Rachel Brimble Read online

  “Maybe my timing was too late to prevent Miss Darson from being assaulted, but I think you are wrong that I did nothing.”

  Milne snapped his head around. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, Miss Darson was distressed and shaken. I brought her home. Back to where she feels happy and safe, loved and cared for.”

  “What of it? Any passerby would have done the same thing. You sit there like a puffed up know-it-all. You’re an arrogant fool.”

  Will’s heart beat like a drum and his knuckles ached where he clutched the napkin instead of Milne’s throat. The silence was such that the clock above the fireplace sounded clear, ticking by the seconds of unspoken retaliation. Will dragged his gaze from Milne and glanced at Emily.

  Her cocoa brown eyes pleaded with him. Heat burned at his chest. She moved her head an imperceptible inch. Silently, she asked him not to react.

  Closing his eyes, Will dropped his napkin to the table. How was he supposed to refuse her? A beautiful, caring, and innocent bystander witnessing a battle between two men. A battle she knew nothing about. He exhaled and opened his mouth, his apology pooling like venom on his tongue.

  Oliver Darson broke the silence. “Gentlemen, please. This is not the evening I had in mind when I invited Mr. Samson here.” He looked at Milne and then Will. “Emily has been through enough without being witness to a bear-baiting.”

  Will met his gaze and shame further fueled his ill feeling toward Milne. The poor man was dying. “Sir, I apologize. There will be no further cross words.”

  Oliver Darson turned to Milne. “Nicholas?”

  Milne continued to glare and Will glared straight back. It was time he revealed himself as an adversary. To know there was a chance Will wanted Miss Darson would be enough to irritate Milne for now. Even if there was so much worse to come. The man would eat dirt before he laid a finger on Miss Darson or any other woman from that moment on.

  “Fine.” Milne’s jaw tightened. “I apologize, too.”

  Emily’s father cleared his throat. “Right. Good. Gentlemen once more then. As far as I’m concerned, Mr. Samson saved Emily’s life and you should think the same, Nicholas. In fact, I would like to see you thank the man as I have.”

  Will’s lips shook with the effort it took not to grin as widely as the breadth of his face. The glee in Oliver’s gaze could not be mistaken. The man was thoroughly enjoying himself. Milne’s hand shook as he reached for his wineglass.

  “Then I will do so now. I thank you, Mr. Samson.” He took a hefty mouthful of wine. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  Will’s smile broke. “You are more than welcome, sir. It was my absolute pleasure.”

  He turned to Miss Darson and his heart kicked. Her cheeks flushed a particularly appealing shade of pink and her eyes shone as though lanterns were stowed behind them. She clearly glowed under her father’s love yet wilted under Milne’s. It made him sick.

  “Right then, are we ready for our second course?” Oliver interrupted Will’s thoughts. “Annie? If you would be so kind.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Annie cleared their plates, expertly stacking them along her forearm.

  Oliver chuckled. “You know, I am confused as to why we haven’t made your acquaintance around town, Mr. Samson.”

  Will’s stomach knotted but he kept his smile locked in place. “Indeed, sir.”

  “Are you new to Bath? First the auction, then the ball, and now coming to Emily’s rescue. It seems our paths were destined to cross.”

  Will concentrated his gaze on Oliver. Was this normal dinner conversation? Or was the man as wily as Will suspected, despite his deteriorating health? The time had come to further his plan. He picked up his wineglass and took a fortifying mouthful as three sets of eyes burned his skin.

  “I have been in town just two weeks yet find myself falling time and again into your path. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have met both you and your daughter . . . and, of course, Mr. Milne, seeing as I know nobody else here.”

  “Nobody, sir?” Oliver’s white eyebrows shot to his hairline. “In the whole of Bath?”

  “No, I’m . . .” Will blew out a breath. “I’m merely a visitor here on what I hoped to be a short mission, but unfortunately, the quick resolution I prayed for is yet to come.”

  “Oh?”

  “Now my funds are running too low to consider staying longer. If I do not find somewhere cheaper to board than the room I am currently renting, I will have no choice but to return to my hometown of Dorston before I’ve accomplished what I came for.”

  “Ah, at last. The truth comes out.” Milne slapped his hand on the table.

  “Nicholas, for goodness sake.” Miss Darson’s voice cut across the room.

  Will jerked his gaze to her and his heart soared to seek the fire once more in her eyes. They were almost black with anger. She continued to glare at Milne.

  “Have you not already commented on the lack of quality in Mr. Samson’s clothes? That he couldn’t bid enough on the Heart of Kingston? Doesn’t the fact he came to my rescue yesterday mean anything to you? Do you still judge him on whether or not he meets your material standards?”

  Their gazes locked and Will’s heart picked up speed. Knowing what Milne was capable of doing with his hands, especially to a woman Miss Darson’s size, made his body tremble. It did not matter the gumption Miss Darson had in every inch of her exquisite body; the man was an animal. Will struggled to maintain his cool. He had to continue with the masquerade. If he lost it, he stood to lose the chance of living a life free of resentment and hatred.

  He stared at Miss Darson. A chance of having true love in his life one day.

  “You have no say in this, Emily. No say at all.” Milne glared, his cheeks ruddy with rage.

  She stared back, the skin at her throat shifting as she swallowed. After a long moment, she snatched her gaze from his and stared blindly across the room, her jaw set, her chin high.

  “Well, Samson. Nothing to say?”

  Will stared at Milne and the guilt he harbored for not being there for his mother and every woman Milne had hurt in the last two years ate at him from the inside out. The only way it would be purged from his blood was either by Milne’s death or incarceration.

  The scrape of Emily’s chair across the floorboards sliced through the silence as she pushed to her feet. “I’m sorry, but I must be excused.” She tossed her napkin onto the table. “I’ve quite lost my appetite.”

  “Sit down.” Milne’s request was a command.

  Silence.

  Her cheeks flushed and her body shook. Every inch of her anger showed in the hold of her body, the color of her face, and the flash in her eyes. Will’s heartbeat accelerated. She couldn’t leave. He needed her there. He wanted her there. If she wasn’t in the room, God only knew if he’d have the strength to resist punching Milne.

  Will stood. “Miss Darson, please. If you leave, I will, too. I’d like to explain what has brought me to Bath. Your father has been good enough to invite me here and now I wish to answer his questions. Please. Won’t you sit down?”

  Her gaze darted over his face and lingered at his lips. He longed to touch her, take her hand. Anything to make her understand Milne would never hurt her while he still had breath in his body. Now, more than ever, he vowed to find a way so she didn’t have to marry the scumbag.

  “Please.”

  Slowly her gaze softened and a blush colored her pale pallor. She dipped her head. “Fine. I’ll stay . . . for a little while.”

  Will forced a smile as the need to touch her quivered through him. “Thank you.”

  He glanced at Milne as he sat. The man continued to glare at Miss Darson’s profile.

  Will curled his hands into fists under the table. He welcomed the pain of his nails breaking the skin of his palms and turned to her father. “To further explain, sir.”

  Annie came in the room carrying steaming plates. Will smiled his thanks as she placed his dinn
er of beef and potatoes in front of him and continued to talk as the young girl made her way around the table.

  “I make an adequate living as a painter but it leaves little over for luxuries. Therefore—”

  Milne laughed. “Painter? As in portraits?”

  Will snapped his gaze to Milne’s. “As much as I love that kind of work, sir, I earn a more regular income by painting houses, boats, or wherever I can find work.”

  “Is your work good, Mr. Samson?” Oliver picked up his knife and fork.

  Will smiled. “Exceptional. So I’m told.”

  “Well, that’s just excellent. Excellent. I admire a man who makes his own way in life. You should be proud of your vocation. You are what I call the salt of the earth. A man willing to get his clothes dirty and his hands cut.” He glanced at Milne. “A man intent on making his own fortune rather than relying on others to give it to him. You, sir, are what this country is built on.”

  Will dipped his head. “Thank you. Alas, it seems my hard work does not provide the funds I need to stay here and achieve my mission.”

  “What is this mission?” Miss Darson’s honeyed voice drifted across the table.

  Will turned. Her huge brown eyes were wide with interest. “I am in Bath looking for my nephew. He disappeared just after his tenth birthday, two weeks ago. He fled my sister’s farm in Dorston and has yet to return.”

  “Dorston is miles from Bath.” She frowned. “Surely you do not think he could have travelled all that way alone?”

  “I dearly hope he has. The alternative that he has not made it to the city alive cannot be considered.”

  Her cocoa gaze turned soft and she reached out as if to touch him before dropping her hand into her lap. She blushed and guilt mixed with desire battled inside Will’s chest. One pulling, the other pushing.

  When she reached for her glass of water, her hand trembled. “I am quite sure he is alive and well.”

  “Thank you, Miss Darson. That means a lot to me.”

  She smiled.

  Will cut into his beef. “We are pretty sure he would have fled to the city. Bath is all he ever spoke of. He was fascinated by Pulteney Bridge, the Abbey. . . .” He gestured toward the window. “The fabulous architecture at every corner. He said he felt he belonged here.” His gaze travelled over her face before lingering at her bowed mouth. “I understand that, too . . . now I’m here.”

  Her tongue wet her bottom lip and her gaze darkened. Arousal struck Will’s loins as though her tongue had caressed him directly. Feeling rare fire touch his face, he looked to her father lest she read the hunger he suspected would be evident in his eyes.

  “Would you know of anywhere I could stay, sir? Somewhere cheap?”

  Mr. Darson studied him for a long moment and Will concentrated on keeping still under his scrutiny. After the longest time, with Will’s nerves stretched and vibrating, Oliver slapped his hand firmly on the table, making his wine shudder. “You will stay here. With us.”

  Emily’s intake of breath echoed around the room. “Papa, whatever are you thinking? Mr. Samson couldn’t possibly—”

  “Nonsense, Emily. Of course he can. We have plenty of room. I cannot think of a better or more perfect solution.”

  Will’s stomach knotted with triumph. “Mr. Darson, that is really—”

  “No.” Milne pushed to his feet, his arm outstretched and waving uncontrollably in Will’s direction. “How can you expect me to stand by and condone such a thing, sir? Another man living in the same house as my intended? I will not allow it.”

  Emily’s father sighed heavily, not even meeting Milne’s livid glare. “Don’t be so melodramatic. Have you not already expressed the clear opinion you don’t care for Emily’s going out at dusk? Raised concerns about the areas she frequents on her outings with Annie? Well, this is the perfect solution.”

  Will stared, confusion marring his thoughts let alone Milne’s. What was he talking about? How would his staying there affect Miss Darson’s outings? He stole a look at her. Her eyes were wide and her mouth dropped open. She stared at her father as though he’d sprouted another head.

  Will cleared his throat. “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “Neither do I.” Milne huffed. “What are you talking about?”

  The old man looked at their faces in turn, smiling widely. “If Mr. Samson stays here, I can ask him the great favor of accompanying Emily on her outings in exchange for free bed and board. That way, neither I nor you have to worry about her safety when we are unable to accompany her.”

  The curse that emitted from Emily’s mouth quashed the last shred of Will’s self-control. He grinned as Milne looked on as though Mr. Darson had stuck a rather lengthy stick right up his future son-in-law’s backside.

  Emily leapt to her feet, upturning red wine across the tablecloth. It seeped across the linen like blood across snow.

  “Emily Margaret Darson,” boomed Oliver. “I should ask Cook to swill your mouth with castor oil.”

  Her face was red and her entire body shook. “Mr. Samson cannot possibly stay here. Nicholas is right. Whatever will the neighbors think to see me riding out with a strange man at my side? The whole town knows Nicholas and I are betrothed.”

  He threw his hands up. “Exactly. That is why I, you, and indeed Mr. Samson can carry out this arrangement free of social consideration. Need I remind you, daughter, you are sporting a particularly large bruise on your face, your favorite walking dress is ripped at the hem, and you have scratches on your legs? I refuse to risk anything like that happening to you again.”

  She snapped her gaze to Will. He wiggled his eyebrows and her face burned a deeper red. His body burned with elation. Oliver Darson had taken his plan forward two steps in one fell swoop. His skin tingled with excitement.

  Now that he had infiltrated the family home, he was another step closer to seducing Emily . . . or, at least, helping her find a way out of her marriage contract. His smile wavered. If that’s what she wanted, of course.

  She twisted her eyes to Milne. “Nicholas, say something. This is incredible.”

  Silence.

  She stamped her foot. “Nicholas!”

  He started as if woken from a dream. “Yes?”

  Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Are you happy Mr. Samson is to escort me on my excursions? To drive me around town? The two of us together where everyone can see us?”

  Milne’s ever-sallow complexion paled further as his lips pursed in a thin line until they disappeared entirely. Fury burned like wildfire in his eyes and his shoulders trembled.

  Tension skittered across the surface of Will’s skin and his smile dissolved. Protectiveness stole through his veins. The man’s danger permeated the air.

  Oliver Darson waved his hand. “Emily, leave Nicholas be. It does not matter that he’s fallen into a rare state of no opinion. You will do as I bid until I am in a box. When I say Mr. Samson is welcome to stay here and guard your well-being as a means of earning his bed and board, so be it. The arrangement will ease my mind, while giving Mr. Samson further time to search for his missing nephew. Now, let’s eat.”

  He picked up his knife and fork. Emily and Milne sat and slowly reached for their cutlery. Picking up his wineglass, Will watched her bowed head for a moment before she scowled at him, her eyes shining with challenge and her jaw tight. He grinned.

  This would surely be his most enjoyable masquerade yet.

  Breaking eye contact, she put down her fork and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “Are we really supposed to believe you have no ulterior motive to being here, Mr. Samson? That you did not orchestrate this to happen from the moment we met?”

  Will stared, his self-satisfaction dissolving. Damn, she was good. His smile faltered. “What do you mean? My nephew—”

  “Emily, that is quite enough.” Her father snapped his head up.

  “Mr. Samson is now a guest in our home. I raised you to show more respect to visitors.”

  Will met h
er unwavering gaze. She didn’t so much as turn to her father. “I merely wish Mr. Samson to prove my suspicions wrong, Papa.”

  Mentally kicking himself for the stupidity of his premature celebration, Will glanced at Milne steadily watching him. He faced Miss Darson.

  “Then pray tell me your suspicions so I can allay them. Your father’s offer for me to stay here is a generous one and I would desperately like to accept but if you feel uncomfortable . . .”

  She rolled her eyes. “The last thing you make me feel is uncomfortable, Mr. Samson.”

  Will quirked an eyebrow.

  Her glare intensified. “This ridiculous idea has nothing to do with whether I can be around you or not. I am concerned with other people’s perception.”

  She lied. He made her uncomfortable. The way her eyes darted to his lips, the flush at her cheeks and the rapid shift of her throat as she swallowed gave her away. She felt the connection between them. He was certain of it.

  “I will merely do as your father asks. If anyone thinks it inappropriate . . .”

  Her father laughed. “Believe me, Mr. Samson. There will be no problem. Any busybodies that have something to say about how I wish to ensure my daughter’s protection, they can speak to me directly. Now, enough of this debating. I have made up my mind.”

  The room fell into silence as they ate. Will’s mind whirled. Did Miss Darson suspect his motives? Maybe she knew something. What if she was the first person he underestimated? He studied her.

  “Please understand my nephew is alone in one of the busiest cities in England. It near kills me each hour he is missing. To have somewhere to stay for the most gracious of returns is something I am immensely grateful for. You have my word, I will honor your father’s request with the utmost decorum.”

  She steadfastly met his gaze. “Yet despite your concern for your nephew’s well-being, you sit here enjoying our food as darkness falls and he could be out there somewhere walking the streets.”

  Damn, she is good. Too good. Will lowered his head. “There is nothing more I can do tonight. I struggle every day when I have to give up searching and wait for the morrow’s sunrise.”