"You are a bastard, Mr. Crofton."
Crofton chuckled evilly. "Remember what will happen if you do not cooperate, my dear. The husband you so obviously adore will be held up to public ridicule because of the scandal in your past. He will be humiliated forever because of you. But we both know you will do anything to protect Blade, don't we? Such a loving wife."
Simon found a chink with the toe of his boot and hoisted himself silently up to the top of the broad stone wall. Crouching on the rough surface, he looked down and saw two figures dimly illuminated in the weak moonlight. His hand clenched into a tight fist as the rage washed through him.
Emily had the hood of her cloak pulled up over her face, her hands buried inside the folds of velvet. Crofton stood a few feet from her, dressed in an enveloping greatcoat and a hat pulled down low over his eyes to conceal his face.
"Are you quite certain you will not give up this dreadful scheme?" Emily asked quietly. "Is there no hope of appealing to your better nature?"
"None whatsoever, my dear. None whatsoever. Do you know, I have grown vastly curious. I believe I would be interested to find out just why Blade finds you so amusing. I think we shall arrange for another meeting very soon, madam. Someplace private, I think, where you can show me how clever and amusingly eccentric you are—in bed."
"You are a monster, Crofton."
"Tut, tut, my dear. Just remember what will happen if you do not cooperate with me. I know you are probably too eccentric to care about your own reputation, but you will do what you have to in order to protect Blade from humiliation, won't you? And I shall so enjoy the experience of bedding you, madam. I feel certain it will be quite a novelty. Has he taught you any interesting Eastern tricks for entertaining a man?"
"You are correct about one thing, Crofton. I will do anything to protect my husband."
Emily's hands came out from under the cloak. Simon saw moonlight reflect off the small pistol she was clutching and he realized with a shock what she was about to do.
Emily was about to put a bullet through Crofton in order to protect him from the scandal in her past.
Crofton's mouth dropped open at the sight of the weapon. His eyes widened in stunned surprise. "Damnation, woman, are you mad? Put down that pistol."
"I gave you your chance, Mr. Crofton. And I hoped against all odds that I would not have to go to such extreme lengths to make you disappear. But you would not go away. There is only one way to protect my husband from you." She aimed, set her teeth, and started to pull the trigger.
"Bloody hell," Simon muttered. It was a heartwarming gesture, of course, and one he would treasure until his dying day, but he really could not allow Emily to shoot Crofton for him.
Simon dropped straight down from the wall, colliding with Emily an instant before she fired the pistol.
Chapter 20
Emily felt as though the garden wall itself had fallen on her.
"It's me, damn it," Simon growled in her ear as the impact of his body sent her sprawling along the damp pavement stones. "Don't shoot."
"Simon! What on earth… ?" The pistol was knocked from Emily's hands. She heard it skitter across the narrow alley. The swirling folds of her voluminous cloak protected her from the dirt and grit of the pavement but they also blinded her. For a moment she could see nothing.
"Blade! So the bitch told you, did she? I warned her not to say anything," Crofton yelled. "She was a fool. I'll kill you both, by God."
Simon's weight was suddenly gone from her as he leapt to his feet. Emily sat up quickly, jerking the black velvet away from her face. She got free of the cloak, only to realize she could see nothing but the blurred shapes of the two men. Her spectacles had fallen off in the struggle. She groped frantically about and her fingers closed around the delicate metal frames. They were unbroken, she realized in relief.
Emily put her spectacles back on just in time to see Crofton drawing a pistol out from the pocket of his coat. He aimed it straight at Simon.
"No," Emily gasped, struggling to her feet.
But in that instant Simon lashed out with his foot, catching Crofton's hand with such force that something cracked and the pistol went flying.
Crofton's eyes widened in genuine terror as Simon closed in on him. He sidled backward but there was no time to run. He grabbed a stone lying on the pavement and flung it at Simon's head, but missed and hit the alley wall. Then Crofton dove for the pistol Emily had dropped.
Simon closed the short distance between himself and the other man in the blink of an eye. He slashed at Crofton's neck with the edge of his hand just as the man grabbed the pistol.
Crofton crumpled to the pavement and lay very still.
Emily looked down at the fallen man and then raised her eyes to Simon's savagely controlled face. He gazed back at her, golden gaze burning in the pale moonlight.
"I told him I would bring a dragon with me tonight," Emily whispered.
"Go back to the house," Simon said quietly. "Find Greaves. Tell him to send either George or Harry out here at once. Then return to your guests."
Emily shook off the odd paralysis that seemed to have gripped her. "Simon, wait, I had a very clever plan."
"Did you?" Simon came toward her, eyes still glittering strangely.
Emily instinctively took a step back. "Yes, my lord. I was going to make it appear as though he had been attacked by a footpad out here in the alley. I spent a great deal of time working out the details."
"I will take care of the details."
"Is he dead?"
"No. I do not think it will be necessary to kill him. There are other ways of getting rid of his type." Simon's hand closed over her arm and he hauled her toward the garden gate. "You will go back to the house at once and you will do precisely as I have instructed. Is that quite clear, madam?"
"Yes, Simon."
Emily glanced back once over her shoulder and a small shudder went through her at the sight of Crofton lying on the damp pavement. Then she was back in the safety of the garden, hurrying toward the warm lights and the sounds of laughter that spilled from the house.
The last of the guests did not leave until nearly dawn. Just before being handed into her carriage, Lady Merryweather took Emily aside and assured her that the entire affair had been an enormous success and that the soiree would be the talk of the town by noon.
If only she knew just how exciting the soiree really had been, Emily thought as a yawning Lizzie finally finished preparing her mistress for bed and left the bedchamber.
The sound of the door of Simon's bedchamber opening and closing told her that Higson was also through with his tasks. Emily jumped out of bed, grabbed her wrapper, and rushed across the carpet to the connecting door. She had been seething with impatience ever since Simon had quietly returned to the soiree and rejoined the guests.
For the remainder of the evening he had acted as if nothing untoward had occurred and naturally Emily had been obliged to behave in the same fashion. Together they had played the role of host and hostess for the next few excruciatingly long hours. Now, at last, they could talk.
Emily yanked open the door and saw Simon standing near a small table in the corner. He was wearing his dressing gown and was in the process of pouring himself a glass of brandy from a decanter. He glanced over his shoulder as Emily burst into the bedchamber.
"Do come in, madam," Simon said blandly. "I have been expecting you."
"Simon, I have been going mad. Is everything all right? Did you get rid of Crofton? What have you done with him?"
"Kindly keep your voice down, madam. We do not wish to alarm the servants."
"Yes, of course." Chastened, Emily sat down on the side of the bed. "Simon, please," she urged in a loud whisper. "You must tell me everything."