Heavy. Ominous. Nicholas could feel it in his bones. He inhaled a fresh waft of Emily’s lily-of-the-valley sweetness, but if his surmise was correct, a stench was soon to come. The only way to know for sure was to keep trailing the grim-faced butler who ushered him and Emily down a short corridor of a three-story townhome.Men’s voices spilled out an open drawing-room door, one in particular lilting with a poorly concealed Midland drawl. Three heads turned at his entrance. Only one broke from the huddle.“About time you hike your skirts over here, Brentwood.” Fellow officer Alexander Moore strode across the room.Emily drew up beside him, demanding answers, but Nicholas ignored her. “What’s this? Smugglers not keeping you busy enough?”“Later.” Moore pulled him away from the door and lowered his voice. He gave an almost imperceptible tilt of his head toward Emily. “She a stable one?”Nicholas rubbed his jaw, unsure of how to answer. Emily Payne was constant in tongue wagging, steady with frustration, and solid with determination to have her own way, though he doubted any of that was what Moore had in mind.
