Chapter 8 8

It was three o'clock in the afternoon. A light, freezing rain fell from the gray sky.

Three black motorcars sped up the gravel driveway. The tires screeched as they stopped in front of the main stone steps of the manor.

Emmett stood in a line with the other footmen. He wore his stiff gray uniform. The rain hit his face, but he kept his head bowed.

The car door opened. Lady Philippa stepped out. She wore sharp black stilettos and a custom black mourning dress. She looked like a general walking onto a battlefield.

The door of the second car opened. Clara stepped out. She held a black umbrella over her head. She wore a simple black dress. Her face looked sad and fragile. She looked like a grieving angel.

Emmett looked at Clara's innocent face. His stomach violently cramped. Acid burned the back of his throat. The phantom feeling of the rough rope tightening around his neck hit him again.

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. The sharp taste of copper blood filled his mouth. The physical pain grounded him. He forced his body to stay perfectly still.

"Get the bags from the trunk," Philippa ordered. She waved her hand at the servants like she was swatting flies.

Emmett stepped forward. He grabbed the handle of a massive leather steamer trunk. He lifted it with one hand. His face showed zero strain.

Clara walked up the stone steps. She stopped suddenly. She turned around and looked at Emmett. She tilted her head, studying his face.

"That trunk looks very heavy," Clara said. Her voice was soft and sweet. "Please be careful. Don't hurt your back."

Rory stood next to Emmett. He looked at Clara with pure worship in his eyes. He thought she was an angel.

Emmett's blood boiled. But he immediately dropped his shoulders. He looked up at her with wide, amazed eyes.

"Thank you, Miss," Emmett said. He bowed his head. "You are too kind."

He played the role perfectly. The dumb, grateful servant amazed by her beauty.

Clara smiled. She loved the feeling of power. She turned around and walked into the grand hall.

Emmett stood up straight. He watched her hips sway as she walked away. The fake awe in his eyes vanished. It was replaced by a look of pure, murderous hatred.

Half an hour later, Emmett was assigned to clean the first-floor drawing room. He knelt in the far corner, wiping the marble edge of the fireplace with a cloth. He was completely silent. He was part of the furniture.

Philippa and Lady Leonora sat on the velvet couches in the center of the room. They had kicked all the senior staff out. They thought they were alone.

Philippa lit a long, thin cigarette. She blew the smoke toward the ceiling.

"Alistair's timing is terrible," Philippa said coldly. "My husband needs the trust fund money to cover his bad investments. We need cash now."

Lady Leonora leaned forward. She lowered her voice. "Your father has a plan. We are going to make Clara marry Kearney Bernard."

Philippa stopped smoking. She looked at Clara, who was sitting by the window, pretending to read a book. Philippa let out a loud, cruel laugh.

"Clara?" Philippa mocked. "She acts like a pure saint. Now she has to open her legs for a dirty country bastard?"

Clara slowly closed her book. She didn't look angry. She looked up at Philippa. A cold, calculating smile spread across Clara's face.

"If it keeps my unlimited line of credit active and pays for my townhouse in the capital," Clara said softly, "I don't care. I'll wag my tail for him. Men are incredibly easy to manipulate."

The words hit Emmett's ears perfectly. It was the exact same tone she used when she framed him for treason.

Emmett stopped wiping the marble. He stared at Clara's reflection in the polished stone. The last tiny piece of his past-life trauma shattered. She wasn't a ghost. She was just a greedy, pathetic woman.

He reached out. He intentionally hit the heavy brass fire poker with his knuckles.

The metal poker fell over. It hit the stone floor with a loud, ringing crash.

The three women jumped. They stopped talking instantly.

Philippa whipped her head around. She glared at Emmett. "You clumsy idiot! What are you doing in here?!"

Emmett threw himself onto his knees. He grabbed the poker with shaking hands. He widened his eyes in pure terror.

"I'm so sorry, my lady!" Emmett stuttered. He kept his head down. "I'm sorry! I'm so clumsy!"

Lady Leonora waved her hand in disgust. "Get out! Get out of my sight!"

Emmett scrambled to his feet. He kept his head bowed as he backed out of the room. He pulled the doors shut.

The second the doors clicked shut, the terror vanished from his face. He stood in the hallway. He had ruined their secret meeting, and he had heard exactly what he needed to hear. Clara was going to try to seduce Kearney.

Emmett walked away. He was going to make sure her plan burned to the ground.