Ghosts of Winters Past (7 page)

****

The next day, Henry left the Blakemore townhouse in a worse mood
than
when he arrived. That, in and of itself, spoke a lot.

Blakemore was insistent in his demand that Henry marry Elizabeth. No matter how many different ways Henry told him the girl had made advances to him and likely set the whole thing up, the old earl refused to give in.

Henry felt his future, his happiness, and his life slipping away. Unlike before, this time there would be no returning.

He stayed inside his townhouse for two days. He didn’t trust himself to go to White’s
,
and he refused to go to another ball where he would be expected to play nice with Elizabeth. The only place he wanted to go was to Emma’s, but he refrained, uncertain how a visit would look to others.

For two days he plotted, and thought, and plotted again. Finally, on the third day, he sent a summons. Since he didn’t expect a reply for a day or so, he left to travel once more to the Blakemore’s townhouse.

Lady Elizabeth was all fluttery eyelashes and sweet smiles when she heard he’d come to call.

“Your
g
race. How unexpected.”

“Don’t think for one moment I’ve changed my opinion on this matter.”

There were too many people crowded in the drawing room to talk. He took her elbow and led her to a secluded corner, too far away to be heard, but close enough for anyone to see them the entire time.

With a none-too-gentle push
,
he sat her down in a chair. “When will you cease this foolishness?”

“Which foolishness would that be?”

“You know very well which foolishness. This ridiculous plot of yours to get me to marry you.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. After you compromised me in the salon, we have no other recourse.”

He mumbled assorted curses under his breath and was pleased she had the decency to blush.

“The truth, Lady Elizabeth. That is the surest course there is.”

Perhaps she had told herself so many lies, she now believed them to be true. It occurred to him that maybe she didn’t have all of her mental capacities. She wasn’t budging. Instead, she sat with her lips in a firm line.

“I don’t love you,” he said.

“I’m not worried. You’ll grow to love me.”

“Is that so? You think I could ever love you after you tricked me into marriage? I love another. Will always love another. Will that be enough for you? Can you live the rest of your life knowing when I look at you, I picture someone else? Will my leftover affections keep you warm at night?”

She threw her hands over her ears. “Stop. It won’t be that way.”

With little care about the scene they were probably making, he took her hands in his and forced them away from her ears. “There is no other way for it to be. You may force my body, but you’ll never have my soul.”

She shot up from her chair. “You may leave now,
y
our
g
race. I have a headache.”

“For shame, and right when I was starting to enjoy myself.” He bowed to her, turned to the ladies in the room who weren’t even pretending not to listen, and bowed again. “Ladies.”

“Your
g
race,” they all replied.

Before he left the room, he looked back to Elizabeth. “Think on what I said, my lady. I vow there is nothing you can do to make this work.”

****

Lord Gallent arrived right on time the next day. In a manner echoing his reception days prior, Henry dismissed his butler and opened the door himself.

“Lord Gallent. I do appreciate a punctual man.”

The earl didn’t say anything. Henry led him down the hall into the study and motioned to him to have a seat.

“I’ll stand.”

It reminded Henry of a game of chess. Each man scoping out the other. Looking for the next move, trying to plan ahead. Measuring weakness. Assessing strength. Henry was almost positive the earl thought himself winning. He couldn’t be more wrong.

“Suit yourself.” Henry sat in his chair, pulled out the bundle of letters, and threw them on the top of the desk in front of
Lord
Gallent. “Happy reading.”

Lord
Gallent picked up the first letter. “What is this?”

Henry didn’t answer, but leaned back with his hands behind his head.

Check.

Lord
Gallent shuffled through the letters. “I don’t know why you wish for me to read these.”

But he kept reading and Henry knew exactly when the earl got to his wife’s name. The blood drained from his face
,
and he dropped heavily into the chair behind him.

Checkmate.

The earl’s fists clenched on top of the table
,
and Henry saw a blood vessel pound on the side of his neck.

“He kept her letters,”
Lord
Gallent said.

“He loved her.”

“So did I.”

“And you set her up so she had no choice but to marry you.”

“I would do no less if I had it to do again.”

“I don’t doubt it. You felt you had to do anything for the woman you loved.” Henry watched
Lord
Gallent closely. “I want
—
no need
—
you to understand I will do the same.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. I’ve been away from your daughter for five years
,
and I have no intention of being separated again.”

“You are to marry Lady Elizabeth.”

“I love your daughter.”

“I despised your father.”

Henry nodded. He had inferred as much from the letters. “Be that as it may, I am not my father. Whatever was between the two of you needs to die with him. I want what is best for Lady Emmaline. Maybe I’m full of myself, but I believe the best is
me
.”

The shadows grew long in the room, but the silence seemed even deeper. Henry watched the warring expressions cross
Lord
Gallent’s face. Would he decide to do what was best for his daughter, or cho
o
se to live in the past?

“What do you want?”
Lord
Gallent finally asked.

“You were close to the salon that night
. D
id you hear anything that would help me get out of this marriage to Lady Elizabeth?”

“I might be able to persuade Blakemore that his daughter’s best interests lie elsewhere.”

“I would have you know, your daughter knows of the letters I wrote.”

“Does she know…?”

Henry shook his head. “No, she doesn’t know you kept them from her, but she’s smart. She’ll figure it out. I won’t keep the truth from her.”

Lord
Gallent seemed to think Henry’s words over. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Three days later, Henry’s answer came by post.

When the letter came, he crumpled it before dropping it into the fireplace.

****

Christmas Eve came with a new layer of snow that coated the ground in pristine white. Emma spent the morning at the orphanage. She baked sweets with the older girls, watched the boys build a snow fort, and rocked an infant who had been recently abandoned. And with every breath
,
she stared at the tree, remembering the day Henry cut it down.

All around her people celebrated the season, and she felt herself sink deeper and deeper into a spiraling sadness.

If I can just make it through tonight.

I
f she made it through the night, she could make it through anything.

She put on a happy face for the children,
but while it
might
have fooled them, Bess and Laura knew the truth. Friends that they were, they didn’t say anything. They simply held her while she sobbed uncontrollably after one of the boys asked her if the prince would be coming.

While getting ready for the ball, she forced herself to conjure up the iron will that had sustained her over the last five years.
You’ve had your crying fit. Now is the time to show everyone what you’re made of.

Though her parents were with her, she felt completely alone enter
ing
the crowded ballroom. She gazed over the people and felt both relieved and saddened all at once. With so many in attendance,
it might be impossible to
locate Henry.

Greenery lined the banisters and had been twisted along the staircase. Around her, conversations buzzed like the simple hum of bees. Happy voices. Cheerful. She straightened her back.
I can do this.

Would it be possible to
not only see Henry, but talk to him as well
?
How would she be able to speak easily with the man who should have been hers? For though he had said he would work everything out, as the days came and went with no word, she had accepted the truth. Lady Elizabeth would be the Duchess of Salle.
Henry would be Lady Elizabeth’s
.

Emma would fade away to become nothing but a memory of someone who once was. If she were
lucky,
he would smile when he thought of her. Maybe one day she would think of him and smile instead of tearing up.

Was it her imagination or were people staring at her? She glanced to her left to where a group of debutants stood. They quickly looked away from her. No.
It wasn’t her imagination
.

She’d thought to be over caring about the whispers and curious glances of the
ton
. Apparently, she wasn’t. Still,
it wasn’t possible
to be angry with Henry. It really wasn’t his fault. That honor belonged to Lady Elizabeth.

Who didn’t appear to have arrived yet.

All at once the noise level dropped. And surely it couldn’t be her imagination that everyone in the ballroom looked from her to the entranceway and back again.
H
er cheeks heat
ed
and
she
told
herself
not look to see who it was that
had
just arrived.

But she hadn’t seen him
in d
ays and of course it would be
he
, wouldn’t it?

She turned, bracing herself to see him again, steeling herself in case it was Elizabeth, and telling herself
it didn’t matter
one way or another.

Please let it be
he
, her heart whispered.

Their eyes met and she smiled.

Henry.

Emma
took in the sight of him piece by piece. He looked so handsome. His eyes sparkled and danced in the muted light. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile.

He was alone and looked far too happy for a man tricked into marriage.

The crowd silently parted as he entered.

As he passed them and walked toward her, they began whispering again.

She fluttered her fan. It was much too warm for December.

Twenty more seconds and he stood before her, bowing.

“Lady Emmaline.”

She curtsied. “Your
g
race.”

His face lit in amusement, almost as if he teased her. But how could that be when he was engaged to another?

“I feared you wouldn’t come,” he said.

“I decided I rather enjoyed being around people again,” she said. “And decided not to hide in my house like I did last time.”

“I’m proud of you. Such tenacity will serve you well.”

“As a spinster?
”

“As a duchess.”

She had to have heard him wrong. It had to be her imagination.

“Where is Lady Elizabeth?”

“I care not.”

“Henry, you must know there’s nothing to be done. I understand. Truly. You must do what is right.”

“I did.”

“Then I wish you every happiness.”

“There is no happiness apart from you.”

She smiled. The words were good to hear. Perhaps they would bring her joy in the years to come.

“You’re a dear, truly, and I have no doubt you will make a good husband.”

“I’m glad you think so. Every wife should think that of her husband.”

“I fear I will never be a wife.” She didn’t want to be one, not apart from Henry.

“You will. And you will make a fine duchess.”

Insipid man! She put her hands on her hips. “And just whose duchess will I be?”

“Mine.”

“Have you lost your senses?”

“No. I have
,
however
,
lost a fiancée.”

She blinked. Opened her mouth, but found no sound came out.

Henry chuckled and took her hand. “Let’s go outside.”

She allowed herself to be led outside. Once there, she found her ability to speak had returned. “Would you mind explaining?”

“Lady Elizabeth was convinced, by your father I might add, that it would be in her best interest to break off her engagement with me.”

The smallest flicker of hope
sprang
to life inside her chest. “He did? And she agreed?”

“I have it on good authority that she and Paul are on their way to Gretna Green as we speak.”

“Poor Paul.”

“I think they’re rather evenly matched.”

“And a Christmas elopement, how romantic.”

“I can think of one thing more so.”

“Indeed? What would that be?”

He took her fan, set it aside, then gathered her hands in his, and bent to one knee. “Marry me, Emma. Be my wife, my duchess.”

He looked all blurry through the tears in her eyes. “Oh, Henry.”

“I’ve waited for you, I’ve fought for you, I’ve lost you, and I’ve kept my feelings for you hidden. But no more. From now on, the world will know. You’re mine and I’ll do anything to keep you.”

“Why,
y
our
g
race, you’ve got it all wrong. You’re mine. Not the other way around. I’ve told you that before.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Henry, I will marry you,” she said, recalling his request from before.

He stood up, not releasing her hands. His expression was complete happiness and bliss. “I’m glad you remembered. But I told you what I would do when you called me ‘
y
our
g
race’ and
,
with all the people watching from the ballroom, you’re about to be thoroughly compromised.”

His arms came around her, his lips claimed hers, and somehow she knew the ghosts of their winters were gone and only spring awaited them.