Emily turned on her side and pounded the pillow in frustration and anger. Her mind was in a turmoil. She still did not know how she had managed to get through the performance of Othello without letting on to Lady Northcote and Celeste that something was dreadfully wrong. At one point Celeste had been obliged to remind Emily to use her new opera glasses.
When the terrible scene came in which Othello avenged himself on his innocent wife, Emily had watched in frozen horror, Crofton's words burning in her mind. You are not so innocent
But it was not a question of innocence. It was a question of scandal. Blade had married her on the assumption that the dreadful scandal would not follow her from Little Dippington.
And now it was threatening to do precisely that.
Emily sat up and punched the pillow again. Then she shoved back the covers and got out of bed. She must find a way to save Simon from the humiliation and disgrace that would descend upon his shoulders if the social world discovered her past.
Her father was right. This whole mess was her fault. Emily began to pace the floor. She was the one who had talked Simon into offering marriage. She had done so by telling him what an excellent bargain of a wife she was. A built-in hedge against financial disaster.
Emily wanted to cry. Simon did not need insurance against a downturn in his fortunes. He needed insurance against the threat of a scandal in her past.
Emily frowned and came to a halt as a thought struck her. Insurance was precisely what was needed here. Insurance that Crofton would keep silent.
Emily started pacing again, her mind seizing on the first rational, useful thought she'd had all evening. The more she considered the problem, the more the answer became obvious.
If she was to protect Simon from scandal, she would need to insure herself of Crofton's silence. What was needed was a plan for getting rid of Crofton. Permanently.
Emily sat down abruptly in the chair near the window. Permanently sounded so very permanent. Finding some way to pay off her father's debts would not solve the problem. Crofton would always be there, threatening to ruin the power and position Simon had worked so hard to build for himself.
Emily thought about the matter for a very long time and came to the conclusion that there were really only two options available to her if she was to protect Simon from her past.
The first was to arrange to disappear forever from Simon's life and allow everyone to think she had died tragically. The problem was that she knew Simon well enough to know he would search for her until he found her or her body.
The other option was to make Crofton disappear forever.
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.