Brazen in Blue. Rachael Miles

have need of a scoundrel. You came to mind.

      He read the words with surprise, then hope. In their last conversation, the one before she’d threatened to shoot him, Emmeline had growled that she could imagine no situation in which she would ever wish to see his face again. But, even then, she hadn’t given back his promise, and now she’d sent the silver necklace to call him to her.

      Adam opened the pocket watch that hung from a fob at his waist. The ceremony wouldn’t begin for another twenty minutes. Plenty of time to go and return, or simply to go.

      The baker’s boy held a second letter, and he scanned the room for its recipient. Adam could see Colin’s name, lettered in Em’s even, formal hand. If that letter meant what he suspected, then he pitied his old friend. He looked around the church filled with friends, family, and neighbors.

      Adam dug a shilling from the slit pocket in his waistband. “Are you looking for Lord Colin?”

      The small boy—only nine or ten—smiled at the coin, then at Adam. “Yes, sir.”

      “Do you have a brother?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Does your brother look out for you?”

      The boy answered without hesitation, “Yes, sir.”

      “For a shilling, would you deliver that note to Lord Colin’s brother, the duke?”

      The boy thought for a moment, then nodded.

      Adam searched his memory for the boy’s name, then found it. “And, Bobby, can you wait a quarter of a hour before you deliver that letter?” He held out another shilling.

      The boy, grinning at the small fortune, nodded agreement.

      Fifteen minutes was very little time. He would make it be enough.

      He stepped into the aisle. Lady Fairbourne, staring toward the altar, looked so sad that he leaned toward her.

      “Lady Fairbourne, I must be going. My luck appears to be changing. Perhaps yours will change as well.” He smiled at her one last time before hurrying out the chapel doors.

      * * *

      Outside the chapel, Adam stopped short. He’d assumed Em would be in her study. But he didn’t know, and he had no time to be wrong.

      “She’s in the drawing room of her mother’s suite. There, on the end. Her windows overlook the chapel on this side and the river and forest on the other.” Jeffreys stepped away from the chapel wall and fell into step beside Adam. “She moved there last spring. After the verdicts against Squire Fletcher’s cottagers, she found her view over his fields troubling.”

      “I see,” Adam replied, not liking the turn in the conversation.

      “I hope so, sir. She also preferred rooms less . . . accessible to guests.” Jeffreys’s tone was flat and emotionless.

      “A wise decision.” Adam understood the butler’s message.

      “It’s been a difficult year for her ladyship. In fact, I’ve wished many times that I’d killed you and fed your body to the pigs when I had the chance.”

      Adam studied the terrain, watching for wandering pigs. “Does Lady Emmeline share your wishes?”

      “I cannot say, sir.” Jeffreys unlocked a door leading into a narrow stairway. The squeak of the hinge reminded Adam of the squeal of a piglet. “I merely thought you should know my position, should, by chance, you do anything to harm her.”

      “I never intended to harm her.” Adam paused, wondering how much Jeffreys knew. “I was merely . . . fulfilling an obligation.”

      “Yes, sir, I imagine so.” The long-legged butler took the stairs two at a time. “But you also have an obligation to Lady Emmeline. I hope you fulfill it with as much energy. If not, I must warn you . . .”

      “I know: the pigs.” Adam shook his head. He should have expected Emmeline to confide in Jeffreys.

      “Exactly, sir.” Jeffreys unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, then pointed Adam to the end of the hall. “I will return after you speak with Lady Emmeline.”

      “Jeffreys, one question more. The other servants . . . How many are aware of the events of last year?”

      “Well-fed pigs yield ample bacon, and the estate has enjoyed a surplus of it this year.” Jeffreys disappeared down the stairs.

      Adam had always considered Jeffreys’s humor a bit wry, even dark, and he was certain the estate’s bacon surplus did not result from servants murdered and fed to the pigs to preserve Emmeline’s secrets. Even so, he understood Jeffreys’s message: Lady Emmeline was loved, and Adam had threatened her sense of security and even her happiness.

      It was much the same as Emmeline’s note. However clever, she hadn’t offered him any olive branch. Instead, she’d used humor to set the limits of their engagement: her righteous anger against his guilt. It wasn’t the best start to a second chance, if such a chance was even possible. Besides, how much penance was he willing to pay for another heartache?

      It might be—he acknowledged—that no matter what he did, none of their possible futures included affection, much less love. Too much had passed between them. Too much trust had been lost before it had fully taken root. It would not be easy to start anew.

      No, Jeffreys was right to frame it in terms of an obligation. Adam had deceived Em before, and he had a duty to put that right, whatever the outcome.

      * * *

      She heard the doorknob turn softly and composed her face. Since Colin’s proposal, she’d cultivated a look of benign joy: a slight, thoughtful smile that barely upturned the corners of her mouth. The expression convinced the staff and her friends that she welcomed her coming marriage.

      But it wasn’t Jeffreys or one of the staff.

      It was Adam. He’d come.

      For the first time in months, she felt as if she could breathe. Her heart leapt up at the sight of him, all lean muscle and dark, mischievous eyes. The sensation reminded her of how much she had loved him—before the weight of his deceptions had forced them apart. She tamped the emotion down.

      He shut the door silently behind him. Even with Jeffreys’s help, she knew Adam hadn’t been seen. She knew all too well how easily he could slip into and out of rooms without drawing the slightest notice. Bess raised her head, then, seeing Adam, set it down again, beating her tail against the floor in greeting.

      “A scoundrel, am I?” His voice, supple like red wine, taunted her, teasing.

      She shrugged. “I haven’t time to debate the legality of your actions. I simply—”

      “Need my help.” He bent down to scratch Bess’s ears. Em couldn’t see his face.

      “Yes. Regrettably.” She looked at the valise Jeffreys had brought her, and Adam followed her glance. “I can’t do what I need to without your aid.”

      “You wish to run away.” He took a seat in the most comfortably overstuffed of her chairs and pulled her necklace out of his pocket. He ran the silver chain across his fingers, straightening it out. The unicorn dangled, catching the light. He didn’t appear too willing to help, and the thought made her anxious.

      “I would like to leave the estate—quietly—and in such a way that no one can trace my movements.” She wanted to snatch the delicate necklace from his hand, but held herself back. After all, she’d sent the token to call him to her.

      “By no one you mean both your fiancé and his brother’s agents.” Transferring the necklace to his opposite hand, he opened his watch.

      “Yes.” She looked from the necklace to her valise.

      “You do remember him—your fiancé? The man who shortly will be standing before the