Chapter 21 #2
She hadn’t made a fool of herself nibbling tea sandwiches while ravenous, which was a victory of sorts.
And the chancellor was considering Emmy to bear his grandchildren, which alone would be enough to drive Grace mad, should she hear of it.
But Jack was nowhere near luring Oliver to the Bronze Door.
And of course, Mary might be screaming their names to anyone who’d listen.
There were no whimsical woodland trails down to the Hudson like there were at Mistfield, nothing standing between Emmy and
the glistening river, save a five-minute walk across the sharply cut grass. A gentle breeze greeted her at the edge of the
cliff, carrying a hint of rain. Closing her eyes, Emmy savored the sun burning into her skin, the coolness of Rose’s relic
against her chest, the babbling of the river far below. Sunshine had a quiet aroma, one that lingered on bare skin. She’d
forgotten that when she was in Grimsbane.
Could Mary still be loyal to Grace? And if she was capable of such a betrayal, would Emmy even notice the signs?
It was maddening, never being able to trust a soul. But anyone could turn on her. Even sweet maids. Even old friends. Even
if Emmy had never, ever imagined they could.
“My father, if you haven’t noticed, has determined we should marry.”
Oliver was strolling along the bluffs, taking swigs from a whiskey bottle. With his vest unbuttoned and his hair falling over
his forehead, it was easy to envision him and Jack as friends, slipping out of Society events together to get in all sorts
of trouble.
“I’m surprised he didn’t stick his head between my legs to examine me more closely,” Emmy replied evenly.
Whiskey sprayed from Oliver’s lips as he choked on a laugh. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he appraised her. “Winnie Fairchild
has a sense of humor. I hadn’t the faintest idea.”
Smiling to herself, Emmy turned back to the river, but there was something unsettling about standing on a cliff with Oliver Stratton.
He came to a stop beside her. “Better not let my father hear your smart mouth.”
“Afraid I’d ruin his good opinion of me?”
“Unfortunately, he’d like your fighting spirit.” Oliver swatted a fly off her puffed sleeve. “He’d say it would make for strong
sons, though he’d insist your husband beat it out of you.”
Emmy gave him a long, hard look. She was in no mood for his insolence.
But he only leaned closer. “When you look at me with such fire in your eyes, I truly cannot tell if you’re thinking of murdering
me or dragging me to bed.”
Her eyes flashed, but his gaze fell to her lips.
His next ploy will be to get you alone, Jack had said. Mrs. Stratton, curse her, must have seen her son when she abruptly changed her mind about Winnie walking
to the cliffs.
“What a gentleman,” Emmy replied evenly, though her heart had begun to race.
“I think we both know I’m no gentleman.” His fingers trailed her arm before resting on her waist. “Which is why you came out
here all alone, in the hope that I’d follow.”
“You think rather highly of yourself, to assume I thought of you at all.”
He gave her waist a gentle tug, turning her toward him. How she longed to walk away, leaving him staring at the cliffs, but
this was a chance to kiss the man Grace loved. To take something from the girl who’d taken everything from Emmy.
Emmy lifted her gaze to Oliver’s, which was all the invitation he needed.
He lowered his mouth to hers, and Emmy froze.
His lips were whiskey spiced, and large enough to nearly swallow hers.
A rather amusing thought, but Emmy pushed it from her mind.
She needed to focus. Though she hadn’t the faintest idea what she was doing, she needed to give him quite the kiss, one that could vie with Grace’s. No, she had to kiss better than Grace.
Oliver was used to Grace, who was brash and confident. So Emmy kissed him as if she were fearless, too. As if she wanted him. Instead of keeping her mouth still, she made her lips mirror his, meeting and parting. His tongue darted into her mouth,
and she gasped with surprise. A rumble rose from deep within his chest, and Emmy could not help but feel as if she’d won.
Oliver’s lips moved over her warmed skin, trailing kisses across her cheek, her jaw, her neck. She gasped at the burst of
sensation, and Oliver pressed harder against the vulnerability of her throat, as if he could rip it out with his teeth. Like
she’d done to Jack, his skin so warm, so familiar and new. But Oliver wrought a frenzy of sensations, too much—
Emmy pushed him away. The humid breeze was mercifully cool against her hot cheeks, but it tickled the wet spot on her neck,
which made her blush even more.
“Winnie Fairchild,” Oliver finally said, his voice thick. “You are full of surprises.”
Emmy racked her mind for some sort of clever comeback but—Movement. Behind him.
Emmy put as much distance as she could between them, but it was only Jack. Or, rather, Nathaniel.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” There was steel in his gaze as he approached.
“Not at all,” Oliver said. “We were just . . .”
“Admiring the view,” Emmy supplied, her face burning worse than any sunburn.
“Exactly.” Oliver smirked at Jack. “Such a lovely view.”
Jack studied her for a heartbeat. Then another. What was he doing?
“Well, I’m heading to the city for the evening.” He clapped Oliver on the shoulder roughly. “Why don’t you join me, Stratton?”
Oliver looked as if Jack had offered him rotting food. “If I abandoned Miss Fairchild at my own home, my mother would have
my head.”
“Oh, I’m sure Winnie can make up some excuse for your mother. Isn’t that right, Winnie dear?” Jack kept his gaze fixed on
Oliver. “We are rather good at keeping secrets, as long as they’re for our friends.”
Jack might as well have said I saw you. And if you don’t play nice with me, I’ll tell.
Oliver’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t give a damn about Winnie’s reputation, but perhaps he did not wish to deal with a scandal,
either. Or, more likely, he didn’t want Grace to hear of it.
“I suppose a night in the city wouldn’t hurt,” he finally said.
“Excellent. Let’s take your carriage to the train. My cousins will need mine to get home.”
Speechless, Emmy watched them cross the lawn together. She had to hand it to Jack; he’d thought quickly on his feet, strong-arming
Oliver into leaving with him. Knowing him, he’d probably waited until their kiss was done before he’d made his presence known.
With any luck, they’d be playing cards at the Bronze Door tonight.
Alone on the cliffs, Emmy was hit with a wave of nausea.
Oliver Stratton had stolen her magic. He’d conspired with Grace to ruin her life.
And the taste of him lingered on her lips.