"Because," Simon said, thinking of the profound gratitude of the Marquess and Marchioness of Northcote, "I believe this would be a most opportune time for you to enter Society." Northcote, like Peppington and Canonbury, was now vulnerable at last. The marquess could be useful and Simon fully intended to use him and his lady to introduce Emily into Society.
Emily was silent for a long moment. "Do you really think so, Simon?"
He smiled again to himself. "Yes." He pushed back the covers and stood up. "Now, I find I am getting quite cold and uncomfortable. I must insist you come to bed and bring that blanket with you."
Emily sat up in alarm as he moved toward her, clutching at the blanket. She peered warily up at him in the shadows. "I have told you, I will not allow you to make love to me, Simon."
He reached down and scooped her out of the chair. "You may relax, my dear. This is a matter of practical comfort and health. I gave you my word I would not force myself on you." He stood her on her feet and began methodically and efficiently stripping off her clothing.
"Hah! Do you think I will beg you to make love to me once you get me into your bed?" she challenged as she batted ineffectually at his hands. "Do you believe I am so weak-willed?"
"You are not weak-willed, my sweet." Simon dropped the carriage gown over the chair, leaving Emily in only a thin muslin shift. "You are high-spirited, passionate, and impulsive. It is not at all the same thing."
Emily stopped slapping at his hands and looked up at him, squinting to see his face more clearly. "Do you really think so, Simon?"
He grinned briefly as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. "I am quite certain of it, my dear. And even though you are presently annoyed with me, I know you would not wish me to freeze to death tonight. As we cannot both use the blanket unless we share the bed, we have no choice. You must join me."
Emily sighed in resignation and slithered quickly under the sheet. She lay rigidly on the far right edge of the bed, staring up at the ceiling as Simon got in beside her. "Very well. For the sake of our health, I will agree to share the bed. But you are not to make love to me, Simon."
"Do not concern yourself, Emily. I shall not pounce upon you in your sleep. I am content to wait until you come to me."
"That will not happen until I am convinced that what you feel for me is akin to what I felt for you until you broke my heart last night," she vowed.
"We shall see, madam wife. In the meantime, I suggest you get some sleep. You have had a very busy day."
"It was all rather exciting," she admitted, yawning. "I must say, it was very romantic of you to come after me the way you did. I feel there is hope for us, Simon."
His jaw set. "Because I followed you? Do not pin too many romantical hopes on that fact. I came after you because you belong to me and I keep what is mine. Do not ever forget that again, Emily."
There was silence from the other side of the bed. Simon waited for some acknowledgment of his stern admonition. When none was forthcoming he turned on his side and looked at Emily.
She had fallen fast asleep.
Simon watched her in the shadows for a moment and then he carefully gathered her close. Without waking, Emily snuggled against him as if she had slept in his arms for years.
A few minutes later, Simon, too, fell asleep.
Chapter 11
Simon looked up from the papers on his desk at the sound of loud commotion out in the hall. Apparently his aunt and Emily had returned from their shopping expedition. Curious about the results of the foray to Oxford Street, Simon stood up and crossed the lair full of jeweled dragons. He opened the library door and smiled in amusement at the sight that greeted him.
The two footmen were hastening to fetch a vast quantity of parcels from the carriage that stood at the bottom of the steps. Emily, dressed in one of the pastel morning gowns she had brought with her from the country, was dashing about giving orders in an excited voice. Her red curls were partially concealed under a flower-trimmed straw bonnet and she had her spectacles perched slightly askew on her nose.
Lady Araminta Merryweather stood aside to watch the scene, obviously as amused as Simon.
"Please take it all straight upstairs," Emily said, inspecting each package as it came out of the carriage. "Tell Lizzie she is to unpack everything immediately. I shall come up at once and just make certain all is in order. Oh, do be careful with that, Harry. It's the most beautiful parasol you have ever seen. It's got little green and gold dragons all over it."
"Aye, ma'am," Harry said, giving his mistress a broken-toothed grin that had been known to make grown men flee in terror. "No need to sass. I'll look after it as if it were something I'd snaffled for meself."
There were a few other things broken and missing on the beefy ex-pirate besides some teeth. The list included a broken nose that had never healed properly and a missing left hand that had been replaced by a vicious-looking hook. Due to the footman's unpredictable effect on visitors, Greaves did not allow him to serve at the dinner table on the rare occasions when Blade entertained at home. But when the butler, on Simon's orders, had cautiously assigned Harry to serve the new lady of the house, Emily had been completely unperturbed by the hook. Harry had been won over instantly.
"Thank you, Harry. That is very kind of you." Emily gave the footman a brilliant, grateful smile.
Simon watched Harry blush and stammer like a schoolboy and wondered fleetingly if Emily understood that snaffled was thieves' cant for stolen.
Emily turned a delighted face toward Lady Merryweather. "I have had an absolutely thrilling morning, Araminta. How can I ever thank you?"
"It was my pleasure, Emily." Araminta stood back as an especially large box was brought into the hall.
"Gracious, do have a care, George," Emily instructed the other footman as he carted a parcel up the steps and through the door. She hurried over to check anxiously on the condition of the box. "It came from Madam Claude's and it is the cleverest little hat in the world." She caught sight of Simon lounging in the doorway and her eyes brightened. "Wait until you see it, my lord. The hat is à la militaire, and I have ordered a beautiful riding habit to accompany it. It will have epaulets and frogging and all sorts of military details and it will be positively dashing."
"I look forward to seeing you in it," Simon said gravely.
George, the footman, a hatchet-faced individual who had led a boisterous life on the rough docks of the Far East, headed for the stairs cradling the precious hatbox as if it were a baby.
Emily spotted yet another parcel being unloaded and scurried forward to supervise. "These are my new half boots," she told Simon over her shoulder. "I also bought several pairs of slippers and pumps. It was a fearful expense but your aunt said I must have a different pair for every gown."
Simon folded his arms across his chest and cocked a brow at his fashionable aunt. "Lady Merryweather would know."
Araminta gave him a serene smile.
"I also got several fans and four new reticules," Emily called back over her shoulder as she flew up the stairs. "I shall be down in a few minutes."
She vanished at the turn on the landing, the pale skirts of her gown sailing out behind her.
Araminta gave Simon a laughing look as he ushered her into the library. "She is charming, Simon. Utterly charming. And she will be quite an original when she is properly dressed. She still needs to be reminded to take off her spectacles when she is in public, and those red curls need taming with a pair of shears, but I can already predict the end result will be quite spectacular."
"I leave it all in your hands, Aunt. But see that she is not allowed to put any of those foul concoctions made of mercury water, lead, or sulfer on her face in an effort to cover up the freckles."