Simon did not seem to expect anything from her but the small shivers that were making her tremble from head to foot. His mouth stayed locked on hers as his fingers stroked her with a shockingly gentle intimacy.

Emily began to forget about the strangeness of the whole thing as a tide of heat and tension rose in her lower body. Her fingers clenched violently into the fabric of Simon's linen shirt.

"Simon," she finally managed, tearing her mouth free from his for an instant and staring up at him with huge, questioning eyes.

"Hold on to me very tightly, elf," he advised softly. "I promise you, all will be well. Remember what the poets say. One must open oneself to the world of sensual experience if one is to know the truth concerning the nature of the metaphysical world. Open yourself, Emily. Give yourself over to me."

Not knowing what else to do, feeling utterly at sea in a wave of stunning, unfamiliar emotions, Emily obeyed. She closed her eyes and clung to Simon as though her life depended on it.

His fingers were damp now and moved with slick ease over the delicate petals that shielded her secrets. And then those gentle, probing fingers seemed to find a very special place. Emily arched her back helplessly as the sense of urgency within her threatened to explode. She was in desperate need of something but she did not know what that something was. She finally decided it was Simon's touch. Instinctively she widened her legs even farther, silently pleading for more of the astounding sensations.

"Yes." Simon kissed her throat and his hand moved on her. "Yes, my sweet. Now, Emily. Show me what a passionate creature you really are." One finger slid gently just inside her damp sheath.

Emily gasped. She opened her mouth on a keening cry of excitement as her whole body convulsed. Simon's mouth swooped down over hers, muffling the soft, feminine scream of release.

Emily felt herself hovering on what could only be described as a truly metaphysical plane for several seconds and then she slowly collapsed in a soft heap against Simon's chest.

"Bloody hell," she muttered in a dazed voice against his shoulder.

Simon made a small, choked sound that might have been a laugh or a groan. It was impossible to tell. "Ah, Emily. You are indeed a creature of great passions." He slowly withdrew his hands from between her legs and gently rearranged her clothing.

Emily lifted her head from his shoulder. She still felt dazed and she seemed to have difficulty focusing on his face.

Then she realized that at some point he had removed her spectacles.

"Oh, Simon."

"Oh, Emily." He kissed the tip of her nose and handed her the spectacles with courtly grace.

When she got them on, she saw that he was smiling his faint, unreadable smile. But his eyes were hooded and glowing with yellow fire. Never had he looked more dangerous or more compellingly attractive. Then Emily glanced down and saw the distinct bulge in his tight breeches. "Simon?"

Some of the fire dimmed in his eyes as his gaze followed hers with rueful awareness. "Do not worry, Emily. I will be quite all right. But to avoid surrendering any further to the delightful temptation you are offering tonight, I believe I had best be on my way. The long walk home in the cold night air will take care of my current problem." He stepped away from her and picked up the greatcoat.

"I will see you soon?" She wished desperately that he need not leave.

"If I recall correctly, I and the other members of the literary society have accepted an invitation to tea here at St. Clair Hall tomorrow afternoon. I am looking forward to it."

Emily smiled her most dazzling smile and jumped down off the desk. She staggered and had to grasp the edge to steady herself. Her eyes filled with laughter as she suddenly realized she was feeling extraordinarily good, although the dampness between her thighs was disconcerting.

"Yes, that's right. Tea tomorrow. My lord, if you are not inclined to taste any more forbidden fruit tonight, would you please do me a very great favor?"

He eyed her with watchful amusement as he shrugged into the caped coat. "And what would that favor be?"

"Would you show me how to open the entrance to the secret passageway?"

The earl grinned wryly. "It is obvious that learning the secret of the hidden passage is every bit as exciting a thought for you as surrendering to a night of illicit passion."

Emily was afraid she had offended him. She patted his hand placatingly. "It is just that I am very fond of things like secret passages, my lord. And I would dearly love to use this one in my poem, The Mysterious Lady. I vow it would suit the story perfectly."

"Who am I to stand in the way of your literary muse?" Simon took her hand and led her over to the bookcase.

Chapter 5

Emily frowned intently over the letter from her father's man of affairs, Mr. Davenport.

Emily smiled with satisfaction and jotted down a note to tell Davenport to go ahead with the investment in the Northumberland mining project. When she was finished she reached up and pulled the bell rope that hung beside her desk. Duckett, the butler, appeared almost at once.

"Oh, there you are, Duckett." Emily grinned cheerfully. "Please advise the staff that the South Sea annuities and India bonds have come to fruition. Your investments realized a handsome profit and were sold on Monday. The draft is in the bank."

Duckett's dour features lit up with gratitude and pleasure. "Staff will be most delighted, Miss Faringdon. Most delighted, indeed. Please accept our most earnest appreciation. You cannot know what a great relief it is to contemplate a financially secure retirement." He hesitated briefly. "Circumstances being what they are."

Emily wrinkled her nose. "We have known each other for many years, Duckett. We can be honest with each other. I know perfectly well that if the household staff relies upon my father's remembering to set aside something for their pensions, you will all starve in your old age."

"A rather dramatic statement, but quite probably true." Duckett permitted himself the briefest of smiles. "In any event, we are exceedingly grateful for your investment advice and services, Miss Faringdon."

"I am the one who is exceedingly grateful, Duckett," Emily said very seriously. "You all take excellent care of me. I do not know what I would do without you. It would be very lonely around here, that is for certain."

"Thank you, Miss Faringdon," the butler said gently. "We do try."

She smiled. "And succeed very ably. Oh, Duckett, one more thing before you leave."

"Yes, miss?"

Emily paused, searching for just the right words. She was loath to offend. "Does Mrs. Hickinbotham have any, uh, questions concerning this afternoon's arrangements?"

Duckett's eyes softened. "Not at all, Miss Faringdon. I assure you that in the course of her previous employment, Mrs. Hickinbotham had a great deal of experience serving tea to guests."

Emily was immediately embarrassed to have called the housekeeper's qualifications into question. "Yes, of course. I expect I am just the tiniest bit anxious. We do so little entertaining here at St. Clair Hall. And we have never had an earl to tea before."

"I believe Mrs. Hickinbotham once mentioned she had supervised preparations for tea for a marquess a few years back."