A Rakes Guide to Pleasure (Somerhart 2)

"It's all right. Shh." He stepped forward, legs moving into the light, and she couldn't hold back a little scream.

Slender hands rose, trying to calm her. "I'm here to help."

And then she could see his face. Matthew. It really had been him, out on the street. Not just her fear, her imagination.

"You have gotten yourself into a world of trouble, Emily. But I'm here now."

"Don't. . . Matthew . . . What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry." His thin mouth offered a familiar, conde­scending smile. "I did not want to frighten you. I snuck into your home to avoid drawing attention to you. If word got out. . ." He shook his head, the picture of sympathy.

"No, what are you doing here! In London?" She found that her body was sinking slowly lower. Suddenly the bed was beneath her thighs and she was sitting, staring up at her old suitor. His straight blond hair fell over his brow. His green eyes glowed with an intensity that hadn't been there when they'd first met.

"Well, I have been looking for you. I never thought a young lady like you could manage to disappear quite so thoroughly. You're distressingly devious."

"I didn't. . . I didn't disappear. I just wanted to come to London."

"Emily." That head shake again. "Your place is in Cheshire, as I've told you countless times. And now I'm here to fetch you home."

The fear and shock had formed a ball of tension in her chest that pressed against her lungs and made her ribs feel too small, but the tension began to melt. Emma clenched her fingers into fists. "Cheshire is not my home, as I've told you many times. And you had no right to follow me. No right to come into my house."

Matthew smiled, showing very pointed eyeteeth. "I did not follow you, Emily. Well, to be honest, I tried. But I lost your scent somewhere in Birmingham. But two weeks ago, my father received a letter from London written on fine sta­tionary. Luckily, I intercepted it."

The tightness melted completely and left sliding, slippery liquid inside her chest. "A letter? From whom?" She pressed a hand to her heart, trying to calm the violent waves that rocked against it.

"Does it matter? Suffice it to say it was a man of impor­tance, which does not bode well for you."

Hart. Hart had done it. He had taken up her challenge. Ex­posed her.

"It was a very mildly worded letter, which said nothing much at all, but it was quite strange. He seemed to be under the impression that your uncle had left a widow behind. He wondered if, perhaps, she still had family in the area."

"I don't. . ." She swallowed hard, stalling for time. "I'm sure he was mistaken. Perhaps we haven't been introduced. If you will tell me who—"

"Emily." His sigh was bursting with self-satisfied weari­ness. "There are two invitations on the front table addressed to Lady Denmore. You're lying to these people. Just as you've lied to me."

Emma swallowed again. And again. Nausea was rising up, choking her. "I didn't. . ." Oh, Lord, she needed time to think. "You shouldn't be in here," she blurted out, remem­bering his obsession with propriety. Just saying something effective gave her a little strength, and she pushed to her feet. "You shouldn't be in my room."

Matthew held up his hands, but Emma stabbed a finger at the door. "This is completely improper. You snuck in like a thief, stood there and let me begin to undress. How dare you."

His cheeks darkened. "You only removed your cloak."

"I was unbuttoning my dress!"

"I have seen—" he started, but choked on his own words. "I've touched . . ." His cheeks looked on fire now as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "You have always tempted me to reckless behavior, Emily. You've always caused me to sin. You are Eve to my Adam."

"Matthew, all we did was kiss. I never meant you to think we would marry."

"But you let me touch your. . . breasts."

Oh, for God's sake. She could not believe his mind was still so twisted around a few paltry embraces. He would ruin everything with his delusions.

"I am a lady, Matthew. I am requesting that you leave my private chambers and my home."

"You are living here unchaperoned!"

"Exactly my point. You cannot be here."

"Emily," he growled and stepped toward her.