The Haunting of a Duke(34)

"Indeed."

He really couldn't have cared less. If it meant an hour in the phaeton with her seated beside him he would have looked at a dung heap. “There are a few shops in town that might interest you as well. I must visit one of the merchants on a matter of business."

"When did you wish to leave?” Emme asked, making it a point to keep the question succinct and to the point.

Rhys consulted to watch discreetly tucked into the pocket of his waistcoat. “I should think half an hour?"

"I need to fetch my wrap and inform my maid of my departure."

"I will await you in the morning room,” he said.

Emme told herself, as she made her way up the elaborately carved staircase, not to make more of the invitation than he'd intended. He was concerned for her safety. He needed to go to the village and the best way to ensure that she was safe was to keep her at his side. He still had questions about her motives for being there and about her moral character. There were many reasons that had nothing to do with a desire to be in her company that might have prompted him to offer the outing. Nonetheless, her heart thrilled at the idea of being alone with him, even in the open phaeton.

When she returned to the morning room, a paisley shawl draped about her shoulders and her new poke bonnet dangling from her fingertips, he was waiting for her. He rose when she entered and offered her his arm. Placing her fingertips atop the rigid muscles of his forearm sent heat spiraling through her. She flushed, and her pulse pounded, her blood coursing through her veins at a dizzying pace. The heat of his nearness was intoxicating, and her visceral reaction frightened her.

He helped her into the phaeton and then climbed up beside her. His hip pressed against hers and she could feel the heat of his thigh pressed against her own, even through the layers of their clothing. She wanted alternately to press closer and to move away. Instead, she stared at the road, determined to make polite conversation and to behave as if he had no effect on her at all. Her reputation was precarious at best, and any improper behavior on her part would be catastrophic. She could only imagine how viciously her aunt would scold her, let alone the reaction of Lady Eleanor.

Beside her, Rhys was fighting a battle of his own. He exerted all his considerable control to keep his libidinous urges in check. He'd gone rock hard the minute he'd touched her. Her ability to arouse him without any apparent effort was inconvenient to say the least. No doubt the drive into the village, over the rutted road, would be just punishment.

"Emmaline,” he began, when they'd cleared the estate's drive.

"Emme,” she corrected, “Since you intend to make free with my name when we are alone, please at least use the more palatable version of it."

It suited her more.

"Emme, then. I've spoken with Lord Ellersleigh about your visitations for lack of a better word."

Her heart sank, and cold dread washed through her. “Indeed."

He looked at her intently. “I find myself wondering, why you confide to him about the spirit of my late sister, but will not even discuss it with me?"

The question was whisper soft, his voice like velvet.

Emme shivered slightly. “Perhaps I don't feel that Lord Ellersleigh thinks me a fraud or a lunatic."

He sighed heavily. “I never thought you were a lunatic. I will confess to believing you a fraud and to thinking that perhaps you are impressionable, but I am reconsidering that. Michael believes, wholeheartedly, and while you are something of an unknown to me, I trust his judgment. Still, it's difficult for me to believe in what I cannot see for myself. I think your motives are pure even if your methods are beyond my limited imagination."

It was significant admission from such a man. She doubted that Rhys changed his mind about many things, or that he ever admitted to being wrong. “I am not certain how I should respond to that."

He wasn't certain either. She was rocking every belief that he had. “What I would like, Emme, is to have you tell me if you see this child again, or anyone else.” He paused, considering how to proceed. He couldn't blindly accept what she would say.

"I cannot promise to understand, but I will attempt to listen without judgment."

Emme put him to the test then, almost unwittingly. She opened her mouth to reply and found herself divulging the secrets that Melisande had imparted. “She told me that Elise was murdered—that they were both murdered by the same man, but for different reasons."

The admission had tumbled out quickly, the words falling over one another.

He hadn't expected that his promise to listen without judgment would be challenged so quickly. Whispers that Elise had been murdered had dogged him for the three years since her death, though he usually played the villain in those stories. It seemed that those rumors were only just beginning to die their own quiet death and now it appeared they would have to be revived.