Chapter 18 #3
Even as Juniper’s embrace bolstered Emily’s spirits, her words did not pierce her certainty that things were moving out of her control.
What would her parents say when they heard of the rumors?
Of a hasty engagement? It would be terrible.
They would be disappointed in her, and those who said their family did not yet belong in Society would be justified.
“Everything will be all right,” Emily said quietly, and hoped she told the truth.
She parted from her sister-in-law with a weary little laugh.
“My head may be spinning at this moment, but what a thing, to become engaged while one is sleeping.” She turned and opened the door before Juniper commented, then hurried down the stairs to the sitting room where Mr. Eastwood waited.
When she opened the door, she expected to see Jack standing inside the room with him.
But Lyness Eastwood was all alone, standing near Miss Feathersby’s cage, facing the door.
He appeared pale and uncertain, but braced in that quiet, determined way she had come to admire.
He bowed quickly to her, too quickly, as though he had forgotten how to manage it with grace.
The little bird in her cage hopped back a touch, wings fluttering.
“Lady Emily,” he said, voice rough.
Emily’s heart clenched.
Lyness stepped forward, stopping a respectful distance from where she stood near the door.
His expression was earnest. Certainly, he seemed more intense than she had ever seen him.
His dark eyes kept hold of her gaze, and he spoke slowly and steadily as he said, “First, I must beg your forgiveness.”
For a moment, she stared at him, uncomprehending. She had not expected that to be the first thing he said. “Must you, Mr. Eastwood? I was told you had something to explain to me. Perhaps you ought to do that, and then you may beg. If necessary.”
That made his lips curl upward a moment, then he shook his head. “It will be necessary. I never meant to take a decision from you. Nor did I wish to put you in a position you did not choose.”
“But you did take a choice from me,” Emily said, quiet but steady. Somewhat impatient. “You made a decision about my future that I should have been involved in. My brother informed me that you declared us engaged. In public.”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“Why?”
His breath came out in a humorless laugh, on a strange sort of exhale.
“Because the rumors were already forming. And they were…ugly. You were being spoken of as th-though—” He stopped, lips pressing closed for a moment.
He took in a slow breath and let it out again, more composed.
“As though you were compromised. Or worse, that Roman had behaved dishonorably toward you. I could not let that notion stand.”
“Why you?” Emily whispered. “Why not let Lord Hartwell make the declaration, if he was the one people saw?”
“Because,” he said softly, “I would rather the world believe you were promised to me than watch you be sacrificed to duty alone.”
Something in her chest twisted painfully.
His voice lowered, he stepped closer as though he could not help himself. “I will withdraw if you command it…but I hope you will not.”
Emily’s lips parted.
He continued, halting slightly as the words tripped over the edge of his stutter. “I have admired you since the first moment we danced in London. Long before last night. Before any of this, and I cannot deny that truth now. Not when your future happiness and my own hangs in the balance.”
A warmth rose beneath her skin, a flush that did not come from fever or laudanum. It sounded like the beginning of a marvelous declaration. The sort she had not dared to hope for. Still, she had to point out, somewhat practically, “But we barely know one another.”
“That is true.” His tone held no defense.
Only sincerity. “But what I do know of you has stayed with me. You are thoughtful. And compassionate. And far kinder than most of Society deserves. You do not hide who you are when someone needs your care. And I…” His voice faltered. “I am your friend, am I not?”
Emily pressed her fingertips to her lips, her eyes stinging. “But you never seemed to want anything more than friendship. And your brother—.”
“I know,” he interrupted gently. “And I do not take this situation lightly. If you refuse me, if you wish to break the engagement after the gossip has passed, your family will stand behind you.”
Something in her rebelled at that. “Is it truly so simple to you?” she asked. “To offer to save my reputation at the expense of your own?”
“Your reputation ought not be destroyed when mine is better suited to bear the weight,” he said. “I would rather endure Society’s disapproval than watch you suffer again what you endured in London.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, startled that he knew of it.
“I was told only enough that I understood what was at stake,” he said. “Nothing more.”
Emily’s throat tightened uncomfortably. “If I were to accept this…engagement…what then? What is expected of me today?”
He straightened, gathering himself. “We must be seen together. At ease and united. At the races this evening, in an hour’s time.
And afterward at the theater.” A tiny wince changed his expression to something almost amusing.
“We must leave no room for doubt as to the sincerity of our understanding.”
A reluctant, trembling laugh escaped her. “I cannot believe this.”
“I can,” he said softly. He stepped closer slowly, giving her every chance to withdraw, and offered his hand. “Lady Emily…may I escort you today?”
She stared at his open palm. His fingers were steady, though she suspected his nerves must be a tempest beneath his composed exterior. Hers certainly were.
That made her pulse flutter, to think of being attached to him throughout the day.
And yet… “I do not know what I ought to do,” she whispered.
“I am not prepared for any of this.” She looked up into his eyes, uncertain and afraid to make the wrong choice.
In her heart, she wanted to put her hand in his.
Every moment spent with him had brought her comfort and joy.
Every time she thought of him, she could not help but smile and wish to see him again.
He had not denied that their attachment was one of friendship.
His gaze held steady, his smile was slight. “Then let today be simple. Walk beside me. Speak with me. Allow York to see that you are not concerned by what they do or say. Or what they think.” He hesitated. “If you are overwhelmed at any moment, I will take you home at once.”
She drew a slow breath. “You sound very certain of yourself.”
“Not in the least,” he said, the words painful in their honesty. “The only thing I am certain of is that I wish to stand with you. No matter what comes.”
A long silence stretched between them, threaded with her surprise and tenderness toward him. And the faint dread of the unknown. Then a soft, uncertain note escaped the canary near the window, and Emily glanced at the brave little bird still trying to find its full song.
Perhaps it was time for her to try bravery, too. At last, Emily placed her hand in his. The warmth of his palm beneath her fingers was reassuring, and when he folded in hand around hers she found it dangerously comforting.
“What comes next, we face together,” she said as steadily as she could, as though making a pact or a vow.
“First the races,” Lyness said. “Then the theater for a play. I already have tickets for this evening’s performance.”
“You already possess tickets?” Emily blinked. “You seem much more prepared than I am, Mr. Eastwood. What is showing?”
“A new drama from London,” he said lightly, lips curling upward.
“At the races, we can remain with your family. At the edges of the crowd, if you prefer. Then you need do nothing but enjoy a play. No conversation or performance except what is on stage. For the moment, you only need to look presentable and remain upright.”
How she did not laugh at that, she could not say. “Even so little a requirement seems ambitious.”
Lyness chuckled and squeezed her fingers, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “Then lean on me. That is what engaged couples do.”
That made her cheeks warm rather unexpectedly. She gazed at Lyness, her hand still in his. “What if I make a fool of myself today?”
“Impossible,” he said gently. “I have never once thought you foolish.”
Her heart stuttered. “But, Mr. Eastwood—”
With a quick shake of his head, he said, “Lyness. Please. Call me Lyness.” A gentle squeeze of her hand gave her leave to relax somewhat.
“Lyness,” she repeated quietly, his name leaving her lips with ease.
She had thought of him by that name for some time now, so it was almost a relief to finally speak it out loud without needing to correct herself.
For the moment, she put her concerns aside.
“I suppose I had better dress properly for the races.”
At that, his smile slowly widened. “I will return within the hour to escort you, my lady.” He bowed over her hand. “And count myself fortunate to do so.”
She curtsied, and then she watched him leave, his steps light and his shoulders squared.
As though he had all the confidence in the world that this was the right way forward.
She crossed to the canary’s cage and looked inside at her little bird.
“I truly hope he does not come to regret his choice. But oh, Feathers. How will I tell my parents?”
And why did everything hurt?