"Will you stay with me?" she asked sleepily as he set her down amid the tousled sheets of her own bed.

"No." Simon straightened beside the bed and stood looking down at her with brooding eyes. "I do not think I dare do that, elf. Not tonight. I am beginning to wonder if the Faringdons have played one last joke on me by convincing me to marry my greatest weakness."

"I am not your greatest weakness, my lord," Emily said softly. "You have no great weaknesses."

"No? I only hope you are right. In any event, I intend to be cautious. I will not allow you to ruin everything I have plotted and waited for these past twenty-three years."

"I will not do that, Simon."

"It will be interesting to see if you still come to my bed as willingly as you did tonight after your father has been forced to leave town in disgrace. Good night, madam wife."

Simon went back to his own bedchamber, closing the door deliberately behind him.

Emily lay awake, dry-eyed and clearheaded, until dawn. The details of her plan began to take shape in her mind. The night of the soiree would be perfect for what she had to do.

The first task was to obtain a suitable pistol, something small that could be concealed in a reticule or under a cloak. Perhaps it would be wise to get two, just in case.

And then there was the problem of the body.

Emily was suddenly seized with an uncontrollable shivering. Her palms were clammy and cold and her heart was racing madly. She felt dizzy at the prospect of what she was planning.

The heroine in The Mysterious Lady would not be so weak, she told herself bracingly. And had she not always thought of herself as that brave female who had set out to rescue her beloved? Shooting Crofton would not be a great deal worse than confronting a real ghost or monster.

Emily prayed that her nerves would be steadier on the night of the soiree. She knew that if her plan did not work, she would not get a second chance.

Having his wife arrested would be every bit as much of a scandal for Simon to endure as having the Unfortunate Incident in her past revealed.

Chapter 19

Simon waited for Emily to appear in the library. He had sent for her a moment earlier. He told himself that it would be interesting to see if she responded to the polite summons with her usual alacrity. Normally she came flying through the library door within seconds after one of the staff informed her that the earl had asked to see her.

Emily had not yet learned the fine art of making her husband wait.

But this morning Simon was not certain what to expect. After he had carried Emily back to her own bedchamber last night he had lain awake for hours trying to wrest some satisfaction from his victory over her father. All he had been able to think about was how cold and empty the big bed had felt without Emily in it beside him.

There was a quick knock on the library door and an instant later Emily, wearing a morning gown trimmed with black and gold dragons, whisked into the room. She looked breathless and slightly disheveled. There was a smudge on her nose and a perky muslin cap sat slightly askew on her red curls.

"You sent for me, my lord?" She came to a halt in front of the desk, pushing her spectacles up on her nose as she gave him an inquiring look.

"I did not mean to interrupt you if you were involved in a task." Simon, who had risen politely as she entered the room, sat down again and motioned her to take a chair.

"I was supervising the cleaning of the drawing room," Emily explained. "The soiree is only two days away, after all. So many last-minute things still need to be done."

"Ah, yes. More preparations for the damn soiree. I should have guessed."

"I want everything to be perfect, my lord," Emily said quietly. "I am well aware that everything I do, including acting as your hostess, reflects on you."

"Do not fret about it overmuch, my dear. My position in Society is solid enough to sustain the discovery of a few stains on the drawing room carpets or a blot on the drapery." To his surprise, Emily paled and sank abruptly into the chair.

"Some stains and blots are especially difficult to hide, my lord. Sometimes one is obliged to take drastic measures."

He scowled at the odd note in her voice. "Emily, have you been working too hard on this soiree? I employ a decent-sized staff and I expect you to make use of everyone on it. If anyone is failing to do his duty, I would like to know about it at once. Greaves will handle the problem."

She rallied quickly at the implication that any of the staff might not be performing properly. "Your staff is wonderfully helpful, as I am certain you know, Simon. Everyone is working very hard."

He nodded, not entirely satisfied with the response. Emily was upset about something and he knew what that something had to be. She was worried about her bastard of a father. "Excellent. I am pleased to hear that. Now, then, I asked to see you so that I could return your manuscript to you."

"My manuscript?" For the first time Emily glanced at the package sitting on the corner of his desk. Her eyes flew back to his. "I do not understand, my lord. Why do you have my manuscript? Did Richard return it?"

"I asked him to send it back. I shall be quite blunt, Emily. He had not yet had a chance to read it and I did not think it proper for him to do so. I do not want you seeking his opinions."

"But he is a published author, my lord. I thought he would be able to judge whether there is any hope of my manuscript being made suitable for publication."

"I do not believe his judgment would be unbiased," Simon said flatly. "You will find he now agrees with me."

Emily flashed him a quick, hopeful glance. "Are you jealous of him, after all, Simon? I told you once before there was absolutely no need. My relationship with Richard is strictly professional, I assure you."

"I am not jealous of Ashbrook." Simon spaced each word very carefully. "And I expect you to have enough sense not to try to make me jealous."

"Yes, my lord. I mean, no. I would not do that." Emily chewed on her lower lip and eyed the manuscript for a few seconds. Then she jumped to her feet and snatched up the package. "If that is all you wanted, I had better get back to work. After the drawing room is properly cleaned I am scheduled to go over the buffet menu one last time with Smoke. Then I want to check the pantry with Greaves to make certain that all the supplies have arrived."

"A moment, if you please, madam."

Halfway to the door, Emily swung around to face him, clutching the manuscript to her breast. "Yes, my lord?"

"If you care to leave The Mysterious Lady with me, I can arrange to have it delivered to Whittenstall or Pound or one of the other publishers," Simon said softly.

Something that might have been amusement flashed in Emily's eyes. "I would not dream of allowing you to take my manuscript to a publisher, Simon."

"You trust Ashbrook more than you trust me?" he asked in silky tones.

She chuckled. "It is not that. The truth is, I know you too well. You would probably frighten Whittenstall or Pound into accepting my manuscript for publication or else you would pay one of them to publish it. Either way, I would not know for certain if my manuscript was capable of being accepted on its own merits. I would much prefer to take my chances like every other aspiring author."

Simon drummed his fingers lightly on the desk. "I see."

"In any event, while you may be able to get The Mysterious Lady published, you could not guarantee that it would sell to the public. There are some limits on even your considerable power in town, my lord. But I thank you for the offer." Emily whirled about and dashed from the room.