Chapter 3

Three

A ll the guests had arrived, including her extra-special invitees—those summoned for reasons beyond a mere Christmastide house party. The next fortnight would be filled with merriment, games, and tricks…with a touch of revenge sprinkled in for good measure. Today, she was planting seeds and gathering conspirators—albeit unknowingly. They would agree to little favors without even realizing what she had asked of them. If all went well, they had soon be acting on her behalf.

She strolled into the parlor, ostensibly for games—the official reason for the gathering. But she had other diversions in mind, and none involved cards. Emma glanced around, searching for her first target, er, guest. Spotting Viscount Clouston alone, she grinned. Perfect. She navigated through the guests, then pretended to stumble, letting him reach out to steady her.

“Pardon me, my lord,” she said, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes. The viscount had sandy-brown hair and eyes that matched. Ordinarily, such coloring might seem dull, but on him, it added to his allure. He had been one of the gentlemen who had caught her eye at her debut. His high cheekbones and full, very kissable lips framed his striking brown eyes, giving him a dreamy, almost poetic look. “I do not know what happened.”

“I am certain the fault was mine,” he replied earnestly, though she doubted he believed it. “Are you all right?” She nearly sighed. He truly was a gorgeous man, though she also knew he could be cruel; she had felt that sting firsthand.

“I assure you, my lord,” she replied with a coy smile, “it was a mere moment of clumsiness. Something must have caught me off balance, that is all.”

“Then allow me to escort you around the room,” he suggested, his lip curving into a decadent smile. “It would ease my mind to be near, should you take another tumble.” The expression only enhanced his appeal. It might have sent a lesser woman’s heart aflutter, but Emma was made of sterner stuff. She had plans for this man, and they had nothing to do with seduction. At least, not her own.

“I could not possibly ask that of you,” she demurred, giving a shy smile. As a confirmed wallflower, she wasn’t supposed to possess any charms, and she played into Lord Clouston’s expectations.

“I insist,” he said. “It is the duty of a gentleman.” If he were a woman, he might have fluttered those perfect lashes coquettishly.

“Very well,” she agreed softly. “I suppose it would not hurt to have a gentleman such as you by my side.”

He fell into step beside her as they made their way through the room. She said nothing at first, letting him grow comfortable in her presence. She matched her tone and manner to his, mirroring his actions until he began to see her as someone familiar, someone he could trust. Only then would she begin the rest.

They reached the far side of the room, stopping by a group of gentlemen engaged in whist. Clouston frowned as he met the gaze of another player. “I say, Marlinton,” he began. “Should you really be playing whist? You are dreadful at it.”

The Earl of Marlinton rolled his eyes. “Not that dreadful, I assure you. Honestly, Clouston, you are supposed to be a friend and support me in my endeavors.” Where Clouston was dark and brooding, Marlinton looked like a golden god, with blond hair that gleamed as though kissed by the sun, and eyes so blue they reminded Emma of the Serpentine on a hot summer’s day. They were inseparable, and wherever one was, the other was never far behind.

“I am a friend,” Clouston replied with a laugh. “Which is why I am reminding you of your limitations.”

Emma patted his arm playfully. “You are a true friend, my lord.” She turned to Marlinton. “You should heed his advice.”

Marlinton narrowed his gaze. “And who the devil are you?” Where Clouston acted the gentleman, Marlinton was all bluntness, a pretty face with a streak of impertinence.

“Surely you remember Miss Emma Collins,” Clouston chided his friend.

Emma held back a grin. Everything was falling into place. Both gentlemen would soon be playing their parts, though neither would realize it. She was in no hurry; this was a long game, and she had no intention of rushing her plans.

“Miss Collins?” Marlinton tilted his head thoughtfully. “Yes, I believe I do.” He didn’t remember her, of course. The only reason Clouston did was because her brother hosted the party.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, my lord.” She smiled at him with a touch of mischief. Knowing Marlinton’s preference for the bold, she allowed her teeth to graze her bottom lip as she gazed at him—a carefully crafted blend of sin and innocence. She knew her targets and wanted them willingly compliant. They were not her true enemies, after all. They were merely pawns in a game where she was the queen, and by the end of this house party, they would unknowingly help her topple her adversaries.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Marlinton said, setting his cards down. “Surely there is something more diverting to be found than this?”

“I would not know,” she replied, casting her gaze about the room. “I did promise Lady Harcrest I would help with the parlor games.”

“But what fun is that?” Marlinton leaned in, meeting her gaze with a daring glint. “Let’s find something more entertaining. ”

Feigning hesitation, she glanced at Clouston. “Shall you join us, then?”

“Of course,” he replied, smiling. “I promised to remain by your side.”

Excellent. She had both gentlemen exactly where she wanted them, and her games were only beginning. The urge to rub her hands together with glee overcame her and she barely suppressed the need to give in to it. But she managed. She would not do anything to destroy the carefully laid plans she had made. This was far too important for her to ruin it all now with her overeagerness.

Blake watched Emma as she moved through the room, a calculating look in his eye. She likely didn’t know what game she was playing, but he’d wager his entire unentailed inheritance that those two gentlemen hadn’t the faintest idea she was leading them around like children still in leading strings. Fools. He sat in the corner, sipping his brandy, though he’d rather be anywhere else. Perhaps he should find Castlebury and challenge him to a game of billiards. But, of course, the duke was absent from the afternoon’s entertainment; parlor games were far too tame for men like them. At his own house parties, his sister Victoria handled the arrangements, and he remained as uninvolved as possible. He hadn’t wanted those gatherings in the first place.

Emma left the room with her two admirers. Wasn’t she supposed to be a wallflower? How had she captivated those two sops so effectively? Blake narrowed his gaze. They looked positively besotted. Something wasn’t right. He drained his brandy, setting the glass down with purpose, and decided to follow them to see what she was up to. Blake still thought there was something unusual about these so-called wallflowers. Watching Emma now, he had to wonder why she’d ever been one.

He hadn’t paid her much attention before. It had nothing to do with her; Blake rarely looked twice at innocent young ladies on the marriage hunt, as he had no intention of marrying. But now that he did notice her, he was struck by her beauty. Golden blonde hair, striking blue eyes, a delicate, heart-shaped face—all paired with sinfully pouty lips. She looked like an angel descended from the heavens for the sole purpose of temptation. If she weren’t Harcrest’s sister—and an innocent—he’ d find out if she was as wicked as she appeared. Hell, he might do it anyway.

He kept a leisurely pace as he followed them, catching snippets of their conversation and nearly laughing aloud. She played them both with effortless ease, and neither seemed to realize it. She led them to the game room, which, thankfully, was empty. “Here you go, my lords,” she said. “You can play billiards in here.”

“We could,” they replied in unison, “but what will you do?”

“I can sit over there and watch,” she replied with an innocent tone. “I’m not much for games. But if you need anything, I’ll be here.”

The two men collected their cue sticks and set up the game, and Blake strolled in moments later. “Ah,” he said, “I missed a chance to join.”

“You can play the winner, my lord,” Emma suggested, narrowing her gaze at him. Was she already sizing him up, too? She was in for a surprise.

“I’ll just have a drink and watch,” he replied, moving to the bar. On impulse, he poured a second glass and brought it over to her.

She looked at the glass, then at him. “I don’t…”

“Take the drink, Miss Collins,” he urged. “I think you’ve earned it. ”

Tentatively, she took it. “And why, may I ask, have I earned it?” She arched a brow.

He settled into the seat next to her. “I must say, I’m surprised at how easily you have them wrapped around your finger,” Blake said, taking a sip of his own brandy. “Those two are not usually so easily led.”

Turning away, she replied, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He raised his glass in the direction of the two men playing billiards. “They’re not naive, yet you have them behaving like schoolboys.” Blake gave her a pointed look. “What’s your secret?”

Emma brought her glass of brandy to her lips and took a tentative sip. Blake smothered a smirk as she grimaced. “This is dreadful.”

“It does have a certain burn,” he replied with a smile. “I thought you might appreciate it.” He noted how she ignored his question but let it pass for now.

She took another sip, then another, before licking her lips. Blake’s pulse quickened. Those lips were truly divine, and he wanted nothing more than to taste them. “It’s growing on me,” she admitted.

“It does that,” he agreed, his mouth curving into a wicked smile. “Many things do. ”

“Why are you here?” she asked, watching him carefully.

“At the manor or in this room?” he countered, suspecting which she meant but wanting her to be direct.

“This room,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I know why you’re at the manor; I wrote the invitations myself. If I didn’t know who was on the guest list, I’d be a fool.”

That was interesting—he hadn’t realized Lady Harcrest hadn’t written them herself. “I’m here,” he said, “to discover what scheme you’re plotting.” He emptied his glass. “Because I’ve no doubt that there is one.”

“Even if there were,” she replied, “it’s none of your concern.”

“That may be true,” he conceded, “but I’ll still uncover it. I don’t like secrets.”

She sighed. “What will it take to make you go away?”

Blake considered. She wasn’t about to let him in on her secrets willingly. But perhaps he could entice her into a game of his own. “How about a wager?”

“A wager?” She frowned. “On what, precisely?”

“I want to know what this is all about.” He gestured toward the earl and the viscount, who hadn’t even acknowledged him upon entering. They were that engrossed in their game. “If I discover what you’re plotting, I win.”

“And if you don’t—then I win?” she finished.

“Exactly,” he said with a grin. “Now finish your brandy, love. It’s a shame to waste good spirits.”

She shot him a glare. “And if you win, what is it you want from me?”

Blake’s mind conjured a tempting image: her, naked and bound to his bed, where he could explore every inch of her flawless skin and hear her moan under his ministrations. But that was too much to ask outright. She’d never agree. “Let’s keep it simple,” he said. “The winner receives a boon of their choosing from the other.”

“I won’t allow you to seduce me,” she warned, eyes narrowed.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning close so only she could hear, “I wouldn’t need a wager to seduce you. You’d be in my bed before you even realized it.” He straightened, lifting a brow. “So, do we have a wager? Or should I take my suspicions to your brother?”

“All right,” she agreed with a sigh. “You have your wager.”

“Excellent,” he replied, winking as he stood. “I’ll leave you to your eager suitors. Happy scheming, love.”

Blake left her in the game room. He’d discover her secrets soon enough. For now, he had all he needed, and for the first time, he felt himself enjoying this house party—all because of one little vixen he was determined to kiss before the fortnight was over.