Charmed By Knight (The Fielding Brothers Saga) (22 page)

Phillip’s eyes widened, the color from his face once again left his skin to make him look like a corpse. Tears filled his eyes. “You don’t understand. You cannot blame her.”

Edmund gave his father a
hard
shake. “What in heaven’s name are you rambling about? What don’t I understand?”

“She didn’t know...I took...you,” Phillip stumbled over his words in a drunken slur as tears streamed down his cheeks. “You cannot blame her. I searched for her...California...realized I was wrong.”

“Phillip, you don’t make sense. Explain yourself,” he warned in harsher tones, but Phillip was not complying.

Because of the way his father blubbered through his sobs of anguish, Edmund realized he might not get a straight answer from the drunken fool.

“I cannot let you marry...not like this,” Phillip mumbled.

With a shove, Edmund dropped his hold on Phillip. His father sank back into the sofa. Phillip’s head rolled to his shoulder. The drunken man was unconscious.

“May the devil take you,
Thornwyck
,” Edmund shouted before storming out of the room, flinging the door closed behind him.

He passed Simmons, then stopped and turned. An idea took root. It had to be done. The sooner the better for his peace of mind.

“Simmons, I need you to find me a solicitor who specializes in finding missing persons.”

“Missing persons, sir?”

“Yes, as soon as possible. I’d like you to arrange a meeting tomorrow.”

“I will.”

Edmund paused and looked toward his study. “And for the love of God, have
that man
removed from my house immediately.”

If it meant moving heaven and earth, he’d discover the meaning behind his father’s rambling.

Chapter Thirteen

Most of the day Megan waited to hear if the news of the duel had reached Town.
Thankfully, it hadn’t. It seemed Rollins and
Eversley
hadn’t mentioned it, and certainly Edmund wouldn’t give out the information unless there was something worthwhile in it for him.

She took a deep breath. The strain of the next week would undoubtedly have to proceed. She’d act as if nothing had altered her father’s contest, just as Edmund would continue to court her. Anything was better than getting thrown out in the streets, penniless.

This evening she and her parents had planned to attend Lord and Lady
Ruthaford’s
ball, and Edmund would be there, waiting for her. She should show them she wasn’t about to be a pawn in their game of revenge and not show up for the ball, but unfortunately, these outings had to happen. A dull ache grew in her chest. It was part of the betrothal contract. Edmund had to court her for the rest of the week before their wedding.

She debated over her choice of gowns for tonight’s charade, and finally decided on her peach silk with white lace over-skirt. The sleeves hung off her shoulders and bared a good portion of her bosom. Most certainly the men would find this appealing, and she’d keep her fan opened to hide from their stare. But what bothered her more was knowing Edmund would like it, too. Whenever his gaze wandered to her bosom, it gave her the unsettling feeling of being undressed. He would certainly want to hold and kiss her again…

When tingles danced across her skin, she brushed away the feeling and continued dressing. To complement the gown, she donned elbow length white gloves and a pearl necklace. Bertha styled her hair in a loose sweeping knot on the top of her head while wisps of tendrils hung around her neck and ears.

She covered herself in her long black-hooded wrap before leaving her room. Her father had been openly verbal in his disgust for her of late, and she expected a comment from him when he saw her attire. She’d prolong that insult as much as she could.

All during the drive to the
Ruthaford
estate, she sat in silence. Her mother chattered, and her father acted as if he heard every word. By the faraway look in his eyes, Megan knew he hadn’t.

The first person she saw as she stepped down from the phaeton was Edmund. He pulled away from his relaxed stance against the outside wall, his smile widening the closer he walked toward her. Her heart beat like a drum, and she cursed her weakness.
He doesn’t want me, just his ridiculous goldmine.

Giving her father a polite nod, Edmund then took her mother’s hand and kissed her knuckles before turning his attention onto Megan. He brought her hand to his mouth. The kiss he bestowed upon her lasted much longer than propriety allowed. The heat from his breath stirred familiar feelings inside her. She pulled away.

“Good evening, Mr. Knight.”

“It certainly is a good evening, now that you are here, Miss Ramsey.” He straightened and held out his elbow. “May I escort you inside?”

She nodded and gingerly placed her hand on his arm and he escorted her inside. When the butler took her wrap, she didn’t care to see her father’s disgusted reaction. Instead, she was far more interested in Edmund’s response. Just as she had expected, his gaze darkened and a smile touched his lips. His heady attention swept over every inch of her.

She swallowed hard, pushing down the lump of desire lodged in her throat. He stepped closer and lifted her hand to his mouth again, not taking his eyes off her bosom.

“My dear, sweet Megan, you’re certainly beautiful tonight. Is there a special occasion for this exceptional display?”

She withdrew her shaky hand and clasped it with the other against her stomach. “If you mean have I dressed this way for you, then the answer is no.”

He lifted his gaze to hers. His smile widened. “Then, is there another man you wish to please tonight?”

She straightened her shoulders and walked past him, whispering over her shoulder, “I fear, Mr. Knight, your self-love is most unbecoming.”

His low laughter made her boil. He knew certainly well she wore this for him. Her hands clenched, her fingernails digging through the gloves into her skin.
The snake!

As hard as she tried to ignore the insufferable man, Edmund wouldn’t leave her sight. She was aware of the times he danced with another woman because he’d purposely sweep them right by her. His deep baritone laughter rang throughout the ballroom, followed by a high-pitched female laugh. Megan cringed, hating him and hating herself for even caring.

Finally, he claimed her for a dance
. Why was it always the waltz?

His masculine scent of spice drifted around her, and his strong arms welcomed her in his embrace. They danced perfectly together, and she hated how well she fit against his body.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my love?”

His question pulled her out of her improper thoughts. She met his stare and smiled. “I have been so far, Mr. Knight.”

“Are you now – at this very moment?”

She shrugged. “I fear if I answer that, you will misconstrue everything I say.”

His chest shook when he chuckled. “My love, it is written in your eyes when you look at me. I know your feelings well. They mirror mine perfectly.”

His fingers gently stroked hers and tingles danced over her skin.

He pulled her closer to him. Scandalously close. “You want me as much as I want you. May I suggest a plan that will ease both of our needs tonight?”

“No, you may not.”

He laughed again. “So, a stroll outside in Lady
Ruthaford’s
gardens doesn’t sound pleasing to you?”

“Not if I’m escorted by London’s most notorious rake.”

His laughter grew. “My dear Megan. How can you say that? Especially if we are to be wed soon?”

“
Shhh
, lower your voice. It’s my father’s wish that the wedding not be announced until the end of the week. And, if I recall, you did sign the agreement.”

“Yes, I did, although I am regretting it. If I had my way, we would be married by now.” He lowered his voice.

Just thinking about it made her knees weak. Once again, she cursed him. “As it is, you must follow the contract, which means no more intimate meetings.”

His finger stroked lazily across her hand, sending shivers of delight up her arm.

“I will do as you wish, my love.” He squeezed her hand. “Just as long as you keep looking at me with those wanton eyes of yours, I will do anything you ask.”

She scowled and pursed her lips. He was such a cad. And why did she have to feel such strong emotions of passion? It was nigh impossible to stay angry with him.

The music ended, and Megan was grateful to be away from him, until he actually left her side to seek out another dance partner. It was then she experienced incredible emptiness. Her hands itched to touch him again, and her body ached for his nearness.

She sighed. No matter how hard she tried, she’d never be able to destroy her feelings of passion for him. She’d always be his slave – in more ways than one.

* * * *

“Your Grace, I didn’t expect to find you here tonight.”

Edmund grinned at his friend when Nick tossed him a scowl.

Nick’s dark eyebrows pulled together in anger. “My brother was most insistent Catherine and I come to this ball. I actually had more important things to do with my wife, but her kind heart couldn’t refuse my brother’s request.”

“Yes, and I can see it’s killing you to be here.”

“Indeed it is,” Nick snapped.

Edmund barked with laughter. “My dear man, you are a hopeless cause. Your wife has you under a spell. You will always do whatever she wishes.”

A full smile widened Nick’s mouth. “Indeed, and what a joy it is to please her.”

“I never thought I’d see the day when a woman ruled your heart, Your Grace.”

Nick chuckled and shook his head. “I think you, Mr. Knight, have been seducing women too long and it’s time you settled down yourself. Then – and only then – will you realize how I feel.” He folded his arms and looked across the crowded floor. “Which reminds me, where’s your bride to be?”

Edmund skimmed his gaze over the couples dancing. “She was dancing with old Lord Kent, although I cannot see her now. But I have nothing to worry about with him.”

“You’re not going to cause another scene, are you?”

“No. I promised myself I would be a good boy until I’m wed.”

Nick threw back his head and laughed. “Now that’s something I cannot wait to see, my good man. Tell me, what will you do after you are wed?”

“I told you. We will travel to California and—”

“No, I’m not speaking of that. I wonder how you will act as a married man?”

Edmund shrugged. “Like most married men, I suppose.”

“Most married men of the
ton
you mean?”

“What other kind are there?”

“So in other words, you will not stay faithful to your wife?”

Edmund kept silent for a moment. He hadn’t thought of that. Right now he dreamed day and night of Megan’s passion, but what would happen when their passion fizzled out? What would happen once he was settled with his goldmine? Would he change or remain the same notorious rake Megan had accused him of being?

He pushed away the bothersome thought and turned back to his friend. “Your Grace, tell me what you have heard about Lord
Thornwyck
.”

Nick’s brows arched. “Your father?”

“Yes.”

“Why after all these years do you want to know?”

“The drunken fool visited me this evening.”

“Indeed?”

Edmund nodded. “I received the impression the old man wanted to release his guilt, make amends, if you will.”

Nick moved closer. “What did he say?”

“Nothing that made sense. He rambled on about nothing.” Edmund shook his head. “But all of this makes me wonder if he is sick and dying. Why would he come see me if he were not?”

Nick nodded and scratched his chin. “I have heard through gossip circles that Lord
Thornwyck
is indeed very ill. I have not heard mention of him dying, just that he’s sick.”

Edmund exhaled heavily. “Then everything makes sense.”

A servant walked up to him, ceasing the conversation. “Excuse me, sir.” The man held out a note. “I have a message for you.”

Edmund took the piece of paper and opened it.
Meet me upstairs in the first room to your left. It is empty...and waiting for us.
It was signed Megan Ramsey.

Anticipation made his heart pound out of control. He smiled fully. The little minx could not wait. Splendid! Neither could he. He folded the paper and tucked it in the pocket of his jacket. He turned to the duke. “If you will excuse me, I have to meet someone.”

Nick nodded. “Call on me later and we will go to Whites for drinks.”

“Of course.”

Edmund tried to walk his casual way, but he found himself hurrying upstairs, skipping two stairs at a time.
Slow down, man. Don’t look like an overeager schoolboy.
But the problem was, he did feel like a schoolboy. He reached the appointed door and stopped. Moisture had gathered on his hands and he wiped them on his trouser-legs.