The Rose Bargain

Chapter Ten

Prince Emmett loosens the cravat around his neck. “Sorry about that,” he huffs.

Being caught in a bedroom with Bram’s brother during a ball would ruin me all over again, and all my effort will have been for nothing.

He glances down to where my hands are balled into fists in front of my chest. “Are you going to punch me?” he asks.

He looked so casual in the carriage that night, but he’s every inch the prince now. He’s broad-shouldered, the planes of his cheeks and his straight nose are meant to be carved in marble, but there’s a boyishness to him that the portraits never quite capture.

The muffled music of the quadrille is winding down. We don’t have long before the viscountess will come looking for me.

I relax my hands. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

He rakes an agonized hand through his hair. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Emmett hesitates.

I gather my skirts to leave. “I’m going.”

He sidesteps to block the door.

I stare up at him, loathing his determination to ruin my reputation. He was so horrible to Lydia at a ball just like this one—maybe this is the only way he knows how to entertain himself.

“I’m not going to be one of your conquests.”

I shove him hard in the shoulder to move him, but he doesn’t budge. “There’s a party outside full of pretty girls who I am sure would be thrilled to be ruined by you. Go find one of them.”

Undeterred, he doesn’t move. He glares down at me, chewing on his bottom lip. “Did you cheat?”

“Cheat?”

I ask, aghast.

“The May Queen competition yesterday, did you cheat? You have to tell me.”

He’s panicked. It’s an odd expression on someone who usually presents himself with the cool expression of elite detachment. He rakes his hand through his hair once more, and it falls in his face. Between that and the cravat, if anyone were to find us in this bedroom, they’d assume he’d been thoroughly debauched.

I push past him. “I’ll be ruined if they find me with you.”

He straightens up and lets out a low laugh. “You were a lot braver the first time I met you.”

I roll my eyes. “I had a head injury.”

“I remember. You ruined my favorite coat.”

“It’s your fault I was bleeding.”

“All you need to do is say thank you.”

“I’ll send a lovely card along with the new coat I plan to buy you.”

“No lasting damage, I presume? You look well.”

I tilt my head so he can see the silvery line of the scar that runs along my temple. “It’s had plenty of time to heal.”

I’d lied to my mother, told her I slipped in the bath and that’s why I was black-and-blue for weeks. She was too preoccupied with Lydia to question me.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear it,” he says.

I haven’t any idea what’s going on inside his head. All I know is that I need to get out of this room. I reach for the doorknob, but he stops me, placing his hand on the doorframe above my head, effectively caging me in.

“Give me the truth,”

he says, “and you can go back to the ball like nothing happened at all.”

“Find me again, somewhere more private.”

He shakes his head. “No. You’ll tell me now.”

“Nothing has happened, other than your failed attempt at seduction.”

He crouches down so we’re at eye level. His face is so close to mine I can see the constellation of faded freckles on the bridge of his nose, the tangled lashes that frame his sharp eyes.

“You think this is me trying to seduce you? If I were trying to seduce you, you’d know.”

He seems relieved that I’m finally standing still. It makes me want to kick him in the shins. “Once more, I beg of you, did you cheat?” he says.

“No. I didn’t cheat. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to dance with Bram.”

I turn the doorknob, but Emmett juts his hand to stop it from opening.

“Wait—I hear voices.”

But he’s not quick enough, and the door swings open, sending Emmett’s entire body weight falling into me.

We tumble out of the bedroom through the open door and into the hallway. His legs tangle in my skirts, and I land hard on my back, with him on top of me.

I swear under my breath and try to roll out from under him, and he huffs and tries to pull me to my feet.

I have to hurry, if we’re caught like this—

Suddenly, from the end of the hall, there’s the sound of footsteps.

“Brother? Lady Ivy?”

Bram stands stock-still, frozen in confusion at the sight of us.

My cheeks burn crimson with shame that is quickly evolving into panic. Emmett extends another hand to me, but I refuse it and push myself up off the ground.

“I can explain, I—”

Then, from behind Bram, comes someone else.

Tears well in Faith Fairchild’s eyes at the sight of me and Prince Emmett, both out of breath, looking like we’ve been caught in a snare trap.

I expect her to turn to Bram, but instead her gaze stays fixed on a single point. Her voice breaks as she says his name, like she’s said it a million times before. “Emmett?”