Page 77 of To Marry and to Meddle
Julian raised an eyebrow. “Is something the matter?”
“Youare,” she said bluntly. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Am I?” he asked, brow still raised, wearing an arch expression that Emily should not have found half so attractive as she did.
“Now you’re doing it on purpose,” she said grumpily, crossing her arms. “I do hate when people attempt to disconcert me for sport.”
Julian frowned. “I wasn’t doing any such thing.”
“Thenwhywere you looking at me?” she asked huffily, beginning to find the entire conversation tiresome, and wondering if perhaps drinking champagne at noon was not, in fact, the wisest course of action.
“I wastryingto work out how to tell you something,” Julian said, frustration evident in his voice.
“Well, just come out with it then,” she said impatiently. Dimly, she realized how little care she was taking with her tone; her desire to project nothing but sweetness and demure grace was entirely absent, and she didn’t mind one bit.
“Fine,” he bit out. “I love you.”
A brief silence fell.
“Oh, this is too unfair!” Emily wailed, lifting her hands to her mouth to stifle a wild desire to laugh.
“I beg your pardon?” Julian asked, nonplussed.
“Iwas going to tellyouthat I loved you, and I’ve been trying towork out the best way to do so fordays, and now you’ve beaten me to it!” she said, unable to suppress her giggles.
“I—what?” Julian asked, lifting a hand to rub at his forehead in a way that made Emily giggle harder. She hiccupped loudly, and then dissolved into laughter once more; Julian began to regard her with something approaching alarm.
“I love you,” she repeated. “I know that wasn’t our bargain,” she said, her eyes locking with his. “I know that ours was intended to be a marriage of convenience, that love wasn’t part of the deal, that we were—we were simply to be of use to each other, to be friends and nothing more, nothing deeper, but Iloveyou and I don’t know when it started but now I can’t imaginenotloving you, and I don’t even want to, because you’re my—my favorite person! And I was going to tellyoufirst!”
She fell silent, trying to control her rapid breathing, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.
“Emily,” Julian said, and then paused—and in that pause, Emily, who normally had no problem holding her tongue, who was never one for ceaseless babbling, rushed in.
“I know that you don’tneedme anymore, for our original agreement, but—”
“Emily,” Julian interrupted, sounding half-amused, half-frustrated. “Will you let me speak?”
Emily clamped her lips shut and gave him a pointed look. One side of his mouth quirked up, causing one single dimple to appear in his cheek, and her traitorous heart nearly exploded at the sight. Dimples were dangerous things.
Or perhaps it was just Julian who was dangerous.
“Have you noticed,” he said, his tone almost conversational, “that you’ve never actually been that convenient to me?”
“Excuse me?” she asked stiffly, shrinking back into her seat; Julian reached out a hand to grasp hers, however, his grip comfortingly tight.
“Lurking around the theater. Insulting ladies you were supposed to impress. Being quite determined to be nothing at all like the Emily I thought you were when I met you,” he said, holding up his fingers one by one. “This has never really gone according to plan.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again, not certain what response she could offer.
“But,” Julian continued, before she could make any attempt at a reply, “have you also not noticed that I don’t care?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I don’t care about impressing insufferable ladies who would insult you. I don’t mind having you haunting the Belfry—I ratherlikeit, in fact, because it gives me an excuse to see you, and seeing you is the best part of any day.”
“It is?” she asked, her heart now pounding so rapidly in her chest that she felt as though it were going to launch itself out of her body entirely—which, aside from being anatomically impossible, sounded like a frightfully messy business, too.
“And,” he continued, that piercing blue gaze pinning her in place, making it impossible to glance anywhere else, “I like the Emily you are ever so much more than the Emily I met. I like when you speak your mind. I like when you argue with me. I like when you are bold. And even if I didn’t like all of that, it wouldn’t matter one damned bit, becauseyoulike it. And that, Emily, is all that matters to me.
