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“That is a shame.”
“Perhaps, but I am not willing to risk being rejected again.”
“Emmeline is not like her cousin,” his mother pressed.
Abruptly rising from his chair, Oliver declared, “Quite right, but we are just friends.”
“Oliver—”
He put his hand up, stilling her words. “I am not here to debate with you,” he said. “I just wanted you to know that Emmeline and I are married in name only.”
“And what of grandchildren?”
Oliver stiffened. “I suppose you will have to be satisfied with the children that Baldwin and Jane will have.”
“I think you are making a terrible mistake.”
“In what way?”
“I truly believe that you and Emmeline could be a brilliant match, but it would take some work on your part.”
He shook his head. “I fear you are not listening to me.”
“I am,” she replied, “but I am also listening to what you aren’t saying, as well.”
“Which is?”
Rising, his mother walked over and stopped in front of him. “You are scared to open up your heart again.”
“You are reading too much into this.”
“Am I?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice rising. “Emmeline and I have only ever been just friends.”
“People don’t go around kissing their friends.”
He clenched his jaw. “I believe I sufficiently explained my reasons for doing so.”
“You did, but I believe your reasons to be foolhardy.”
Frowning, he replied, “I am done with this conversation, Mother.”
Disappointment flashed across her face. “As you wish,” she murmured.
“Will you inform Emmeline that I have gone out for the evening?” he asked as he walked towards the door.
“Why not inform her yourself?”
“Because she is in the bath, and it would be entirely inappropriate for me to do so.”
“You are married—”
“In name only,” he reminder her.
His mother clasped her hands in front of her. “Why must you go out?” she asked. “It is Emmeline’s first night at Hawthorne House.”
“And I have no doubt that you will entertain her splendidly.”
