“I had an idea as I dressed for dinner,” he told her as they approached the doors to the main saloon. “I’ve remembered the name of the brother of Josiah Coates, my steward aboard ship. Phineas. Yes, I’m positive that’s it. Phineas Coates. He’s with the Bow Street Runners, but Josiah told me the man is unhappy with his position, so that he’s actively seeking employment as a valet. Josiah and his other brothers are all gentleman’s gentlemen, in one form or another, you understand.”
“Not really, not yet,” Emmaline admitted as they stepped inside the main saloon, to see that Grayson had already ordered the evening tea tray, a not-quite subtle hint that he believed her ladyship should soon be saying her good-night to the captain. “But you’ll explain?”
John availed himself of the well-stocked drinks table, pouring a glass of wine while Emmaline prepared a cup of tea for herself. He returned to the main seating area, but did not sit down.
“Josiah left for his home at the same time I was coming here, to Ashurst Hall. I know his direction, and I’m sure he’ll be there by the time a letter from me reaches London.” He didn’t add that Josiah had only gone to the city to visit his widowed mother before heading to Warrington Hall, as that was information best kept to himself for the moment.
“Ah, you’re thinking this Phineas Coates might be the man who can find Rafe for me.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking. You could go through the War Office, but the extremely busy people there might not consider the mission as important as you’d like.”
“And, since Mr. Coates is a Bow Street Runner, he should have no problem in running down Rafe if we tell him what we know, that my nephew is in Paris. He could even, considering the man’s desire to leave the Runners, offer his services as the new duke’s valet, and stay with him, accompany Rafe home to Ashurst Hall. All very neat and tidy.”
“Only if you’re agreeable. I don’t know Phineas, but I can vouch for Josiah.”
“Very well, then, that’s what we shall do. I’ll write to Rafe tonight, and you can include the letter along with your instructions? And, yes, I’d feel much more comfortable if this Mr. Phineas Coates stayed at Rafe’s side until he’s home safe. I might even suggest they stop in London for a few days, to do something about Rafe’s wardrobe. The boy has been in uniforms for half a dozen years. Now he has to dress himself as befits a duke. Oh, dear, I wonder if he’s going to like that. He left here a boy, but he’s a man now. I wonder if he’s going to like any part of this, to be truthful. He had no ambitions in this direction, and no training, when it comes to that.”
“Three hearts away from the title, two of them young and I’ll assume vital, I can see why your nephew might not have considered that such a day might arrive. The title, this estate and, I’m sure, several others? He’s inherited considerable responsibility. Is he up to it, do you think?”
Emmaline nodded. “Rafe is a good, sound person, boy or man, I’m sure. He may be somewhat discommoded to see how his sisters have blossomed in his absence, and I don’t envy him having to ride herd on his mother once she decides she is now the dowager duchess—but, no, I have no serious qualms for the title now that it is in Rafe’s hands.”
She put down her cup. “John…about what happened in the gardens…”
He shook his head slowly. “No, let’s not talk about that now. You’ve had a long and extremely trying day, one way or another, and I certainly wasn’t any great help to you.”
“I feel as if I’ve just been told to take myself off to bed,” she said to him, smiling. “All right. And I’ll have that letter for you in the morning. Oh, and I suppose there are others I’ll need to write. To some distant aunts…perhaps the newspapers?”
“Tomorrow, Emmaline. There is nothing you can do anymore tonight that can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“Do I look that exhausted?”
“No, Emmaline. You look that vulnerable. And I’m not as strong as I thought myself. Not since I kissed you, at any rate.”
He watched as hot color invaded her cheeks once again. “Oh. Well, then, all right. It has been a long day.”
“Until tomorrow, which is already much too far away,” he told her, not daring to kiss her hand because he knew neither of them would be able to stop with such a simple, formal gesture.
He watched her walk, chin held high, toward the foyer, and then drank the rest of his wine, resisting the temptation to then fling the glass into the fireplace.
What in bloody hell had he done out there in the gardens? The woman had just had a terrible shock. Had he really believed that seducing her was the answer to all her problems?
And lying to her? How was that helping her?
His deception had begun easily enough, but there had been ample opportunity for him to correct her when she addressed him as captain.
She’d been impressed to hear he was a captain in the Royal Navy, that he had, like her nephew, gone to war to defend his country. And all of that was true enough.
She’d also felt comfortable with him, possibly because he was, to her mind, a relatively simple man. She’d felt free with him. Free to tell him the truth, bare her troubled soul to him. Free to lean on him in her time of need.
Free to let him kiss her.
She was Lady Emmaline Daughtry, daughter of a duke, sister of a duke, aunt to a duke. There would be no real social consequences for her if she kissed a captain in the Royal Navy. Kissed him…or more.
John poured himself a second glass of wine, preparing to settle himself in for at least another few hours of thinking, and most probably drinking. He had to tell her. He couldn’t put off telling her.
How would he tell her?
“Your Grace?”