“Of course it’s unhappy!” Syd shouted. Lunging to the edge of his chair, he turned to Emma, exasperated. “And it’s boring and crazy and funny and sad and everything else you can think of, and then some. ’Cause that’s what marriage is. It’s life times two, the most complicated equation there is. You can spend a whole lifetime workin’ on that one, Emma.” Syd eased himself back into his chair and refolded his hands across his stomach. He stared silently at the fire for a moment, then leaned toward Emma and said quietly, still looking at the fire, “You know, Emma, those people who think you gotta be happy all the time”—he dismissed them with a wave of his hand—“they’re kids. They shouldn’t be messin’ with marriage, which is for grown-ups. But you, Emma. You ain’t no kid.”
A slow smile returned to Emma’s lips. “No, Syd, I’m not.” She ducked her head sheepishly. “But what if he doesn’t ask me?”
“Oh, I got a feeling he’ll be reminded.”
Emma turned to Syd, alarmed. “Syd, you wouldn’t—”
“Not me,” said Syd. “I won’t say a word.” He reached over to fill his coffee cup again. “Y’know, Emma, honey, when I left the library, Derek and Grayson were having a little drink. They didn’t look like they was goin’ anywhere.”
“Really?” Emma pulled the towel from her head and ran her fingers through her damp hair. “After everything he’s been through tonight, he should be in bed.” She stood up. “I think I’ll go downstairs and ... and make sure Grayson doesn’t keep him up too late.”
“Yeah, that duke, he’s a real chatterbox,” said Syd, putting the pot down. “You sure you ain’t too tired?”
“Isn’t it amazing? I thought I’d be exhausted, but I feel wide awake. It must be the coffee.”
“Must be.” Syd sipped from his cup, but refrained from further comment.
Emma left the room without a candle, but again she found her way easily in the dark. She had no idea what time it was, but she suspected that most of the hall’s inhabitants were in bed and asleep. She met no one on her way down the stairs and saw no lights until she opened the library door.
The library was flooded with light. Dozens of candles, in candlestick holders of every conceivable size and shape, stood flickering from every available surface. Grayson and Kate were seated side by side on the couch, and Derek faced them from his accustomed chair near the fire. His curls were almost dry, and he’d changed into fresh jeans and a cobalt-blue cableknit sweater. Grayson had changed, too, into another well-cut tweed jacket, another immaculate shirt and silk tie.
Derek looked up as the door opened, and Kate and Grayson turned to look as well, and Emma suddenly remembered that she was wearing nothing but her robe and slippers. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the glorious fact that Derek was still awake.
“Emma?” Derek rose from his chair. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Emma crossed over to stand before him, unable to decide whether the sweater or Derek’s eyes were a deeper blue. “How’s Peter?”
“Sound asleep,” Derek assured her. “He was a bit delirious, but Dr. Singh says there’s no sign of any head injury, so we think it must be due to shock.”
“Delirious?” Emma asked.
“Babbling about the window changing color,” said Derek. “Not surprising, really. D’you know you were right? The young fool went out in that godawful storm just to make sure his precious window was intact.”
“Fool?” Emma echoed, a hint of heat in her voice.
“I say, Derek, old man,” murmured the duke.
“One moment, Grayson.” Derek looked down at Emma, perplexed. “Yes. Fool. What would you call a ten-year-old boy who risks his life to look at a bloody window?”
Emma’s foot began to tap. This wasn’t the conversation she’d had in mind. “I’d call him a very worried little boy,” she replied evenly.
“Worried?” Derek laughed. “I’d say he’s verging on delusional. Let’s face it, Emma. Those were hurricane-force winds out there, and Peter’s not exactly a tower of strength.”
“And I suppose you are?” Emma folded her arms.
“Er, Emma?” Kate’s soft voice held a touch of concern.
“In a minute, Kate.” Emma adjusted her glasses, then squared her shoulders. “Are you aware of the fact that that puny son of yours saved Mattie’s life tonight?”
“He’s lucky he didn’t get her killed,” Derek retorted.
“Lucky?” Emma’s voice cracked. “How about courageous and heroic and brave? How about magnificent? Frankly, I think Peter’s luck ran out when he got you for a father.”
“What do you mean by that?” Derek sputtered.
“I mean that, if you can look at what he did tonight and see nothing but foolishness and luck, then you don’t deserve your son. For your information, the window has changed.”
“What?” chorused Grayson and Kate.
“Now you’re sounding delusional,” scoffed Derek.
“If anyone’s delusional, it’s you,” Emma shot back. The discussion was spinning out of control, but she couldn’t turn back now. “You’re the one who thinks that everything at home is fine and dandy.”
“I don’t see how my home situation—”
“Do you have any idea what Peter’s gone through while you’ve been feeling sorry for yourself? When’s the last time he brought a friend home from school?” Emma demanded. “Why did he drop out of the Boy Scouts?”