32. Chapter 32
Andrew slumped into his favorite leather chair. He set down a bottle of brandy on the round side table next to him. Then he took a long swallow from his glass. He let the burn roll pleasantly down the back of his throat and into his gut. He was finally alone.
Since he returned home, he’d tried to keep himself busy and his thoughts off Emma.
The boys had missed him. He’d taken them to the park the past two mornings to fly kites or to sail their paper boats.
He spent yesterday afternoon reading through new bills put forth in the House of Lords which required his review.
After dinner with the family last night, he sat up late, reviewing estate accounts until he became so tired he could safely tumble exhausted into bed.
Unfortunately, he was out of tactics to avoid thinking about his thief. So tonight, he would spend time with an old friend. One who always helped him to escape his thoughts, at least for a little while. He poured a generous finger of brandy into his empty glass. Then another.
Caroline and his mother were attending a dinner party this evening, but Andrew had bowed out.
He had no desire to accidentally run into the Whittingham sisters.
He’d firmly ignored Caroline’s questioning looks across the table at breakfast. He did not need his little sister meddling in his romantic affairs.
It wasn’t anything she could help with anyway.
Emma had made it clear she did not need him in her life.
He’d been a fool to think just by loving someone you could make them love you back.
He couldn’t control her feelings any more than he could control her actions.
The walls she’d built to protect herself proved indestructible.
He took another swallow, staring miserably out through the glass doors into the darkness.
He’d really thought during those last few days at Stoneleigh she had begun to trust in him. Stupid.
Suddenly, she was there beyond the window. A fuzzy apparition through the leaded glass, Fergus sitting at her side. He glanced down at his brandy. He hadn’t had enough yet to drink to be hallucinating. Fergus let out a loud bark, and Andrew knew he wasn’t dreaming.
Emma stood with Fergus outside the doors leading into Andrew’s study.
She hadn’t wanted to come to the front door unannounced so far outside of proper calling hours.
Andrew sat slumped in a wingback chair. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and his untied cravat hung loosely around his neck.
He looked as miserable as she felt. A bottle of spirits sat at his elbow.
Oh dear, that didn’t bode well for her apology.
She had enough experience with her father to recognize the face of a man determined to get drunk.
She shook her head. No, it wasn’t fair to compare Andrew to her father. Andrew was a far better man. She studied him as he drank. All this time, she fought against the notion she needed anyone’s help, but maybe Andrew needed her in his life just as much as she began to realize she needed him.
Should she knock? Slip inside? Fergus put an end to her indecision as he spotted Andrew through the glass. He let out a loud woof of excitement. Andrew’s eyes squinted as he peered at them through the door. He glanced down at his glass and then back up before straightening.
“Fergus, stay.” She bent down and gave him a kiss on his nose. She whispered, “Wish me luck.”
Emma opened the glass-paned door and stepped inside. The warmth of the room enveloped her. Andrew stood as she entered, his posture stiff, his expression schooled in a formal mask. “What are you doing here, Emma?”
She launched into the speech she had prepared on the walk over. “I wanted to apologize…for the things I said the morning we left Stoneleigh.”
“Why?”
His question threw her off guard. His expression was so cold and remote. She wanted to say she couldn’t bear that she had hurt him. That she loved him despite her best efforts not to. But the words got stuck in her throat. She couldn’t find the courage to voice them.
“Because…our friendship means so much to me. I wanted to explain…”
“Oh, you made it very clear you don’t want my help, that you don’t need anyone.” He turned to pace over to the desk, his drink still in his hand.
Emma didn’t know how to respond. Everything he said was true. Her heart plummeted. He wasn’t going to listen to her apology.
She crossed the room and put a hand on his forearm. “Andrew, I—”
“Emma, why are you here?” He glanced down dispassionately at her hand on his arm. “If you’ve come to worm your way back into my bed, I’m afraid, no matter how tempting, I cannot service you any longer.”
Emma’s temper snapped to life. Her gaze fell onto the glass of brandy he held. Damn the liquor that made men act like utter beasts. She snatched it out of his hand. “I am going to ignore your last comment because you are clearly not yourself tonight.”
Then she walked over to the fireplace and flung the drink into the marble hearth. The shattering of glass was exceedingly satisfying. Equally so, the look of utter shock on Andrew’s face when she turned back to glare at him.
“Dammit, Andrew, I came to apologize for what I said the other morning. I hope you can believe I never wanted to hurt you.” Desperate for him to listen, she spoke the truth. “I allowed my fears to speak for me.”
His expression softened, but his eyes still held hurt. He ran a hand through his hair, further disheveling the raven locks. “Emma, our relationship cannot survive without at least a modicum of trust.”
“I know. I do trust you.”
He let out a snort, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
She pulled Charles’ letter from the pocket of her cloak. Stepping closer, she handed it to him. “I do. Please try to understand, it’s hard to trust when you have never had anyone to rely on but yourself.”
“What’s this?” Andrew asked as he unfolded the letter.
“You may not want to have anything to do with me after you read this letter. But I want you to know I would never take advantage of your affection for me. It’s too precious.”
Andrew read the letter. “That two-faced son of a bitch! When did you receive this letter?”
“Five days ago, the day before it snowed.” Emma bit her lower lip.
Andrew frowned down at the letter in his hand. “And you thought if you pushed me away, if you made me angry enough, it would protect me from being pulled into his scheme. Is that it?”
Emma nodded, keeping her eyes downcast. Now he knew the full ramifications of her secret life, how would he react? Lightning quick, Andrew reached for her. His arm snaked around her waist. “You foolish girl, you could never make me angry enough to give up on us.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise at his abrupt change of mood. One side of his mouth turned up. “Not permanently, anyway.” He pulled her body flush against his, and she placed her hands against his chest.
“I’m sorry, Andrew. I didn’t want your reputation to suffer because of my mistakes.”
“You belong with me. It’s now my job to protect you. Get that through your stubborn head.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you—do you at least trust in that?”
The sincerity of his words snaked through the cracks and over the crumbling walls she had built so long ago.
She did believe him. This amazing man loved her and wanted to protect her.
Overwhelmed, all she could do was nod. Then he kissed her with such tenderness, such care.
Emma poured all of her love into the kiss, willing him to feel what she was still too much of a coward to say aloud.
When they broke apart, Emma cupped his cheek with one of her hands.
“What I am about to say is really hard for me.” She paused at his sharp intake of breath. Closing her eyes, she said, “Andrew, I need your help.”
Andrew threw back his head and laughed. The sound eased some of the anxiety she had been carrying around with her since receiving her uncle’s letter.
“Well, let’s get started then.” He took her hand and led her out of the room.
“What we need is Jack. We need to find out what your uncle’s plan is for the necklace.
Who are his associates? Maybe there is something we can use against him.
Did you know Jack used to be a spy?” He laughed as her jaw dropped, then gave her a swift kiss.
“You see, my dear, you are not the only one who has secrets.”
They found Jack and Vivian in the library, sitting together on the couch.
Jack reviewed a stack of documents while Vivian sketched, her feet tucked under her skirts.
Jack looked up as they walked into the room.
Neither of them seemed particularly surprised to find her in the house at such a late hour.
Andrew put his arm around Emma’s waist and looked down at her. “Go on, each time it will get a little easier.” He grinned at her obvious discomfort.
She frowned at his teasing. “This is serious, Andrew!”
“What’s serious?” Jack set his correspondence down on the table.
Andrew gave Emma’s waist an encouraging squeeze.
She took a deep breath. “I need your help.”