Splendid

  “Mama! Stop that! You’re getting me all wet!” Charlie attempted to wriggle out of his mother’s grasp, but she grabbed him closer until he hissed, “Mama, Uncle Alex is going to think I’m a sissy!”

  Alex chuckled. “Never that, Charlie. Didn’t I promise to teach you how to play whist? You know I don’t play cards with sissies.”

  Charlie nodded vigorously as his mother let go of him rather suddenly. “You’re teaching my son how to play whist?” she demanded between her loud sniffles. “Really, Alex, he’s only six years old!”

  “Never too young to learn the way I see it. Right, Charlie?”

  Charlie broke into a wide toothless grin.

  Sophie sighed loudly, despairing of ever keeping a firm feminine hand on her brother and son. “You two are both scoundrels. Scoundrels, I say.”

  Alex chuckled. “We are, of course, related.”

  “I know, I know. More’s the pity. But enough about cards. We must attend to this poor girl. Do you think she will be all right?”

  Alex picked up Emma’s hand and felt for the pulse on her wrist. It was strong and steady. “She’ll be fine, I imagine.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “She’ll have a hell of a headache tomorrow, though.”

  “Alex, such language!”

  “Sophie, stop trying to play the prig. It doesn’t suit you.”

  Sophie smiled weakly. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. But it does seem as if I ought to say something when you curse.”

  “If you feel you absolutely must say something, why don’t you simply curse back?”

  Amidst this banter, Emma let out a small moan.

  “Oh my!” Sophie exclaimed. “She’s coming around.”

  “Who is she, anyway?” Charlie suddenly demanded. “And why did she jump on top of me?”

  Sophie’s mouth fell open. “I cannot believe you just said that. You, dear boy, were almost run over by a hack. If this nice lady hadn’t saved you, you might’ve been trampled!”

  Charlie’s little mouth formed a large o. “I thought maybe she was just a little crazy.”

  “What?” Sophie shrieked. “You mean you didn’t even see the carriage? You’re going to have to learn to be more careful.”

  Sophie’s loud voice made Emma’s head pound even harder. She moaned again, wishing that these people would give her just a few minutes of silence.

  “Hush, Sophie,” Alex admonished. “Your shrieking is obviously bothering her. She needs a bit of quiet before her head stops hurting enough for her to open her eyes.”

  Emma sighed. Obviously there was at least one person in the carriage with common sense.

  “I know, I know. I’m trying. I am. It’s just—”

  “Look, Soph,” Alex interrupted. “Why don’t you go to a market and get some eggs to replace the ones she dropped? There’s a terrible mess over there. It looks as if nearly all of them are broken.”

  “You want me to get eggs?” Sophie’s brows furrowed together as she contemplated such an improbable act.

  “It can’t be that difficult to purchase eggs, Sophie. I understand that people do it every day. I saw a market a few blocks back. Take my coachman with you. He’ll carry them back.”

  “I don’t know if it’s proper for you to be alone in this carriage with her.”

  “Sophie,” Alex ground out between his teeth. “She’s just a kitchen maid. Nobody is going to demand that I marry her for a few minutes alone in a carriage. For God’s sake, just go and get the blasted eggs!”

  Sophie drew back. She knew better than to push her older brother’s temper too far. “Oh, all right.” She turned around and daintily stepped out of the carriage.

  “Take the boy with you!” Alex called out. “And keep your eye on him this time!”

  Sophie stuck her tongue out at him and took Charlie’s hand. “Now, Charlie,” she scolded. “You must always look both ways before you cross a street. Just watch me.” She made a great show of craning her neck in all directions. Charlie laughed loudly and jumped up and down.

  Alex smiled and turned back to the maid, who was stretched out along the cushioned seat of his coach. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw her race across the street and knock Charlie out of the way of the hack. Bravery was not something he was accustomed to seeing in women, yet this mysterious young maid had just displayed a great deal of that quality. He was drawn to her—he had to admit that. And he wasn’t sure why. She certainly wasn’t his usual type. Well, he didn’t really have much of a “type” when it came to women, but if he did, he was fairly sure this little red-haired thing wouldn’t be it. But still, he could tell that she wasn’t anything like the women with whom he usually consorted. He certainly couldn’t imagine the young ladies of the ton his mother was constantly throwing his way risking their lives to save Charlie. And the same held true for the more mature women with whom he spent his evenings. He was intrigued by this uncommon female.

  And now she was unconscious, having hit her head with a sickening thud when she and Charlie landed on the cobbles. Alex gazed down at her as he brushed a lock of soft auburn hair away from her eyes. She moaned again, and Alex decided he’d never heard such a soft, sweet sound.

  Damn it all, what was wrong with him? He knew better than to get romantic over some serving girl. Alex groaned, thoroughly disgusted by the primitive emotions coursing through him. He couldn’t deny that the young woman had somehow affected him deeply. His heart had started pounding wildly the moment he’d seen her lying lifeless in the street, and he hadn’t calmed down until he’d assured himself that she was not seriously injured. After checking for broken bones, he’d picked her up and carried her gently back to the carriage. She was small and light, fitting perfectly against his large frame.

  Sophie, of course, had wailed the entire time. Thank the Lord he’d been able to get his sister to fetch some more eggs. Her sobs were driving him crazy, but more importantly, he wanted to be alone with the maid when she woke up.

  Alex kneeled on the floor beside her. “Come on, my sweet,” he coaxed, gently pressing his lips against her temple. “It’s time to open your eyes. I’m dying to see what color they are.”

  Emma moaned again as she felt a large hand gently stroke her cheek. The throbbing pain in her head began to subside, and she sighed with relief. Her eyelids slowly fluttered open, and she was momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight that streamed through the carriage windows.

  “Aaaah,” she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “Does the light bother you?” Alex was on his feet instantly, pulling the drapes over the windows. He returned immediately to her side.

  Emma let out a long breath and opened her eyes ever so slightly. Then she opened them even wider. A man was peering intently at her, his tanned face a scant few inches from her own. A thick lock of midnight black hair fell rakishly over his forehead. Emma longed to reach up and see if it felt as soft as it looked. Then he touched her cheek again. “You gave us quite a scare, you know. You’ve been unconscious for nearly ten minutes.”

  Emma stared at him blankly, unable to put together a proper sentence. It was that man, she thought; he was far too handsome and far too close.

  “Can you speak, love?”

  Emma’s mouth fell open. “Green” was the only word that emerged.

  Just my luck, Alex thought. The most beautiful kitchen maid in all of London lands in my carriage, and she’s completely crazy. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her even more intently and asked, “What did you say?”

  “Your eyes are green.” Her voice came out strangled.

  “Yes, I know. They’ve been that way for decades, actually. Since I was born, I imagine.”

  Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Good Lord, had she actually just told him that his eyes were green? What an unbelievably stupid thing to say. Of course he would know what color his eyes were. Ladies probably fell all over themselves to compliment his beautiful, captivating green eyes. It was just that he was s
o close, staring at her so intently, and his gaze was positively mesmerizing. Emma decided she’d blame her momentary idiocy on her pounding headache.

  Alex chuckled. “Well, I suppose we should be grateful that your accident has not left you color blind. Now, do you think you can tell me your name?”

  “Emm—um—” Emma coughed, covering up her stammer. “Meg. My name is Meg.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Meg. My name is Alexander Ridgely, but you may just call me Alex. Or, if you like, you could call me Ashbourne, as many of my friends do.”

  “Why?” The question tumbled out before Emma caught herself. Kitchen maids weren’t supposed to ask questions.

  “It’s my title, actually. I’m the Duke of Ashbourne.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’ve an interesting accent, Meg. Do you come from the Colonies by chance?”

  Emma grimaced. There was little she hated more than to hear the English refer to her country as the “Colonies.”

  “I come from the United States of America,” she said pertly, forgetting her disguise yet again.

  “We’ve been independent for several decades now and should not be referred to as your colonies.”

  “I stand corrected. You are absolutely right, my dear, and I must say that I’m glad to see you have gotten some of your spirit back.”

  “I’m sorry, your grace,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have spoken out like that to you.”

  “Now, Meg, don’t give me that demure act. I can see that you haven’t a meek bone in your body. Besides, I should think you could speak to me any way you like after you just saved my nephew’s life.”

  Emma was flabbergasted. She’d completely forgotten about the little boy. “Is he all right?” she asked anxiously.

  “He’s fine. You really needn’t worry about him. It’s you I’m concerned about, love.”

  “I’m fine, really. I—I ought to be getting back now, I think.” Good Lord, he was stroking her cheek again, and she absolutely could not keep a sane thought in her head when he touched her. She kept staring at his full lips, wondering what they would feel like against her own. Emma groaned, blushing at her scandalous thoughts.

  Alex caught the sound immediately, and his eyes clouded with concern. “Are you sure you’re not still feeling faint, love?”

  “I don’t think you should call me ‘love. ’”

  “Ah, but I think I should.”

  “It’s not at all proper.”

  “I’m rarely proper, Meg.”

  Emma barely had time to digest those words when he proceeded to show her just how improper he could be. She gasped as his lips swooped down to capture hers in a soft kiss. It lasted only a fleeting moment, but it was long enough for all the breath to rush from Emma’s lungs, leaving her skin hot and tingling. She stared blankly at Alex, suddenly unsure of herself and of the strange feelings that overtook her body.

  “That’s just a taste of what’s yet to come, love,” Alex whispered passionately against her mouth. He lifted his head and peered into her eyes. He saw apprehension and confusion in her face and was immediately aghast at his forward behavior. Tearing himself away from her, he sat down on the cushioned bench on the opposite side of the carriage. His breathing was shaky and uneven. He couldn’t ever remember being so strongly affected by a single kiss before. And it was such a small, short kiss. His lips had barely touched hers, brushing ever so gently against her mouth. Still, desire raged through his body, and all he wanted to do was—well, he didn’t even want to think about what he wanted to do because that was certain to make him feel even worse.

  He looked up and saw Meg staring at him with wide, innocent eyes. Hell, she’d probably faint if she could read his mind. He had no business getting involved with a girl like that. She looked barely sixteen years old. He cursed fluently under his breath. She probably even went to church on Sunday.

  Emma started to sit up, rubbing her temples as a wave of dizziness washed over her. “I think I ought to be getting home,” she said, setting her feet on the carriage floor as she reached for the door. Her cousins had told her that the streets of London were perilous, but nobody had warned her about the dangers that lurked inside a nobleman’s carriage.

  Alex grabbed her wrist before she reached the handle of the door. He gently settled her back onto the seat cushion, easing her into a sitting position. “You’re not going anywhere. You’ve just hit your head, and you’ll probably pass out on the way. I’ll take you back in a moment. Besides, my sister went to fetch you some more eggs, and we have to wait here until she returns.”

  “The eggs,” Emma sighed, resting her forehead against her hand. “I’d forgotten. Cook will have my head.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. Were Sophie’s fears justified? Was Meg being treated badly in her employer’s home? He’d not sit back and watch such a delicate girl be exposed to cruelty. He’d hire her himself before he allowed her to return to a painful existence.

  Alex groaned as a fresh wave of desire pulsed through his body. Of course he couldn’t hire her. She’d end up in his bed within days. Sophie was right. Meg could go work for his sister. She’d be safe there from the likes of him. Good Lord, he was stunned by his own chivalry. It had been a long time since he’d felt any concern for any woman, except, of course, for his mother and sister, both of whom he adored.

  It was well known throughout London that Alex was a confirmed bachelor. He knew he’d have to marry at some point, if only to produce an heir, but he saw no reason why he’d have to make such a sacrifice anytime soon. He kept his distance from all of the ladies of the ton, preferring the company of courtesans and opera singers. He had little patience for most of London’s social elite and trusted women not at all. Still, ladies flocked to his side at the few social events he attended, viewing his aloof manner and hard cynicism as a challenge. Alex rarely had gentle thoughts about any of these women. If a highborn lady flirted with him, he assumed that she was either exceedingly foolish or knew exactly what—or rather, whom—she wanted. He occasionally shared his bed with them, but nothing else.

  He looked up. Meg was still sitting upright, staring demurely at her hands folded in her lap.

  “You needn’t look so afraid, Meg. I won’t kiss you again.”

  Emma gazed up at him, her violet eyes open wide. She didn’t say anything. In all truth she doubted her ability to put together a coherent sentence.

  “I said you needn’t be afraid, Meg,” Alex repeated. “Your virtue is safe with me—at least for the next few minutes.”

  Emma’s mouth fell open at his audacity. Then, disgruntled, she clamped her lips shut and looked away.

  Alex groaned as he watched her full lips pursing together. Lord, she was gorgeous. Her hair, which had shone bright red in the sunlight, looked to be dark auburn now that he’d covered the windows. And her eyes—first he’d thought they were blue, then violet, but now they looked quite black.

  Emma felt like she was about to explode, bristling at the nerve of this arrogant, overbearing man. She took deep breaths, trying to contain the temper that had already made her famous in two households, on two continents. She lost the battle.

  “I really don’t think that you should be speaking to me in such a scandalous fashion. It is quite unfair of you to take advantage of my weakened condition in such a lewd way, especially when one considers that the only reason I’m sitting here with a throbbing lump on my head—not to mention in the company of quite the rudest man I’ve ever had the bad fortune to meet—is because I was watching your nephew when you and your sister were too careless to look after him properly.”

  Emma sat back, pleased with her speech, and gave him her fiercest glare.

  Alex was stunned by her tirade but careful not to show his surprise. “You’ve got quite a vocabulary, Meg,” he said slowly. “Where did you learn to speak so well?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Emma spat out, trying desperately to come up with a believable story.


  “But I’m terribly interested. Surely you could share with me one little tidbit about your past?”

  “If you must know, my mother worked as a nurse to three young children. Their parents were very kind and allowed me to share their education.” There, that sounded good.

  “I see. How generous of them.”

  Emma sighed and rolled her eyes at his sarcasm.

  “Alex!” a shrill voice called out. “I’m back! And we got twelve dozen eggs. I hope that’s enough.”

  Twelve dozen! Emma’s heart sank. There was no way she’d be able to balance all those eggs. Now she’d have to let the duke take her back home in the carriage.

  The door swung open and Sophie’s face appeared. “Oh, you’re awake!” she exclaimed, looking at Emma. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.” Sophie grabbed one of Emma’s hands and clutched it in her own. “If there is any way I can help you, please let me know. My name is Sophie Leawood, and I’m the Countess of Wilding, and I will be forever in your debt. Here,” she said, thrusting a card in Emma’s hand, “take this. It’s my address, and you can call me day or night if you’re ever in need of anything.”

  Emma could only stare at Sophie as the green-eyed woman paused for breath.

  “Oh, my,” Sophie continued. “Where are my manners? What is your name?”

  “Her name is Meg,” Alex answered smoothly. “And she hasn’t seen fit to share her surname with us.”

  Emma fumed. He hadn’t even asked for her surname.

  “Never you mind, my dear,” Sophie rambled. “You don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to—”

  Emma looked at Alex triumphantly.

  “—as long as you remember that I will be your friend for life and you can count on me for anything.”

  “Thank you very much, milady,” Emma said quietly. “I will remember that, indeed. But I really would like to be getting back. I have been gone a long while, and Cook will be wondering about me.”

  “Perhaps you could tell us where you work?” Alex inquired.

  Emma looked at him blankly.

  “You do have a job somewhere? You weren’t planning to eat all those eggs yourself?”