Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love (Scandalous Seasons #4)(18)

Jonathan held forth the crimson rose and Emmaline accepted it with a soft exclamation of surprise. “How very lovely,” she murmured, raising the fragrant bud close to her nose and drawing a deep scent. “Isn’t it lovely, Drake?”

Drake stretched his legs out in front of him, and yawned. “Yes, just lovely,” he drawled.

She motioned for Jonathan to sit. “Allow me to ring for refreshments.”

Jonathan sank into the nearest seat, a King Louis XIV chair. He looped his ankle over his knee and tapped his knee. “No refreshments, but thank you, Emmaline.”

Drake continued to study Jonathan with that deep, probing stare. “What brings you round this morning?” he asked bluntly.

Emmaline sank back into the seat beside her husband. She frowned up at him. “I said to behave.”

“I am behaving,” Drake, said, a defensive note to his words. “Something brings him here.” He looked back to Jonathan. “Am I correct? Something brings you here this morning, no?”

Of course, having known Jonathan since they’d been boys of three and ten, Drake correctly surmised something more than a mere visit between friends had brought him round. “I need help,” Jonathan said without preamble.

“Absolutely, Sinclair.” Emmaline replied instantly. “How might we be of assistance?”

Drake draped an arm around his petite wife’s shoulders. His fingers brushed the exposed skin. “You should know not to offer unconditional support without knowing for certain what this scoundrel intends.”

“You’re unpardonable,” Jonathan shot back. “He’s unpardonable,” he said, this time for Emmaline’s benefit.

They shared a commiserative nod.

“Well, on with it, then,” Drake said around a grin.

Jonathan rested his arms on the sides of his chair. “I’ve hired a new governess,” he said, because that seemed the least complicated place to begin.

“Again?” Drake said with a pitying shake of his head.

“You’ll find out the perils of rearing young ladies soon enough,” Jonathan muttered under his breath. The young couple, recently wed already had a small girl of nearly two years.

“How can we be of assistance, Sinclair?” Emmaline encouraged.

“I was tasked with the job of finding the sixth governess.” Technically, the seventh if one counted Mrs. Jenkins…which he did not. Still, it would have been seven.

Drake brushed back a strand of brown hair that had fallen over his wife’s forehead. “Dare I even ask?” he asked.

“It would be best if you didn’t,” he said under his breath. The less Emmaline, Drake, or anyone for that matter knew of the circumstances surrounding the hire of Miss Marshville the best off all would be. “Mother is concerned with how and where I found this particular governess.”

Drake’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Jonathan glared at him, not appreciating this display of amusement. He found the whole situation rather bothersome.

“Who is this young woman?” Emmaline asked Jonathan, even as she frowned at her husband.

“Her name is Miss Marshville. Uh—but for all intents and purposes, we shall refer to her as Miss Marsh.”

Drake’s brow furrowed. “Marshville. Why is that familiar?”

Jonathan shifted in his seat. He had nothing to feel guilty about. It was hardly his fault that Sir Albert Marshville had wagered both his fat purse, and modest cottage, which Jonathan hadn’t yet bothered to visit, in a game of chance. “I may have won Sir Albert Marshville’s cottage in a hand of cards.”

Emmaline blinked. “You stole the young woman’s home and are now forcing her to work for you.” She shook her head looking like a disapproving nursemaid.

Which only made him think of governesses. Which in turn only made him think of Miss Marshville.

“I am not forcing the young lady to work for me,” he said past gritted teeth. “She’s chosen to work as a governess for my sisters.” All to acquire her family’s cottage, but that was neither here nor there. If he’d truly had his way, well then, she’d have been his mistress before his governess, but alas after having felt the sting of her fingertips upon his cheek, he’d known with great certainty just how Miss Marshville would have felt toward an indecent proposal on his part. “There is more,” Jonathan felt inclined to share. Because the more is what had brought him round posthaste.

Emmaline and Drake exchanged a look.

“I may have suggested you were a one-time friend of Miss Marshville.”

“You may have suggested? Or you suggested? Because those are two very entirely different things, Sinclair,” Emmaline said on a frown.

“The former.” He softened the truth with his most roguish grin.

“I already ordered you to stop flirting with my wife, Sin,” Drake snapped.

Filled with a restive energy, Jonathan shoved himself to his feet and wandered over to the pianoforte. He depressed a single, discordant key that resonated through the room and his mind.

I’m proficient upon the pianoforte.

Jonathan imagined those long, delicate fingers moving over the keys.

“And how am I supposed to know this Miss Marshville?” Emmaline called, jerking him from his reverie.

He yanked his hand back from the instrument, and returned his attention to Emmaline.