“Do you think me awful?”
“No. No, of course not, dear.” Melisande glanced up, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Why would you think that I’d judge you?”
Emeline closed her eyes. “So many would. I think I would, if I only heard the facts and not the people involved.”
“Well, I am not such a Puritan as you,” her friend said with pragmatic flatness. “But I do have one question. How will leaving here help your problem with Mr. Hartley?”
“The distance, don’t you see? If I’m not in the same house, or county, as he is, well, then I won’t be as susceptible to his...his...” Emeline waved her hands. “You know.”
Melisande looked thoughtful—and not altogether convinced. “And when he returns to London as well?”
“It’ll be all over. I’m sure time and distance will make a great difference.” Emeline said the words sturdily, as if she completely believed them, but inside she was not so certain.
And no matter her words, Melisande must’ve sensed the doubt. Her eyebrows were up almost to her hairline again. But her friend didn’t comment. She simply stood and gave one of her rare signs of affection.
Melisande drew Emeline into her thin chest and hugged her tightly. “Good luck, then, dear. I hope your plan works.”
And Emeline laid her head against her friend’s shoulder and prayed, eyes squeezed shut, that her plan would work. If it didn’t, she had nowhere else to run.
Chapter Fifteen
Murder! cried the guards. Murder! cried the lords and ladies of the court. Murder! cried the people of the Shining City. And all Iron Heart could do was clasp his head in his bloodied hands. The princess cried and begged, first to her mute husband that he might break his silence and explain what he had done, and then to her father for mercy, but in the end, it was no use. The king had no choice but to sentence Iron Heart to death by fire, the execution to be carried out before the next dawn....
—from Iron Heart
“It was a lovely party, wasn’t it?” Rebecca broke an hour’s silence with her tentative question.
Sam tore his gaze from the gloomy scenery rolling past and tried to focus on his younger sister. She was sitting across from him in their rented carriage, looking forlorn, which was his fault, he knew. It had been three days since Emeline had quit the house party so abruptly. He hadn’t even known she was gone until long after she hadn’t shown for luncheon on the day they’d made love in the corridor. By the time he discovered her flight, she’d had a two-hour start.
Still, he would’ve followed her if Rebecca hadn’t talked some sense into him. She’d begged him to stay, pointing out the scandal he’d create if he pursued Lady Emeline so soon after she’d left. Personally, he didn’t care two figs about possible wagging tongues. But Rebecca was a different matter entirely. She’d been spending quite a bit of time with several of the young ladies from good English families. Scandal would kill any budding friendships.
Sam had tamped down his raging need to hunt Emeline, catch her, and hold her until she came to her senses and stayed by him. He’d sat on his hands and made polite conversation with giggling girls and insipid matrons. He’d dressed in his best clothes, played idiot games, and ate overly rich foods. And at night he’d dreamed of her snapping tongue and her soft, warm breasts. For three days, he’d restrained himself, until finally members of the house party had begun to leave and Rebecca deemed it appropriate for them to depart Hasselthorpe House as well. It had been three days of hell, but that was hardly Rebecca’s fault, and he was a cad to be such a boring traveling partner.
He tried to make up for the hours of silence she’d endured. “Did you enjoy the party?”
“Yes.” She smiled at him in relief. “At the end, many of the other young ladies were talking to me and the Hopedale sisters have invited me to come have tea with them some afternoon in London.”
“They should’ve been talking to you at the beginning of the party.”
“They had to get to know me, didn’t they? It’s really not all that different from people at home.”
“Do you like it here in England?” he asked softly.
She hesitated, then shrugged. “I suppose so.” She looked down thoughtfully at her hands in her lap. “And what about you? Do you like England enough to stay here with Lady Emeline?”
He hadn’t expected such a blunt query, although he should have. Rebecca was a very perceptive girl. When they’d arrived in London, he’d planned on staying only long enough to do his business with Mr. Wedgwood and look into the Spinner’s Falls massacre. Now his business was finished, and soon he hoped to talk to Thornton and clear up Spinner’s Falls as well. What then? “I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
He glanced at Rebecca impatiently. “She hasn’t stood still long enough for me to talk to her, for one thing.”
Rebecca watched him for a moment, then asked hesitantly, “Do you love her?”
“Yes.” He answered without considering the matter, but he found that it was true. Somehow, without his even realizing it, he’d fallen in love with his prickly Emeline. The thought was strange and at the same time perfectly natural, as if he’d known all along that she was the woman he needed. It was a joyous feeling, as if he’d been waiting all his life for this missing piece.
“You should tell her, you know.”
He looked at his sister in exasperation. “Thank you for tutoring me in love. I’ll tell her as soon as the lady permits me to catch her.”