Chapter 18

CHAPTER18

“Has anyone seen Snowy?” Emma gasped, running into the breakfast room.

The others looked up from their plates and newspapers. In a split-second, Emma counted Marina, Jasper, Eliza, Augusta, and Nora. No Silas and no valet. She had more or less expected that, after last night’s peculiarities.

“Is he not in the kitchens?” Augusta asked, her eyes pinching. “That is where he is supposed to be, is he not?”

Emma grimaced. After her strange experience in Silas’s bedchamber, she had needed immediate comfort, and could think of nothing better than cuddling a warm, fluffy pup. To her shame, but not her regret, she had stolen downstairs and snatched the puppy, taking him back to her chambers.

But she had slept late, due to the disturbance, and when she had finally awoken, Snowy was nowhere to be found. There had been a yellow puddle by the partially open door, a clear signal that the puppy had gone adventuring.

“He is quite the trickster,” Emma said with a hollow laugh. “He seems to have grown bored and escaped, but I know he is still in the house somewhere.”

Augusta nodded. “And how, pray tell, do you know that?”

“He is leaving something of a… um… trail,” Emma replied, “but every time I find the next one, I am too late.”

Augusta pulled a face. “Oh dear.”

“His Grace is not going to like that!” Eliza interjected, howling with laughter.

“What is His Grace not going to like? I do hope it is something terribly amusing,” an unfamiliar voice asked from behind Emma.

She whirled around in fright, blinking up at an equally unfamiliar face. A handsome face. Where Silas was dark and brooding, this young gentleman was fair and friendly, with a bright smile—the kind that Silas would never have given, even under duress—already lighting up his face.

He was almost as tall as Silas, and only marginally less broad in the shoulders, with a mane of wavy, golden hair that was cut in the latest fashion, sweeping back to the nape of his neck. Not long and wild like Silas’s. And his eyes were more a light, golden brown, warm and glittering with good cheer.

“Lady Emma has brought a puppy into the house, which she has now lost, or so it would appear,” Augusta remarked. “I imagine it happened when she stole the puppy away in the night, though she was given strict instructions to leave it in the kitchens.”

Emma cringed. “I thought I heard him barking and did not want him to disturb anyone’s slumber.”

“Yes, and I am the Queen of Denmark,” Augusta muttered, chuckling.

The golden man offered his hand. “Lady Emma?”

Emma nodded shyly, putting her hand in his.

“I am Lord Luke Arnold,” he said, smiling as he placed a kiss on her hand. “Now, I must have some coddled eggs and you, Lady Emma, must tell me all about this puppy. Did you bash my brother on the head?”

Emma blinked. “Your brother?”

“His Grace.” Luke winked.

She understood immediately. “What? Goodness, no!”

“Ah, then you shall have to explain to me how on earth you managed to convince him to allow a puppy into the manor,” Luke said, laughing. “Mother, is that not an abject miracle?”

Augusta tilted her head from side to side. “Now that you mention it, I suppose it is.” She suddenly beamed, nodding approvingly at the sight of Luke holding Emma’s hand. “This is the son that I was telling you about! He was supposed to be in London for a few more days, but the dear thing decided to surprise us by returning early!”

“Heavens, I hope she did not say too many things about me,” Luke whispered conspiratorially.

Augusta waved the comment away. “You would have met one another at the opera anyway, but this is better. Now, you will have more time to become acquainted.”

You are a very interesting mother, Augusta. Emma held her tongue, but continued to wonder why Augusta was trying to throw her toward Luke instead of Silas. It was blatantly obvious that Luke needed no assistance in finding a bride, pretend or otherwise, whereas Silas was a… more acquired taste.

One that Emma was becoming partial to.

“Actually, I returned for you, Lady Emma,” Luke said.

Shock ricocheted through her, her hand jolting against his. “For me? But… you do not know me.”

Luke smiled and produced a letter from his pocket. “This was given to me while I was in London. I encountered a gentleman who I believe you might know. When we were introduced, he insisted on writing this, and having me bring it to the manor as soon as possible.” His smile widened, eyes twinkling. “I was so curious that I decided to cut my excursion short and return. I cannot say I am sorry that I did.”

Emma’s heart leaped into her throat. She would have known that handwriting anywhere, though she frowned at the name on the front; it was not addressed to her, but to the duke.

“Would you mind if I took it to your brother?” she said.

Luke seemed disappointed, his smile fading and relighting in a matter of seconds. “Certainly. You shall save me an unpleasantness that I am far too tired to endure.” He passed her the letter. “I am in your debt, Lady Emma.”

“Goodness, do not say that,” she blurted out, for she was at her wit’s end with debts and things owed.

He frowned at her.

“What I mean is, it is no trouble,” she hastened to add, putting on a smile. “I would be happy to bear that burden for you. Do you and your brother not possess a friendly relationship?”

Luke chuckled. “We do when he chooses, but I often fear that I am a burden in his mind. Perhaps, I shall tell you more when you have returned from your errand.” He gestured out of the breakfast room windows. “We could wander in the gardens, if you are not averse to the notion?”

“I should like that,” Emma said, meaning it.

After all, Silas was so tight-lipped and aloof that he was not going to be the one to reveal his own secrets. Certainly, not after what she had witnessed last night.

“I will not be a moment,” she promised, heading out of the room with the letter gripped in her hand.

Have you decided to forgive me, Father? She contemplated opening the letter herself, but she could not do it. Whatever her fate might be, it was not addressed to her; rather, it was in Silas’s hands now.

* * *

“Is it nae too early for that?” Duncan asked from the window of Silas’s study, while Silas poured a hearty measure of whiskey.

“I thought you Scotsmen all had whiskey for your breakfast?” Silas retorted.

He knew he was being foul. The nightmare had soured any hope of a cheery morning, as had the fitful tossing and turning that had followed, robbing him of any hope of actual sleep. Just closing his eyes had brought back flashes of Emma being snatched away by tendrils of shadow, filling his skull with that piercing, chilling scream.

Duncan shrugged. “Well, I daenae usually, but I’ll have one if ye’re already pourin’.”

He came to sit in the chair opposite Silas, the two men pensively sipping their whiskey, not talking much. There was nothing to say. Duncan knew the cause of the nightmares, Silas knew nothing could stop them invading his peace, and though Emma’s appearance had been a new twist—both in reality and in the dark dream—it was not something he wished to discuss.

“I thought I might ride up to Scotland in the comin’ weeks,” Duncan said, after ten minutes had gone by in silence. “Search the keep again. Ask at the village again. See if there’s aught we missed.”

Silas peered over the rim of his glass. “Missed the last five times we did just that?”

“Ye said we had to catch the bastard, Silas,” Duncan remarked. “What else would ye suggest?”

Silas clicked his tongue. “That scream keeps bothering me.” He hesitated. “The wretch who captured me was undoubtedly a man, but… that scream. It was a woman. I heard it. I know I did. If I had not, I would not have run toward it. And the message that sent me out to those woods had a distinctly feminine hand. That is something we have missed before, Duncan. Who screamed?”

“An accomplice, ye think?”

Silas shrugged. “If so, she must have hated me very much.”

“Do ye have a list of lasses that might have hated ye that much?” Duncan asked, understanding immediately.

“I will write one, but it might be rather long,” Silas replied wryly. “Still, it is a start we have not had before.”

Duncan nodded. “Why have ye nae considered it before, if I may be so bold?”

“For all this time, I suppose I just thought that the scream was conjured by the kidnapper, manipulating his voice into a higher pitch. Now, I know it was a woman. I am convinced.” Silas shook his head, gulping down a mouthful of the harsh liquor. “Last night convinced⁠—”

He froze as a strange sound filled the room: the trickle of running water. A sour smell rose up from beneath the wide mahogany desk. His nose crinkled, eyes blinking in revulsion.

“What the devil?” he rasped, ducking underneath the desk.

There, panting quite happily, one leg cocked against Silas’s boot, was that blasted puppy. A puddle now surrounded the sole of Silas’s shoe.

“You little scoundrel!” Silas growled, swiping the puppy up. “The wretched thing has soaked my boot!”

Duncan pressed his lips tightly together. His shoulders shook as he glanced under the desk, then back at the puppy that Silas was now holding out at arm’s length. A moment later, he burst out laughing. “I think that means he likes ye, Silas!”

“I think this means that my darling betrothed is about to get a sharp smack on the rear! I told her! I said if I found one speck of mess, this pup would go back in the thorn bush where she found it!” Silas shot back, getting to his feet.

He shook his boot, grimacing, and headed for the door. He had planned to avoid Emma that day, considering what she had seen last night, but an explosion of anger might work in his favor. It was an easier emotion to wrangle than whatever her presence in his bedchamber, and the worried expression on her face that he could not forget, had done to him.

With the puppy tucked under his arm, he wrenched open the study door… and an unexpected figure began to fall toward him, over the threshold. Her hand was raised, as if she had been about to knock.

Instinct swept away his anger, his free hand shooting forward. As his arm slid around her waist to steady her, his body went with the motion, until they were pressed close in a surprise embrace, the puppy wriggling between them. The impudent thing had the nerve to lick his face, tail wagging furiously.

“That is quite enough of that,” he muttered.

Behind him, Duncan was still laughing.

“I… was just coming to find my darling Snowy!” Emma said abruptly, retrieving the puppy from Silas’s arms. She stepped backward, taking herself out of Silas’s arms too.

“He should not have been in here in the first place,” Silas scolded. “I do not know how the little beast managed it, but he has chosen to use my boot as his⁠—”

“A letter came for you,” Emma interrupted. “Your brother took receipt of it from my father and I, in turn, have brought it to you.”

Silas halted. “When did you meet my brother?”

“Just now. He returned early.” Emma handed him the letter, as Snowy strained forward, attempting to bite it.

All of the bluster went out of Silas as he took the letter and opened it, Emma’s intense gaze fixed upon it as he read. The note was short and rather brusque, which Silas did not appreciate, but he could understand the older man’s reasoning:

Your Grace,

I have recently received the news that you have proposed marriage to my eldest daughter or intend to. My informant was not clear in that regard. Nevertheless, I expect you to visit my residence as soon as possible, to officially ask for her hand from the only one who can give it—me. By the end of the week will suffice.

Yours sincerely,

James Bennet, the Earl of Lambert.

Voice dripping with irritation, Silas repeated the content of the letter to Emma.

A strange, strangled sound left her throat. “Oh goodness.”

“I will tend to it,” Silas replied, shrugging. “Meanwhile, you ought to tend to this furry miscreant. If I find it where it should not be again, it will live outside, and I will have no further arguments from you about it.”

Emma covered the puppy’s floppy ears. “He does not mean it.”

“I do.” Silas sniffed. “Now that is settled, please leave. I have important matters to contend with, and your father’s letter has added one more to the pile.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “You should stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He pulled a face as the puppy tried to strain toward him, whimpering.

“Sending me away,” Emma replied, her voice catching.

Silas stiffened, blinking at her as if he did not understand what she had just said. Determination flared in her eyes, while she settled Snowy onto her shoulder and rested her cheek against his furry head. He settled instantly. And Silas had to wonder what she might have done to calm him, if he had allowed her to stay last night.

Indeed, if Duncan had not been there, if Emma had been the only one to run to the sound of his torment, would he have asked her to stay? What if she had been the one on the bed, her hands on his shoulders, shaking him awake? The relief of seeing her safe and well, right before him, might have made him do something they would have both regretted in the morning.

“I will not ask again,” he growled, reining himself in. “And take the little beast with you. Far from my sight. Both of you—go.”

Until the memory of his nightmare faded, he could no longer trust himself in her company.