Page 50 of Never a Bride
“Maxwell, it doesn’t mean anything. Alex only does this to make women like him. It is not true generosity.”
“I think it is. He could make Blythe like him without purchasing anything at all. And he even bought some for you, whom he’s not pursuing.”
But she knew Alex had selfish reasons for plying her with gifts, and was not impressed.
“Just relax and enjoy the day, Maxwell. Blythe is here with you. You just have to talk to her.”
She looked up to find Blythe walking toward her swiftly, a worried frown on her face. Her sister looked back once over her shoulder, then drew Emmeline away from Maxwell and Alex and spoke in a low, hurried voice.
“Emmy, I wish I didn’t have to tell you this, but you need to know so that you’re not shocked.”
“Slow down, dearest. Whatever do you think could shock me?”
“Oh, I don’t know what he’s doing here!” Blythe said, twisting her fingers together. “Didn’t he used to live in London?”
“Who, Blythe? Just tell me who you’ve seen.”
She bit her lip, then gripped Emmeline’s hands in her own. “Oh, Emmy, ’tis Clifford Roswald.”
Even after all these years, she still felt a shiver of regret for the life she once thought she’d have with Clifford. “It’s all right, dearest,” she said absently.
She hadn’t seen him in seven years, since she’d told him that her father wouldn’t allow her to marry him. Though the pain had dulled with time, she didn’t want to see the sadness in his eyes again. She wished she could go home, but it would be a cowardly thing to do. And how could she deny Maxwell and Blythe the opportunity to know one another better?
“Emmy, there’s something else I haven’t told you.”
She forced herself to smile. “Yes?”
“His wife is with him.”
“Oh.”
“And his children.”
“I see. What a kind father, to bring his family to the fair.” She didn’t want to see his wife or children—the children that could have been hers. She had known that someday she would face Clifford again—but perhaps this time she could avoid him.
Emmeline squared her shoulders and looked up to search the crowd. The first person she saw was Alex, watching her with narrowed eyes from only a few paces away. What had he overheard?
Chapter 15
Alex had heard everything. He kept his expression carefully blank, but inside, he pitied Emmeline. She had been denied what she obviously thought was her only chance at happiness. More than ever, she needed him to show her that she was a desirable woman, that she could someday find a good man.
But not Maxwell Willoughby. He was all wrong for her.
Alex turned to look where Blythe was pointing. A small family stood in the shade of a tree. The man, obviously Clifford Roswald, was plainly dressed and gentle of expression. He held a young child in his arms and talked to his wife. The woman was pregnant, and two more children spun a hoop about them in the dirt. Though they were wearing the simple garments of farmers, they seemed well fed and happy.
Alex glanced at Emmeline, whose lips were pressed in a thin line. He saw the stiffness of her posture and knew she was trying her best to pretend it meant nothing to her. But if he allowed her to walk away from this, she’d never understand that Roswald was happy with his wife and family, that this was the life he’d been meant to live—that Roswald and Emmeline weren’t meant to be together.
He walked over to the Prescott sisters, swallowed a mouthful of beer and asked, “Who’s that?”
Emmeline was visibly startled. “Who?”
“The family you two are whispering about.”
Blythe looked at them with the wide eyes of a wounded doe.
Emmeline smiled at her sister. “I’ll deal with Alex. Take Maxwell to the puppet show you’ve been eyeing.”
“Are you certain?”
