Chapter 16
“Ican’t believe you’re having a ball,” Norman admitted as he and Reeves strolled across the grounds of Greystone Manor. “It’s so out of character for you.”
Three days had gone by since the picnic.
The invitations to the ball had gone out, and apparently the first of them had been received, for a response had come in just this morning.
“I won’t be having it if more people don’t send word that they’re planning to come,” he grumbled.
“I’m not going to host a ball for one guest.”
“Oh, be patient,” Norman said. “You know perfectly well that people are dying to get a look at the inside of Greystone Manor. You’ve made yourself one of the most mysterious figures in all of London with the way you never socialize.”
“You don’t need to make it sound sinister. It’s not that I don’t ever socialize,” Reeves said. “I get out from time to time.”
“I don’t know when the last time was.”
“You know, people are only interested in me because they want to know how I got my scars. And frankly, I don’t know why they don’t just assume I got them in the war.”
“Because there were people who saw you before you went away to war, and your face was scarred then,” Norman said easily. “You could tell everyone the true story, you know. It makes you look good, not bad. People would respect it if they knew it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I respect it,” Norman said quietly. “You know that. What you did saved my life. You intervened when I was attacked. Those men would have killed me. And then you helped me settle my father’s debts, so they would never come after me again.
What you did changed my life. I hate that it left you scarred, but you know I admire you for stepping in. ”
“You would have done the same for me,” Reeves said gruffly. “I don’t ever regret it. But I do wish people wouldn’t stare.”
“And maybe they wouldn’t if they knew the full story.”
“No one needs to know. It’s not any of their business.”
“If you say so,” Norman said. “I can’t tell you what to tell people.
I can say that people will look at you again at this ball.
That might even be why some of them are coming.
You stay out of the public eye so much that they might be looking for a chance to remind themselves what your scars look like. ”
Reeves groaned. “Don’t make me dread this even more than I already do,” he said. “I’m only having this ball because Gareth thought it would be a good idea.”
“Since when do you do what Gareth tells you to do?” Norman asked, raising an eyebrow. “The last I heard of it, you two struggled to get along during the best of times. Don’t tell me you see him as a friend all of a sudden?”
“Not a friend, but he is my late wife’s brother,” Reeves said. “He’s Emma’s uncle, too. He has a place in my life, no matter what I might think of him personally, and if he thinks a ball is a good idea for Emma, I have to at least consider that.”
“He thinks a ball is a good idea for Emma?”
“He thinks it will help her re-adjust to life now that she’s home,” Reeves said. “I wouldn’t have thought so, but Bridget agrees with him.”
“Bridget, eh?” The expression on Norman’s face shifted to a knowing grin. “She’s a lovely young lady, isn’t she?”
Reeves scowled, unable to suppress the rush of irritation that swept through him. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Don’t say she’s lovely?” Norman asked. “You don’t agree that she is?”
“You know what I mean.” Reeves gritted his teeth. “You shouldn’t be looking at her that way at all. It’s not appropriate. She’s here as my guest, not as something for you to look at.”
Norman held up his hands defensively. “Reeves, calm yourself. I was speaking of her character, not her appearance. I only meant to say she’s a lovely person. That’s something we’re agreed upon, surely? You can’t fault me for feeling that way.”
Reeves scowled. The truth was, he didn’t like it.
But he could admit there was nothing inappropriate in what his friend had said.
He wasn’t sure what he didn’t like exactly, other than the fact that Norman talking about Bridget at all made him feel ill at ease.
He didn’t want Norman to speak about her, or even to think about her.
Why should that bother me so much? After all, he was with me when we met Bridget. Of course, he has opinions about her.
He was spared having to think about it too hard when Norman spoke again. “Isn’t that her right now?”
Reeves squinted in the direction his friend was pointing. Sure enough, there was Bridget, standing in the doorway to the manor. As they watched, he was surprised to see a carriage draw up to the door. A man got out and made his way up the steps to greet her, and then she showed him into the house.
“What the dickens?” Reeves murmured.
“That was Dr. Roberts,” Norman said.
“Your eyesight is something.” Reeves frowned. “What is the doctor doing here? I don’t…”
And then he was running, running almost before he even understood the reason why.
Bridget had sent for the doctor.
The possibilities screamed through his head as he tore across the grounds, leaving Norman behind. Emma. Something had happened to her. She was hurt. She was ill. Something related to her kidnapping had emerged that had convinced Bridget that medical assistance was required…
He burst into the house and followed the sound of voices through to the sitting room.
His eyes went immediately to Emma. She was sitting on the floor next to the fire, quietly taking in everything around her. For a moment, he couldn’t process what was happening. He looked her up and down, trying to figure out what was wrong, what had caused the doctor to be summoned.
“It’s all right,” Bridget’s voice said.
Only then did he turn and take notice of her. She was on a settee, her leg extended out in front of her, her skirt pulled up to her knees so that the doctor could examine it.
Reeves found his gaze lingering on her exposed calves, even though he knew better than to look at her in that way. Now, who was being indecent? He would be ashamed of his behavior later, but right now all he could think about was how smooth and soft her skin looked…
She cleared her throat and adjusted her skirts so that she was covered. “I’m sorry,” she said.
He managed to look up, to meet her eyes, and saw that her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. He imagined his own probably were too. His face was certainly hot enough. “What’s going on?” he demanded, his voice coming out as a grumble. He was going to have to get himself under control here.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “You don’t need to worry…go back to whatever you were doing. We’re fine, aren’t we, Emma?”
Emma didn’t answer, but her eyes grew wider. Reeves knew his daughter well enough to know that that wasn’t the expression she wore when things were fine.
“Something happened, or you wouldn’t have summoned a physician,” he said. “I can make Dr. Roberts tell me what’s going on here, if you’d like, Bridget… or you can tell me yourself.”
She sighed. “It’s really nothing. I turned my ankle on the stairs coming down, that’s all.
I thought it was fine, but then I was having trouble putting pressure on it, and the butler thought I ought to have it looked at, so he sent a footman to fetch the physician.
But really, I’m just fine. Maybe you ought to take Emma out of here now, actually—I think she was a little shaken up by it all.
And then the physician can finish the examination. ”
Reeves felt his jaw clench.
On the one hand, of course, he knew that she was right.
He should give her time alone with Dr. Roberts.
It was a good idea, too, to take Emma out of here as quickly as possible.
She didn’t seem to be panicking, exactly, but it was obvious from the wide-eyed expression on her face that she was ill at ease.
But, at the same time, Reeves found himself resistant to the idea of walking away—he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here, right by Bridget’s side, and make sure she was all right.
He couldn’t understand why he was having such a powerful reaction. What am I going to do about it, after all? She’s with Dr. Roberts. He’ll do what needs to be done—he’s a good doctor, and I trust him with this. My presence won’t make any difference.
Resolved, he turned to his daughter. “Come with me, Emma,” he said firmly, holding out a hand. “Let’s leave Dr. Roberts to take care of Bridget.”
Emma got slowly to her feet. She looked at her father, and then at Bridget. She seemed hesitant to move.
“It’s all right,” Bridget told her, smiling, though the smile did look a little pained. Reeves couldn’t help but notice that. “You and I will see one another soon, Emma. I’m just going to finish up here, and then I’ll come and find you. I promise.”
Her voice was full of warmth, and Emma seemed reassured. She crossed the room and took her father’s hand, allowing Reeves to lead her out.
As they left, Reeves glanced over his shoulder.
Bridget was watching him go, her hands on her skirts, and he could see that she was waiting for the appropriate moment to hike them up again.
A sudden heat filled him.
In addition to wanting to make sure she was all right—which he did want, and badly—he wanted to linger so that he could get one more glimpse of that smooth skin.
That definitely wasn’t right. He turned, gripping Emma’s hand, led her out the door, and closed it firmly behind him.
But as he walked away from the sitting room, Reeves couldn’t help but notice that his heart was pounding.