Page 18 of The Best Husband Money Can Buy

Chapter 7

Hours passed and Anthony’s breathing had long since become slow and regular, but Emma still couldn’t sleep. Never having shared a bed with a man in her life, she was painfully conscious that Anthony’s warm, very male body was mere inches away. With half her mind on him and the other spinning ever more depressing visions of what her marriage might be like, sleep was impossible.

Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she slipped from the bed. The room was chilly, so she quietly put another scoop of coal on the fire. Then she went to the window. The light snow had intensified into huge soft flakes floating thickly through the windless air, covering the world with a pristine white mantle.

Unable to resist, she detached the Christmas candle fixture from the sill and set it aside. Then she opened the casement window and leaned out. The air was fresh and pure and stimulating, cold but not unpleasantly so. She inhaled deeply, feeling refreshed.

An outrageous idea struck her. She’d always loved both snow and the roofs of Harley. Why not go out? The roof wasn’t really dangerous in this area because a low decorative balustrade ran along the edge. Between the angled roof and the balustrade was a two-foot wide walkway. She could easily step down onto it and go exploring.

She glanced back at Anthony. Her husband was sleeping as if he’d been drugged. He’d never know that she was gone.

The idea of going outside seemed somehow right. Being a little outrageous would make her feel less like plain Emma Stone, and more like the dashing Lady Verlaine that she wanted to be.

She felt her way to the wardrobe and located her cloak and half boots. After sliding her feet into the latter, she tossed the cloak over her nightgown. Then she clambered out the window. The snow was three or four inches deep.

After loosely closing the swinging casements behind her, she set off along the narrow walkway, her cloak swirling around her ankles. The slanting roof was to her right and the vast open spaces of the night on her left. It was wonderfully quiet. The snowflakes caught and magnified the subtle light, turning it into a pearly, otherworldly glow. Her worries began to dissolve, leaving her with a sense of serenity.

After walking across the long straight central block, she came to an awkward corner where the east wing met the main building. Rather than risk scrambling across it, she folded down into the corner. The sheltered position gave her a splendid view of the snow-covered planes and angles of Harley. Seen from this perspective, the great house was strange and lovely. Haunting, in fact.

Alone in the night, she was able to relax in a way that had been impossible in the bedchamber. She thought about Harold Greaves, lying in a new grave beside his wife. Was the snow also falling over their resting place in London? Mr. Evans had said they were close as only a childless couple could be.

She closed her eyes and offered a prayer that Mr. Greaves had been reunited with his wife in some better place. Every day she made at least one such prayer. It seemed the least she could do. Strange how her life had been changed utterly by a man she would never meet.

She wrapped her cloak closer. The cold was slowly seeping into her, but she wasn’t ready to go inside again. Later. For now, she would simply let her mind drift…

* * *

Anthony awoke when something banged hard nearby. The wind had blown open the casement windows and snow was swirling into the room. It took a moment longer to remember where he was. Harley. Emma. The tower room.

Where was Emma? Not beside him in the bed.

He sat up and scanned the room, but the faint light of the fire did not reveal her. He got from the bed and lit several candles. No Emma, yet the door was still latched from the inside, as he had left it. How could she have left?

His gaze went to the open window, and he stiffened. The Christmas candle had been removed from the sill. Oh, God,no. Earlier she had talked about her childhood fantasy of flying from the roof and soaring over the hills. She couldn’t possibly have been so upset about his encounter with Cecilia that she would have jumped. Could she?

Cold with fear, he threw open the casements and looked down into the courtyard, terrified that he would see a broken body far below. He could see nothing unusual…but if she had jumped, the snow might have covered her by now.

His hands locked on the sill until his fingers whitened. If she had done something terrible because of him…may God have mercy on both their souls.

Then he noticed faint marks on the narrow walkway below the window. Footsteps, perhaps, though so full of snow as to be almost invisible. But why the devil would she be out on the roof in the middle of the night?

Rather than struggle with boots, he slipped his feet into a light pair of evening shoes. Then he threw his cloak over his nightshirt and climbed out onto the roof. The snow was about six inches deep, and the same rising wind that had blown the window open was causing clouds of icy crystals to drift and eddy around him.

Grimly he started walking. Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed the unearthly beauty around him. Instead he moved along the slippery walkway as quickly as possible, his attention divided between his footing and the ground far below.

He was nearing panic when he finally found her huddled in a corner. In fact, he almost fell over her. An inch or more of feathery snow covered her cloak, making her almost invisible in the white night. She was so still he feared that she was dead.

Heart hammering, he dropped to his knees beside her. Lacy flakes coated her face and dusted her dark lashes. Taking her hands, he said urgently, “Emma! Emma, are you all right?”

Her hands were like ice. He began chafing one of them between his. “Emma, dammit, wake up!”

Her lashes fluttered open, and she stared blankly at him. Praise God, at least she was still alive. He said sharply, “Can you walk?”

She blinked at him, dazed. “Anthony?”

“Yes, it’s me. What the devil are you doing out here in the middle of a snow storm?” He stood, then took both her hands and pulled her up. She didn’t fall, quite, but she swayed badly. He caught her around the waist.

Her tall body sagged against him. “I…I think I fell asleep.”

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