thick and unruly, yet the lines of his face were more angular now, more chiseled. His shoulders seemed wider, his hips more narrow. His eyes hadn’t changed, though. They still glittered like fiery emeralds and still gazed at her as if she were the bane of his existence, sent by Hades himself with the express purpose of bedeviling him.
“My—my lord.” Billingsly, Aveline Castle’s agedbutler, brushed past her, his stooped form cutting through her line of sight, rescuing her from Derick’s hard green gaze. Emma dropped her eyes to the floor, grateful for the moment to collect herself as the chaos of stammered excuses erupted around her.
His arrival shouldn’t be such a shock to her—the entire village knew he was due today. Only she hadn’t intended to come anywhere near Aveline Castle while he was in residence, but then Billingsly’s note had arrived and—
Emma gasped. How could she have forgotten? She, of all people, didn’t forget things like that.
Taking advantage of the continued distraction, she stepped forward and plucked the map from Derick’s loosened grasp, berating herself for loss of focus. She spread it out on the table and resumed drawing the border she’d started. With dusk coming, time had become critical.
The voices around her stilled abruptly, and Emma could have sworn she felt Derick’s gaze boring into her more surely than Archimedes’ famed screw. Which was impossible, of course, as a mere gaze had no actual physical properties.
She didn’t look up from her task as she said, “I’m certain Lord Scarsdale will agree that explanations can wait until
after
we find his missing upstairs maid.”
Crack!
The sharp, sizzling pop of lightning served as harsh punctuation to her pronouncement. A low rumble of thunder followed quickly behind. Emma glanced over her shoulder at the window in time to see the first fat drops of a summer storm splash against the panes. Fig! If Molly were outside and injured…Emma mentally kicked herself for the bit of time she’d squandered mooning like a schoolgirl over a man who obviously didn’t even remember her. She returned her eyes to the table and scanned the map again.
“My missing upstairs maid?” Derick repeated, sounding dubious.
“Yes.” Without raising her gaze to him, Emma held up a hand to forestall any more questions. She ran her finger over the map. If her calculations were correct, the only feasible place Molly could be that they hadn’t already searched was this area to the east of—
“
Miss
Wallingford,” Derick growled, in a voice that demanded her attention.
So he did remember her.
“As these are
my
resources you seem to be marshaling,” he said, “I expect an explanation.”
She looked up at him then, annoyed. Had he just referred to his staff, and some of hers for that matter, as
his resources
? Emma narrowed her eyes, considering the possible ramifications of ignoring him completely. She had more important things to do than appease his “lord of the manor” sensibilities, particularly when this lord hadn’t bothered to grace this manor with his presence in more than a dozen years.
But Derick had risen to his full formidable height, taller even than she remembered. His glittering eyes had taken on a look of arrogant command. Emma gritted her teeth.
“Molly Simms,” she explained. “The gardener’s daughter. No one has seen her since she retired last evening.”
His shoulder rose in a half shrug. “That’s not even twenty-four hours,” he said. “I would hardly consider that ‘missing.’”
Emma pursed her lips. What did he know of anything? “Well, the rest of us disagree,” she said. “We feel Molly did not leave of her own volition and fear her situation may be dire.”
She’d given him as much of an explanation as he was going to get. Emma dismissed him and returned her gaze to the map.
“Yes, but
why
do you disagree?” he asked, ploppinghis hand down in the center of the map to block her
“My—my lord.” Billingsly, Aveline Castle’s agedbutler, brushed past her, his stooped form cutting through her line of sight, rescuing her from Derick’s hard green gaze. Emma dropped her eyes to the floor, grateful for the moment to collect herself as the chaos of stammered excuses erupted around her.
His arrival shouldn’t be such a shock to her—the entire village knew he was due today. Only she hadn’t intended to come anywhere near Aveline Castle while he was in residence, but then Billingsly’s note had arrived and—
Emma gasped. How could she have forgotten? She, of all people, didn’t forget things like that.
Taking advantage of the continued distraction, she stepped forward and plucked the map from Derick’s loosened grasp, berating herself for loss of focus. She spread it out on the table and resumed drawing the border she’d started. With dusk coming, time had become critical.
The voices around her stilled abruptly, and Emma could have sworn she felt Derick’s gaze boring into her more surely than Archimedes’ famed screw. Which was impossible, of course, as a mere gaze had no actual physical properties.
She didn’t look up from her task as she said, “I’m certain Lord Scarsdale will agree that explanations can wait until
after
we find his missing upstairs maid.”
Crack!
The sharp, sizzling pop of lightning served as harsh punctuation to her pronouncement. A low rumble of thunder followed quickly behind. Emma glanced over her shoulder at the window in time to see the first fat drops of a summer storm splash against the panes. Fig! If Molly were outside and injured…Emma mentally kicked herself for the bit of time she’d squandered mooning like a schoolgirl over a man who obviously didn’t even remember her. She returned her eyes to the table and scanned the map again.
“My missing upstairs maid?” Derick repeated, sounding dubious.
“Yes.” Without raising her gaze to him, Emma held up a hand to forestall any more questions. She ran her finger over the map. If her calculations were correct, the only feasible place Molly could be that they hadn’t already searched was this area to the east of—
“
Miss
Wallingford,” Derick growled, in a voice that demanded her attention.
So he did remember her.
“As these are
my
resources you seem to be marshaling,” he said, “I expect an explanation.”
She looked up at him then, annoyed. Had he just referred to his staff, and some of hers for that matter, as
his resources
? Emma narrowed her eyes, considering the possible ramifications of ignoring him completely. She had more important things to do than appease his “lord of the manor” sensibilities, particularly when this lord hadn’t bothered to grace this manor with his presence in more than a dozen years.
But Derick had risen to his full formidable height, taller even than she remembered. His glittering eyes had taken on a look of arrogant command. Emma gritted her teeth.
“Molly Simms,” she explained. “The gardener’s daughter. No one has seen her since she retired last evening.”
His shoulder rose in a half shrug. “That’s not even twenty-four hours,” he said. “I would hardly consider that ‘missing.’”
Emma pursed her lips. What did he know of anything? “Well, the rest of us disagree,” she said. “We feel Molly did not leave of her own volition and fear her situation may be dire.”
She’d given him as much of an explanation as he was going to get. Emma dismissed him and returned her gaze to the map.
“Yes, but
why
do you disagree?” he asked, ploppinghis hand down in the center of the map to block her