Chapter 23 #2
Emmeline’s blue eyes softened and were filled with a wistful kind of mistiness tinged with sadness.
“You and I have shared intimate moments that I will always cherish. I’ll never regret any of it for as long as I live.
Even so, we both know that someone like you, a duke—even if you did love me—could never offer me anything more than an invitation to become your mistress.
I’m from Cheapside, not Belgravia or Mayfair. ”
What? Horror lanced through Xavier at such a thought. “I’m not in the market for a mistress. I never have been. And I would never insult you with such a demeaning proposition. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure I’m in the market for a wife.” That was still true, wasn’t it?
“Perhaps not now,” said Emmeline softly. “But one day, you may decide to marry and whoever that woman is, she’ll need to be someone from your own class. Someone of noble birth, who’s genteel in nature, and accomplished. Someone who could give you children. An heir.”
Xavier frowned as the import of Emmeline’s words sunk in. She’d mentioned to him before that she might not be able to conceive a child, but really that wasn’t, and would never be, a consideration in his choice of a bride. If you ever marry , he reminded himself.
Nevertheless, he had to make it clear to Emmeline where he stood on the matter.
“I have my wards. They are my family now. And I would never choose a bride simply because I need a… a brood mare. If I never have a child of my own, so be it. So you must not think that would have any bearing on any future decisions I would make in that regard.”
“Be that as it may, I would never suit.” The expression in Emmeline’s eyes was resolute.
“Not someone like me. Dukes don’t wed their nannies.
If you did, then everyone would call you mad.
I won’t harm your reputation like that. I won’t give your uncle, Lord Peregrine, even more ammunition to use against you.
Or men like Sir Randolph Redvers who wish to harm your reputation as an esteemed horologist. You and I…
we cannot be together. It’s simply not possible. It’s something I must accept.”
“I know. I must accept it too,” said Xavier, even though every fiber of his being was screaming no.
Emmeline spoke perfect sense. She was being logical.
Practical. All the things he didn’t want to be when it came to her.
He drew a shaky breath. Firmed his voice.
“So here it ends,” he said. “Only…” Behind his back, Xavier’s right hand twitched as temptation urged him to reach out and touch her.
But then he didn’t. He curled his fingers into a tight fist. “Never mind.”
Emmeline blew out a breath as though she’d come to a decision. “Right. I’ll begin making preparations to leave. I take it you would like us to all depart as soon as possible?”
“Yes,” said Xavier just as matter-of-factly.
He could do this. Make plans to send her away.
“Early tomorrow morning at nine, there’s a train that departs from London Bridge Station.
I’ll secure a private railcar. And I’ll send Bertie and another footman with you all rather than Ollie.
I think it would be best if Fanny stayed here too.
I’ll ask Mrs. Lambton to reassign her to regular household duties. ”
Emmeline frowned. “Do you suspect that either of them had something to do with Gareth’s kidnapping today?”
Xavier kept his voice low. “I’d hate for that to be the case, but for now, I’d rather err on the side of caution. Do you think you can manage without Fanny for a while? At least until you get to Kingscliff? There are other housemaids on staff at the castle who can assist you when required.”
“Of course,” said Emmeline.
Xavier nodded. “I’m glad my wards have you,” he said softly. “One thing I do know to be true is that you’re the closest thing to a maternal figure they have. It’s abundantly clear that they care about you too. I would certainly never take you away from them.”
Even though I must give you up…
Emmeline offered him a smile. “I’m grateful, Your Grace. Truly. I care about Harry, Bartholomew, and Gareth very much too.” Then she smiled a smile that seemed as brittle as spun sugar. “I suppose I should get back to the nursery and check on them.”
“And I should get back to my study.”
Neither of them moved.
Selfish man that he was, Xavier had wanted to conduct this difficult meeting in the drawing room, a room he rarely used.
Every single recollection he had of Emmeline Chase’s visits to his study, his sanctuary, had brought him nothing but joy, and he didn’t want to taint that room with the ghost of a bad memory.
Then he realized, he didn’t want this particular encounter to end with an image of her with a forced smile on her lips and sadness welling in her eyes.
Surely they could share one last intimate moment before shutting the door on what could-never-be? What harm could it do after all they’d shared? At least they’d both have another memory to treasure. A bittersweet memory perhaps, but it would be better than living with regret.
Oh yes, he was a selfish, selfish man.
At last, Xavier unclasped his hands from behind his back.
“Emmeline,” he murmured. He reached out and gently touched the unbruised side of her face with the back of his gloved fingers.
“I have no right at all to ask this of you—and you have every right to say no—but might I kiss you farewell? On the cheek. As friends do?”
She took a step closer. Placed a hand flat on his chest; whether it was to ward him off or to draw him closer, he wasn’t quite sure. “No,” she whispered, and his heart fell. “Not as friends… As lovers do.”
Xavier’s pulse leapt then bolted clean away like a runaway horse. “Are you certain? Your lip is sore, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her eyes glowed. “Then you’ll just need to be gentle. All I ask is that you take off your gloves. I want to feel your bare hands on me.”
Xavier swallowed then did as she asked, tugging off his gloves quickly then tossing them unheeded onto a nearby chair.
Desire licked at him, but he would curb his impatience and take his time.
Stretch these stolen moments out for as long as he could.
“Emmeline,” he whispered thickly. He couldn’t seem to stop saying her name.
He swept his bare fingers lightly down her cheek again, then traced the sweet cupid’s bow of her top lip with a fingertip. Brushed his thumb over the plush curve of her lower lip, taking care to avoid the barely knit cut.
He felt silk and velvet. The soft caress of her warm breath. The heavenly scent of her floral perfume wrapped around him, and he inhaled so deeply, his head spun.
She needed to be closer. His other hand slid behind Emmeline’s slender back, his palm coming to rest between her shoulder blades. Curse her uniform and corset and whatever else lay between him and her satin-smooth skin.
His eyes traced over her face, lingering on the light dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks. He already knew the intricate patterns—the tiny cinnamon-hued constellations—by heart. When his gaze touched her bruised jaw, he had to crush down a hot surge of anger.
“My poor Emmeline,” he said gruffly, gently cradling her pert chin. He turned her head slightly toward the light filtering through the chiffon curtain at the window. If he ever got close to the brute that did this…
“I’m well enough,” she murmured. Then the corner of her mouth curved into a smile. “Apart from the fact that you haven’t kissed me yet.”
“Hush,” Xavier admonished, “you impatient minx. I’m learning you.
How you feel in my arms. I want to take note of every little detail.
Commit them all to memory. Make annotations of you in my mind.
” He loosened one of her burnished copper locks and wound it around his index finger before watching it unravel and slip away to curl sweetly against the hollow beneath her jaw.
“There’ll be one for your hair.” He pressed his nose to her temple and feathered a kiss near the place her pulse fluttered.
“Your scent.” His mouth brushed across her cheek, now flushed pink.
“Your freckles. The little sounds of frustration you make when I tease you.” His lips drifted lower. “How you taste…”
Emmeline’s fingers clasped his nape and he couldn’t resist the temptation her mouth presented any longer. Leaning down, he carefully pressed his lips to hers and drank his fill as delicately as he could.
His kiss was light, as gentle as a man of his limited experience could manage.
A series of whisper-soft caresses and glides, his tongue tip barely slipping between her parted lips before retreating.
When she whimpered and tightened her grip on his neck, he swept his tongue in again, delving a little farther, savoring the soft velvet stroke of her tongue in return.
It was exquisite torture, yet pure bliss at the same time. If it weren’t for the wild thudding of his heart and the hot thrum of desire racing through his veins, he’d describe this goodbye kiss as almost chaste.
He really shouldn’t have started this, because ending it was proving to be more of a challenge with each and every passing second.
But end it he must, for both their sakes. Before passion took over and there was no turning back.
“Oh, Emmeline,” he whispered as he drew back. He gathered her hands in his and gently kissed her bruised knuckles. “I will miss moments like this with you.”
“As will I,” she murmured. Then her gold-tipped eyelashes swept down and she moved half a step back. “I must go. There’s a lot to organize before tomorrow.”
Xavier dropped his chin in a barely there nod. “I know. I’ll stop by the nursery a bit later to speak with Harry, Bartholomew, and Gareth. And I’m sure whoever Scotland Yard sends will want to speak with you too.”
“I’ll come as soon as I’m summoned,” she said, taking another step back. Then she curtsied with due deference. Nanny Chase had returned. “Your Grace.”
As the door shut behind her, Xavier realized Emmeline— No, Mrs. Chase , he reminded himself—had never once addressed him by his first name.
Of course, he understood why. It was a way for her to maintain a modicum of distance, even while they were sharing one last moment of intimacy.
Strange how the idea that he would never hear her say “Xavier” again hurt more than he could say.