Page 83 of To Catch an Earl

He flicked his fingers at the two of them in clear dismissal.

Emmy ducked another swift curtsey, shot one last goodbye look at the jewels on the cushion, and was escorted from the room by Harland. It was only when the doors closed behind them that she realized she was shaking.

That was it, then. Ten years of work, and all she had to show for it was an empty reticule. No, she realized, she didn’t even have that; she’d left her bag in there with Conant.

Harland still hadn’t let go of her elbow. She was intensely conscious of him next to her, his height, his strength. She tried to pull away, desperate to join her family and say her goodbyes before she was whisked off for whatever new interrogation he had planned, but he stepped in front of her.

“I believe this dance is mine, Miss Danvers. We can’t ignore a royal command.”

Chapter 45.

Emmy could hardly look at him. Just being near him made her chest ache for all that could have been, and yet she found herself nodding in agreement. One last dance.

Instead of leading her onto the crowded dance floor, he pulled her through a doorway and into an unoccupied room whose curtains, walls, and furnishings were covered in dark blue velvet. He closed the door with an audible click.

“Dance with me.”

The music was still faintly audible through the wooden panels. He pulled her close, and her body came alive with his touch. She felt light, almost transparent. As insubstantial as air, except for where he held her. Those points alone felt real, felt solid. They swirled into the familiar steps, and she concentrated on the pearl studs on his waistcoat. God, he danced so beautifully. Her heart felt heavy, almost to bursting. She forced herself to look up at him, then wished she hadn’t, as his intense blue-grey eyes met hers.

The chandelier above them provided excellent illumination. She studied every detail of his face, trying to impress it upon her brain, to forge a memory she could hold in her heart forever.

The silence between them became pronounced. With a deep breath, Emmy decided to broach the subject at the forefront of her mind. “All right, Harland, out with it. The prince said you’d devised a suitable punishment for me. You might as well tell me what it is and put me out of my misery.”

His lips curved up at the corners in that teasing way she knew so well. “I’m not sure he described it as apunishment,per se. I discussed the matter with Conant, and we both agreed the plan held merit.”

She bit her lip and waited for him to continue.

“The charges against you will be dropped—”

She lifted her brows in silent astonishment and waited for the inevitable catch.

“—if you become my wife.”

Emmy almost swallowed her own tongue. For a moment, she couldn’t even begin to make sense of what he’d just said. She simply gaped at him.

“I’ve given Conant my assurances that as my wife, you will refrain from stealing. I have guaranteed your future good behavior. The Nightjar will be put to rest once and for all.”

Emmy blinked. And then her confusion coalesced into disbelief and white-hot fury. Of all the mutton-headed, arrogant— She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Thiswasa punishment. A slow, heartbreaking humiliation. She’d learn the exquisite pain of having his attention for a brief time before he left her for another. Of having him marry her, and then abandon her in the countryside while he returned to his life in London.

It was the perfect revenge. As his legal wife, shewould have no recourse to complain against whatever he chose to do with her. He could lock her away in some musty old country estate and be perfectly within his legal rights.

Her heart felt as though it had been shredded. How many times had she dreamed of hearing a proposal from his lips? But never one such as this. He was clearly being coerced into offering for her. How humiliating.

“Isn’t that as much a punishment for you as it is for me?” she choked.

Harland scowled, as if she’d mortally offended him. “I think you know me well enough by now to know that nobody can force me to do anything I don’t want to do.”

She raised her brows. “And if I refuse?”

He snapped his jaw shut, and for a moment she didn’t think he’d answer, but eventually he ground out, “Then you’d still be pardoned.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I would be free?”

“Yes.”

“Safe from prosecution and imprisonment?”

“Yes, provided you never committed another crime.”

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