Page 99 of His Scandal
“Emmy?”
She quickly wiped the tears from her face and donned a stiff smile before facing Blythe. “Why dearest, you should be in bed. ’Tis late.”
Blythe held a candle that illuminated her concern. “You’ve said more than once that you don’t want to talk, but I just can’t pass by your chamber and hear you crying and do nothing. Emmy, please, talk to me!”
Emmeline shook her head as she stood up. “There’s nothing to say. I’ve made a fool of myself and I just need to recover from it. ’Tis anger causing these tears.”
“I don’t believe you,” Blythe said softly, coming forward to take Emmeline’s hand. “You miss him.”
She bit her lip, surprised that she even had tears left to flood her eyes. “I refuse to miss him. He is not worthy of that.”
“You don’t mean that. I agree that the wager was an inconsiderate thing to do, but I was not hurt by it.”
But I was, Emmeline thought. She hadn’t told her sister everything, how Alex had tried to seduce her, and how she’d nearly given in. She would never be able to put her humiliation into words.
“You’re too close to see it clearly,” Blythe continued. “Alex wanted to be withyou, not me. Everything he did was meant to give you a reason to see him. You cannot fault him for that.”
“You don’t understand men like him,” Emmeline said. “There was only one reason he wanted to be near me.”
“I don’t believe that. It’s been months, Emmy. He could have found what you’re implying quite easily, with any of his old mistresses. But he didn’t.”
“How could you know such a thing?” she demanded, aghast that she was having such a conversation with her innocent sister.
“I asked Maxwell to find out for me.”
“What!”
“I privately told him that I thought Alex was interested in you, and he agreed. Then he went off to speak to Alex’s acquaintances. Believe me, Maxwell can be very circumspect. He said that Alex has not acted like himself for many months. The places he used to frequent, well, he just has not had time to visit them. He’s been too busy—with you.”
Emmeline opened her mouth, but could thinkof nothing to say. Could Blythe be right? Yet it was so painful to hope.
“Dearest, I will think about what you said.” Emmeline squeezed the girl’s hand and let go, attempting a smile. “I don’t know if I can get used to you being so grown up and wise.”
Blythe kissed her cheek and walked to the door. “If I am so, then it is all because of you, Emmy. Sleep well.”
Early the next day, Emmeline’s maid handed her a missive from Alex’s mother. She stared at the parchment in surprise, then felt foreboding when she was told the coachman was waiting for an answer. She hadn’t known that Lady Thornton had returned from Wight. The last letter she’d received from the countess had mentioned no travel plans. What could she have to say—unless something had happened to Alex?
She quickly broke open the wax seal and read the letter. It was not Alex who was in trouble—it was his brother, Spencer. The viscount had escorted his mother back to London after her visit with her grandson, and last evening he had disappeared, leaving his horse to return home without him. Lady Thornton said Alex suspected the Langston brothers again, and she thought Emmeline would want to know.
Emmeline felt not a moment of doubt about what she would do.
She was going to Alex.
She ran up to her chamber to dress. In the flurry of activity she felt strangely removed, even amazed. What else could her certainty mean, except that she must be in love with him?
She had always thought that love would come to her like shooting stars, or the greatest orchestration of music. Instead, during the mundane task of fastening her cloak, she knew with a certainty that being with Alex was all that mattered, that she loved him. All she could think about was the Alex who had dreamed of modernization instead of dissipation when he’d played the viscount, the Alex who felt he always came in second in his family. Later, she would deal with discovering whether he loved her in return.
Emmeline barely remembered the coach ride to Thornton Manor. She jumped out before the coach had quite stopped and raced up the steps in the rain, flinging open the door instead of knocking. A surprised servant fell back, and Emmeline barreled past him, saying, “Where is Sir Alexander?”
“In the withdrawing chamber, my lady,” the servant answered. “May I take your—”
But she pushed open the door and came to a stop at the threshold. Lady Thornton, at the window, but gave her a welcoming smile. Alex and Edmund were hunched over a paper-strewn desk. Neither saw her.
“Damn, but you should have tried to get to Elizabeth sooner,” Alex was saying.
“I visited every day, but she refused to see me!” Edmund protested.
“You could have climbed into her chamber at night.”
