Two Turtledoves (19 page)

"Emma, I–"

"
Lady
Emmaline. To call me anything else would
be gravely inappropriate. I wouldn't know what to do if my
reputation were to be sullied."

"
Emma.
There is nothing I can do to come close
to making up for what I did all those years ago. If you would allow
it, though, I would like to try."

"What would be the reason? So you can feel better
about yourself? I will not allow you to use me like that."

"I don't wish to use you. I wish–"

"I don't care to hear what you wish." The anger
coursed through her now.

Her mother glanced up from her sewing.

Emma took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "You
may go back to your townhouse knowing I am quite well. I have
accepted my place and station as a disgraced spinster. You should
do the same."

"Will you go for a ride with me tomorrow?"

She blinked several times. "What?"

"You. Me. Ride. Tomorrow." The hint of a smile played
on his mouth.

"I heard you."

"Then why did you ask 'what?'"

"No."

"No, you didn't ask me what I said?" His smile was
bigger, reaching his eyes and brightening his entire face. This,
this
was the Henry she remembered. The light-hearted teasing
one. The one she had fallen in love with.

The one who had broken her heart.

She would not allow it to happen again.

"No, I won't go on a ride with you tomorrow." To do
so would be to open herself up, to allow herself to be vulnerable.
She had done that once and look how it turned out. She was two and
twenty, alone, and disgraced.

"I want to explain myself." His eyes were still that
odd combination of blue and green. She had never seen anyone else
with eyes quite that color.

"Yes, well, if I've learned anything over the last
five years, it's that we rarely get what we want." When he opened
his mouth to talk again, she continued, "Truly, your grace, I am
very much content. Please leave me be."

He didn't say anything, but she remembered well the
look in his eyes. He was running through various ways to move
forward and listing in his head the potential outcomes of each
one.

When he stood, she assumed he had taken her word
concerning her contentment. She stood as well, not knowing whether
to be happy or sad.

It surprised her when he asked, "A deal then?"

"What kind of deal?"

He took a step closer and she inhaled the scent of
him. Pine and musk, just like always.

"You ride with me tomorrow and if you wish for me to
leave you be after, I will do so."

She straightened her shoulders, recognizing it was as
good a deal as she would get. "Very well. I'll see you
tomorrow."

****

When her mother heard the news, she clutched her
chest and muttered assorted thanks to God.

"It's only a carriage ride, Mother."

Five years ago, her mother had been distraught at the
scandal that ended with Henry leaving for the Continent and Emma's
fall from society. Putting her own feelings about the afternoon
aside, Emma feared her mother would once again sink into despair by
the time this business with Henry ended.

"Yes," her mother said. "But his grace has just been
in town for three days. He hasn't been seen around at all, and you
are the only one he has paid a visit to."

That her mother knew so much of the duke's comings
and goings shouldn't have come as a surprise. As a countess, even
one whose daughter was not viewed well in polite society, she was
part of a large social network. A network that spent most of its
time gossiping and match-making.

"Your father will be so happy."

Her father spent most of his time at his favorite
men's club. She rarely saw him and when she did, she could never
tell if he was happy or sad.

She started to walk back to the library, but her
mother's hand stopped her.

"Maybe he'll ask you to the Kringles' Christmas Eve
Ball."

With a sigh, she turned around and tried to gently
let her mother down. "It is but a carriage ride. I am settled. I
have no expectations of marriage or even attending the Kringles'
Christmas Eve Ball. Please,
please
, don't wrap your hopes up
in this."

If she could only convince her heart of the same.

****

Living on the edge of society as she had for the last
five years, Emma had not been on a carriage ride with any single
man. Though she told herself over and over it was just a ride, the
truth was it
was
a ride and it was a ride with Henry. Henry,
who for all her statements to the contrary, still held a special
place in her heart.

She dressed in her warmest pelisse, of a periwinkle
color she liked to think matched the blue in her eyes. Peering out
the upstairs window, she sighed. Likely as not, Henry wanted to
explain his side of the story, to unburden his heart. She steeled
herself for it, mentally repeating that she was happy in her
station.

In the distance she saw the Salle carriage
approaching. Henry looked particularly handsome. Breathtakingly
handsome, if she was honest with herself. She closed her eyes and
leaned her forehead against the cool window. What was she doing?
Why had she agreed to open a wound thought long since healed?

One day, she told herself, it was only one day. A few
hours. Then he would be gone. Forever this time.

She strolled down the stairs.

"Lady Emmaline," Henry said with a bow when she
appeared. "You look divine."

She curtsied. "Your words are particularly sugary
today, your grace. Any more so and I fear I would faint of their
sweetness."

"You wound me." He clutched his heart. "Right
here."

She took her gloves from a side table and pulled them
on. "From what I heard of your exploits on the Continent, most
women were overtaken with your fine words."

He held out his arm and she took it with a cautious
hand. How strange to be touching him. Even now, after all this
time, her belly fluttered at his nearness.

I'm not sure I can do this.

She glanced at him and saw he appeared unaffected by
her touch. Very well, two could go at that. But her stomach
continued to flutter, even as he helped her into the carriage. He
went about checking the foot warmer and adjusting the blankets
around them.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked.

How could she not be with him so near? She tried to
look bored. "Yes, your grace. I'm quite comfortable."

A look of irritation crossed his face but was quickly
replaced with his typical easy smile. "Good to hear. Let me know if
you get cold." With that, he gave a click of his tongue and a snap
of the reins.

They drove to the park. Henry waved to passing
couples, presumably also out for a midday drive. Emma sat stiffly.
She knew, with Henry by her side, that society would welcome her.
But once he left, she would go back to being invisible. It would be
for the best if she didn't grow accustomed to receiving anyone's
approval.

The events of years past were like a wall between
them, keeping them separate. Though he sat next to her, he might as
well still be on the Continent. Yet he had been the one to ask her
on a ride, so she would wait for him to make the first move at
knocking the wall down.

It didn't take long for him to try.

"Emma," he said when they had driven past the park's
center. "My actions toward you were wrong all those years ago. I
acted irresponsibly, not thinking what the result would be for
you."

She couldn't stand to look at him while he said such
things. Instead, she focused her attention on the evergreens, the
other carriages out, anything but him. "I told you, I am
content."

"You deserve more than mere contentment."

She shrugged, but doubted the movement noticeable
with the bulk of her outfit. "I am better off than many in my
position."

It was nothing more than what she'd told herself
numerous times over the last five years. Why did the words sound
empty when she said them to him?

"Let me improve your position. Marry me, Emma."

The shock of his suggestion caused her to forget the
passing evergreens and swing her head to him. "What?"

His smile appeared genuine. "Allow me to do what I
should have done years ago. Marry me, Emma."

It was possibly the very last thing she expected him
to say. For two years after he'd left, she had imagined him saying
those very words. She'd dreamed of him coming back to rescue her,
to redeem her in the eyes of society. He would marry her, she would
become a duchess, and together they would show the
ton
she
was worthy.

Little by little, though, those dreams had died.
Slipped away, packed in the attic space of her mind, and never cast
again into the bright light of day.

So, unlike her dreams, she answered, "No."

"Emma, please."

"Don't 'please' me, your grace –"

"Stop 'your gracing' me."

"No. It's your title and the accepted way to address
you. I will not marry you just so you can feel better about
yourself. I deserve better. As do you." Her words sounded weak to
her ears. She hoped they sounded more determined to him.

He pulled the horses to a stop. They were at the far
end of the park. Not in the direct line of traffic, but not
secluded either.

He searched her eyes. "I remember a girl who used to
call me Henry. Where is that girl?"

She couldn't endure the scrutiny. Not from him. Emma
turned her head away. "She no longer exists. She is ruined. An
outcast."

"Emma," his voice was soft and pleading.

She blinked against the hot tears filling her eyes.
"She heard you had a delightful time on the Continent and hopes
your exploits were worth the price of her rightful future."

"Emma, look at me." He placed a hand on her shoulder
and gently turned her to face him. "I was wrong. I was foolish and
irresponsible. I hurt you and your family. Not a day went by I
didn't hate myself for what I did to you."

Her heart threatened to soften, but she held firm.
"And yet you only returned when your father died and you had a
dukedom to inherit."

"I was a coward. But I am ready to face my mistakes.
To try and correct them, if you will allow it."

He was always too charming for his own good. To have
that on top of being wealthy and good looking left a girl with no
defenses. She felt her own start to crumble.

"Why?" she asked. "You could have any number of
eligible girls. Why me?"

"Because you are the only one who knew me when I
stood knee high and wore gowns."

"That is a poor excuse."

"I would say more, but I don't want to be accused of
sugary words again."

This time, she was the one searching his eyes. "I'm
not agreeing to marry you." She wasn't ready for that, wasn't sure
if she would ever be ready for that. Not after all this time. "I am
a spinster and, until you showed up, a content one."

"Shall we agree to a courtship?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready for that either, but you may
call on me."

"I'll win you over yet, Emma."

With a playful tilt of her head, she smiled back at
him. "I'm a most stubborn woman, your grace."

"Henry."

A raised eyebrow was the only answer she gave
him.

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