"He still plays?"
She nodded. "At times. It's one of the few comforts left to him."
Recovering his composure, Nicky tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and led her down a cobbled path. "I could hardly sleep last night for thinking of our conversation. I fear you must think me the most despicable of liars."
The timeless strains of music drifted on the wind. Emily imagined Justin's strong, graceful fingers striking each key, sending her the strength to murmur, "I could never think ill of you, sir."
"Ah, but after all, it is my word against your guardian's. If only I could show you that land grant for the mine … do you think he has it in his possession here?"
Emily thought of the morass of papers and books moldering away on the North Island. "I doubt it. He was planning only a brief sojourn to England. He left all his papers in New Zealand."
Nicky shook his head. "How unfortunate. It's all I have to prove my story."
And all Justin has to prove his innocence, she thought grimly. "Even without proof I find you very convincing, Mr. Saleri."
He swung around to face her. Emily forced her expression to remain wide-eyed and ingenuous, hoping she didn't resemble a besotted rabbit.
He eased her hood back from her curls. "Please call me Nicholas, dear. Or even Nicky, if you would forgive my boldness."
His thumb stroked her cheek. He slowly lowered his head. Emily closed her eyes, praying God would give her the strength not to be ill. Before his lips could touch hers, a cacophonous banging shattered the moment. A raucous male voice broke into song:
Naughty Maud, the Shrewsbury bawd,
She'll steal yer purse an' tickle yer rod,
And still leave ya yell in' fer more, by gawd!
Nicky snatched his hand back, wincing. Emily hoped her choking noise would be construed as one of humiliation rather than laughter. She jerked up her hood and took a few hasty steps away.
Nicky dogged her, obviously eager to try a new tactic. "His behavior must be a constant source of embarrassment to you. Has he ever harmed you in any way?"
"Oh, no. I believe he's quite fond of me"-she hesitated for the necessary heartbeat-"in his way."
As they walked on, Nicky took the bait and began to weave his serpentine twists of logic like a web around Justin's story. Each irrefutable strand was sticky-sweet with his charm. He dropped constant hints about the missing land grant until she wanted to clap her hands over her ears and run screaming from his presence. Oddly enough, it was Penfeld who rescued her when he appeared in the garden and engaged their elegant guest in a conversation about the competing merits of Indian and Chinese tea. Shooting him
a thankful glance, Emily excused herself to summon a maidservant to serve refreshments in the salon.
* * *
As she marched through the drawing room, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a hand shot
out and dragged her into a curtained window alcove. "Are you all right?" Justin asked.
"Yes. No." She clutched the lapels of his dressing gown. "I can't bear it. We have to end this soon."
His eyes hardened; their grim determination chilled her. "We'll end it right now if you like."
"No! We mustn't. He hasn't revealed anything yet. We have to push him somehow."
The click of Nicky's boots sounded on the parquet floor. They stood paralyzed until Emily reached up and frantically rumpled Justin's hair.
"What in the hell are you doing?" he whispered.
A heartrending sob caught in her voice. "No, please, Your Grace, I've begged you not to do this."
Justin quickly caught on to her scheme. He ripped a scrap of lace from her collar and shouted, "Come
on, little girl, just one kiss for your new daddy."
They both heard the approaching footsteps pause. Emily emerged from the alcove, clutching her torn collar. She pretended not to see Nicholas tiptoeing toward the doorway behind them.
"Oh, please, sir, you promised not to do it again."
Justin grabbed her around the waist with a leer a bit too convincing for Emily's taste. "Don't fight me, child. You know you enjoy it!"
Nicholas peeped around the door frame.
"Hit me," Emily mouthed.
Justin jerked her close, genuine desperation in his grasp. "Don't ask that of me," he hissed.
Pretending to struggle, she dug her fingernails into his arms and pressed her mouth to his ear. "Hit me, dammit!"
His voice rang out. "You little brat, I'll teach you to disobey me." His eyes darkened in agonized apology as he drew back his hand and slapped her across the face.
His elbow bore the brunt of the blow. Emily barely felt a sting, but the shock of it still brought genuine tears to her eyes. At the flood of answering remorse in Justin's eyes, she would have done anything to summon them back. Justin hadn't the flare for playacting that she had. If Nicky took one glance at his face, the game would be up. The true enormity of what she must do struck her harder than his blow. Pressing her knuckles to her mouth, she whirled around to flee, only to find Nicholas standing rapt in
the doorway.
It took him a second too long to veil the cruel, excited twist of his lips with righteous anger. "I say,
man, what's the meaning of this?"
Justin shoved past him without a word. Emily flung herself across the room and crumpled into Nicky's arms. Clucking his sympathy, he led her to a settee beneath the window, where she made a valiant show of getting a grip on her emotions, all the while snuffling into his pristine shirtfront. He pried her off him and fished out a handkerchief, poorly hiding his moue of distaste.
"Please forgive me," she said, blowing her nose daintily into his handkerchief. "I never meant you to witness such a disgraceful spectacle."
"It only confirmed my worst suspicions," he said, his face set in noble lines. "I had hoped this wouldn't
be necessary, but I fear your guardian's behavior has made it so."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a tiny derringer. Emily's hands began to tremble in earnest. He opened her icy fingers and laid the weapon on her palm.
"I want you to take this, cara mia. To use it if need be to protect yourself from that madman. There's
not a court in this land that would convict you for killing him."
Emily stared down at the charming little pistol, knowing it was no less lethal for its size. It was plated in polished mother-of-pearl and fit her palm as if it had been made for it.
He folded her fingers around the gun. "Go on. Take it. Your father would have wanted you to have it."
She gazed up at him, hypnotized by the glow of sincerity in his eyes. A blustering shout sounded from
the nether reaches of the house.
Nicky hastily stood. "I think it best if I go now. I shall call again tomorrow. Don't forget what I said."
"I won't," she said, rising like a zombie. "Oh, Nicholas," she called as he turned to go.
He pivoted expectantly.
She waved the crumpled rag. "You forgot your handkerchief."