Page 79 of The Mister I Married

And then, when the time came to return to her life in Bristlewood, she would come back feeling like Emmy again.

It was nearly four o’clock when the carriage rolled to a stop outside the River Rooster Inn’s cheerful blue door.

Emmy said nothing as Griffin handed her down from the carriage after Olivia, though she was not terribly happy about the reminder of her husband.

Was it really only two weeks ago that she and Alex and Tess had stayed here? Was it only two weeks ago that she was married?

And were there no other inns where they might have stopped instead?

Firming her jaw, she pushed all thoughts of her husband aside and followed Griffin and Olivia inside, determined to make the best of the situation.

After arranging their rooms for the night, the trio sat down to dinner in a private dining room where they were served a meal of pea soup, roast pheasant, and potatoes and cabbage before parting for the night to sleep.

Emmy knew from her previous stay that the inn’s fare was more than decent, but she ate very little, her appetite indifferent. She was glad when the meal was over, and she could retire to her chamber for the night. It was an exhausting day, and she was ready to rest. She only hoped she could sleep.

An hour later, after she’d finished her bath, she dressed in her nightgown and had nearly finished plaiting her hair before the fire when a knock sounded at the door.

“Yes?” she called out, assuming it would be a servant, or perhaps the inn’s proprietor, but the voice that answered back belonged to her brother.

“Emmy? It’s Griff. May I come in?”

She frowned, perplexed by the unexpected visit, but she strode to the door to let him in, donning her wrapper on the way.

“Is anything the matter?” she asked, as she swung open the door.

He shook his head. “Everything is fine. May I come in?”

“Of course.” She stepped aside to let him pass then shut the door and faced him. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit from the esteemed Marquess of Keswick?”

Griffin clasped his hands behind his back, his mouth grim, and she had the sudden feeling she would not like whatever it was he’d come to say.

“This is not a visit from the marquess. This is a visit from your concerned older brother.”

She tipped her head to one side and eyed him, feigning ignorance. “Concerned? About what?”

“About you, of course,” he shot back, his gray eyes both exasperated and annoyed. He sighed. “And about Olivia.”

“Olivia?” She took a step forward, her brows pinched. “What’s wrong with Olivia? Is it the babe?”

“No, no. Nothing like that,” he said, holding up a hand to stay her. “She feels guilty, Em. She thinks she’s responsible for you being here.”

“What?” Emmy crossed her arms over her chest. “That is absurd.”

“Is it?”

“Well, of course it is!”

Griffin dipped his head as if studying the rug, and said, “I saw you, too, yesterday—walking with Whitcomb. Holding hands.” His gaze met hers. “You looked happy.”

The words made Emmy’s chest ache, and she tugged the edges of her wrapper around her body, suddenly chilled. She had been happy during their walk, hadn’t she? There was no denying it. Not to herself.

“Alex is a kind and thoughtful husband,” she said, skirting her brother’s unspoken question. “I enjoy spending time with him.”

“Then why did you run from him, Emmy?”

“I did not run.”

Griffin arched one skeptical brow.