I Thee Wed by Amanda Quick Page B

away his hand.
    He glanced down and was relieved to see no one about in the gardens. Then he reached for the rope coiled around his waist. He tossed one end out the window and secured the other. He tugged firmly a couple of times. The rope held.
    Satisfied that he had not forgotten how to tie the Vanza knot, he went through the window. Planting his booted feet against the wall, he gripped the rope in his gloved hands and propelled himself quickly down into the shadows of the hedges.
    When he was safely on the ground, he jerked sideways on the rope. The knot at the upper end came free of its mooring. The entire length of the rope tumbled to his feet. He recoiled it swiftly.
    Not bad, considering he had not tried that trick in over ten years.
    He stood in the shadows for a moment, considering his next move. Music still blared from the ballroom. It was nearly two in the morning, but the partying continued unabated.
    If he went back into the ballroom, he would very likely be obliged to fend off Miranda’s advances again. He had had enough strenuous physical activity for the evening. It was not as though he were still eighteen.
    And truth be known, he thought, the only advances he would be interested in receiving tonight would be from his new employee.
    Thoughts of Emma made him smile. It occurred to him that he could certainly summon the youthful vigor necessary to deal with any advances that she might make. Unfortunately, it was highly unlikely that he would be called upon to give a good account of himself in that arena.
    The bloody virtue problem.
    He made his decision. He went back into the castle via a little-used entrance near the kitchens and slipped quietly up the rear staircase.
    On the second floor he turned and went down the hall to his own room. He stopped in front of his door and reached into his pocket for the key. He paused before he inserted it into the lock. The light from the nearby mirrored wall sconce was dim. There was enough of it, however, to allow him to determine that there were no fingerprints in the fine gray powder he had sprinkled on the doorknob earlier. No one had entered his bedchamber after he had gone down to dinner.
    It had been a minor and no doubt unnecessary precaution, but Vanza taught that foresight was far superior to hindsight.
    He wondered if he should be worried about the fact that the longer this affair continued, the more he fell back on the old habits and ways of his training.
    He entered his bedchamber and closed the door.
    The soft, hesitant knock came only a moment later, just as he finished lighting the bedside candle.
    He groaned. Miranda, no doubt. The woman appeared determined to add him to her list of conquests.
    He walked back to the door and opened it only aninch, just enough so that he could speak to her through the crack.
    “Miranda, I fear I must plead the headache this evening—”
    “Mr. Stokes. Sir, it’s me.”
    He jerked the door wide. “Good God,
Emma
. What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
    She lowered the hand she had raised to knock, glanced hastily up and down the length of the hall, and then looked at him with huge, shadowed eyes.
    His first thought was that she was not wearing her spectacles. His second was that she did not have the vague, unfocused squint most people who wore eyeglasses got whenever they were without them. Her gaze was clear and sharp and starkly anxious in the candlelight.
    “I sincerely regret this, sir, but I must speak with you at once.” She clutched the lapels of her wrapper at her throat. “I have been waiting in the closet across the way for what feels like forever. I had begun to fear that you would never return to your room.”
    “Get in here before someone comes along.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her swiftly over the threshold.
    As she stumbled past him into the room, he leaned out to check the corridor. Mercifully, it was still empty.
    He closed the door and turned to confront her. He could not believe that she