16. Trust and Thorns
Chapter sixteen
Trust and Thorns
Emma’s heart soared as she and Everett approached the morning room, where voices and laughter spilled into the hallway.
Her fingers kept touching Everett’s mother’s ring, still hardly believing this wasn’t a fever dream.
Everett squeezed her hand as they entered, finding Alexi supervising footmen arranging skating boots, while Arthur studied a map of the frozen lake.
“We have news,” Emma announced, unable to keep the joy from her voice. She extended her hand, the antique diamonds catching winter light streaming through the tall windows.
Alexi squealed with delight and rushed forward but stopped abruptly at her husband’s quiet command. “No. I cannot support this match.”
Emma’s smile faltered at her brother-in-law’s stern response and granite expression.
“Arthur!” Alexi protested, looking between her husband and sister in distress.
“The Moreland family faces complete ruin,” Arthur continued, his voice heavy with regret. “Once the faulty pipes come to light—”
“If they come to light,” Everett interjected.
“When,” Arthur corrected grimly. He dismissed the footmen with a gesture.
“I’ve been attempting to negotiate quietly with London Water Works.
If they refuse to rectify the situation…
” He spread his hands helplessly. “I’ll have no choice but to expose them, even though it would mean isolating important political connections.
Either path leads to their destruction. Social standing, fortune, reputation; all will be lost.”
Emma felt Everett stiffen beside her but kept her voice steady. “I don’t care. We don’t need fortune or standing.”
“You should care,” Arthur insisted, pacing before the fire. “I cannot provide a dowry because I cannot appear to approve this match. And think of your practice, Emma. Your patients’ trust. Do you imagine they’ll continue coming to you once your name is linked to such a scandal?”
“My patients know my worth,” Emma declared, though uncertainty crept into her heart. “They won’t abandon me over something I had no hand in.”
Alexi moved to stand before them with concern in her dark eyes. “Have you decided you can trust him, then? Despite his lies and actions?”
Emma’s eyes met Everett’s before she turned back to her sister.
“Trust isn’t simple with us…” She paused, gathering her thoughts.
“I trusted him absolutely once, and he broke that trust. Now… Now I trust him differently. I trust his dedication to healing. I trust that when faced with choosing between family loyalty and saving lives, he would choose lives. I trust that he loves me.”
Everett covered her hand on his arm with his own, stroking lightly.
Her voice strengthened as she regarded him.
“But most importantly, I trust myself to see him clearly now. Not as the perfect man I imagined, nor the villain I feared, but as someone who made difficult choices in an impossible situation. Someone who, like me, is trying to do what’s right despite the cost.”
She turned back to face them. “So yes, I trust him. Not blindly as before, but with open eyes and full understanding of who he is, flaws, complications, and all.”
Tears shimmering in her eyes, Alexi turned to her husband. “Arthur, do you remember your mother’s reaction when you announced our engagement? How she declared I could never be worthy of a marquess?”
“That was different—”
“Was it?” Alexi’s voice softened. “Society threatened to ostracise us. You stood to lose important allies and business dealings. But you chose love.” She turned to Emma. “If Dr Moreland lost everything—position, fortune, respect—would you still marry him?”
“Yes.” Emma didn’t hesitate, her fingers tightening around Everett’s arm. “We need little to be happy. I have my practice; he has his surgical skills. We’ll manage. My work is what matters. Our work,” she corrected, glancing at Everett.
Arthur studied them for a long moment, then sighed deeply.
“I cannot stop you from obtaining a special licence. Though I cannot help with that either. I’m sure as the son of the Royal Physician, the Archbishop of Canterbury would be more than willing to issue the licence to you. It demands a handsome price, however.”
“The worthiest things usually do,” Everett said quietly, drawing Emma closer.
“Then may God help you both,” Arthur muttered, though his expression had softened. “You’ll need all the help you can get.”
Alexi embraced Emma fiercely, whispering, “You’ve chosen love over security, passion over prudence. I am so proud of you.”
After her sister released her, Emma turned to Arthur. “What can you do to stop the spread of cholera?”
“I have begun the process to shut down the water supply in the East End and deliver clean water to them. I shall do this without exposing London Water Works for the time being. Snowden and Moreland wield tremendous influence in Parliament, not to mention with Her Majesty.” Arthur smiled warmly then.
“Enjoy your new beginning, Emma. Celebrate your love. I shall look after things from here. Do not involve yourself any longer.”
“Everett has promised to continue on my behalf,” she said proudly.
As they left the morning room, Emma felt lighter despite Arthur’s warnings. They had each other, their medical skills, and a determination to face whatever came together. It would be enough.
Behind them, they heard Alexi ask softly, “Shall we go skating, my love?”
“In a moment,” Arthur replied, his voice gentle. “Let me hold you first and remember why some risks are worth taking.”
Emma squeezed Everett’s hand as they stepped into the winter sunshine, their hearts full of love and their future uncertain but united.
The sounds of the house party—laughter, music, the clink of glasses—faded as Everett and Emma approached his father in Lullingstone’s conservatory.
Dr Moreland stood amid exotic orchids, examining a particularly rare specimen with feigned fascination.
The glass walls reflected candlelight, creating multiple shadowy versions of them all.
“The Cattleya labiata,” his father observed without turning. “Remarkable how it thrives in captivity, given the proper incentives.” His fingers brushed the purple petals. “Though one must be careful not to overfeed it. Too much nourishment can be as dangerous as too little.”
Everett stiffened beside Emma, catching the metaphor. Before either could respond, Lady Winona’s voice carried as she passed by the conservatory entrance. “Dr Moreland was so attentive during our walk! Such fascinating theories about proper breeding, of horses, of course.”
His father’s lips curved slightly at the young lady’s obvious hints. “Ah, Lady Winona. I had such hopes there.” Now he turned, his eyes finding Emma’s ring immediately. “Though I see other arrangements have been made.”
“Father—” Everett began, but Dr Moreland held up a hand.
“No need for explanations. Love is like these orchids. It blooms where it will, regardless of our careful planning.” He moved closer, studying Emma’s hand. “My wife’s ring. How fitting. She too had a habit of disrupting carefully laid plans.”
Through the glass walls, Everett saw Lady Salisbury watching them intently while pretending to admire a marble statue. The whole party seemed to orbit this moment, waiting to see how the Royal Physician would react to his son’s impulsive match.
“Your mother wore it beautifully,” Dr Moreland continued. “Though her fingers were shorter. More delicate.” His smile held perfectly calculated warmth. “But then, she never had to wield a scalpel.”
Emma met his gaze steadily. “Some flowers thrive best with thorns."
His father’s laugh echoed off the glass. “Oh, very good. You’ll need that sharp tongue to survive in our family, my dear.”
“We’ll seek a special licence,” Everett said, painfully aware of the watching eye through the glass door.
“Of course you will.” His father turned to him. “Young love brooks no delay. Though speaking of delay…” His eyes hardened slightly. “Your medical licence application may take some time to process. Bureaucracy moves at its own pace.”
“Like orchids,” Emma said softly. “Requiring proper incentives to thrive.”
Something dangerous flickered in Dr Moreland’s expression before smoothing into perfect courtesy. “Precisely. Welcome to the family, my dear. I trust you’ll find it an education in cultivation.”
He kissed her cheek, the gesture perfectly calculated for their audience. As he withdrew, he murmured, “Mind you, don’t overfeed the orchids. Some flowers are best kept hungry.”
Everett’s arm tightened around Emma’s waist, but she remained perfectly composed. “Thank you for the horticultural advice, Father. Though I’ve found that even the most carefully tended gardens occasionally produce unexpected blooms.”
Through the glass walls, Everett saw his father’s smile reflected infinitely—each version slightly darker than the last. The party’s music swelled, but in the conservatory’s hothouse air, three hearts beat to a different rhythm.
The valise felt impossibly light for a journey that would alter her entire future. A few changes of clothing, her medical instruments, and the notebook containing her most recent observations. Everything else would have to be left behind.
Everett waited by the carriage; his own expression full of joy. He helped her in, his touch gentle on her gloved hand, before joining her inside. As the carriage lurched into motion, Emma finally voiced the question that had been burning in her throat.
“Did you really burn my research?”
He met her eyes steadily with a crooked smile. “Could we enjoy this momentous occasion for one minute before you start your interrogation?”
He removed his gloves, then proceeded to remove hers, one finger at a time.
Once freed, he linked his warm fingers through hers, slowly and deliberately sliding their palms and fingers together.
Emma almost moaned at the contact. The heat and his strong grip gave her a sense of security and belonging.
“You have a few hours to interrogate me and change your mind. Let us get comfortable first, shall we?” he said.
Emma took a deep breath and acquiesced.
“Come,” he said, settling himself in one corner with one leg on the bench. He then drew her back against his chest, her bottom fitting snuggly between his legs. Emma wondered how long they’d last before desire overwhelmed them. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of their wedding night.
Alexi’s question echoed in her mind. How did she know to trust him? She answered her own question just as quickly. She knew because she had felt his passion, his tenderness, his raw emotion on her skin, in her heart, in the depth of her being.
Everett interrupted her thought by burying his nose in her hair. “To answer your earlier inquiry, no. I didn’t burn your research. I’ve hidden it somewhere safe. I couldn’t destroy your work.”
The relief made her dizzy. But then reality pressed in again. “What will you do if Arthur’s hands are tied by his political connections? If your father refuses to be held accountable?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, stroking her arm lightly.
“I was raised with certain expectations about a man’s duty to provide for his family.
The idea of living modestly, of just… getting by…
” He sighed, his chest rising and falling against her back.
“Did you mean what you said about being content with a simpler life?”
“Yes.” Emma answered without hesitation.
She had cared for her father in a box of a room, then in a modest apartment once Alexi began working for Arthur.
After Alexi married him, Arthur had offered her all the luxury money could afford, but she hadn’t felt comfortable.
And now, the luxury of her sister’s home, the comforts she’d grown accustomed to…
None of it mattered as much as the work. As much as…him.
“I’m not sure I could be satisfied with merely putting food on the table,” he confessed, his voice low. “I was raised to believe a man should offer his wife more than that.”
Emma looked up to see his troubled expression, seeing the conflict written in the tension around his mouth, the furrow between his brows.
“Do you truly believe you might lose everything?” she asked softly.
He kissed the top of her head as he replied, “It’s a real possibility, Emma. If the ruin extends beyond my father, to me, I could lose my medical licence. We need you to receive yours as soon as possible, so I could assist you if it came to that.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “You would be willing to be my assistant?”
“Of course,” he said, his voice vibrating in her ear. “How else will I ensure no other naked man seduces you at a cemetery?”
Emma chuckled, burrowing her back deeper into his embrace. “Where did you hide the research data?”
“At my cottage in Kent Coast. It has many places to keep secrets.”
“How will you conduct the research without earning your father’s ire?”
“I will not rock the boat until you receive your licence. After that, he shall have no hold on me. I don’t need to rely on him for anything.”
Emma sat up and turned a little to meet his gaze. “Once I receive my licence, what will you do about London Water?”
He shook his head wearily. “I don’t know yet. I’m considering my options.”
Everett gently pulled her reluctant form against his chest again.
“There’s plenty of time to plan before we act.
No need to solve all our problems in this carriage at this instant.
Let us enjoy each other for the time being.
” He linked his fingers with hers, his thumb caressing the back of her hand.
Emma relented despite the unanswered questions.
She was learning to consider his needs. As if he could sense the truce, she felt some of the tension leave his frame.
The English countryside rolled past their window, winter-bare and beautiful in the morning light, as they left behind everything familiar in search of something true.