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The younger woman knit her brows. “I think I understand. You can never lay down your burdens. There’s no one you trust to carry them for you.”
“Yes. Yes, that’s it,” Emeline exclaimed in relief.
“But...” Rebecca gazed up at her, puzzled. “You plan to marry Lord Vale soon.”
“It won’t matter. I love Jasper as a brother, but marriage to him won’t change a whit the way I live and conduct my life. If he leaves me or dies as the others have, I will be just the same.”
Rebecca stared at her silently. Outside the sitting room, voices murmured in the hall.
“You’re afraid Samuel will die,” Rebecca murmured. “You love him and you’re too afraid to commit yourself to him.”
Emeline blinked. Fear seemed such a childish, cowardly reason to reject Samuel. That couldn’t be right. She tried to explain. “No, I—”
The door to the sitting room opened. Emeline turned, frowning, at the interruption. A maid entered, bearing a tray of tea. Immediately behind her was Mr. Thornton.
Dear Lord, what was the man doing here?
The little man advanced into the room, his face wreathed in a smile. He had smiled each time she’d seen him previously, but now the expression seemed twisted, not quite right. It was as if he sought to conceal the terrible thoughts in his brain by hiding behind a cheerful facade. Why had she never noticed it before? Was his self-control slipping, or had her new knowledge colored her perceptions of the man?
“I hope you don’t mind my entering unannounced,” Mr. Thornton said. “I’ve come to call upon Mr. Hartley.”
“I’m afraid my brother isn’t here,” Rebecca said. “In fact, I believe that he’s gone to see your shop, Mr. Thornton, on Starling Lane. No, I’m sorry.” The girl shook her head in irritation. “That’s where he went yesterday. Today he’s looking for you on Dover Street.”
Emeline glanced at the girl sharply. Her face was relaxed and open, the only mar a trace of irritation at being interrupted. Either she was a very good actress or Samuel hadn’t confided his suspicions about Mr. Thornton to his sister.
But Mr. Thornton had stilled. “Starling Lane, you say? How interesting. I wonder why Mr. Hartley went there yesterday? I haven’t had a shop there since I returned from the war six years ago.”
“Really?” Rebecca frowned. “Perhaps Samuel thought you had two shops.”
“That may be. In any case, I’m sorry to have missed him.” Mr. Thornton looked longingly at the tea being set up by the maid.
“As are we,” Emeline said tightly. “Perhaps if you hurry, you will find him at your establishment.”
“But then again, we might pass each other as we travel,” Mr. Thornton said smoothly. “And wouldn’t that be a shame?”
“You can stay here and join us for tea while you wait for my brother’s return,” Rebecca said.
“Lovely, just lovely.” Mr. Thornton bowed and sat. “You are graciousness itself, Miss Hartley.”
ne caught her breath then. Her mind—her sanity—might know that a marriage to Samuel would be disastrous, but her heart was unconvinced.
“Can I get you something, my lady?” The maid was staring at Emeline, her hand raised over the still-cold fire.
She must’ve made a sound, done something to reveal her distress, for a servant girl to have noticed. Emeline sat up. “No, nothing. Thank you.”
The girl nodded and turned back to the hearth. “I’m sorry I’m taking so long today, ma’am. I can’t think why the fire should be so hard to light.”
Emeline looked over the side of the bed and found her wrap. She struggled into it while the maid’s back was still turned. “It’s probably the chill in the air. Here, let me try.”
But however many times Emeline stuck a flaming straw into the coals, they refused to light.
“Well, never mind,” she finally exclaimed crossly. “Have a hot bath brought into my sitting room. The fire’s lit there, isn’t it?”
“Yes, my lady,” the maid said.
“Then I’ll just dress in my sitting room.”
An hour later, Emeline’s bath had grown cold. Dismally, she stirred the water near her knee. Like it or not, it was past time for her to get out of the bath and face the rest of her life and the choices she’d made.
