Heartless (The House of Rohan 5)

“That’s probably wise,” Benedick said, giving his wife a more lingering kiss and dropping down beside her. “We’re sad to see you leave, Emma, but perhaps it’s for the best.”

“I thought Brandon could accompany her, since he’s leaving for London as well,” Melisande added artlessly.

Brandon had not entered the room, and the expression on his face was shuttered. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea,” he said before Emma could protest.

His flat words startled her. She would have expected amenability, even light flirtation at the suggestion, not that cool dismissal.

“Why ever not?” Benedick’s brow furrowed.

“I’m going on horseback, for one thing. . .”

“You asked to borrow my carriage.”

“That was when I thought my fiancée would accompany me. Since she and her companion plan to travel on to Cambridge to visit her old nanny, I changed my mind. Noonan and I would prefer to be unencumbered.” He didn’t look at Emma—in fact, his gaze hadn’t settled on her once this morning. It was so unexpected that some of her initial distress began to fade, replaced by annoyance. Unencumbered? How dare he?

Melisande and Benedick were looking equally surprised. “Take a damper,” Benedick said impatiently. “Mrs. Cadbury is my guest and you will show her every courtesy. You will provide her escort back to London and be gracious about it! What the devil is wrong with you?”

That was Emma’s cue to leave. Benedick had no qualms about airing private matters in front of her, and the last thing she wanted was to be witness to a family quarrel with her as the bone between two squabbling dogs. “I don’t wish to be a bother,” she said, following Brandon’s lead and avoiding looking at him. “In fact, I’m sure your brother would make much better time on horseback, and there’s absolutely no need to hover over me. I hate to sound ungracious. . .” Take that, you surly bastard! “. . .but I’d prefer to travel alone, and the public coach would be preferable. I have work to do during the trip, and I don’t wish to be forced to make idle conversation.” Another slap at him, she thought with irritated pleasure. Idle conversation indeed.

She did truly love Benedick like a brother, perhaps the only male she’d allowed herself to care for, but she’d forgotten how dictatorial even the most enlightened man might be, particularly if he were a peer and an older brother. “You will ride in my carriage, Emma—what kind of host do you think I am? And my very rude baby brother will accompany you to your destination. He will be absolutely silent if that is what you prefer, or he can entertain you with his version of polite discourse. Do you understand me, Brandon?” He directed his impressive glower on his younger brother, and reluctantly Emma followed his gaze.

She expected mutiny, but Brandon still had that cool, detached expression on his face. Even his startlingly blue eyes seemed to have turned a shade icier. “As you wish, Benedick. At your service, Mrs. Cadbury.”

She bared her teeth in the approximation of a smile. It would be a waste of time to argue further, and only mire her deeper into the morass of confused emotions that seemed to tighten in her chest. “Your escort would be most gracious. . .” she dug the knife in “. . .but you may, of course, feel free to simply ride beside the carriage with your friend. I have no need for entertainment, and indeed, would prefer my own company.” Take that, you swine!

He looked neither relieved nor annoyed at her subtle barbs. “As you wish, Mrs. Cadbury.”

She glanced at Melisande, part of her heartsick that they had fought, a stronger part still affronted by the accusations. Her friend looked equally unhappy, and not best pleased with her brother-in-law. He was not going to find a warm welcome when he returned to Starlings Manor.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and Emma had no intention of continuing to enjoy it. “I must finish my packing,” she said abruptly, knowing that this efficient household would have overheard her plans and already taken care of that little matter. It was a small annoyance compared to everything else.

Melisande didn’t contradict her. Benedick was gl

aring at his impassive brother, who was blocking the doorway to the center hall. She could always leave by the side door, but that would put her much farther away from the family staircase, making it clear to everyone how unsettled she was. She wasn’t going to give her erstwhile weakness the satisfaction.

Turning, she advanced on the door, expecting him to move out of the way. He didn’t. In fact, she came right up to him, too close, so that her skirts brushed against his riding boots, and she would feel the warmth of his body, absorb the faint, leathery scent that clung to him, mixed with fresh air. It was enticing. Or, it had been, before she’d abruptly come to her senses.

She looked up, her face as stony as his. “Are you going to let me pass?”

For a moment he stayed, blocking her. She was wondering if she was going to have to put her hands on him to push him out of her way when he stepped back.

“I beg your pardon,” he said in a bored voice that she’d never heard from him. “I was wool-gathering. Thinking of my fiancée.”

If he was thinking of his fiancée then she was a goat’s breakfast. “Instant love is such a glorious thing,” she said icily.

This time the barb ricocheted, hitting her in the heart. She could see the look of satisfaction on his ruined face—he knew that he’d upset her, and he was pleased to have done so. She had no idea why. Yesterday he’d kissed her as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered. Now, for no discernible reason, he seemed contemptuous.

It wouldn’t matter. In six long hours, possibly longer given the state of the roads, she would be quit of him, her irrational weakness scrubbed clean, the last vestige of an old life, an old dream vanished. She would return to her work with a clear mind, free of any entanglement, even if it had been of her own making. She’d been a fool, allowing herself furtive daydreams, but she was over that now. She was probably just as deluded about any sinister connotations to her recent accidents. She would be wary, of course, but in the cool light of day the very notion of someone trying to hurt her was simply absurd. Especially since Brandon Rohan’s casual words could do a much more effective job.

Dropping a perfunctory curtsey to Melisande and Benedick, she left, traversing the broad hallway and the private staircase with a speed that made her head pound. As she disappeared into the darkness his eyes followed her, she knew it, and this time not from appreciation. Unlikely as it seemed, she had suddenly been declared the enemy. She would accept that role with relish.

Chapter 18

The trip started well enough. Emma had parted company with Melisande, both of them crying, their argument put to rest, at least temporarily. Brandon Rohan had mounted his horse, his ruined face like granite. Now he rode ahead of the carriage beside the craggy old man who was apparently his servant. Even the rear end of Brandon’s horse expressed his disdain, Emma thought sourly. In fact, he was the horse’s ass, something she’d never realized before, and she could count her blessings that his true, obnoxious self had finally been revealed, freeing her from her inconvenient emotions. She could hardly call it an obsession, since she’d gone for days without thinking about him during the last three years, and she rejected the thought that she’d had any tender feelings at all for the miserable creature.

In truth, it had been mere curiosity, a bland interest that had stirred within her and nothing more, and now that she realized there was nothing beneath the usual masculine bravado she was content to dismiss him. Craning her neck, she peered at his strong back for the dozenth time, reminding herself that she didn’t care, and then sank back on the cushioned seat, trying to ignore the tight feeling between her breasts.

The early sun had vanished and the day was now cloudy and overcast. There were signs of the storm everywhere—fallen trees, sodden fields, the road rutted to an uncomfortable degree. It was a good thing it was well before planting, or this year’s crops could have been ruined, she thought. She hadn’t thought about crops or farming since she’d run away from home—it was odd to suddenly remember the devastation that bad weather could wreak.