“Forgive me, Sir, but I have come alone. I had not told anybody I was coming, and I am sorry that we had no prior arrangement. I do hope that I am not intruding on you in any way.” Emmeline realized that her voice held a certain formality, a formality that had not existed between them previously, not even in the earliest stages of their acquaintance.
“You do not need a reason to come to me,” he said in a low voice. “We have always had honesty between us, have we not?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Emmeline spoke in a non-committal fashion.
“Please, do take a seat. I shall ring the bell for tea.”
“Please, do not go to any lengths; I would not wish it. In truth, I appreciate that you might well not be inclined to talk for long, and I do not expect it. All that I ask is for honesty, absolute honesty if you would grant it.”
“Of course I shall; I would not lie to you.”
“And I shall not skirt about the issue which has brought me here, Hunter. I shall not make you guess what it is I have come to ask, nor seek to manipulate you in any way.”
“I know you well enough to know that you would not do such a thing, Emmeline. Please, do tell me what it is that troubles you.” He smiled at her, a look of concern on his face.
Hunter looked as immaculate as always, wearing black breeches and tailcoat with a fawn waistcoat and white shirt. His hair seemed blacker than ever and his eyes as appealing as ever they had been, if not more so. In truth, she thought she had never seen him look so handsome and wondered if it were not simply the idea that she was, at any moment, to lose him forever that had forced her to look at him in such a manner.
As she regarded him, she regarded him closely as if she might never see him again. She wanted to commit him to memory, his handsome face, his neatly clipped dark beard with flecks of gray, and his mesmerizing eyes. She wanted to remember every detail of the man she had come to love more than any other; she did not want to forget a single thing. However heartbreaking it would be, whatever pain was due her at any moment, still she wanted to remember him exactly as he was in that moment.
“I must admit to you that these last days have seemed interminably long for me. Ever since the unfortunate passing of the Duke of Galcross and his subsequent funeral, I have felt myself suffering the greatest uncertainty.”
“Uncertainty?” he said and, despite his look of confusion, Emmeline knew that he perceived her meaning entirely.
“Forgive me, Sir, but I would appreciate honesty.” She could not help the agitation in her voice.
“Perhaps it is I who should beg forgiveness, Emmeline. I had promised you honesty, and I know the source of your uncertainty. It would be foolish of me to continue in such a facade and ask you to spell it out. You are concerned, now that Felicity’s husband has died, that I would be tempted to marry her instead of you, despite the agreement that you and I made between us.”
“Yes, that is my concern, Hunter,” Emmeline said with a throat that was so dry she wished she had not turned down the offer of tea. “And whilst I would not wish to intrude upon your feelings, which must be immense at this time, I cannot simply blow along like a leaf on a breeze. You must understand that there is a good deal of uncertainty in my life, uncertainty in almost every regard. And you must forgive me for my bluntness, for this is not the behaviour that I would wish for myself, you must believe me.”
“There is nothing in your behaviour that you should reproach yourself for, Emmeline. There was an agreement between us, and you have every right to question it openly. You have every right to question it with the forthrightness of the spirit in which the agreement was made.” He spoke sadly as if the idea of a loveless marriage no longer appealed to him.
Emmeline feared the worst, certain that he was about to tell her that he could not marry her after all. If only she could tell him of her feelings, of how deeply she loved him, but she knew she could not. If she did that, she would surely drive him straight into the arms of Felicity. After all, if he was to suffer love in any form, it might just as well be with his old love as with her.
“Then I have a question that I must ask you, Hunter.”
“Please do.”
“Is it your intention to marry the Duchess of Galcross when her period of mourning is over?” Emmeline looked down, unable to meet his gaze not only for shame but for the extraordinary jolt of pain her own words had given her.
To hear it out loud was almost insufferable, to hear the words spoken, to almost bring to life the idea that he truly would marry Felicity, was all too much.
“It is true that Felicity Burton held me back from my carriage on the day of the funeral for the reason you suggest. I shall not lie to you but tell you that she told me she had made a grave mistake in turning away from me and marrying the Duke in the first place. And I shall tell you also that she has asked me to consider taking her hand in marriage the moment that her period of mourning is over. She has asked me to think of the thing thoroughly, to examine it from every viewpoint, and to return to her with my answer as soon as I have it.”
“And do you have your answer, Sir?” Emmeline said and looked down at the floor.
If her life depended on it, she could not have looked into his eyes at that moment. She did not want to hear or see his answer, and she did not want him to see how hard she blinked at the tears which were forming and refusing to dissipate.
“Indeed, I do have my answer, although I have not yet given it to her. But I shall tell it to you now, Emmeline because I would wish you to be the first to know it.” He paused for a moment, and Emmeline felt her heart jolt almost painfully. “It is not my intention to marry the Duchess of Galcross; not when her period of mourning is over, not ever.”
Chapter 21
Emmeline had dressed with care that evening, feeling nervous, despite the fact that she had already seen the enormous ballroom at Addison Hall. And yet, regardless of her familiarity with the building, still she felt just a little on the outside of things. Even on that day of all days, the day on which her engagement to the Earl of Addison was to be announced.
Emmeline had, of course, attended many balls in the county since she had come out into society some years before. She had never worried before to such a degree about her appearance, knowing always that her own style was one which was easy to feel comfortable with. Emmeline had always dressed well but without ostentation. It was a style which had served her well and had never once made her feel self-conscious at a society gathering of any kind.