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“No matter what happens with my brother, I will always be your friend,” Jane stated. “I can assure you of that.”
“I’d better go see if Mary needs any assistance with packing,” Emmeline said, taking a step towards the stairs.
Jane gave her a reassuring smile. “I hope you find what you are seeking at your estate.”
Turning on her heel, Emmeline started walking up the stairs as she attempted to quell her growing concerns that perhaps she wasn’t making the right decision to journey to Lockhart Manor in such a haste. But it mattered not. She would leave tomorrow at first light, with or without Oliver’s permission.
The moon washigh in the sky as Oliver staggered along the pavement towards Hawthorne House. He had spent the evening drinking and trying to forget the devastated look on Emmeline’s face before she departed from the garden earlier.
“We had an agreement,” he muttered under his breath. “You can’t just go and change it because of something as trivial as feelings.”
So why did he feel as if he’d betrayed Emmeline? He had managed to control his emotions. Why couldn’t she? Emotions made you vulnerable, and he refused to be vulnerable with anyone. No. He had carefully crafted barriers around his heart to prevent himself from feeling anything.
Oliver stopped across the street from Hawthorne House and stared at the darkened townhouse. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go home. Emmeline was there, and he didn’t think he could face her again.
“You there!” a man shouted as he approached him. “There is no loitering in front of Hawthorne House.”
Oliver turned to face the guard and said, “It’s all right. I live here.”
The liveried guard came to an abrupt stop. “I apologize, Lord Oliver,” he replied. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
“No harm done.”
“Would you care for me to escort you to the gate?”
“That won’t be necessary,” he assured the guard. “I can return home on my own.”
The guard’s eyes roamed the street. “These streets aren’t safe at night, milord,” he said. “I would feel more comfortable if I walked with you to the gate.”
Oliver tipped his head. “Thank you.”
Together, they walked towards the entrance of Hawthorne House, and the guard stepped forward to unlock the gate. He opened it wide enough for Oliver to pass through before he closed and locked it. Oliver stopped and glanced back at the gate, wondering if he had made a mistake in coming home.
It’s too late now.
His feet felt like lead as he walked through the cobblestone courtyard. The door to the townhouse opened, and Pratt greeted him with a smile.
“Good evening, milord,” he said.
Oliver huffed as he stepped into the entry hall. “What is so good about it?”
Baldwin’s voice came from the door to the drawing room. “You look awful, Oliver.”
“Thank you.” Oliver untied his cravat and let the ends hang down. “I have had a rough night.”
His brother had a solemn look on his face as he approached. “We need to talk,” he said in a low, hushed voice.
“About what?”
“It is best if this is done in private.”
Oliver held up his hands and asked, “Why is that?”
Baldwin frowned. “Have you been drinking?”
“I have.”
With a shake of his head, Baldwin said, “I have never known you to become inebriated before.”
