She felt her face flaming as she recalled that touch and how her heart had pounded. Emme fanned herself and tried not to consider the cause of her heated flush.
The meal ended and the mallets and wickets for a game of Pall Mall were produced. Emme smiled politely but declined Lord Pommeroy's invitation to partner her in the game.
Given the manner in which he leered at her bosom, she could only imagine how he would leer at her bottom when she leaned forward to hit the ball with the mallet. Instead, she retrieved her reticule and the slim volume of poetry she'd tucked into it that morning and sought a quiet spot beneath a tree.
Lord Ellersleigh appeared almost immediately.
"Are you still reading ‘not Shakespeare’ today?"
Emme sighed. She was not to have a moment's peace it seemed. “It is Byron actually, Lord Ellersleigh."
"Ah,” he said. “I'm not a fan, I must say. I knew him at Harrow."
Emme gave him a puzzled glance. “Do you have to like the man to enjoy the words?"
Michael appeared to be somewhat startled by her question. “Well, no, Miss Walters. I suppose you do not. Perhaps I will read it and give it a fair chance, then."
He wouldn't, Emme knew. But he was charming, and unlike being in the presence of Rhys, she could still breathe when Lord Ellersleigh was beside her.
"I saw you speaking with His Grace. Are you here to guard me from Lord Pommeroy, or to guard everyone else so I don't pick their unsuspecting pockets?"
Michael chuckled before responding, “I am here simply to ensure that Lord Pommeroy maintains a suitable distance from your person."
He had his own personal agenda, however. He wanted information about Melisande from her, and he wanted to make Rhys jealous. He'd never seen the man become so bothered by a female. In point of fact, he'd never seen Rhys react so strongly to any woman.
His friend had never gone without female companionship, but while he had indulged physically with the fairer sex, his true passions had never been engaged. Michael had never fancied himself a matchmaker before, but he enjoyed the novelty of the experience greatly.
Emme chuckled in spite of herself. “That's a bit like setting the fox to guard the hen house, is it not?"
Michael raised an eyebrow at her and in a supercilious tone, he replied, “I am not a hen, Miss Walters, and if you have designs on my person, I should warn you that I am a virtuous man."
Her responding giggle was charming. It was also precisely what he had wanted to achieve. He wanted her feel comfortable and relaxed, and he wanted her to trust him with the information he needed. It would have the added benefit of driving Rhys insane with jealousy.
After a few minutes of idle chatting, he dove in to the deeper matters that disturbed him. “So tell me about your meeting with Melisande."
Emme cocked her head. “I can't help but wonder why you are so curious, Lord Ellersleigh".
Michael didn't talk about Melisande, or at least he never had. But if he wanted information, he would have to be more forthcoming. He smiled somewhat sadly, and said, “She was my first love, Miss Walters. I was seven when I met her and she was just eight. Only three short years later, we were married under that tree across the lake. Jeremy performed the service. Rhys was my best man, and I believe the family dog was performing its duties as her maid of honor. It was lovely."
Emme could picture them so clearly. If his beauty as a man was any indication of what he had looked like as a fresh-faced boy, they would have looked like angels standing together.
"I didn't realize. I am so very sorry. You've been friends with Briarleigh for some time, then."
"From the cradle it seems. Our mothers were dear friends. When my own mother passed away, Lady Phyllis would often have me here to visit for long periods of time."
There was no secret that Lord Ellersleigh and his late father had not gotten along. Their rows had been famous in society. It appeared their relationship had never been a close one.
"It sounds rather idyllic, actually—the four of you running wild about the place as children. Growing up in town, my sisters and I were always under watchful eyes. We were never able to run wild about the place and engage in such games."
His smile was sad as he agreed. “It was idyllic, though we did not realize it at the time. It all changed, of course, when Melisande was killed. Lady Phyllis became a different person, instantly it seemed. Where she had been warm and incredibly vibrant before, she became withdrawn, and—well, I hesitate to say cold, but certainly detached. She's better now, more like herself, but she still seems apart from things somehow, as if she isn't quite focused in the present.
"Rhys’ father became quite bitter. He was always angry and very often he drowned that anger in copious amounts of brandy. Jeremy and Rhys were left to their own. I would come here to escape the coldness of my own home, and then that coldness followed me."