Chapter 24

After spending the night at the Sunton estate, Emmeline and Adam set out for his country estate in her father's carriage—one which Adam would return as soon as they arrived. The necessity for this generosity rankled, but he had ridden there as fast as he could, with no thought to the return journey, and the most expedient method of returning with Emmeline was to accept her father's generosity.

The need for speed was encouraged by the resolution they had come to the night prior. Before they could return to their life, they needed to learn once and for all what happened to William. Only then could they find a modicum of peace.

Emmeline reached across the carriage and took his hand in both of hers. "I know how much this must be affecting you," she said softly.

After inviting him inside and introducing him, once again and properly, to her mother and sister, they had the opportunity for little conversation, and he didn't dare speak of his suspicions about Nicholas, or even the true reason he and Emmeline had briefly separated. From what she had intimated, her family had not believed her, either.

Now she was here, sitting opposite him, more lovely than ever, and the only thing he could do was thank his lucky stars again and again that she had agreed to forgive him.

He loved her.

The realization had dawned on him so gradually that when he finally understood what this pain of missing her meant, he no longer had it in him to doubt.

He loved her.

And although she had not said it back again, he read it in her eyes, in her smile, and in the soft way she still held his hand.

He was the luckiest man on earth, and he would never again do anything to compromise that happiness. At least with her. The thought of what Nicholas might have done—that level of betrayal—was enough to chill him to the bone.

"I suppose it is," he said, turning his fingers and lacing them through hers. "Though I'm relieved to have you back, wife."

"Well, I'm relieved you saw sense and apologized, husband." Her small laugh was warm, and her fingers wrapped around his hand, so small and pale. "I thought I would have to live in my father's house forever."

"And the idea was unpalatable?"

"It was when I considered precisely what I was missing out on." She tilted her head. "You know, I used to be content with it."

"Living in your father's house?" he asked, mesmerized by the movement of her soft, pink lips.

"Living with my mother and my father. Aurelia is a dear, and I will miss her."

"You are close," he observed.

That had been evident from the beginning when she had volunteered to take her sister's place.

"Closer than I could have imagined being with anyone."

The coy glance she gave him implied that no longer was true, and he gave her a mystified smile, because it hardly seemed possible that this wonderful, beautiful woman could hold him in such high regard.

If he had his entire life to make it up to her, it would not be enough time.

"How much did you miss me?" she asked coyly.

"More than you could possibly imagine," he said immediately. There was no pride to be won here. "More than I ever thought I could miss another person."

Another person who wasn't his mother or brother, both of whom he would never see again. That was a different kind of ache.

She smiled as she slid closer, slipping onto his lap and pushing her skirts to one side. Her breath was warm and sweet against his lips, and even without more than a simple touch, he already ached from wanting her.

If it was not wildly impractical, he would take her here. Damn, he desperately wanted to lift her skirts and sink deep inside her, to see her become his. A primal urge to hold her throat until her eyes rolled back in pleasure and she told him that she belonged to him.

His blood thrummed at the thought.

"Kiss me," she murmured, and he did not wait a moment before obliging her.

Her lips were soft under his, parting on an exhale, and although he had intended to be tender and show her precisely how much she meant to him, his body took control, and he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding possessively to the nape of her neck as he tilted her head and held her in place.

She moaned, clinging to his shoulders, and he reached past her to draw the curtains.

"I love you," he told her as he kissed up her jaw, finding the delicate skin below her ear and grazing it with his teeth. She shivered. "My wife."

"Yours," she whispered.

"When this is over, I will show you precisely how you are mine."

She shifted her hips, pressing against his arousal, and he growled in frustration that he couldn't have her now.

"I do not want to wait," she said, baring her throat to him. "Adam… I do not want to wait."

"Tonight," he said hoarsely, though already his hand was sliding up her side, finding its way to her breast and circling the hardening nipple he could already feel through her clothes. "We'll get rooms and?—"

"I don't want to wait," she repeated, grinding against him. He could not remember the last time he was so aroused. "Please, Adam."

When she begged like that, he could refuse her nothing.

"Very well," he said, bringing her mouth back to his. Because he, too, could hardly bear to wait.

* * *

They stopped at a small inn along the main North Road, spending the night together before continuing south. The journey was long, but they found plenty to talk about, especially Nicholas. Adam was at first reluctant to talk about him, but Emmeline eased him into it, slowly but surely.

There was nothing she didn't want to know about him, this man who had infiltrated her husband's life and potentially betrayed him. This man who had pushed her down the stairs so coldly.

She believed—and it was clear Adam did too, even if he denied it—that there was some genuine affection between them. Nicholas had maintained a friendship with Adam even after William, the brother he was closest to, had died.

And Emmeline had been there while the gentlemen spoke and smoked together. She saw the way they smiled, how their opinions aligned on so many topics, and how they came to ask each other for advice on a myriad of things.

If Nicholas had no interest in friendship, she was certain he would not have pursued it the way he did.

But there was also something else going on.

"Perhaps it was an accident," she suggested as they drew closer to home.

Adam's eyes barely flickered. "An accident?"

"Perhaps Nicholas killed your brother by accident."

This time, Adam flinched. Even the idea of it was painful, after all this time. She squeezed the hand she had in her lap, her thumb stroking the back of his hand.

"If that is so…" He sighed. "Well, I suppose we can rule nothing out. But why is he still creeping around the house?"

"It could be any number of reasons." Emmeline chewed on her lip. "Or perhaps it was some conspiracy to remove him from his position and rank."

"But what would be the purpose," Adam asked, "knowing that I would come back to inherit the title? And it is not as though Nicholas has made any attempts on my life."

No, and whatever his business was, it was clandestine enough.

Emmeline couldn't be certain, but she suspected that Nicholas would never have laid a finger on her if she had not discovered him in the east wing. Out of all the times she had met him, he had only ever been polite and deferential, showing her respect as the wife of his good friend. Nothing about his behavior had alerted her as to any nefarious nature or intentions.

Thus, she concluded that if he had harmed William, it had likely been an accident.

"Perhaps a blackmail gone wrong?" she suggested. "You said your brother had several debts."

"That I inherited," Adam muttered and shook his head. "If that were the case, and my brother would never stoop so low, he would not blackmail Nicholas. He was not quite so encumbered as we found ourselves to be, but he was certainly not as wealthy as many of our peers."

"Such as my father," she murmured wryly, thinking of everything he had done to secure their fortune. "So no blackmail?"

"I think it unlikely." Adam sighed and brought her hand to his lips. "We will only know for certain if we find evidence of wrongdoing."

"And you're certain he's in London?"

"We'll find out when we get there."

Adam stared out the window, lost in thought. She could only imagine what he was going through, facing the betrayal of his best friend, and now contemplating doing the same thing to him. They were going to sneak into Nicholas's house and search through his drawers for any evidence that supported their theories.

The chance that they wouldn't find anything was a distinct possibility, but they had to try something. Emmeline wouldn't let this slide. Adam was on her side again, and together they could conquer anything. All they had to do was believe that they could.

Adam had done everything he could to get to the bottom of this, and she would endeavor to ensure that he succeeded.

But although she knew there was something going on with Nicholas, she prayed he wasn't the reason William had died. That would be a blow to Adam that he may never recover from, and he had already suffered so much pain and grief. If it were possible, she would have placed herself at pain's door and absorbed it before it could ever reach Adam.

He gave her a small smile. "What are you thinking?"

"I am thinking how happy we will be together as soon as this is over."

"Yes," he said, his smile widening a little, before fading. "As soon as this is over."

* * *

They reached Nicholas's home after the sun had set. Adam commanded that the carriage stop at the end of the street, and they dismounted. His hand was in Emmeline's, and she held on tight as they made their way to the house.

Despite the fact that Nicholas was still in London, the lights were on, and golden light peeped from behind the curtains. It was the picture of domesticity, and Emmeline had a sudden thought, tugging Adam to a stop behind a tree before they could be seen.

"What about his wife?" she hissed. "It's the summer—the ton will be thin on the ground. Won't she be in the house?"

That would account for so many rooms being flooded with light.

"We will enter through the back door," Adam murmured, his breath warm against her temple.

Their bodies were close, and although they had been intimate multiple times since they had been reunited—although she knew the taste of his skin on her tongue and the rhythm of his heart against her own—she still felt a thrill from their proximity.

Was this what it meant to be in love? Was this what marriage was supposed to be like? She would never tire of him.

"Do you know which way to go once we are inside the house?" she whispered back.

"I do. Do you trust me?"

"Always."

His hand found hers, and he gave it a small squeeze. "Be careful not to be seen," he said and bent to kiss her as though he could not help himself. "We will go upstairs. If he is keeping anything of note in the house, it will likely be in his dressing room."

Emmeline frowned. "Is he not concerned about what might happen if his wife discovered it?"

"I doubt it," Adam said, an unreadable note in his voice. "I doubt she ever enters his dressing room."

She understood immediately, recalling the pale girl who had been so desperate for her husband's affection. Poor thing, if she was fighting so hard for his love and was so ruthlessly and perpetually denied. Emmeline knew a little of how it felt like to understand that what she wanted was an impossibility. And she had been lucky—Adam had come back to her and reaffirmed that he wanted her and that, most importantly, he wanted to share his life with her, but evidently, Lady Sarron was not that lucky.

"Does he really respect her so little?" she asked as they crept toward the house.

"He certainly feels nothing for her," Adam said quietly, his eyes on the drawn curtains should they twitch. For now, they were in darkness still, cloaked and invisible, but they would have to step closer soon. "A sentiment I thought I understood."

"If you changed, can he not?"

He chewed on his lip, placing a hand on her waist and guiding her to the side. The wind shook the leaves above them, concealing any noise their progress made. "I think… he feels less for her than I did when I first met you."

"You disliked me when you first met me," she said, amused.

"I thought you were bold, and perhaps a little objectionable in the way you disregarded authority, but I never disliked you." He placed a finger on his lips and nodded toward a small side door in a darker side of the house. "They'll be locked soon," he murmured, lowering his voice until she could barely hear it. "When the servants go to bed, which will be soon. We must slip inside before then."

She nodded and glanced back at the house. There was no movement that she could see, and waiting any longer risked them being discovered.

"Now?" she whispered.

"Go."

Like shadows, they slipped toward the house, and eventually through the side door, rejoicing when they found it unlocked. Once inside, they paused, listening for footsteps. With only Lady Sarron in the house, the servants would unlikely be busy this late. All the rooms would be clean, and the only thing they would to do is to ensure that all windows and doors were locked.

Adam put his hand on her arm and guided her out of the small room and into the large receiving room beyond. At this time of night, everything was cast in shadow, but he was unerring in his movements, showing her where she needed to go with a tug on her hand or arm. Evidently, he knew this house almost as well as his own.

After a moment's consideration, he took them up the back stairs, but not the servants' stairwell. There, with the servants moving almost invisibly about the house, they were more likely to be discovered.

Emmeline's heart was pounding in her chest. Was this how Nicholas had felt every time he had snuck into their house? Or was he immune to the feeling, having experienced it so many times?

"Left," Adam murmured in her ear, and at the top of the stairwell, she turned left, into a long corridor with wide windows that bore no curtains.

Faint moonlight painted patterns on the wooden floors, and they kept to the side, making their steps lighter in order to keep any creaking at bay.

Voices made them pause. Light appeared in front of them, pooling and growing closer. Without thinking, Emmeline opened the closest door and they slipped inside, hearts in their mouths.

Of course,this was the moment that Lady Sarron chose to retire for the night. And by the sounds of it, she was giving instructions to her lady's maid.

"If my husband returns home within the next hour, please alert me," she said. "I intend to go to bed to read for a while, so I shall still be awake, and I would like to speak with him."

"Of course, My Lady."

The voices faded, and Emmeline released a long breath. When silence fell around them once again, she looked up at Adam. "If he returns within the hour?" she whispered. "Is that likely?"

Adam frowned, the darkness adding shadows to his face. "The last I knew he was in London. He would not make such a journey this late at night."

"Then perhaps you are mistaken?"

"Or she is," he said grimly. "But you're right—we mustn't tarry."

They waited for a few more seconds before eventually leaving their hiding place and continuing along to Nicholas's room. Light flickered underneath the door to his wife's room, and Emmeline could hear murmurs of conversation once again. She held her breath until they passed and stopped in front of another door. It was open, to Emmeline's relief, and Adam ushered her inside.

As expected, the room was dark. The curtains were not drawn, letting some moonlight in, but she wished for a candle or a lamp that would alleviate the worst of the gloom. How else would they be able to verify any evidence they discovered?

But the risk, at least presently, was too great. Especially when Lady Sarron was awake in the adjoining room.

Adam pressed a finger to his lips and gestured to the writing desk in the corner. Methodically, they approached and began to work their way through all the correspondence kept there. From what they could tell, holding the letters up against the light, most of them were inconsequential. A letter from the steward about the condition of the fields around the estate, another about possible contamination in the well.

Nicholas, it soon turned out, was meticulous in keeping records, and kept written evidence of most events, including social engagements.

Very few, notably, appeared to involve his wife. Emmeline's pity for the poor woman grew. No matter how Adam cared for his friend, there was no denying he had not acted in an honorable way toward his wife.

Or perhaps Emmeline was lucky—she had a husband who valued her and wanted to spend time with her. Who attended social events on her behalf.

That very same husband reached under Nicholas's bed, under the mattress, and felt around. When he pulled his hand out, he held a packet of letters tied by a piece of string.

"These," he murmured. "These must be what we were looking for."

They both crossed to the window and strained their eyes against the dim light, flipping the first letter over and examining the signature on the back.

Adam let out a hoarse exclamation. "That's my brother's name."