A Kiss Before Dawn (14 page)

He seemed more relaxed than he had since he'd returned to Oxfordshire, and his easy manner had Emily letting down her guard the slightest bit. Smiling in reminiscence, she ran the currycomb over the mare's side in a long, smooth stroke. “She was the first gift Tristan ever gave me after he returned home. The first
real
gift,
other than impersonal, little-girl things. It meant a great deal to me.
She
means a great deal to me.”

“I know.” He reached up to give the horse's muzzle an affectionate rub, and Artemis whinnied in response, nudging his palm. “And I have no doubt she'd gallop through fire for you.”

There was a beat of silence, then Peter's laughter floated through the space between them.

“What?” Emily eyed him askance, one hand going to her hip. “What's so funny?”

“I was just thinking about the afternoon you and I took some of the younger boys and girls from Willow Park on a picnic in the woods close to Knighthaven. It was soon after the earl gave you Artemis, and you brought her along. I think she enjoyed the experience as much as the children did.”

Her own laughter mixed with his as her mind went back to the afternoon in question, picturing the way Artemis—who had been little more than a filly at the time—had frolicked and gamboled about, basking in the children's attention and making them squeal with delight at her antics.

“She
was
rather entertaining, as I recall,” she agreed, meeting Peter's gaze.

“That she was.” He paused for a moment, then went on, his tone introspective as he studied her upturned face. “I remember something else about that day, as well.”

“Really?”

“Mmmm. It was the day I kissed you for the very first time.”

Emily froze, his words catching her off guard. Why on earth would he bring up such a thing now?

A sudden energy seemed to crackle in the air around them, and she had to swallow several times before she could speak past the lump in her throat. “W-was it?”

Peter nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “We were wading in the stream while the children were eating, and you slipped and lost your balance.” One corner of his mouth quirked upward in an almost lazy grin. “I caught you, and when you looked up at me with those big violet eyes, I couldn't resist. Your mouth was practically begging to be kissed.”

And what a kiss it had been, she thought dreamily. Slow and sweet and tender. Everything a first kiss should be. And the memory of it had the power to cause her heart to skip a beat even now.

But she had no intention of letting Peter know that.

Raising her chin, she struggled to keep her countenance as blank as possible. “I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't remember that.”

His smile widened and he leaned forward until less than an inch of space separated them. Devilish sparks danced in those piercing blue eyes, stealing her breath. “You, Lady Emily, are a terrible liar.”

She certainly was.

At that moment, the sound of someone clearing his throat had Emily drawing back in haste, her cheeks heating. Glancing up, she found Miles standing at the entrance to the stall, his expression apprehensive.

Oh, dear. What was wrong now? “Yes, Miles?”

“A lad just stopped by to drop off a message for you, m'lady.” He took a step forward and held out a small, folded scrap of paper.

“A message?” As Emily met him halfway to take it from his grasp, she couldn't help but notice the troubled shadows that lurked in his usually merry eyes. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. If Miles was so disturbed, this couldn't be anything good.

She unfolded the scrap of paper and read the nearly illegible scrawl with growing horror:
Tomorow nite!

It seemed Jack had decided the time had come for the Oxfordshire Thief to strike again.

Crumpling the note in her fist, she gave Miles a wan smile. “Thank you, Miles.”

The stable hand nodded, his face full of a concern he couldn't quite hide, then spun on his heel and left the stall.

“A message from Lord Moreland?”

Peter had approached so quietly that she hadn't been aware he was standing right behind her until his query next to her ear caused her to give a cry of surprise. She spun to face him, her heart pounding fit to burst from her chest.

He studied her with hooded eyes. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.” All of the warmth that had vibrated between them just moments ago was gone. He gestured to the paper still clenched in her hand. “A message from Lord Moreland?”

Emily had just opened her mouth to deny it when it occurred to her that it was more than likely for the best
if she let him go on believing that. After all, what was she going to tell him instead? That it was a note from their old friend Jack Barlow, letting her know it was time to put on her thief's cap and break into their neighbor's home?

Taking a deep breath and injecting a deliberate touch of coyness into her voice, she gazed up at him from under lowered lashes. “Perhaps.”

She couldn't miss the shadow that passed over his features at her reply. “The two of you seemed rather cozy out there a little while ago. Are you certain I didn't interrupt anything…important?”

“Not at all.” Some imp of mischief snapped at her heels, causing her to add questioningly, “Would it matter to you if you
had
interrupted something?”

“Only if he was trying to convince you to meet him for another midnight tryst. In which case I would feel it was my duty to point out to you that you've been advised not to leave the house or grounds after dark. So I would suggest you restrict your assignations with the viscount to daylight hours.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the door of the stall in a negligent pose. “After all, I would hate to have to stand guard beneath your window all night.”

Oh, the nerve of him! He would, too. Emily barely restrained the childish urge to stamp her foot in frustration. So much for their earlier camaraderie.

Well, better that things remained this way for now, that he continued to believe she was attracted to Adam. As long as the two of them were on their guard with
each other and she continued to keep her emotions at bay, she might at least come out of this sorry business with her heart intact.

She straightened her shoulders and faced him with disdainful hauteur. “I shall be sure to inform Lord Moreland of your dictates. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go change or I won't be ready in time to travel with you to Baron Caulfield's. And I certainly wouldn't want to deprive you of the pleasure of my company.”

Leaving her final words hovering in the air, she whirled and marched off, feeling Peter's eyes burning into the back of her head the whole way.

E
mily pulled aside a low-hanging branch and peered through the trees at Brimley Hall, peaceful and basking in the pale light of the moon. All of the house's occupants were asleep in their beds, never suspecting what was going to occur or how they were about to be victimized.

A shaft of anguish pierced her.

“If we're going to do this, then we'd better get to it,” Miles whispered from where he hunkered behind a nearby bush. “We've already lingered 'ere far too long and the 'orses are getting restless.”

It was true. They'd been lying in wait for over an hour. Behind her, Emily could hear Artemis snorting and pawing the ground, and Jenna trying to calm her in
a low, soothing tone. The other two horses stirred skittishly at the mare's agitation.

She could no longer afford to hesitate. If they tarried much longer, there was always the chance they could be discovered. It was time to act.

Placing a hand against her roiling stomach, she gazed heavenward. How she hated this. It was especially hard after having just spent yesterday morning in Lord Moreland's company, behaving as if everything were normal when it was far from it. But for now, she could see no other option. She could only pray that God—and eventually Adam and his father—would forgive her.

“All right.” She looked back over her shoulder at her companions. “Jenna, you stay here with our mounts. Miles will come with me.”

“Wait a minute.” Jenna placed a hand on her hip and glared in the stable hand's direction. “Why do I 'ave to stay 'ere and Miles gets to go?”

Emily closed her eyes in weary frustration. “Jenna, we don't have time for this.”

“I just don't understand, is all. I want to 'elp and—”

“Bloody 'ell, must you argue about everything, woman?” Miles rose and turned to face her, scowling. “You're staying wiv the 'orses because Lady Em asked you to. And it's not as if I 'aven't done my share of waiting wiv them while you two did all the skulking about. You don't 'ave to be in the middle of everything, you know.”

Jenna lifted her chin in defiance. “I don't expect to be in the middle of everything. But I
do
want to be there if
Emily needs me. I don't see 'ow I can do that if I stay 'ere.”

Emily watched in fascinated dismay as Miles took several steps forward until he was almost nose to nose with the bristling, dark-haired woman. The moonlight illuminated the angry red of his freckled face, the gleam of temper in his green eyes. “Believe me, you'll be the first to know if we need your 'elp. Now, stay wiv the 'orses and quit being so difficult.”

“Difficult? Oh, I like that! All I want to do is 'elp and you're calling me difficult? Well, you're not my boss, Miles Riley, and I refuse to let you tell me what to do.”

Emily closed her eyes and prayed once again—this time for patience. She loved both her friends dearly, but this was getting out of hand. They were behaving like children, and at the worst possible time.

She was just getting ready to intervene, to point out that it didn't matter who stayed with the horses as long as
someone
did, when Miles let out a growl.

“That bloody well tears it!” Seizing Jenna by the arms, he yanked her against him and brought his mouth down on hers in a hard, ruthless kiss.

It lasted for what seemed to the astonished Emily to be an endless moment. Then the stable hand put the girl from him and gave her a firm shake, his expression conveying absolute authority. “Now, are you going to stay wiv the 'orses, or do I need to tie you to a tree?”

Looking dazed as she gazed up at him, Jenna shook her head, nodded, then shook her head again before her fingers drifted up to touch her kiss-swollen mouth in obvious disbelief.

Emily shook off her temporary paralysis and cleared her throat. “Well, er…I suppose that settles it. Jenna, we shouldn't be too long. But if you notice anything amiss, I want you to take the horses and get out of here as fast as you can. Do you understand?”

The younger woman nodded again, but it was hard to tell whether she'd actually heard or not. She was too busy staring at Miles with wide, unfocused eyes.

As Emily led the way from their place of concealment, she glanced back at Jenna one last time to see her friend standing in the same spot, seeming stunned and unable to move.

She couldn't help the hint of amusement that crept into her voice as she looked at Miles. “Looks like you made your point.”

“Yes.” The frown faded from the stable hand's face to be replaced with a self-satisfied smile. “Looks like I did.”

The two of them cut across the wide lawn at the rear of Brimley Hall, keeping to the shadows of the surrounding trees and bushes. All was quiet, not a sound penetrating the almost unearthly stillness.

If things went as planned, they should be able to carry this off with little difficulty. Having known Lord Brimley from childhood, Emily was aware the elderly marquis kept most of his valuables in his safe in the ground-floor library, but Adam had long ago mentioned that his mother's brooch still resided in her keepsake box in her old suite of rooms. Lord Brimley hadn't changed a thing in the marchioness's bedchamber since
her death, and Emily was certain she would have no trouble attaining her objective and getting out of the house without detection. The viscount had told her yesterday morning that he would be out for the evening, attending a soiree at the home of Lord and Lady Beaumont, and with the marquis confined to his bed, there should be only the smallest chance she would run into anyone except perhaps a servant.

No, she concluded. The only thing she should have trouble dealing with was her conscience.

It stabbed at her now, and she couldn't suppress a wince. She tried not to think about how Lord Brimley would react if he discovered his beloved wife's favorite piece of jewelry was gone. Jack seemed to have an unerring knack for targeting the precise thing each of his marks prized the most. Exactly how was a mystery, but Emily felt sure his choices were deliberate. Anything to make it harder on her and her sense of integrity.

All the better to punish her.

Emily came to a halt next to the terrace doors that led into the library. Though she would be passing right by the location of the safe, she had no intention of breaking into it or taking anything else. Jack had specified nothing but the brooch, and she wasn't doing a thing more than he had instructed.

She refused to cause Adam and his father any more pain than necessary. She already felt guilty over the way she had treated the viscount lately, and she suspected there would be enough bad feelings on his part once she turned down his proposal.

If he ever got around to making it.

Withdrawing her pick from the pocket of her breeches, Emily had the lock on the doors sprung in only a matter of seconds. She eased them open, then turned to Miles.

“I want you to stay here,” she instructed him in a hushed voice. “The fewer people traipsing through the house, the better. Keep an eye out and give me a signal if you notice anything out of the ordinary.”

The stable hand's face creased with concern. “Are you certain? What if you need my 'elp?”

“I'll be fine. You'll do me more good standing watch.” She forced a reassuring smile. “But I must warn you, I won't be kissing you to convince you of the fact.”

Her attempt at levity had Miles relaxing slightly and giving a wry chuckle, but he still appeared doubtful.

She touched his shoulder. “I'll be back. Don't worry.”

Wiping her sweaty palms on the seat of her breeches, she stepped inside and closed the doors behind her.

The only illumination came from a wall sconce out in the corridor as it spilled its fragile light through the partially open door of the library. Taking a deep breath, Emily made her stealthy way past the shelves of books and peeked out through the crack.

Nothing stirred beyond the threshold.

Pushing the portal the rest of the way open, she started along the dim hallway toward the front of the house. The back stairs would be much too close to the servants' quarters, and if she remembered correctly from previous visits, Lady Brimley's room had been
the last door at the end of the corridor at the top of the main staircase. Of course, Lord Brimley's current bedchamber was right next door, connected by a small combination sitting and dressing room, so she would have to be especially quiet.

She covered the distance on quick, silent feet, making no sound on the thick runner as she climbed the winding staircase and traversed the long, second-floor hallway.

You have to be careful, Emily,
she told herself, approaching the marchioness's room with caution.
You mustn't forget who will be investigating this come the morning.

Peter.

At the thought of the man who had caused her such confusion and dismay since his return, she felt her heart skip a beat.

What was she to do about him?

After their encounter in the stable yesterday, she was finding it more difficult than ever to keep up her previous façade of haughtiness and reserve. She was so tired of being on her guard, having to watch every word she said. How she wished they could talk as they had about Artemis, feel free to confide in each other about everything, the way they used to. She didn't want to fight with him anymore.

However, she wasn't certain what she
did
want from him.

She had spent the time on the journey to Lord Caulfield's yesterday afternoon contemplating this puzzle. As the baron resided several miles away in the town of Winterset, she and Peter had opted to travel by
the Ellington coach rather than take their horses. The silence within had been oppressive and strained. Though she had tried a few times to start a casual conversation, he had seemed reluctant to talk, almost lost in his own thoughts, and she had finally given up in defeat.

And as it had turned out, her attendance hadn't been necessary. The baron had been as pompous and blustery as always, and far from cooperative. Emily's presence had done little to make the man more amenable.

“I fail to see why I need to answer questions that I've already been asked by the constable,” he had barked impatiently. “I wasn't even home that evening, so I saw nothing and know nothing beyond the fact that the bounder broke into my study and my safe with hardly any trouble at all. Took everything that was in there, including my favorite pair of diamond cuff links.” His chilly blue eyes had raked Peter with blatant contempt. “And if the magistrate has had no luck catching the thief, I doubt you will be able to manage it.”

The baron had then turned to Emily. “I hate to say it, my dear, but I tend to agree with the local authorities. Most likely the culprit is one of those former thieves your family is housing at Willow Park.” He'd shaken his head. “It is out of respect for your father that I've continued to support this home of yours, but should it turn out that one of the current residents is the guilty party…well, I shall have to withdraw my involvement. You understand, of course?”

Emily had made placating noises, but Peter had looked ready to explode. Fearing a confrontation, she'd made their excuses and they had departed as soon as possible.

Their visit had accomplished nothing, and she had spent the time since staying out of Peter's way, afraid her guilt over what she had planned to do tonight would show on her face. Not that he had noticed. He'd been closeted in the study with Tristan from the moment she'd arisen this morning, more than likely filling her brother in on how the case was progressing.

Or perhaps he was avoiding her, as well.

To her surprise, that possibility hurt.

She shook off the unwanted emotion and came back to the present. Now was not the time to get caught up in pondering her problems with Peter. She had to stay focused on the task at hand. It was much too dangerous to let her mind wander.

Putting her hand on the knob of Lady Brimley's former room, she pushed the door open and slipped inside.

The interior of the chamber was dark and musty-smelling, and Emily had to pause a moment to get her bearings. Tiptoeing over to the large casement window, she drew back the heavy draperies and allowed the moonlight to flood into the room. Then, turning, she placed her hands on her hips and surveyed her surroundings.

Now, if I were a brooch,
she mused,
where would I be
?

A huge, ornately decorated bed took up much of the far wall, the mattress so high that a stool had been
placed at the foot to aid the former occupant in climbing up onto it. A maple wood vanity sat opposite, close to the connecting door that led into the combination sitting and dressing room.

Hmmm. Perhaps…

Emily crossed to the piece of furniture and searched through the objects littering the top. She came across several dust-covered perfume bottles, a silver-backed brush, and an empty jewelry box, but no brooch.

She brushed her hands off with a grimace. Adam had been right about the marquis leaving things in here untouched. The chamber looked as if it hadn't been cleaned since Lady Brimley had passed on ten years ago.

Where on earth could the brooch be?

At that moment, she noticed a tall maple armoire in the corner next to the window and she hurried over to it, swinging the doors open with a creak that made her flinch. After waiting a moment to make sure she hadn't roused anyone, she began pushing aside the moth-eaten clothing that hung inside, pulling open drawers and searching the shelves with meticulous care.

It was as she shoved aside a shabby-looking portmanteau on the very top shelf that she discovered hidden behind it a small, lace-trimmed box.

The marchioness's keepsake box?

Emily plucked it from the shelf, her fingers trembling as she pried off the lid. Nestled inside were several odds and ends. A packet of yellowed letters tied with a red ribbon, a book of pressed flowers, a painted
miniature of what was obviously Lord Brimley as a much younger man…