The Princess and the Peer (34 page)

Confusion washed over his handsome features. “Emma.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Wait.”

But she didn’t, turning away before she could change her mind, before she lost control and let the tears that threatened begin to fall. Not caring who might see, she fled back to the box.

Nick started after her, determined to catch up.

Before he’d taken more than a few steps, however, a soft hand caught hold of his sleeve. “Stop, my lord.”

Turning, he swung around to see who was interfering with his pursuit. His irritation fell away the instant he saw the concerned face of Emma’s friend.

“Your Highness,” he said, meeting Princess Ariadne’s gaze. “I didn’t realize it was you. If you’ll forgive me, I need to go after Emma—Princess Emmaline, I mean.”

A slight smile moved over the princess’s lips as she lowered her hand to her side. “Emma will do nicely. It’s what all her intimates call her,” she said meaningfully. “But it is best if you do not follow her for now. The interval is nearly over and time grows short. The baroness and our other friend, Princess Mercedes, will return at any moment.”

“So Emma said as well.”

He hesitated, wondering how much he could trust the young woman at his side, how much he dare reveal. Yet he
knew that she had done him and Emma a favor by deliberately concocting an excuse that would allow them time to speak alone.

Exactly how much did she know about him? he wondered. And what had Emma told her concerning their relationship?

Some of his uncertainty must have shown, since the princess gave him another smile—reassuring this time. “Go home tonight, my lord, and refrain from contacting her for the time being.”

“But I must see her again,” he protested. “If I leave tonight, I may never have another opportunity to say what needs to be said.” Although what that was, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“You will see her again. Trust me,” the princess said. “For now, I urge you to be patient and wait.”

But he had already waited far too long, he realized, wasting precious time with his anger and wounded pride. Seeing Emma again tonight had made everything clear, had reminded him just how much he wanted her and exactly how important she was to him. Nothing had been the same since she’d come into his life and nothing would be right about it again without her.

I love her,
he thought, finally admitting the truth to himself. As hopeless as the situation might seem, he had to let her know how he felt, had to find out if she had any feelings for him in return. But if he did as Princess Ariadne suggested and walked away tonight, would he really have another opportunity to speak to Emma? Or would she vanish once again? Disappear—possibly forever?

His insides twisted at the idea. Yet what other choice did he have but to put his confidence in this young woman? She was right that pursuing Emma to her box would do nothing but draw unwanted attention their way. And if her chaperone noticed more than she ought, such scrutiny might prevent him from seeing Emma at all.

“Why are you doing this?” he demanded with sudden suspicion. “You do not even know me.”

“I know Emma,” Princess Ariadne said with an untroubled confidence. “As for why, it is simple enough. I wish to see her happy. Anything beyond that is irrelevant.”

“And you believe I will make her happy? For all you know, I could be a grasping opportunist trying to align myself with royalty.”

She arched a haughty brow. “If you were anything of the sort, you would have attempted to benefit from your relationship with Emma long ago; unscrupulous men rarely keep silent. I watched you tonight, and it is as plain as the nose on your face that you care for her, quite deeply if I do not miss my guess.”

Is it so obvious?
he thought wryly. Was he the only one who hadn’t realized until tonight that he was in love?

“Yes, I care,” he admitted in a low voice.

Princess Ariadne smiled. Seconds later, she looked away.

Only then did he notice the fact that the crowd around them had begun to thin as people returned to their seats.

“Quick,” she said, “since time truly does run short and I have no wish to land in the soup broth with the baroness.”

“She sounds a veritable ogress.”

“She’s not, but she reports everything to Emma’s brother. She’s a very well-meaning spy. Now, give me your direction. I shall send a note round by way of my maid and advise you when and where you and Emma may next meet.”

After another moment’s hesitation, he recited his address in Mayfair.

She gave a satisfied nod. “I bid you good evening, my lord. It has been most edifying to make your acquaintance.”

“For me as well, Your Highness,” he replied.

And then, before he could even manage a bow, she was hurrying away, her skirts swaying around her trim shape.

Aware he would be wise not to linger, he melted into the crowd. But rather than return to his box, he made his way down the staircase and outside to seek his coach.

E
mma spent the next week in a state of agitation. Her unexpected encounter with Nick had shaken her badly, leaving her more distraught than ever about her future—especially since she knew it was not to include him. She’d told Nick not to contact her; even so, she couldn’t help but check daily for some word from him. Yet he sent no letters, and although she continued to receive frequent gifts of flowers from other gentlemen, none of them bore his mark.

Perhaps he has decided to wash his hands of me for good,
she thought despairingly. That night at the theater, he’d said he had to see her again and yet he’d made not the slightest effort to communicate with her since. What had he wanted to say and why had he changed his mind? Had he reconsidered and decided that she really was nothing but a bad bargain?

He was right, of course; she was a thoroughly lost cause. What was the point in his seeing her again when she was promised to another man? They’d already gone beyond any hope of simple friendship; there was too much simmering passion remaining between them—at least there was for her.

Nick
was
better off severing all ties with her. After all, she’d already sworn never to see him again. Why should their chance encounter the other night make any difference? Perhaps Nick had thought over the situation and come to the
same conclusion. Perhaps he had decided it was best to be done for good.

Still, irrational as it might seem, she couldn’t help but feel betrayed, abandoned, and unspeakably alone as a result of his silence. Seeing him again had reopened every badly healed wound and left her as raw and bleeding as the day she’d forced herself to run from his house and from him.

Obviously aware of her less than satisfactory meeting with Nick and her subsequent unhappiness, Mercedes and Ariadne did their best to rally her spirits. With that goal in mind, they dragged her along with them to London on a variety of excursions that ranged from a private viewing at the Royal Academy, a trip to Hatchard’s Bookshop, and a variety of shopping expeditions.

Sigrid frequently joined them for the last, since she almost never turned down an opportunity to acquire a new gown or piece of jewelry for herself, or to buy a pretty new doll or amusing game for one of her daughters.

It was during one such trip that Ariadne bought not one but two new gowns for Mercedes as recompense for having ruined her evening dress. For despite the best attempts of Sigrid’s lady, who was an expert seamstress, Mercedes’s gown had proved beyond salvation. Awash with genuine remorse, Ariadne had been exceptionally generous and told Mercedes to purchase any two gowns she liked. Being Mercedes, she’d ordered fabrics and notions she loved for the gowns but did not add anything unduly expensive or unneeded.

Nor had she been angry with Ariadne. At least not for long once she’d learned that the accident had not been an accident at all, but rather a way to give Emma an opportunity to speak with Nick. Mercedes was only sorry she hadn’t been able to make his acquaintance. But with the baroness present, she readily agreed an introduction would have been impossible.

Yet for all Ariadne’s scheming and Mercedes’s forgiveness, Emma and Nick’s time together had changed nothing. Worse, she now found herself alternating between the wild
hope that he might decide to seek her out again and the growing fear that he would not.

Forget him,
she told herself over and over again until the phrase rang like a dirge inside her head. But how could she forget when he was the one who held her heart?

On Monday, Emma rose from her bed and looked out the window into a sky filled with somber silvery gray clouds. She studied their color and found herself comparing the various shades to Nick’s penetrating eyes. The sky came in a distant second, she decided, no more than a poor copy of the original. Realizing that she was woolgathering about him for the millionth time, she pushed such thoughts away and went to ring for her maid.

After taking a warm bath and having her hair arranged in an elegant knot, she donned a day dress of pale lilac satin and a pair of matching slippers. She dismissed her maid, then stood quietly for a moment and prepared to face the day, wondering if Ariadne and Mercedes had arranged another outing to the city. She would much rather stay at home and curl up with a book in front of the fire, but they would fuss, worrying that she was moping again.

Which, of course, she would be.

Oh well,
she thought,
at least all the activity keeps Rupert from complaining.

Forcing one of her carefully practiced smiles onto her face, she left the room.

She strolled along the wide corridors with their pale gold silk-lined walls, old masters paintings, and the ornate furnishings acquired by the home’s owners over the past three centuries. But she paid little attention to the lovely decorations, her thoughts distant and distracted as she made her way to the breakfast room.

In spite of the gloomy weather, the chamber proved warm and pleasant, the homey scents of porridge, smoked meats, eggs, and toast greeting her as she entered. After a quietly murmured “Good morning” to Ariadne and Mercedes, who were already seated at the table, she slid into a seat.

Sigrid, she knew, must still be asleep since she never rose before noon, if she could help it. As for Rupert, she’d learned last night that he was scheduled to be away on some sort of official business from which he wasn’t expected to return until evening.

Emma accepted a cup of tea from a footman, then added a bit of milk and a spoonful of sugar. Closing her eyes, she took a first, refreshing sip.

“Pardon me, Your Highness,” another servant said, “but this just arrived for you.”

Emma’s eyes flashed open and she gazed at the silver salver, her pulse speeding faster.

Could it finally be a letter from Nick?

But her spirits sank as she took in the thick vellum and the heavy red wax seal that bore a vaguely familiar imperial crest.

After the servant withdrew, she laid aside the letter and reached for a nearby dish of blackberry preserves. Calmly, she spread a dollop onto a slice of buttered toast.

“Are you not going to open it?” Mercedes inquired from her place across the table.

“Later. Once I’ve finished breakfast,” Emma replied indifferently. She bit into her toast, concentrating on the sweet flavor of the berries rather than the bitter tang of her disappointment.

Stupid, stupid girl,
she silently chided, as she forced herself to swallow past the lump in her throat. She drank some tea, then made herself eat a forkful of coddled eggs that felt like paste inside her mouth.

“Well, if you aren’t going to look, I am,” Ariadne declared. She reached out and snatched up the letter. With a clean knife, she slit open the seal and unfolded the missive. “Oh, it is from King Otto,” she said with a disappointment that mirrored Emma’s.

Emma sipped her tea again.

“What does he say?” Mercedes asked after a long moment’s silence.

“I suppose I should let you read this after all, Emma,” Ariadne said.

“No. No, go ahead,” Emma said, knowing the message was certain to bring her another step closer to the prisonlike reality of her fate.

“Very well,” her friend agreed. “Let me see. He sends greetings and felicitations, hopes this finds you well… blah, blah, blah. He plans to arrive in England by Thursday next but will not be coming to London. His party will travel directly to the country estate where we are all to spend Christmas.”

“Not terribly gallant of him, is it?” Mercedes remarked. “For a bridegroom and all.”

Emma sipped her tea. “Not to worry. I don’t mind. Go on.”

Ariadne glanced at her before returning to the letter. “He says he looks forward to getting to know you and is eager to take you hunting. He is a great horseman, it would seem.”

“But you hate hunting, Emma,” said Mercedes.

“I do, yes,” she agreed. “I pity the poor fox far too much to engage in such cruel sport.” She cringed to think what other activities the king might enjoy that she did not. “Well, Sigrid shall simply have to accompany him. My sister loves hunting and is a far better rider than I shall ever be. Rupert says she puts most of the men to shame with her equestrian skills. Mayhap she can dazzle the king and he won’t notice my absence.”

She wished he wouldn’t notice her at all. If only there was some way he would forget the engagement. But that seemed rather a lot to hope, she supposed.

“Anything more?” Emma asked.

Ariadne shook her head. “Only that he wishes you a safe journey and bids you adieu.”

“Well, a pleasant enough missive, all in all,” Emma said, aware that the lump had returned to her throat.

Ariadne folded the letter closed and laid it back on the table. “Emma, don’t despair so. There is still a chance that matters will turn out differently than you think. In fact—”

“We discussed this before, Arie, and I wish to hear no more on the subject. So whatever you may be planning, please stop.” She replaced her teacup onto the saucer, taking care so that it did not make a betraying rattle. “Tell me, what do the two of you have planned for us today? Shopping, museums, or a visit to the lending library?”