Chapter 4

Four

E mma had plans. Big plans. And that blasted Marquess of Ardmore was not going to interrupt them. She gnashed her teeth together in frustration. How dare he insinuate himself into her plans. She had depended upon no one noticing what she did. As a wallflower, she should have been able to depend upon that. That sneaky interfering man would rue the day he decided to pry into her activities. It didn’t matter if she found him the most arrestingly gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

She had thought that Clouston and Marlinton had been attractive, and they were, however, they had nothing on the marquess. It was his eyes that did it for her. They were golden and seductive, and she could easily become lost in them. But it was more than that. He had broad shoulders, and when she was near him, she wanted to beg him to pull her into his arms. Emma had never desired a man more. But like all the gentlemen she’d ever met, the marquess hadn’t noticed her. One of the most notorious rogues in the ton, and she was beneath him. Until now. Now he saw her. Right when she didn’t want him to, he decided to become embroiled in her life.

It was enough to make her wonder what deity she’d angered to have fate decide to curse her. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she had a plan. A good one. It was already in progress. She walked into the breakfast room and made sure she had a welcoming smile on her face. Her facade had to remain in place. It wouldn’t do for them to look too closely at her. All of the guests she had plans for were there. Perfect.

Lord Clouston rose and approached her. He was as handsome as she remembered, but he no longer stirred anything within her. Emma held back a sigh. “Miss Collins,” he greeted her. “Would you care to sit with me?”

Her first response was to say no. But he didn’t. Instead, she grinned. “I would love to,” she said in a friendly tone. “I see Lord Marlinton is already here as well.” Emma nodded in his direction. She wanted to demand that they join him, but then Lord Clouston would realize that she was no longer following his dictates and suggestions. It had to come from him. She glanced at him and lowered her lashes submissively.

“Yes,” Lord Clouston said. “He is.” He smiled down at her. “Would you like me to fix you a plate?”

Emma could fix her own plate. She knew what she liked. “Of course, my lord. I’d like that.” She mirrored his movements and spoke in the same tone of voice. It lulled him into compliance. The man didn’t even realize that he was doing as she wished. Hmmm. All those books she’d read about this type of mind tricks were accurate so far.

“My lord,” she began. “I was wondering if I could ask a favor from you.”

“Of course,” he said.

That easily… What if she asked him to go for a walk off the nearest cliff? What a simpleton. “Would you be a dear and give me an extra sausage?” She gestured toward her plate. “I so adore sausages.”

He chuckled and put another sausage on her plate. They moved down the buffet. She placed a hand on his arm. “My apologies, my lord.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “But would it be too much to ask if you went back for one more sausage?”

“One more?” He lifted a brow. There were already three on her plate. She really didn’t like sausage that much. This was a test to see how much he would be willing to do for her. When the next part of her plan moved forward, she had to know what he might or might not do, and this was a simple request. “I do not see why not.” He left her and went and retrieved another sausage for her.

“Thank you so much, my lord. You are a dear for indulging my request.” She smiled as he led her over to the table. She stumbled and he reached out to help her and the plate tipped, with two of the sausages falling to the floor.

He frowned, his gaze fixed on the floor. The crestfallen look on his face was almost endearing. She should take pity on him, but she wouldn’t. “Oh, dear…” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “I so wanted those sausages.”

She didn’t even have to make the request. The poor sod just walked away and went back to the buffet. He even put a couple of additional sausages on the plate. Perfect. He came back and set the plate down, then pulled her chair out for her. “Thank you, my lord.” She would never be able to eat all the food on the plate.

“Miss Collins,” Lord Marlinton greeted her. “Would you be interested in a walk in the conservatory with us later?”

Emma had something else in mind. “I thought perhaps we could do something a little more entertaining.”

“Oh?” Lord Clouston said. “What would that be?”

“We had a lovely bit of snow fall overnight.” That was a welcome surprise and had given her this idea. “Wouldn’t it be delightful to have a snowball fight?”

“A what?” Lord Marlinton tilted his head to side.

“If a few of the gentlemen wouldn’t mind making the preparations.” She glanced downward. “We could divide into teams.”

“Teams?” Lord Clouston said.

She sensed she was losing them. “Yes, my lord, teams. We could have…flags of some sort. The objective is to collect the other team’s flag and be declared the winner.”

“What would the gentlemen need to do?” Lord Marlinton asked.

“Oh, you know, create the snowballs of course. We will need to be able to act quickly and sometimes stopping to create our ammunition will be time consuming. It will be beneficial, don’t you think, for us to have an armory for each team already built?”

They both stared at her as if she had lost her mind. Perhaps she had pushed them too far. Had she overplayed her hand?

“That is rather ingenious,” another man said. “I’ll even help build the armory.” She glanced up and met the Marquess of Ardmore’s gaze. “On one condition.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “And what is that, my lord?”

Emma was almost terrified of what his answer would be, but she had to ask. Those golden eyes of his kept her mesmerized and she was lost to them.

Blake had never been more intrigued. What would this delightful wallflower gain by organizing a snowball fight, of all things? It would definitely keep the guests entertained. How would they determine the winner? Other than capturing the other team’s flag, that is. There had to be rules, and he would just bet the devious minx had something specific in mind.

But that was something he’d find out soon enough. First, he had to insert himself into her little plot. How else was he to discover the master plan? “I must be on the same team as you love,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to break any of the rules you set.”

She narrowed her gaze on him. Lord, she was lovely, especially when she wanted to say something she knew she shouldn’t. Emma gritted her teeth, and then her lips tilted upward into a devastating smile. It hit him right in the gut like a punch he couldn’t block. “Of course, my lord,” she said in a tone that was all sweet and compliant. As if she’d do anything she asked of him. He knew better. This woman was too clever by far and would never be led around like a willing slave. That was one of the things he liked about her.

“Then it’s settled,” he said in a firm tone. “I’ll gather some of the gentlemen,” he motioned toward the two fools she’d been manipulating. “Along with those two. Once we have the armories built, we can gather the rest of the guests to form teams.” He rubbed his hands together in glee. “This is going to be fun. ”

"What will be fun?” came the voice of a lady from across the room

Blake turned and frowned. He didn’t recognize her. Hell, he didn’t know any of the ladies that were looking for a husband, and he didn’t want to become acquainted with this one either. This lady was a petite blonde, with bright blue eyes. She wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Emma. She seemed more…cold. Emma had more fire and would be far more passionate in bed. This chit—she’d be like sleeping with a block of ice. Blake had bedded enough women to recognize that in her.

“A snowball fight,” he told her. Then he smiled. She blinked at him several times. “Would you like to join us later this afternoon for the upcoming battle?”

“I don’t know…” She glanced at her friend. Blake followed her gaze. This girl was taller, but much plainer. She had dull brown hair and light brown eyes—almost mousy in appearance. But she had an air about her, a haughtiness that was unmistakable. Blake didn’t like her and he couldn’t quite explain why. “What do you think?”

“Yes,” Emma said. “What do you think, Miss Smythe? ”

Interesting… Emma didn’t like these two. “Please say you’ll join us,” he said to the two ladies.

“I suppose we can,” Miss Smythe said.

“Wonderful,” Emma said. She was irritated, but she hid it well. He was starting to recognize her expressions.

“Pardon me,” he said. “But I don’t believe we are acquainted.” Blake tilted his lips into one of his wicked smiles. “I am Lord Ardmore.”

“I’m aware of who you are,” the lady said. She smiled back at him with interest. He’d have to stop being so charming less the chit got ideas. Ones he did not wish her to have. Blake had no interest in her. “I am Lady Arabella Jones.” She batted her eyelashes at her. “My father is the Earl of Galeton.”

As if that mattered. It didn’t. “Is he now?” He focused on the other girl. “And you’re Miss Smythe?”

“I am,” she said stiffly. Ah. This one couldn’t be charmed. “I am Miss Harriett Smythe.”

“And your father is?” Blake lifted a brow. The other girl had thought it important. Why had this one not offered up the information?

“Viscount Edmonton,” she said stiffly.

Ah. Her father was quite wealthy. Why was she reluctant to admit that connection? Had she been hounded by fortune hunters? Most likely. “I’m not acquainted with either of them.” He knew both well, but he wouldn’t admit as much. “Anyway…” He focused his attention back on Emma. “I believe me and the other gentlemen have a task to complete.”

You do,' Emma replied, her glare now fixed on him. His little minx hadn’t liked the attention he’d paid to the other two ladies. The more he learned, the more intrigued he became. “We will go over our rules once each fort is built properly. I look forward to the upcoming skirmish.”

“I do as well.” He held her gaze. Neither of them were speaking about the snowball fight. This was the battle brewing between them. So far he didn’t know what she had planned, but he had a feeling he now knew who she was plotting against. Each conversation brought a little more information his way, and Blake fully intended to win their wager. He even had an idea of what he would ask from her when he won. “Until later, my lady.” He bowed to her. Then he turned toward the other two gentlemen. “Shall we?”

They groaned but rose to their feet and followed him out of the breakfast room. After a few hours outdoors, everything would be ready. Blake had some plans of his own during this snowball fight, and all of them involved getting Miss Emma Collins alone for something a little wicked.