The Rake's Redemption

Darting a glance at him and seeing the amused curve of his fine lips, she wondered if he meant to touch her in so intimate a manner. Immediately, she decided not. He was interested in Amy, not her. She had too many freckles and a spare figure that not even the high-waisted gowns in fashion flattered.

He could have his pick of the ladies of the ton or those not so high in the instep. He would never give her a second glance if he weren’t pursuing Amy for reasons Emma knew had to be far from honourable.

‘A tuppence for your thoughts, Miss Stockton.’

Warmth spread through Emma’s body at his use of her name and made her wonder if he had really meant her the first time. She chased that thought away. Everything about this situation was disconcerting.

‘I am wondering why everyone wants to be in London when the countryside is at its best at this time of year.’ She couldn’t help a wistful glance at the green trees and emerald grass. ‘There are days when I miss home very much.’

His eyes intent, he murmured, ‘How very interesting. I thought you enjoyed London.’

She met his gaze without thought. ‘I don’t know why you should think anything about me, Mr Hawthorne. You don’t know me.’

‘I know some things.’

‘Such as?’

He glanced at Amy and shrugged. ‘That you have been in London for the Season these past three years. That your family’s country estate is in Yorkshire. That until three years ago, you were in mourning. You did not come to Town until after that.’

She listened to him, thinking he must have heard everything from his older brother when she and George Hawthorne had been engaged for all of three months just two years before. It seemed a lifetime.

‘You are well-informed. I would have thought me too boring a subject to hold any interest for a man of your persuasions.’

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. They sounded as though she were begging for a compliment, not as the insult they should have been. Why did this man—with nothing to recommend him that she valued—manage to make her feel disturbingly alive?

‘You don’t have a high opinion of me.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Em, how can you be so rude?’ Amy’s voice cut into what had seemed a small cocoon where only Emma and Charles Hawthorne existed. ‘If I said such a thing, you would threaten to put me to bed with only bread and milk.’

Emma shook herself, thankful to Amy for interrupting a discussion that was becoming too revealing. She angled to smile at her sister. ‘I might have done so several years ago, but you are too old for such measures now.’

‘Hah! And thank goodness for that.’ Amy laughed. ‘I have seen that glint in your eyes many times these last weeks. You always have it when you wish to discipline me.’

Bantering with her sister eased some of Emma’s uncanny awareness of the man sitting across from her. Even when his knee once more touched her own, she managed not to feel as though her stomach spiralled. She was more aware of him than she wished.

Charles Hawthorne raised his hand to wave and the carriage slowed. They paralleled a dark-haired, dark-eyed, vivacious woman who sat on a prime piece of horseflesh as though she had been born to the saddle.

Harriette Wilson, the famed courtesan, smiled at Charles Hawthorne.

Emma’s face paled and her fists clenched. This was not done and showed a tremendous lack of respect on the man’s part toward her and her sister. She glared at him.

‘Harriette,’ he said, his fine voice making the name sound like a caress, ‘how are you today? You look in fine mettle.’

The woman smiled back, her entire body seeming to light up. ‘Charles, you devil, I am in great spirits.’ Her teasing gaze turned challenging. ‘Do you intend to introduce me?’

His grin widened. ‘I would not have hailed you if I did not.’ He turned so his intensity held Emma like a vise, his countenance as serious as Emma had never seen it. ‘Miss Stockton, Miss Amy, I would like you to meet Miss Wilson. A friend of mine.’

Emma nodded her head. Good manners and an innate tendency not to hurt others kept her tone pleasant and kept her from looking away without acknowledging the introduction. ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Wilson.’

Amy’s voice rose. ‘Miss Harriette Wilson? The Harriette—’

Emma cut ruthlessly across her sister’s excitement. ‘That is enough, Amy. I am sure Miss Wilson has no desire for her name to be shouted for all to hear.’

The mounted woman laughed and her attractive face turned beautiful. No wonder men thought her irresistible. Emma found her appealing.

‘I am not shouting,’ Amy said indignantly.

Emma scowled at her, hoping to quiet her.

‘I am delighted to make your acquaintance,’ Harriette said solemnly.

Tension Emma had not seen before eased from the courtesan’s stiffly held back. Harriette Wilson had expected to be snubbed. Emma felt sorry for the other woman who had much more freedom than any respectable female, but also suffered more slights and less security. Upon the realisation, Emma gave the other woman a slight smile, her only regret being that Amy was in the carriage and being introduced to Britain’s most well-known, sought after and successful courtesan. This would do Amy’s reputation as much damage as being pursued by Charles Hawthorne.

For her sister’s sake, Emma regretted her show of friendliness but she could not have done differently. It was not Harriette Wilson at fault here, but Charles Hawthorne for stopping, and she would tell him so at the first opportunity.

Chapter Three

N early an hour later, they swept through the gate and out of Hyde Park. Emma still fumed.

‘Did you enjoy your outing?’ Charles Hawthorne asked Amy, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

The young girl sparkled in the afternoon sun. ‘Very much so.’ She laughed with enjoyment. ‘And you are such a rogue to introduce us to Harriette Wilson. Although, I must admit to being fascinated by a woman who earns her living like that.’

Emma did nothing to disguise her groan. ‘Amy, if you please, that is more than enough. Ladies do not discuss women like Miss Wilson.’

‘Oh, pooh! Ladies don’t do anything that is interesting.’

Even as she silently agreed with Amy, Emma knew she had to stop Amy’s fascination with the other woman right now. ‘You seem to be doing quite a few things that are interesting to you.’

‘Sarcasm?’ Charles Hawthorne murmured. ‘It will accomplish nothing.’

Emma gave him a bland look. Right now was not the time to let him know what she thought of his actions. She was spared any further temptation to do so with Amy present by the carriage pulling up to their house.

Charles Hawthorne hopped out and turned immediately to help Amy down. She giggled. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’ Her eyes flirted as she allowed him to guide her to the front steps.

‘My pleasure.’ He put his gloved hand over hers where it rested on his forearm.

His head bent to Amy’s and he said something Emma couldn’t hear as she followed behind, having been helped down by the groom. No doubt he was flirting as outrageously with Amy as she was with him. A tiny ball of frustration and another emotion Emma didn’t want to examine formed in her chest.

She reached them just as the front door opened. ‘Amy, please give me a few moments alone with Mr Hawthorne.’

Amy looked from one to the other. ‘So you can scold him?’

Emma ignored the challenge in her sister’s voice. ‘Please honour my request.’

‘Don’t let her box your ears, Mr Hawthorne. She has a predilection for that.’ Amy tossed her head.