Chapter 7

"I'll arrange surveillance as soon as possible. I can assure you, his every step will be watched."

"You're being a true friend, Locksley." Killian tilted his glass towards his friend, grateful for having someone he could count on. "With the suddenness of this marriage and all the ensuing excitement, my wife and I have forgotten to make certain that Neal won't pick Henry's heritage apart. He has no way of getting a hold on the money, but Neal still lives in the late Earl's mansion, and I need to keep an eye on him from now on. I assume Emma wants to keep the house for Henry, until he comes of age and can decide for himself what he wants to do with it."

"What about your mistress?" Robin asked, leaning back in his chair, sipping at his scotch. "Since we found out she is Neal's mother, we should probably watch her, too."

"We probably should."

"You're still paying her bills?"

"Yes, and I will keep paying them to keep up appearances." Killian replied. "I don't want her to get suspicious in any way. As long as I pay her bills she expects me to return to her bed at some point."

"You don't plan on returning? You want to stay faithful to your wife?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"It does, and it doesn't."

"Can you get any more cryptic?"

"You want me to explain it to you?"

"By all means."

"When I met you, you had a stick up your arse," Robin started, chuckling softly when Killian stiffened but his friend just continued undeterred, "All about good form and such. But you've loosened up; the life on sea tends to do that to all officers. Everyone needs to release pressure from time to time, and if you don't have a wife at home you resort to take your pleasures with a wench, and there is nothing wrong with that."

"Your point?" Killian questioned, shifting in his chair, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with the topic of the conversation.

"My point is … as long as your brother was still alive you would have felt obliged to stay true to a certain code, but after Liam died you've changed."

"I know," Killian said, adding silently in his head 'And it wasn't a change for the better'.

"I'm not condemning you here, Jones. You know that. It was a hard time for you." Killian nodded sharply, not feeling affronted by Robin's words, but feeling ashamed by his own actions. "But you did adopt a sharp edge. Treating women as objects and not people." Killian almost winced, remembering the last time he'd been in a brothel, and how he'd treated the woman who wanted to give him pleasure. He'd been angry, but that wasn't an excuse, and he knew it. "You did slow down as you took Milah as your mistress though."

Because at some point he'd taken a good look at himself, and had felt disgusted with what he'd been seeing. The wenches he'd chosen had gotten younger and younger, and he'd realized that taking a mistress might pull him back from the edge he'd been drifting towards.

Thinking about his former mistress brought another thought to the surface, "Milah must have been awfully young when she conceived Neal."

"Well, it's not as if you've ever been bothered by the age of your bed partners when you were out of control. It didn't matter to you if they were ten years younger than you, or ten years older. As long as they could give you what you wanted."

Killian didn't want to talk about his dark days any longer, and he took a sip of his scotch as he pondered over Milah's age. "Still, if Neal is four-and-twenty and Milah is around eight-and-thirty ..."

"When do women don't lie about their age?"

"True. She might be older than she let people to believe." Killian said, the grip of his fingers around the glass tightening as he came to a decision. "I need your help again, Robin."

"Find out everything about Milah?"

"Aye," Killian affirmed, taking another gulp of his scotch to get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "For example … how she came in contact with the late Earl of Manton all those years ago, how she left Ireland and came to London. If her son knows she is his mother."

"I will ask my contact to retrieve all the information he can get a hand on."

"Thank you, Locksley."

"You're welcome."

Silence descended on the room then, the only sound Robin's drags on his cherrot, and Killian's thoughts drifted back to Emma as he stared down into the amber liquid of his scotch, the urge to share his so called secret with his best friend suddenly overwhelming.

"Robin?" Killian looked up, meeting his friend's gaze. "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Since it happened to me twice … I do," Robin replied, taking another drag from his cheroot and tipping the ash away before asking, "You talking about your wife?"

"I think I'm in love with her, though I hardly know her," Killian murmured, still wondering if his feelings were true since it happened so fast. "We've not even been married a month."

"I wanted Marian from the moment I saw her, and I fell in love with her after spending only a few hours with her. Falling in love has nothing to do with the time you spent with a person, Killian."

"What if she won't love me back?" Killian asked, hating the shaky, uncertain tone of his voice.

"Love is always a risk, mate. But it's worth it."

When they'd arrived the previous evening Emma had been so tired from the carriage ride that she'd hardly taken in much of her surroundings, just that the house seemed to be enormous in its proportion. Reaching her chambers had taken a dizzying amount of turns and stairs, and the moment her head hit the pillow she was fast asleep.

But she woke up bright and early the next morning, eager to get accustomed with her new surroundings. She got lost a few times as she tried to find her way downstairs, but in the end she managed to find her way to the kitchen, finding an elderly woman sitting at the table and murmuring to herself about the amount of pigeons they might need for dinner.

Emma cleared her throat, and the woman looked up, her face lightening up with a genuine smile as she sprang up from her chair and rushed over to Emma, startling her as the woman grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, the unknown familiarity rendering her speechless.

"Good morning, Your Grace. I hope you slept well."

"I did," Emma replied, pulling her hand out of the other woman's grasp while she was looking around, wondering not for the first time where her son was, and she decided to ask the other woman if she knew about Henry's whereabouts. "Have you seen my son?

"He is out in the stables," the woman told her immediately, adding hastily, "But you don't have to worry about his safety. My husband, David, is with him."

The woman ushered her to a chair and pushed her down, telling Emma she would make her a quick breakfast. Emma's head started to spin as she watched the woman flit around in the kitchen as she prepared her breakfast, and when the woman set a plate in front of her Emma realized she didn't even know her name.

"I'm sorry to have to ask, but … I don't recall your name?"

"Nothing there to apologize for, Your Grace. I should have known that Killian would forget to tell you about my husband and I," she said, shaking her head and letting out a tsking sound. "Men."

"I don't understand," Emma murmured, completely confused now.

The woman was calling Killian by his given name; something that just wasn't done. Killian was a duke after all, and the woman standing in front of her was only a servant.

"I've been born a lady, raised to marry a duke or an earl. But I fell in love with a stable master, and was shunned by my family," the woman started to explain, her words clearing up part of Emma's confusion. "Killian and Liam's father had already been deceased, and Liam never cared about the inappropriateness of our marriage. He might have put up a fight at first when I told him I wanted to earn my keep, but in the end he agreed to take me on as his housekeeper while David was the master of his stables. It's a rougher life than I've been accustomed to, but I've never been content with the constrictions of my genteel upbringing, and here I can be with the love of my life." A smile pulled the woman's lips up as she talked about her husband, and Emma felt a bout of jealousy sweep over her. "But enough with my life story … I'm sure you want to take a look at the menu of the week, and make yourself accustomed with this household. I have the menu right here for your perusal, Your Grace."

A paper was pushed towards her, and Emma stared down at it, the letters suddenly blurring in front of her eyes.

"What is wrong, milady?"

"I can't read it," Emma whispered, her voice choked up by unshed tears.

"Is my penmanship that bad?" the housekeeper asked. "I can always read it to you, and you can give me your opinion on it."

"It's not your penmanship," Emma breathed, not knowing why she felt safe trusting this woman with her secret without knowing much about her. But she did. "I can't read. At all."

"Oh my dear." Her hand was squeezed again, the tone of the housekeeper's voice gentling when she asked, "How about I help you learn how to?"

"You would do that?"

Emma looked up at the other woman, only finding understanding in her gaze, her throat closing up even more.

"Of course. We can start right this afternoon."

"Thank you," Emma breathed, feeling a kinship to this woman she'd just met. "And when we are alone … I would like you to call me Emma."

"Of course. But only if you call me Mary Margaret."

Killian was feeling the tiredness clear down to his bones; every muscle was aching, every fiber of his being was demanding of him to lay down and just succumb to sleep. The last two weeks had been exhausting, but he'd finally managed to get everything in order so that he could follow his wife to the country. Maybe he should have opted to take his carriage and not ride the whole way, but riding was much quicker, and he just wanted to be away from the town as fast as possible, to forget about everything for a few precious days.

And he needed to see Emma.

His knees buckled when he descended from his horse, his fingers feeling stiff from holding the reins for too long, but he still took the time to brush his hand down Devil's nose, murmuring his thanks into the stallions' ear for bringing him to his estate this fast.

A yell made Killian almost jump and Devil jerked his head back, but Killian kept a tight grip on the horse's halter until the groom could take over the reins, and he'd just turned around when a whirlwind raced over the yard and barreled into him, shouting his name at the top of his lungs.

"Hello to you too, lad," Killian said, and he leaned down to pull Henry into his arms and lift him up, ignoring his fatigue and settling him on his hip.

"Killy, I saw all the horses, and David says I can ride them all as soon as the weather is good. Will you be there too then?"

"Of course I will," Killian assured the boy, a grin tugging the corner of his mouth upwards.

Henry kept talking without really taking a breath as Killian carried him to the house, and he was grateful when the governess stepped into the hall and took Henry from him. The boy was talking so fast that Killian could hardly follow him, and after assuring the lad that he would go to the stables with him on the morrow Henry walked upstairs with Mrs. Hawthorne and Killian leaned back against the wall to take in a deep breath before pushing himself into motion again, and forcing his tired muscles to function at least as long as it took him to find Emma.

Emma was furrowing her brows, having a hard time with deciphering the next sentence. Mary Margaret had told her that she needed to be patient, that she couldn't expect to read with ease after only two weeks, but Emma didn't have that patience, pushing herself and working on her reading whenever she found time. But it was still hard, and she felt a headache brewing, her temples starting to throb, and with a sigh she let the book drop into her lap.

The opening of the door was a welcome distraction, the sight of her husband walking into the room making her heart skip a beat.

"Killian, you're here."

He greeted her with an exaggerated bow, a smile playing over his lips when his eyes fell on the book in her lap.

"I see you're reading the book. How is it?"

"I can't tell yet. I've only read a few pages." A furrow appeared between his brows as he clearly wondered why she hadn't read more in the last two weeks, and she added hastily, "I … I couldn't read it before."

"What do you mean, love?"

The unexpected endearment sent a fuzzy feeling through her heart, and the warmth of his gaze made it easier to confess her weakness to her husband. "I couldn't read at all before your housekeeper taught me."

Emma didn't know what reaction she'd expected, but Killian didn't say a word at first. Just watching her for a few moments before he stepped closer and sat down beside her, turning on the settee so that he could face her.

"So what do you say, Emma?" he said, his head tilting to the side and a mischievous grin flitting over his mouth. "Should we read it together?"

"You want to read the book with me?" Emma asked her husband, searching his face for any sign that he might be jesting, but finding none.

"Aye," Killian replied, the look in his eyes touching something deep inside of her. "It'd be my pleasure."

A foreign feeling swept through Emma's body, and her hand was shaking slightly when she held the book out to him. As he took it out of her hand his fingers brushed hers, and a jolt ran down her spine, making a blush rise to her cheeks. But Killian was occupied with opening the book, asking where she'd stopped reading, and she pointed it out to him before settling back into the cushions.

Killian cleared his throat once, throwing her a lopsided smirk before his eyes went back to the book and he started to read, "Mr. Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Mr. Bingley. He had always intended to visit him, though to the last always assuring his wife that he should not go; and till the evening after the visit was paid she had no knowledge of it."

Neal was seething, throwing his hat on the desk in the study, huffing out an annoyed breath as he let himself fall into the chair. The monthly allowance his father had left him with just wasn't enough, and since his father's widow had had the audacity to go and marry a duke and take away his leverage over her, he couldn't think of another way to get his hands on Henry's money. Something he wanted desperately, not to mention that he had looked forward to having a woman at hand without having to pay for her services. Emma might have been frigid, but at least he could have fucked her whenever he felt the need to. Another thing she'd taken away from him. He was the father of her son, and she should have had welcomed him in her bedchamber with open arms and wide spread legs.

Neal had pictured an easy life after his father died, expected to have unrestricted access to the money, and to Emma's body. He didn't expect the woman to defy him, and ruin all his plans. But she would pay for it. She and her obnoxious husband. He didn't know how he'd make them pay yet, but he was determined to find a way to get to Emma. And the money.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and he barked a harsh 'Come in', not in the least happy about the intrusion.

"You have a visitor, Sir," the butler told him, oblivious to his dark mood, presenting Neal the silver tablet with the card on it.

He didn't recognize the name on the card, but he decided to at least take a look at the visitor. Maybe she would turn out to be open to lifting her skirts and spread her legs for him. Though when the woman stepped into the room he wrinkled his nose; she was way too old for his taste.

"We need to talk," the strange woman said, and Neal already wanted to tell the butler to remove this unwanted guest from the mansion, but her next words made him reconsider that notion, "It's about the Duke and Duchess of Hillsborough."

Leaning back in his chair, he folded his hands over his stomach and eyed the woman more closely, noticing her proud posture and the obvious quality of her clothes. He waved the butler out, waiting for the door to click shut before he faced his visitor again, and nodded his head towards her, "I'm listening."