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Usually the mention of freshly made tarts would be an immediate distraction for her son.
Not today. “I hope he comes back. I like him.”
And her heart contracted. Three simple words and she was reduced to near tears. Carefully, she laid aside her pen. “I like him, too, but Mr. Hartley has his own life to lead. He can’t be always around to entertain you, to entertain us.”
Daniel was still watching his fingernail, his bottom lip beginning to protrude now.
She tried to make her voice cheerful. “There’s always Lord Vale. You like him, too, don’t you? I can see if he’d escort us to Hyde Park.” Her son’s lip protruded farther. “Or...or to a fair or perhaps even fishing.”
Daniel cocked his head to look at her skeptically. “Fishing?”
Emeline tried to picture Jasper with a fishing pole, standing beside a rushing river. Her imaginary Jasper immediately slipped, flailed wildly, and fell into the river.
She winced. “Maybe not fishing.”
Daniel was back to pressing half-moon shapes into her blotter. “Lord Vale’s all right, but he doesn’t have a big rifle.”
Faint praise indeed.
“I’m sorry, darling,” she said softly.
She looked down at the papers scattered on her desk, at the instructions she’d been writing, and her vision blurred. She felt as if her heart were breaking. Damn Samuel for ever coming into their lives. For seeking her out at Mrs. Conrad’s salon that first day, for talking to her son so gently, for making her feel again.
She gasped at the thought. That was the real problem. He’d made her feel again, cracked the shell that had hardened around her emotions and left her defenseless and vulnerable. She was too raw now, her skin too soft. How long would this feeling last? How long before she could grow another shell? She looked at Daniel, her beautiful boy. He was growing so fast. It seemed like he’d been a tender little babe only yesterday, and today she worried for her furniture with his big shoes. Did she even want to shield herself from emotion again?
Impulsively, she leaned forward, her head nearly touching his. “It’ll be all right. It really will. I’ll make sure it is.”
One side of his face scrunched up in thought. “But can it be all right with Mr. Hartley?”
“No, dear.” She straightened and turned so that he wouldn’t see the sadness in her eyes. “I don’t think it can.”
“But—”
They both looked up as the door opened and Tante Cristelle entered the room. The old lady looked at her with a gaze that had always been too sharp.
Emeline turned back to Daniel. “I must speak with Tante now. Why don’t you see if those pear tarts are done yet? Perhaps Cook will let you sample one.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Daniel wasn’t happy at the dismissal, but he’d always been a good boy. He slid off the chair and made a half bow to his aunt before slipping from the room.
ne’s heart seemed to stop dead at her fear spoken aloud. “I’m not.”
“Do you know that?”
“No.”
“So, if you are?”
“I shall have to marry him.” She said the words with dread, but inside her chest, something traitorous leapt with a forbidden joy. If she was pregnant, she’d have no choice, would she? Even with all her doubts and fears, she’d have to embrace the catamount.
“And if you’re not?”
Emeline thrust aside the traitorous emotions. She could not marry a colonial. “I’ll do what I’d always planned to do.”
Melisande sighed. “Will you tell Lord Vale about what happened during this house party?”
Emeline swallowed. “No.”
Melisande was looking down now, her face closed and impossible to read. “That is probably best if you want to make a life with him. A man often cannot take the truth.”
