Page 118 of A Winter By the Sea
“May I join you?”
“If you’d like.” She gestured toward the nearby chair.
He hesitated again, then shut the door behind himself and sat down, turning up his coat collar against the chill.
“You’ll freeze. Here.” Impulsively, she spread half of the large blanket over him.
Only after she had done so, and noticed his stiff posture, did she realize that such an act was probably not appropriate.
He began, “I am not sure we should—”
Illogically irritated, she turned her face away. “Throw it off if you want, but don’t blame me if you get frostbite.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her in surprise, then look toward the sea as if to discover what she found so fascinating. He did not, however, remove the blanket.
After a few moments, Emily stole another peek at him. Mighthe be thinking of the last time they tarried on a veranda together, sitting side by side much as they were now? She wondered if he even remembered.
She said, “I suppose you don’t recall the last time you and I sat on a veranda together.”
He sent her a sharp glance. “I do, actually. Are you a mind reader? I was just thinking of that. I must say, the weather was much finer then.”
“True. And we were interrupted by Lord Bertram. If only I’d known then what I know now, I might have helped Claire. Warned her.”
“Yes,” he murmured. “My thoughts exactly.” A grimace creased his handsome features.
She went on, “I have often thought of that house party. The pleasure and hope I felt during those days, before the bitter regret to follow.”
He nodded. “I as well. I went into that last evening with such anticipation. Looking forward to seeing you. Dancing with you. You may recall that I danced with you several times, even though I knew doing so would signal my attachment. I did not care.”
Emily nodded. “I remember.”
Perhaps it was brazen, but after more than a year of wondering, she very much wanted to know. “I thought you were going to kiss me that night.”
He flashed another glance in her direction. “I thought so as well. I was certainly tempted.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “You don’t know how I have tortured myself. Wondering how differently things might have turned out if I had foreseen what Bertram intended and somehow prevented it. I did not tell my parents what happened. They had their suspicions, but I covered it over as best I could. You know how exacting they can be.”
“How exacting you can be.”
“I can’t deny it. Thankfully their suspicions waned during the intervening months when no word of your sister’s disgrace was bandied about and Lord Bertram continued on his unencumbered way. They asked once why I did not invite him back. I considered doing so, merely to allay any lingering suspicions they might harbor about him and Claire. But in the end, I could not stomach the thought of that man in our house again.”
He turned to her, sought her hand beneath the blanket and grasped it. “Emily, I want you to know how sorry I am. I realize I am partly to blame. I never guessed he would do such a thing. Never imagined what inviting him to our house would lead to.”
Emily swallowed a painful lump. “You cut ties with all of us. For something I had no part in. Something entirely beyond my control.”
He hung his head. “I know. It was wrong but please don’t think the worst of me. I had my own sister to think of. A duty to protect her future.”
“And now? Why did you come here? To alleviate your guilt?”
“In part. I came to apologize, yes. You don’t know how I have regretted my inaction. Letting you go like that. Would that I could go back and make different decisions. I have missed you so much.” His hand beneath the blanket drew her closer. “And I still wish...”
His head dipped toward hers.
Again the drawing room door opened. Charles reluctantly pulled back. Emily glanced over and saw James Thomson standing there, mouth slack, staring in dismay. Her own heart plummeted. What must he think of her?
“Mr. Thomson.” She forced a lightness to her tone she did not feel. “We were just ... discussing old times. You may join us, if you like.”
James looked from her to Charles, eyes flattening, mouth tight. “I think not.”
“Mr. Thomson, we were not—”
