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“Oh, yes.” Stacie exhaled sharply. “A lot of sense.” She tucked an unruly strand of hair off her face. “You're in love with him, Breanna. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
A thoughtful pause. “I have no answer for you. Because I'm not sure how Royce feels about me.”
“Find out,” Stacie advised. “Better still, help him find out. I think you'll both be pleased with the results.”
“We're in the midst of hunting down a killer. Surely I should wait—”
“No, you shouldn't” Stacie gave an adamant shake of her head. “Love doesn't wait. Not even for danger to subside. Aren't you the one who taught me that not too many months ago?”
A flicker of memory danced in Breanna's eyes. “It appears my own advice is coming back to haunt me.”
Stacie's grin was smug. “Yes. Pity, isn't it?”
At that same moment, Royce was hovering just inside the entranceway at Pearson Manor, patiently answering the last of the two dozen questions Emma had fired at him since agreeing to meet her father the next day.
She was a delightful young woman. Much, Royce suspected, as her mother had been in her youth. She was charming, inquisitive, and lacking in artifice—her golden hair unbound, her gray eyes keen and intelligent. She'd been without a father her whole life. At last she was being offered an alternative. And she was eager to explore it, if somewhat cautiously, for all the right reasons.
“Will he expect me to move in right away?” she asked Royce, concern lining her face. “Because I can't make that commitment. It depends upon my mother's plans, the dowager's health and, truthfully, how well the viscount... my father,” she corrected herself, “and I get on together.”
“Lord Ryder has no expectations, Emma,” Royce replied in total candor. “He'll be elated that I found you, and that you agreed to see him. After that... I'm sure he has his hopes, but they're not demands.”
“He has no right to demand anything,” Glynnis put in quietly.
“You're right.” Royce met her gaze, seeing the kind of bleakness that resulted from having her youth stripped aw
ay, along with whatever hopes and dreams she'd possessed. Now those dreams belonged to her daughter, and it was clear that, while the dowager might think of Ryder's offer as a future for Glynnis, Glynnis regarded it only as a future for her daughter.
For her, there was only the present—or whatever was left of it when the dowager passed away.
“Mother, will you ride to Sussex with Lord Royce and me?” Emma was inquiring, trying to include her mother in this all-important step.
Royce knew the answer to that before Glynnis spoke it.
“No, Emma. I won't. I can't. Her Grace needs me.”
Emma studied her mother speculatively. “That's not the only reason, is it?”
Glynnis drew a slow breath. “It's a very important reason, but, no, it's not the only one. This is one journey I can't take with you. It's one you must take in order to move ahead with your life. But, in my case, it would be like slipping backwards, into a past I've finally managed to put behind me. As I said, you have to go. But I can't.”
Understanding flitted across Emma's face, and she hesitated, torn between loyalty to her mother and desire to complete a circle that, for her, had never been closed.
“Don't even consider changing your mind.” Glynnis obliterated her daughter's dilemma in one fell swoop. She went to Emma, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You must meet him, form your own opinion. He's your father. He's looked high and low for you. You'd never forgive yourself if you refused.” Glynnis paused, weighing her next words carefully. “I'll never stop being your mother, Emma, no matter where either of us goes. But I've made my choices. It’s now time for you to make yours. Do you understand what I'm saying?” A solemn nod.
“Good. Then go upstairs and pack. It will be day before you know it”
Emma squeezed her mother's hand. “Thank you.” She turned to Royce. “And thank you, my lord.”
“You're welcome, Emma.” Royce opened the front door, having tactfully retreated to it during the private moment between mother and daughter. “I’ll see you tomorrow at ten.” His gaze flickered to Glynnis. “Good night, Miss Martin.''
She managed a small, if weary, smile. “Good night, my lord. I appreciate your searching so hard for Emma, and for offering her a chance to meet her father.”
Royce should have felt satisfied as he descended the front steps of Pearson Manor. But he didn't Instead, he felt uneasy.
He paused at the foot of the drive, glancing behind him and watching the lights go out, one by one, as the footmen readied the house for slumber.
Emma was excited about her upcoming adventure Glynnis was resigned, if not thrilled, by the unexpected opportunity that had presented itself to her daughter.
The situation was as positive as it could be, given Ryder's deplorable conduct eighteen years ago. As a result, Royce's assignment with the viscount was nearing an end—a successful end. Which was just what he'd hoped for.
