Chapter Nine
Alex set out the following morning with a belly full of breakfast and a borrowed mount, hoping a long ride through the city would work the tension from his muscles. He’d slept poorly last night, his thoughts consumed with his sister’s confession and how it might affect his arrangement with Emmy.
He’d agreed to take Tess back to Berkshire, of course. He couldn’t ask her to remain in London, not when it made her so miserable. He wasn’t a monster, after all.
That being said, this change did complicate the plans he’d made with Emmy.
And it would leave her with an important decision to make.
Alex guided his mount up Park Lane and through the entrance into Hyde Park, his gaze panning over the tree-lined path ahead, and the largely empty stretch of sun-glazed grass on either side.
Emmy loved London, and asking her to leave it now, so much earlier than they’d agreed upon, was hardly fair. He didn’t like to do it, but without Tess here to watch over while she hunted for a husband, he could not see the practicality in remaining, or in delaying the wedding.
Assuming there would be one, and that Emmy did not break off their betrothal.
His lips thinned at the thought, unease roiling, churning his breakfast in his gut. He would have to speak with her, and the sooner the better. He could not put it off, no matter how much he wanted to.
Therefore, he would have to pay a call on her, and it would have to be today.
Consternation knit his brow, and he tugged his hat low as he and his mount traveled up the bridle path. He wished he could write Emmy a letter instead, his thoughts being so much easier to write than to speak, but that would never do. Not for a matter as important as this.
No, he would pay a call on her as a gentleman should, and hope like hell he didn’t cock it all up.
“Mr. Whitcomb!”
Alex tugged on the reins and turned in his saddle toward the familiar female voice. As if his thoughts alone had conjured her up, there was Emmy, smiling at him from atop a handsome, coal black stallion.
“Good morning,” he said, his tone unaccountably tranquil, considering he’d been nearly struck dumb by the sight of her.
God’s wounds, she was lovely today.
Her dark green riding habit suited her perfectly, the rich velvet complementing her eyes and hugging every generous curve of her body. She wore a matching hat, tipped jauntily to one side, her dark curls glistening beneath the mid-morning sun.
He could do nothing but stare.
“My, what a beautiful animal,” she said, her gaze admiring as it swept over his borrowed mare. “What is her name?”
Alex blinked and turned his focus on the horse. “Gooseberry,” he said. “Goose, for short.”
“Gooseberry?” Emmy laughed, her dimples flashing. “What an odd name.”
Her amusement brought a smile to his lips. “She bit Aunt Lawrence the first time they met, and as punishment for such a tart greeting, she was named Gooseberry.” He stroked the horse’s neck. “She’s a prickly beast, but I rather like that about her.”
Emmy’s horse stretched his neck out to nuzzle Goose’s ear, earning him a soft snicker of warning.
“Tiberius, apparently, agrees with you,” Emmy said, chuckling as she gave her mount’s head a scratch.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them as they watched the horses further their acquaintance, and Alex wondered if he should broach the topic of his sister now, or wait until later, after he’d had more time to prepare his arguments.
Emmy, however, made the decision for him. “Your sister,” she said, before clearing her throat. “How is she?”
Alex saw the question for what it was—an attempt to ferret out whether he knew what she knew without giving away that there was something to know in case he didn’t know it yet.
“She is well,” he said, nudging Goose forward until he and Emmy were lined up side by side. “She approached me last night and confessed to her unhappiness. I assured her I would not keep her in London if she wished to leave.”
Emmy nodded. “I told her you would.”
“I had no idea she was unhappy,” he said, his jaw working. “I wish she’d told me sooner.”
“I think she told you almost as soon as she knew it herself.”
She was probably right. Tess had never been a secretive girl, especially not with him. The only reason she’d delayed telling him this was because she was afraid of disappointing him, which he’d assured her she could never do.
“When will you escort her back to Berkshire?” Emmy asked, the question tentative, her fingers fidgeting with the reins.
Alex gave her a small smile. “That will depend on you, I think.”
She held his gaze, her expression impassive, though the wariness in her eyes told him she’d already guessed what he would ask of her.
Still, it must be said.
He cleared his throat, his heart pounding with anticipation and guilt as he launched into his opening gambit. “I would like to wed straightaway,” he said, “and leave for Berkshire right after the wedding. Tess is unhappy here, and considering the terms of our marital agreement, I think it would be sensible to proceed without delay.”
And get you with child as soon as possible.
The thought was too mercenary, too callous, to say aloud, though he was fairly certain he didn’t need to. Emmy was a clever woman, astute enough to read between the lines. It was one of the things he liked best about her, that sharp mind of hers.
“I am aware this request is a lot to ask of you,” he went on. “We agreed to marry at the end of the Season, and I know you do not wish to leave London so soon. I will not object if you wish to hold me to our agreement, but…I hope you won’t.”
He glanced at her, searching for a reaction, and found her gaze downcast, her expression more thoughtful than troubled.
Encouraged, he pushed onward.
“I hope you will agree to return to Berkshire with me straightaway, for my father’s sake, yes, but also for yours. The sooner we have children, the sooner you will have your freedom.”
Emmy nodded, though the gesture was preoccupied, her mind clearly working through the situation, weighing her options.
He held his breath as he awaited her response.
She stayed silent for a torturous length of time, her head still bowed, one gloved hand slowly stroking Tiberius’s black mane.
Finally, she stilled and then straightened in the saddle, her gray eyes steady as they rose to meet his.
“All right,” she said quietly. “I shall marry you now and return to Berkshire with you.”
Relief was swift and strong, the intensity of it fisting his hands around the reins. Goose shifted beneath him, stomping her feet as if sensing his excitement, and Alex stroked her neck soothingly.
“Thank you,” he said, giving Emmy a grateful smile. “I will see about acquiring a special license. Shall I arrange the nuptials for the end of the week?”
“Friday morning?” Emmy cocked her head to one side. “Yes, I think I could squeeze a wedding in that day.”
She smiled at him, a small but teasing smile, and Alex could literally feel the tension seep from his body, like morning fog fading beneath the rising sun’s rays.
The urge to kiss her right on that smile struck him like a physical shove, and he might have done it, too, if not for the horses and the people and the sobering fact that her mother was but a short distance away.
He was eager to kiss her again, and he would, soon, but until then the memory of their first kiss would have to sustain him.
He’d thought of it often, the taste of her lips, the passion he’d sensed rising within her, calling to him to be set free.
It seemed almost ridiculous now to think he’d been worried they wouldn’t be compatible.
Christ above, that kiss, chaste though it was, had been downright combustible .
Shifting in his seat, Alex cleared his throat and gathered the reins in his hands. “Excellent,” he said. “Then I will leave you now to enjoy the rest of your morning, and I shall see you tonight at the Evertons’ dinner party.”
“So you shall, Mr. Whitcomb.”
She bowed her head with all the majesty of a monarch, though her eyes twinkled with impish mischief. His fairy queen. His almost-wife.
Alex doffed his hat before tugging on the reins and guiding his mount toward the exit, his chest lighter now, his heart hopeful.
Even Goose seemed to have a little more bounce in her canter. But perhaps that was only his imagination playing tricks on him.
Either way, the ride back was a pleasant one.