled, both being unmarried and of similar ages.

“No, I just wanted to make sure we hadn’t forgotten anything.”

“I packed everything you asked.”

Ember tried to calm her anxiety. She hadn’t attended a house party alone, that is without Gerald when she was married, or her parents when she was much younger. She would be among friends, those she had known all her life, but there seemed such an opportunity for scandal in the home of Anne VanLandingham, even if she was a duchess.

Again, her anxiety, she thought. Dahlingford was the real worry.

The real scandal.

Near him, she could be calm and disinterested. Away from him and he plagued her thoughts. His suggestions took on a life of their own. She turned them over in her mind, wondering about the possibility. Damn Lady Lindley for not keeping Dahl’s attention.

Not the possibility of his scandalous suggestions, but the improbability they could have something she had thrown away as a young girl. It was a flighty dream. A romantic’s hope.

A lonely woman’s delusion that she could have something without paying the piper. She could give in to him, but his temporary obsession would wane once he realized that part of a liaison held no interest for her.

She knew for certain she could not entertain Dahlingford after a few heated encounters, through which she would have to pretend.

Was she feeding a terrible and dark want? Dahlingford had been her first love. Did she love him still? Yes! Truly. Deeply. Probably forever.

Ember escaped her bedroom and her thoughts. Iris followed, carrying some odds and ends— a parasol, her heavy boots and another hat box.

The vintner, in his brown jacket, gripped a top hat in his hands as he stood before the fireplace.

“Mr. Ellington, isn’t it?” she said. She sounded imperious, perhaps because the wine seller had refused to deal with her hired help. She was also a bit perturbed Marshall wasn’t here to deal with this little interference.

“Yes, Lady Chester, begging your pardon.” He bowed quickly.

“And how may I help you?”

“Again, your pardon, but I am calling in regard to your wine bill. Your Mr. Marshall has put me off long enough. I need to be paid.”

“You are here about a wine bill? And what has Mr. Marshall been telling you?”

“That you would pay in good time.”

She smiled. “There you have it. Rest assured, you will be paid, Mr. Ellington. Now, might I see you to the door?”

The rim of his hat was now crunched between his fingers. “Lady Chester, I haven’t been paid in over two years. The time for payment has come and gone.”

“Two years! There must be some mistake. I will clear it up with Marshall when I return from the country. You have my word on it.”

“I had Mr. Marshall’s word too, begging your pardon.”

“And what do you expect me to do today? I am leaving town. This matter will have to wait until I return. How much do you claim I owe?”

“One hundred, twenty-two pounds, seven pence. I have the receipts for delivery. And I am forced to charge a certain rate of interest to recover my losses.” he said.

Ember’s mouth dropped. “I can assure you, even if you were the most expensive vintner in London, this household couldn’t have possibly used that much wine.”

“I have the receipts,” he said again.

Lud, she did not need this distraction. Marshall had been most reliable. There must be some mistake he could adequately explain were he present.

“Mr. Ellington, would you accept twelve pounds today and I will personally discuss the situation with my man affairs upon my return?” She had exactly twenty pounds in her portmanteau. That was her entire stipend for the month. It was more than enough for their journey and any possible situations that might arise while traveling.

At his hesitation, Ember collected the money, counted out the bills and then pressed them in his hand. “It is the best I can do under short circumstances. And I do promise to resolve this for you.”

He pursued his lips, but accepted the money, shoving it into his coat pocket. “Very well. When might I expect your return?”

“I will be gone for ten days. I will contact you upon my return or shortly thereafter.” Ember still had to locate Mr. Marshall and get him to return to London. If Marshall hadn’t returned by then, she would contact the bank directly. And she really wanted to go on to York. That seemed impossible now.

If Marshall hadn’t returned by then, he’d better have a damned good reason for it.

Dove saw Mr. Ellington out the back door. While he was gone, Ember penned a quick missive Dove could forward to her missing man of affairs. Gerald would never have put up with such professional disregard. She hated to think of asking Robert for assistance with the matter, but she could trust his opinion. If she could tolerate his high-handedness.

In the foyer, a loud commotion ensued as the boys tromped down the stairs, talking non-stop.

She glanced at the clock. Five minutes to spare.

Ember plucked up her hat from the side table. “Boys, are you ready to enjoy the Christmas holiday in Redfield?”

“I thought you might change your mind about attending.” Dahlingford sat astride his horse. He leaned indolently against the horn of his saddle while he watched Ember search about for her sons, who had gone running off the moment they were freed from the carriage.

He’d only had to wait thirty minutes, certain they would make their first stop at the Hammer and Nail, the largest roadside inn along the way. He suspected three rambunctious boys would require several stops to keep the traveling party sane. A few spits of snow had started to fall during the wait which might have contributed to the screaming Boothe banshees terrorizing the inn yard and scaring the chickens.

She saw him immediately. “Dahlingford. What are you doing here?” Ember asked, her face stoic, which must have taken a great deal of effort. She was wrapped in a smart buttoned cloak with a black cashmere ruff around her neck.

“On my way to a country party. I heard the Duchess of Pelham is an extraordinary hostess.”

“Then you ought to be going. It would be a shame if you missed any of the hunting,” she said.

“The hunting won’t start without you. But I wouldn’t mind if it snowed and it kept us all locked up at Redfield for several days.” His hunting had started some days ago, but often the lovely hare was ignorant that the fox was chasing until teeth sank into the back of its neck.

“And I suppose you are waiting for me to extend an invitation to ride with me? I should warn you, I have three unruly boys who would make your life miserable, should that be your aim.”

“I don’t mind. You’ll save me from the biting snow.” He climbed down from the saddle and tied the horse behind one of the carriages. He had no real plan other than to intercept her before she arrived at the house party. Though the gathering was small, getting Ember alone in unfamiliar surroundings would be difficult, especially with three children underfoot. Plus, there were always the gossips ready to tattle about the smallest detail of any house party.

Once the carriages were reloaded, they rolled forward at a snail’s pace, barely bouncing at all on the well-used road.

Trent sat across from Ember, her son by her side. His nose was buried in a book. He paid no attention to the earl, instead the boy ran a coin through his fingers and across his knuckles in a mindless, repetitive task, occasionally turning the book pages.

What Trent wouldn’t give for a son of his own. While he was Evert’s godfather, he did not get to spend enough time with him. His fault entirely.

“I remember how difficult it was to sit in a carriage, expected to obey.” He pointed with his chin toward the boy, then glanced into Ember’s eyes. They were startlingly similar through the chin, nose and brow, traits of the North family.

“He’ll be lost in his book until we arrive. Then I won’t see him for the entirety of the trip.”

“I can hear you, Mother.”

“Ignore me, then,” she said.

He tossed a disgusted glance at his mother, then frowned at Trent. He wasn’t sure whether to engage the boy. Dangerous ground, that. Though it wasn’t his plan to become fast friends with her sons, he also knew that to become their enemy meant never gaining Ember’s trust either.

Waiting was best. Perhaps when he could track down an irascible stallion for them to ride and conquer. That’s how he’d win a boy’s respect, a boy who wanted to be a man. Ember would take him to task if she found out, but it was the sort of scolding he enjoyed.

“How long has it been since you’ve been home, Dahl?”

“Years. A lifetime.”

“It hasn’t changed much at all. A few more threshing machines. A few more children I can’t put a name to, and of course, wrinkles on people whom I thought were my age but appear much older.”

He laughed. “So, the Duchess of Pelham was right. We are of mature years.”

“You will never convince me of such a thing. I can do anything I set my mind to and with the same gusto as—well, I was going to say when half my years, but that rather confirms her point and discredits mine. What do you think of her? The duchess, I mean?”

“She reminds me of you.”

Ember laughed, and her cheeks reddened. “You’ll have to explain. I’ve heard both interesting and shocking things about her. I enjoy being around her and she has the most curious way of understanding people and situations.”

“She is her own woman. I would call her an unrefined jewel.”

She smiled and lifted one shoulder. “Perhaps.”

“As for the other, I think she brought herself from poor means to an exalted position, of which, some are jealous. Don’t listen, Ember. She is a fine woman.”

Their conversation returned to York, of the people and places they knew. Had known.

Rarely had they talked since then . Their ton manners required bows and nods, but intimacy had been out of the question. Intimate conversation, next to impossible. He was rarely at the same places Ember and her husband had frequented. Trent ran into Robert, Lord North, more often, but their conversations never involved the past only the present.

Prior to Trent’s break with Lady Lindley, he’d not given a thought to pursuit of Ember, except right after Gerald’s death. But seeing her—seeing her there, tall and regal. Alone. He’d been stung with the renewed possibilities of his youth.

Time had not mended any of the hurts. Betrayal had been a bitter pill for Ember to swallow—first him, then her best friend in York. God, and Susan. He did not want to explain that ill-advised liaison and neither would Susan. Or more likely, Susan had already whispered the secret to her best friend. Was that why Ember seemed to have a renewed distaste for him?

Well, it wasn’t like he’d planned anything but a seduction of Ember.

Maybe that was his mistake. Yes, definitely a mistake.

“Oh, and did you know the Reverend Goodchild passed away?”

“I hadn’t heard.” Goodchild was another part of that past. He was to officiate at the wedding that wasn’t.

“He was a good man. The boys actually enjoyed his Sunday morning sermons.”

“Not really,” Victor said, without looking up.

Ember and Trent laughed. “Well, you pleased your mother by letting her think so,” she said.

“I wouldn’t want to lie in front of my elders,” Victor answered.

They lapsed into silence. Trent wasn’t ready to push Ember into the conversation they couldn’t have, not in front of her son, who listened intently in spite of his book reading.

The carriages made one more stop before the final push to Redfield, the Duke of Pelham’s principal estate. Trent departed the carriage about two miles from the manor grounds and rode across hill and dale to arrive ahead of Ember and her entourage, including his own carriage that followed about thirty minutes behind.

He allowed Ember to brace against his shoulder as she descended from the carriage. With the boots she wore, she was nearly eye to eye with him, and their gazes locked. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the glove covering her skin.

There was nothing vital to say, not when the doors to the large home would be pushed open any second, so he whispered, “I haven’t forgotten us.”