“What book? Oh! That book.” He chuckled.
She rushed every word inside her out at the same time. “Lady Macintosh gave it to me, and Lady Huxley suggested reading such books might help me speak with my sisters about, you know, when the time comes, and I do not wish to be ignorant, knowledge is necessary even of this sort, but I do not wish you to think particularly because of what we did last night but—”
“Emma.” Her name a laugh. “Slow down. Breathe. And please do sprinkle a little punctuation into your sentence.” He rubbed his palms slowly up and down her arms as she pulled in one deep breath after another. “There you go. Breathe. And listen. We both know I’m a nodcock, yes?”
He was not, but she nodded anyway.
“I have been entirely too eager to court you these last hours, entirely too quick to take what I want because I’m so damn tired of waiting. But I think we should talk. Because I cannot take anything. It must be given.”
He was not disgusted by her, would not excise her from his life. Relief, cool yet shocking, rushed through her. She needed nothing more than that. They must not delay for her silly little fears. “We must leave, Samuel. Before the rain worsens. We can speak in the coach.”
“No, we’ll speak now. The rain will slow them down as well, and I do not wish to leave this room with misunderstandings clouding the air between us. When I learned why you had to leave Edinburgh, I should have chained my hands to my sidesand refused to touch you, let you lead, and followed a proper route to what I want.”
“What do you want?” she mumbled into the collar.
“To marry you.”
“Because we risk our reputations traveling together?”
“Because you are the other half of my soul.”
She hid in the greatcoat, delved into his warmth, letting his chuckle settle over her.The other half of his soul.Yes, that felt right. Quite perfect and peaceful to be stitched to him for life. But why did her chest constrict as much as her heart expanded?
He peeled back the greatcoat until he found her face. “Hello there. Do not hide.”
“I’m finding it difficult not to.”
He stroked her cheek, chucked her chin. “Hide then but listen.” He winced. “I rather feel like hiding with what I’m about to tell you.”
She popped her head up and out a bit. Curiosity gave courage.
He fell back onto the bed and spoke to the ceiling. “I discovered last Season that my mother collected erotic books, that she loaned them secretly to various ladies of theton. I also discovered that, after her death, my sisters took up her… hobby. For years, they carted about books like the one you have, and I never knew. Until a man whose wife had been my mother’s friend found one of my mother’s letters. About said books. He tried to blackmail me into marrying his daughter.”
Emma gasped, falling sideways onto her palms and peering down at him. “How did you escape?”
“My sisters saved me. When I found out about the books, I was… God, I was shocked. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I don’t remember much about that day. It’s a bit of a haze. They claim I fainted.”
“No. You?”
He looked so boyish with his hair tangled, and his flushed face tipped toward the ceiling.
“I refused to believe it.” He popped up and rested on his elbows behind him. “The books are why I pursued Lady Huxley. She’s a member of their library. I wished to avoid putting another woman at risk by association with the secretly scandalous Merriweathers. It is not fair to involve someone else. But”—he rolled his weight onto one forearm and placed his other hand on top of hers—“I do not think I have the strength to be admirable any longer, to do the right thing. Would you… would you very much mind waking one morning to find your entire family’s reputation hanging in the balance? Can you bear to wear that weight to bed every night? To suffer the stares and whispers in public?”
What could she say? It was not solely her decision to make. She had three unmarried sisters, and this matchmaking she did… it relied on a pristine reputation. Yet the way he looked at her, with big stormy eyes and his… yes, that was his heart there, too, peeking out from behind gray clouds, hoping…
She sat upright, slipping her hand out from under his and dipping them back into the greatcoat pockets. But it offered no escape. His pockets were warm and soft and like being cradled by his hands. She curled her fingers into fists.
And the pocket crinkled. Was that paper?
She pulled it out and opened it up, needing something else to think about, the decision he was asking her to make too difficult. “Is this Felicity’s note?” Each word, rushing at her like an avalanche, told the truth—not Felicity’s note. “Oh God.Samuel, look!” She thrust the paper at him as he sat up.
He took it and read more quickly than she did, launching to his feet. “Bloody hell. Apologies. Language, I know. But… bloody hell!”
The rain fell faster, no patter now but a constant rush of sound.
“This must be some joke.” He paced to the window, crumpling the letter in his hand, then uncrumpling it to read it again.
She joined him, stealing the letter, saving it. Yes, it still said what she remembered it saying.
