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Emalyn stepped off the stool, but Philip moved farther way, scrubbing his face with both hands. When he stopped, he took a deep breath, held it, and released it slowly. He looked at the window for a moment, then at the ground and cleared his throat.
“I should get you back.” He picked up both lamps and held one out to her.
She took it. “Philip—”
He turned his back to her, opened the door, and waited. “I should return to the ball.” Emalyn hesitated, then headed into the hallway. As she passed him, she heard his low mutter. “To my own kind.”
Emalyn had never quite believed the words in her novels, when the author described heartbreak as a real, physical pain. Now she understood as she followed Philip back through the dark passages, his broad shoulders bowed, as if he were ducking under some low threshold. Her chest ached, and her entire body felt numb. As they reached the entrance, he took her lamp and blew both out before opening the hidden door. He peered out briefly, then paused, speaking while still staring out at the stairway.
“You can find your way to your bedchamber from here?”
Her words croaked. “Of course.”
He nodded once, then stepped onto the landing. He waited for her exit, then pulled the door closed. Again, he spoke, his eyes glazed and aimed away from her. “Goodbye, Miss Benjumeda.”
“Goodbye, Lord Newbury.”
He flinched, but headed down the stairs, out of sight, and out of her life.
Emalyn spoke one last time, as the sound of his footsteps faded away. “I love you.”
Chapter Three
Saturday, 27 February 1792
Prague, Bohemia
Two in the afternoon
When the firstletter found her in Prague, Emalyn could not have been more astonished—or anxious. Convinced it would contain Philip’s final farewell, she took it from Mary, her fingers trembling so hard she dropped it, watching it flop to the floor as her stomach roiled. Mary snatched it up, concern filling her eyes.
“Do you wish for me to open it, miss?”
Emalyn hesitated. Two months had passed since their last meeting, and Emalyn had tried to release the now painful affection she had for him. She had not made a great deal of progress, but she had made some.
Why would Philip contact her now? And what could he say besides the goodbye he had already expressed?
Shaking her head, Emalyn reached for the letter, carried it to the escritoire in the corner of her bedchamber, and placed it on her desk. She dismissed Mary, who exited with soft footsteps. Emalyn stared at the letter, the rush of her emotions creating an agonizing chaos in her brain. Finally, she took a deep breath and broke the seal. Her fingers continued to quiver as she unfolded it—then the date and the first three words sent her head spinning.
26 January 1791
My dear Emalyn—
I hope you will forgive me for being a fool. When we last spoke, your words had crushed me, despite their underlying truth, and I behaved poorly, with great disrespect. I pray that the words of this letter do not indicate the same, improper though I realize they are.
But I must be frank with my apology. As we both know, our circumstances are not conducive to the topic discussed, as much as I would have preferred to deny that reality. Unfortunately, those are the only words I took in at that moment, and not the full depth of our conversation—and your promise to me.
I did hear it, however, andallyour words have settled on my soul. I now seek your forgiveness, and I pray our friendship will endure.
I am back at Eton for my last term and have been desperate to write—but with no knowledge of your whereabouts. My mother finally sent word that your family is spending the rest of the winter in Prague. Apparently, she and your mother are closer friends than I realized and have been in frequent correspondence.
If you chose to forgive me, I ask that you write as often as possible. While I have always been considered patient and cautious, those qualities seem to leave me when my thoughts turn to you.
Prague is an exciting city, and I hope you enjoy your time there. Do stay warm and safe, as I await your return with a great deal of anticipation.
Perhaps we may even see each other prior to Christmas.
With friendship and affection—
