“Hail a carriage,” he told Forbes, who raised one brow but went out into the night. It shouldn’t take long; the Vega Club paid a number of hackney drivers to loiter nearby when unengaged, for patrons’ convenience.
Nick stayed where he was, slowly regaining mastery of himself. God. What had he done?
Emilia Greene—with her snapping blue eyes and determined chin and luscious figure—was his employee. A respectable lady, whom he had engaged to teach his impressionable younger sister how to be respectable. Pressing her up against the shelves of dice and cards and kissing her until neither of them could breathe was utterly unacceptable.
But...understandable.
A footstep made him look over his shoulder. Her bonnet was back on her head, and her gloved hands clutched her cloak tightly around her. The flush had faded from all but two scarlet spots in her cheeks, and she kept her eyes averted. “Mr. Dashwood,” she began.
If she apologized, he would never forgive himself. “James is on his way,” he said to forestall it. “He’ll see you safely home.”
She nodded, looking down.
They stood like that in silence until Frank came trotting back, James in his wake. James straightened when he saw Nick’s expression. Nick knew the fellow fancied a girl in the kitchen, and had probably been there enjoying a bit of roast beef while he talked to his sweetheart.
“She told me,” he told his man, before James could speak. “Take her home. If that man or any other scoundrel comes ‘round the house, send someone to notify me immediately—and keep him away from my family.”
“Yes, sir.”
Forbes popped back in the door. “Carriage is waiting.”
Nick jerked his head at James, who went right out. He turned to Emilia. Now he wouldn’t even be able to think of her as Miss Greene, not when he had the taste of her in his mouth.My family,he’d said, meaning not just Charlotte and now Lucinda, but also Emilia. It felt right—even if it wasn’t true. “Don’t worry about Fitchley or Parker-Lloyd,” he said quietly. “I won’t let them hurt you—anyof you.”
She looked warily at him through her eyelashes. “Can you do that?”
Nick smiled coldly. “Watch me.” He offered his hand, and she took it. He led her out and handed her into the waiting hackney. Then, unable to resist, he kept hold of her hand until she looked at him. “Don’t worry,” he said again. “You’re safe with me.”
He meant it in all ways. She seemed to know. She gave him a smile, uncertain at first but then growing. She leaned forward until they were face-to-face and Nick’s heart leapt at the thought that she might kiss him good-bye. “Thank you,” she whispered, and pulled the door closed.
Nick stood staring after the carriage until it reached the end of the short street. “So,” boomed a voice beside him, making him start. “Shall I add that to the file on her?”
“What?” asked Nick evenly.
Forbes smirked. “You know what.”
Nick turned and walked back inside. “Mind your business, Forbes,” he said over his shoulder.
“That I will, Dash,” came the jolly reply. “The entire time I’m tidying a closetful of cards and dice from the floor.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
Emilia went to bed in a state of shock.
She had kissed Mr. Dashwood. He had grabbed her and pushed her into that alcove, but she was the one who’d kissed him, when he was trying to whisper an explanation in her ear and she somehow turned her head and found her mouth against his.
What had she done? Almost ten years of careful, proper behavior, never inviting or returning any man’s interest, always mindful of her vulnerable place in the world... all gone in the touch of one man’s lips on hers. She crawled into her bed and pulled the blankets over her head.
Although... oh, howwonderfulit had felt. How alive she’d felt when he ran his hands over her. Her hand drifted over her right breast, her thumb smoothing over the spot where he’d sucked at her skin. Emilia closed her eyes, imagining her hand was his, pulling aside her shift, stroking over her nipple until it throbbed. She brushed her fingertips over her lips, picturing his face, and knew herself to be wicked and immoral.
But just this moment, she didn’t care. Tomorrow, she would be calm and controlled again. Tonight... She undid the buttons on the front of her nightgown and slipped her hand inside, to cover her own breast, squeezing the nipple until it turned hard and aching. Her other hand slid down her belly, between her legs. Tonight, she gave in to the wicked urge and let her imagination run wild, imagining what might have happened in the billiard room if the manager hadn’t interrupted them, and what Nick Dashwood would have done if she’d kissed him then. She imagined her hands were his, as she stroked herself; she pictured his face above her. She imagined his voice whispering in her ear—not words of love, but of passion, of desperate want. And it was his face she pictured when she found release.
She lay still, panting, her face damp with perspiration and embarrassment. It waswrongto pleasure herself while thinking of her employer. But with any luck, that had got it out of her system.
It had been a burst of madness, nothing more; she was recovered now. She had flown too near the flame but was carrying on, a little singed though otherwise unhurt. It would never happen again, and she would never speak of it.
Her resolve lasted almost two entire days. Mr. Dashwood had entirely disappeared, no longer joining them for breakfast, to Charlotte’s disappointment—and Emilia’s mingled shame and relief. Was he also horrified by that kiss? After all, she had told him he would be an eligible match, as a viscount. A quick tumble might suit the owner of a gambling club, but he could do so much better, in just a few weeks’ time. Or perhaps he had realized it could hurt his sister if he carried on with her governess; Emilia knew he cared for Charlotte.
As had become her custom, she stretched their morning walks in the park as long as she could, to allow time for him to come home and retire in peace, if he were coming home at all. He had looked tired that night, she thought—up until he kissed her, when he hadn’t seemed tired at all. He had lifted her against those shelves as if she weighed nothing, and managed to remove her bonnet and cloak with one impatient hand...
