Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(68)

“I will spend most of my life alone,” Emilia said. “I’ll learn to cope. I have some errands to run, if you don’t mind my borrowing the carriage.”

Hardly in a position to argue, Bridey waved her off, although she frowned as she did so.



Heavy clouds rolled across the sky as Dare drove the open gig down the road, sipping from the doctored water Emilia had mixed for him. That he had strength enough to handle the horse said the fresh country air had been good for his lungs, but a drenching downpour would probably ruin all the gains he’d made.

He winced at realizing he was actually considering the effect of rain on his health. Once upon a time, he had ridden through blizzards to complete a deal without giving the risk a second thought. Only old men worried about a little rain. Old men and Emilia.

Thinking about his anxious wife, the one who hadn’t shared his bed last night, he cursed at his own lack of understanding. He’d foolishly wanted her to share his triumph today as he finalized his dreams. They could have had a celebratory dinner, then enjoyed the luxury of a fine inn with big tubs and hot water and a comfortable bed. He wanted to shower his wife with the wealth he’d worked so hard to earn.

Emilia had no interest whatsoever in wealth.

Worse yet, she had spent the better part of her life creating an important book that could change medicine, a book for which she well deserved recognition—and someone had stolen it from her. She’d wanted his understanding and aid, not his wealth.

He stewed over the notion. Admittedly, he didn’t need his wife’s support as she did his. A railroad might not be an earth-shaking event, but it would do more than enrich his pockets. It would change lives for the better. He had a right to feel disgruntled that she didn’t respect the importance of his endeavor. But he was feeling disgruntled because Emilia wouldn’t be with him to share his triumph.

How had he fallen so low that he needed a woman to help him celebrate? Once a deal was done, he’d always been happy to go out with a few fellows to a tavern. Some good beef and fine wine had always been enough before.

It wasn’t enough now, Dare realized in dismay as he urged the horse on. He craved Emilia’s rare laugh, her astonished look of approval when he did something fine. She made him feel as if he was special and not just the man who provided food for the table.

Of course, she also made him feel lower than a worm for not helping her retrieve her book. He’d simply assumed finalizing his investment was more important than a draft copy of a book. But she’d been uncommonly distressed. Protected as she’d been all her life, she’d never been mistreated, so he had simply brushed off her tears as hysterical and temporary. Except—Emilia was not the hysterical sort.

Worse yet, it was just now occurring to him that the fool woman might get it into her head to retrieve the book on her own. Alarmed, he pulled on the reins as the pony reared at a flash of lightning ahead.

The book wasn’t important as long as the copy was on its way to the duke, but Emilia. . .

Damn, but this marriage of convenience was becoming seriously inconvenient. Somehow, he’d let Emilia become well beyond important to him—and with his short life span, he had to consider that more closely. For these past weeks, she had been the sun that brightened his day and the fire that heated his nights.

She was damned well the reason he wanted to live forever.

Popping a horehound in his mouth to prevent his chest from seizing in panic, Dare turned the gig around. Hadenton wasn’t too far off this path. He needed to have a talk with old Crenshaw anyway. He might be late for his meeting in Leeds, but if he timed it right, he’d miss the rainstorm. And if he were really lucky, he’d be there if Emilia took it in her head to confront the old goat and his son.

Praying the fool woman had stayed home, reluctantly admitting that she probably hadn’t, Dare lashed the reins and sent the pony trotting down the lane to Hadenton. He wished he had a real horse, but a single coughing spell could spill him on the ground. He didn’t think his pride could handle the fall—or his head, should he hit a stone. Perhaps he really was growing old to think like that, or maybe just more mature. He didn’t want Emilia nursing an invalid with a broken head as well as lungs.

There was the crux of the problem. . . he’d not cared what happened to him before. He’d never had reason to consider how his family would feel if he broke his neck.

Marriage was smothering the devil in Dare.

It was a good thing he only needed this one last deal to reach his goals or he’d be giving away concessions because the other fellow needed the money more. Women softened the head—but the nights, the nights were worth it. Remembering Emilia rising over him wearing nothing at all—was akin to all the world’s natural wonders rolled into one.

If she had just been good in bed, he might beat back this weakness, but Emilia had a rare mind, one that delighted and helped him. And there it was. . . her eagerness to help. How could he not love a woman, a partner, who wanted only to help for the sake of helping? Not out of pity, not because she wanted something, but because she had the same interests as he did.

He had no choice but to return her favor. With a few inquiries, he found the drive to Crenshaw’s estate. Leaving the gig out of sight, Dare tucked his pistol in his coat, wrapped in a cloak against the wind, and trudged up the drive. He’d learned early to spy out the lay of the land before entering strange territory. He didn’t like surprises.