That last thought took away Emily's breath for a moment. Make Crofton disappear.
When Emily was able to breathe again, she began to think logically and clearly. In the end she knew what she had to do.
After a long moment she stood up and moved to the connecting door, opening it with shaking fingers.
Simon's room was cloaked in darkness. She could barely make out the shadowed bed without her spectacles. For a moment she stood there gazing into the room as the fierce protectiveness and the equally strong sense of longing and love welled up inside her.
"I will protect you, dragon," she whispered.
"Emily?" Simon's voice was a husky growl in the darkness.
Emily jumped. "I am sorry, my lord. I did not mean to wake you." She had not spoken to him since he had made a brief appearance at the Bridgetons'. He had not asked her to dance—indeed, had barely spoken to her. He had acknowledged her presence and then disappeared.
"Have you come to plead with me, elf?" Simon asked emotionlessly. "Because, if so, you had better know that you would be wasting your time. I will not rescue your father the way I did your brother. Nor will I let him off the hook the way I did with Northcote, Canonbury, and Peppington. This is a different matter entirely."
Emily heard the implacable chill in his voice and knew he spoke the truth. "I will not ask you to pay Papa's debts, Simon. I know that would be asking too much."
"You might as well be asking for the stars. I have waited too long for my vengeance."
"I am aware of that, my lord."
There was silence from the bed. After a moment Simon spoke again, his voice harsher than ever. "Well? Are you just going to stand there in the doorway all night? You look like a dismal little ghost in that nightdress."
Emily instinctively glanced down at the fine, pale muslin that floated around her body. "Do you really think so, my lord? I have never actually seen a ghost."
"I have," Simon said flatly. "My father's. I swear the damn specter has haunted me since the age of twelve. But at long last it is about to be banished. Go to bed, Emily."
"Yes, my lord." Obediently, she stepped back into her own bedchamber and started to close the door.
"Wait," Simon said with unexpected urgency.
"What is it, my lord?"
"Why did you come to my room, if not to plead with me?"
"I do not know if I can explain it," Emily said softly. "I just felt a… a desire to look in on you."
"You are quite certain you did not come here to beg me to forgo my vengeance?"
"I know that would be useless, my lord. You are entitled to your revenge. I only hope it will bring you the peace you seek."
"Damnation, woman. At the moment you are the greatest threat to my peace of mind. You have been all evening." There was an abrupt movement from the shadows of the bed as Simon threw back the covers and got to his feet. He started toward her.
"Simon?" Emily retreated another step in confusion. "Are you angry with me?"
"No, I am not angry." He reached her and scooped her up into his arms before she could retreat any farther. Then he turned and started back toward the massive bed. "I do not know how I feel at the moment, nor do I care. You are here in my bedchamber and I find I want you in my bed. That is enough for now, madam wife."
Emily did not argue. When he settled her gently in the center of the bed and came down on top of her with a sudden, searing passion, she opened her arms and pulled him close.
Simon's mouth closed over hers, relentless and consuming. Emily clung to him as he claimed her and vowed silently that she would do anything to protect him.
A long time later Emily awoke to find herself being carried back to her own bed. She stirred slightly in Simon's arms, enjoying the power and strength in him.
"Will you stay with me?" she asked sleepily as he set her down amid the tousled sheets of her own bed.
"No." Simon straightened beside the bed and stood looking down at her with brooding eyes. "I do not think I dare do that, elf. Not tonight. I am beginning to wonder if the Faringdons have played one last joke on me by convincing me to marry my greatest weakness."
"I am not your greatest weakness, my lord," Emily said softly. "You have no great weaknesses."
"No? I only hope you are right. In any event, I intend to be cautious. I will not allow you to ruin everything I have plotted and waited for these past twenty-three years."
"I will not do that, Simon."
"It will be interesting to see if you still come to my bed as willingly as you did tonight after your father has been forced to leave town in disgrace. Good night, madam wife."
Simon went back to his own bedchamber, closing the door deliberately behind him.
Emily lay awake, dry-eyed and clearheaded, until dawn. The details of her plan began to take shape in her mind. The night of the soiree would be perfect for what she had to do.
The first task was to obtain a suitable pistol, something small that could be concealed in a reticule or under a cloak. Perhaps it would be wise to get two, just in case.
And then there was the problem of the body.
Emily was suddenly seized with an uncontrollable shivering. Her palms were clammy and cold and her heart was racing madly. She felt dizzy at the prospect of what she was planning.
The heroine in The Mysterious Lady would not be so weak, she told herself bracingly. And had she not always thought of herself as that brave female who had set out to rescue her beloved? Shooting Crofton would not be a great deal worse than confronting a real ghost or monster.
Emily prayed that her nerves would be steadier on the night of the soiree. She knew that if her plan did not work, she would not get a second chance.
Having his wife arrested would be every bit as much of a scandal for Simon to endure as having the Unfortunate Incident in her past revealed.
Chapter 19
Simon waited for Emily to appear in the library. He had sent for her a moment earlier. He told himself that it would be interesting to see if she responded to the polite summons with her usual alacrity. Normally she came flying through the library door within seconds after one of the staff informed her that the earl had asked to see her.
Emily had not yet learned the fine art of making her husband wait.
But this morning Simon was not certain what to expect. After he had carried Emily back to her own bedchamber last night he had lain awake for hours trying to wrest some satisfaction from his victory over her father. All he had been able to think about was how cold and empty the big bed had felt without Emily in it beside him.
There was a quick knock on the library door and an instant later Emily, wearing a morning gown trimmed with black and gold dragons, whisked into the room. She looked breathless and slightly disheveled. There was a smudge on her nose and a perky muslin cap sat slightly askew on her red curls.
"You sent for me, my lord?" She came to a halt in front of the desk, pushing her spectacles up on her nose as she gave him an inquiring look.
"I did not mean to interrupt you if you were involved in a task." Simon, who had risen politely as she entered the room, sat down again and motioned her to take a chair.
"I was supervising the cleaning of the drawing room," Emily explained. "The soiree is only two days away, after all. So many last-minute things still need to be done."
"Ah, yes. More preparations for the damn soiree. I should have guessed."
"I want everything to be perfect, my lord," Emily said quietly. "I am well aware that everything I do, including acting as your hostess, reflects on you."
"Do not fret about it overmuch, my dear. My position in Society is solid enough to sustain the discovery of a few stains on the drawing room carpets or a blot on the drapery." To his surprise, Emily paled and sank abruptly into the chair.