However, by the time he’d arrived at Danbury Lane last night, her parents had said she’d retired. That was when he’d come up with the brilliant—
ha!
—plan to speak with her this morning. Only this morning had already gotten away from him, too.
“Ready for the ball, princess?”
Straightening his cravat, Rathburn glowered.
Danvers laughed. “You know, I think I’m going to like having you for a brother.”
“Which isn’t likely to happen unless I can steal your sister away, for a moment, before the ceremony.”
“And why is that?” He arched a brow, but his amused speculation quickly turned into irritation. “Bugger! You haven’t told her yet, have you?”
“There wasn’t time.” Rathburn was an idiot to have left the truth of his inheritance unsaid this long. But each time he’d thought it was the perfect time to tell her, something always pulled him away. Now, this was his absolute final chance.
“You think the dowager will let you cause a scene by speaking to the bride before the wedding?”
They both knew the answer to that.
Danvers was pacing now, raking a hand through his hair. “Give me a note and I’ll take it to her.”
“That won’t do.” He shook his head. “This is too important not to be said directly.”
“Too important!”
His friend scoffed at him. “This from a man who waits until the bells are ringing?”
“Point taken.”
“Here’s what you do,” Danvers said, gesturing with his hands in a way that looked as if he held an invisible bowl between them. “The moment you see her, the instant before the ceremony, you tell her. She’ll still have time then.”
Incredulous, Rathburn stared. “Tell her? How the bloody hell am I going to tell her in front of everyone?”
“I don’t know,” he growled. “Just . . . let her know that the original purpose for your mock betrothal is no longer a factor. Let her know this is real for you.”
“No longer a factor . . .”
Rathburn nodded. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it could work. She would still have time to make her choice. “You’re brilliant.”
The man he’d always considered a brother let out a breath that eased the tension in his expression and then grinned at him. “It took you this long to figure that out?”
E
mma turned to Penelope, Merribeth, and Delaney while her father waited a few steps away. Having forgotten their gifts at the last needlework meeting earlier this week, she presented them now, handing over three narrow boxes. The morning light shimmered over the slender strands of pearls and was accompanied by excited praises as they were admired.
While Merribeth and Delaney fastened each other’s necklaces, Penelope stepped forward, and took her gently by the shoulders. “Emma Danvers,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Stop, or you’ll drive yourself mad.”
“You’re a bit too late on that account.” Emma tried to laugh, but failed miserably. “I was mad to agree to this in the beginning. It was never supposed to get this far. Now, I expect the ground to start quaking at my feet. In the very least, the walls of the church will collapse on me.” The words were supposed to come out as a joke. Instead, they came on a river of panic.
“I know it might feel that way, but you took a leap of
faith
in the beginning, not a leap of insanity.” She offered a reassuring smile. “The most important thing to remember is the reason you trusted Rathburn enough to agree in the first place. That reason is still with you, inside your heart.”
Yes, the reason filled her heart now.
Her love for him
. She trusted Rathburn to know what he was doing. As soon as he received his inheritance, they would get an annulment. Simple as that.
No. Not simple. She didn’t want an annulment.
She wanted to mean more to him. She wanted her friends to be right about the way they said he looked at her and teased her. She wanted to give herself over to the dream of what their lives could be, without fear of her heart shattering to pieces.
She wanted . . .
Emma sighed and gave Penelope a nod of understanding. For Rathburn’s sake, for the sake of his father’s memory, and for the sake of the hospital, she would tuck her own yearnings for this to be a true marriage away, adding another secret to the monstrous pile. She had to see this through.
Climbing the stairs with her friends, her father met them halfway. Then, one by one, Delaney, Merribeth, and Penelope walked into the church. As Emma walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, sunlight streamed in through the arched stained glass windows, blinding her to everyone around her. She feared she would faint. It was only when she neared the altar that she saw Rathburn clearly. Her gaze fixed on him as if he alone could see her through this.
Instantly, she felt herself relax.
He was quite dashing in his dark blue morning coat, silver satin waistcoat and gray breeches. His eyes gleamed like emeralds in the light. The grin he flashed matched the whiteness of his cravat and gloves as he lifted a hand to take hers. She drew in a deep breath that settled her nerves.
Her father took his cue and relinquished his hold, offering her into Rathburn’s care—for the time being. When she felt the warmth of Oliver’s palm beneath her fingers, every concern she had melted away.
“I want you to know,” he whispered, holding her gaze with his intensity, “that the original reason for why we are here, in the church this very moment, is no longer a factor. This is real for me.”
A nervous laugh nearly bubbled out. She had no idea what he meant, but it sounded lovely. “Yes, quite real for me, as well.”
He seemed inordinately pleased—and relieved—by her response. His breath stirred the veil against her cheek. “Then, shall we dive off this cliff together, Emma-
mine
?”
She was surprised at how eagerly the perfect—and most foolish—response floated from her lips. “Headfirst.”
M
arried to Emma.
Rathburn blew out a breath and pressed a fist to the center of his chest. A tight knot of guilt churned inside him. He’d realized on the carriage ride here that he should have given her more time to decide if this was what she truly wanted. Not waited until they were standing at the altar.
He hadn’t even thought about what it would be like to bring her home. Completely alone with him.
Home.
No longer his home, but
theirs
. Yes. They would make a life here. After all, he knew she loved him.
We share a heart
.
And with the memory of her sweet whisper, the knot in his chest loosened marginally.
Still, he wasn’t going to remain here a moment longer, unless she was certain. Through some miracle of self-control, he hadn’t touched her. If she changed her mind, they could still get an annulment.
The knot tightened again, squeezing painfully.
He’d had Woodson pack a bag of his things, just in case. Her reputation would be safe . . . but only if he left right away.
There was absolutely no more time to waste. He must speak with Emma now.
E
mma stood in the viscountess’s bedchamber at Hawthorne Manor. She was a fool to have believed that nothing would change between them. Then again, she’d never fully believed it. From that first moment in the study, with her parents encouraging her to embark on this calamity with Rathburn, she’d known everything would change.
She’d been right. Everything had changed, at least for her. Against all reason—against the purpose of their bargain—she’d fallen in love with him.
Not to mention, their marriage had altered her place in society and how people saw her. She was no longer looked through. No longer judged and found wanting. This morning’s lavish wedding breakfast had proven as much. At last, she fit in.
But that was part of her deception, as well. They didn’t know her secret.
With a sigh, Emma stared at her surroundings. The room was decorated exactly as she would have done. Rathburn had an uncanny way of knowing her thoughts, even—it seemed—before she knew them herself.
When they’d arrived, the entire staff had lined up outside the doors, ready to greet the newlyweds, not knowing that an annulment loomed overhead. Since she’d known the servants for years, there’d been no awkward series of introductions, just cheers and many felicitations for the best of marriages. Of course, after Rathburn boldly carried her across the threshold, it would make their sudden separation that much harder for everyone to understand.
An annulment would change everything again. Not back to the way it was—no, she was not foolish enough to believe that—but to some other state of existence. After all, she would be losing a husband
and
a friend who meant more to her than her mind could comprehend. However, her heart knew and it was already breaking.
How could she bear to lose him when her love was so raw and new?
Staring through the glass door that led to the balcony, she let out a shaky breath and tried in vain to win the battle over her tears. A soft knock fell on the door.
Assuming it was her maid, she called, “I’ll need another moment.” Then she remembered she had no maid. Though Rathburn had likely sent one of his servants to tend to her.
The door closed with a nearly inaudible click. “I find that there are varying degrees to moments.”
She started at the sound of Rathburn’s voice, but did not turn. The only thing worse than one of his maids seeing her this way would be to let him. She hoped he hadn’t heard the catch in her voice or noticed how she used her gloves to blot the tears from her cheeks.
His footsteps approached slowly, the sound of his boots muffled on the plush carpet. “For some, a moment is a single span of a breath, a blink of an eye. While for others it can last what seems like an age.”
“Three whole breaths?” she quipped, averting her face to blot her cheeks again.
“Sometimes I’ve even heard it drawn out to four.” He came up behind her, standing close enough so that she could feel the heat of him, along with the strength and support he offered. He was such a good friend to her. A best friend, actually. She never knew until recently how much she’d relied on him being part of her life. And now she could lose him forever.
A fresh fall of tears began and her breathing hitched with a slight jerk of her shoulders.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her. With the pads of his thumbs, he gently began wiping away her tears. “See here . . . what’s all this about? Did the stress of the day finally crash you against the rocks?”
She nodded at first and then shook her head before burying her face against his shoulder. “Oh, Rathburn, what have I done?”
“
Oliver
, my darling,” he reminded, kissing the top of her head as he wrapped his arms around her. “And I think it’s safe to say that
we’ve
done this, not just you.”
She sniffed and rubbed her cheek against his silver satin waistcoat. Wanting to curl into his embrace, she lifted her arms, but stopped short when she remembered her gloves were soaked with her tears. But before she could lower them again, he caught her hands in his.
Lifting them, he pressed a kiss to her damp fingertips.
“Not very proper, I know. I’m glad your grandmother isn’t here to see me fall apart.”
“It’s just us,” he said, the words like a whispered promise. And then, proving there was no need for propriety, he let his hand travel over the length of her glove to the cuff above her elbow. He slipped a finger inside, teasing the sensitive flesh of her inner arm before he pinched the satin and slowly pulled it off.
A silent breath escaped her at the intimate gesture. Surely, she shouldn’t allow him to remove her gloves, no matter how many times she’d imagined it. She lifted her face, prepared to say something, but the words dissolved on her tongue when she saw his tender expression.
He bent his head to press a kiss to the tip of her nose as he dropped the glove onto a chair beside them. Without a word, he followed the line of the other glove and drew it down her arm, exposing her flesh.
The last breath left her lungs.
Like before, he brought her hands to his lips—first one, and then the other—and settled both against his chest. “There,” he crooned, wrapping his arms around her again.
This was a side to Rathburn she never expected to experience. He’d given everything of himself, including his pride, to gain his inheritance solely to build Goswick Hospital and to repair the manor. At his very core, he cared for people. Yet, during the years of their acquaintance, she’d only met with his flirtatious side. Of course, her cool demeanor might have been the reason for that.
Right now, she wished she hadn’t pretended to be so aloof, because this was wonderful. She’d never felt so secure in her life. Resting her cheek against him again, she could hear the strong, steady beat of his heart. She drew in a breath, inhaling the clean fragrance of his clothes. If only this moment could last forever.
“I’m worried about what will happen . . . after,” she said quietly. “Not just with your family and my family, but with us. I don’t want our . . .”
friendship
wasn’t the right word. What they shared was greater than that. “. . .
bond
to seem forced or artificial.”
“That won’t happen. Not with us.” He said the words with such assuredness that she wanted to believe him. More than anything. Showing even more tenderness, he produced a handkerchief and dried the cheek that wasn’t pressed against him and soaking his waistcoat with tears.
She felt the embroidery thread sewn into the fine linen. “You’re using your wedding gift,” she said, glad that he’d received the package she’d sent early this morning. After speaking with Penelope, and learning that she’d embroidered Ethan’s handkerchiefs each year to show him how much she loved him, Emma had thought that was a perfect idea. Only now, it represented another enormous secret she kept from him. Her love.
His mouth curved in a smile against the top of her head. “Of course I am, but how did you know?”