Julian nodded sadly. She would discover the truth soon enough. He prayed it would be quick and painless, even though he hoped he would have more time to spend in her company. No, that was not fair. She should be spared suffering.
“Do you still maintain that I am cursed?” Emily asked, suddenly, putting down her tea cup.
Julian was startled from his reverie, taken aback by the directness of the question. “Yes, I… I do. I have seen the proof of it in the past and have no reason to doubt it now,” he said, meeting candor with candor.
“And you will not be persuaded that it is nonsense? An old myth that you have been brought up to believe but which cannot have any basis in fact?” Emily persisted.
“No,” Julian replied, somewhat coldly.
He did not like the insinuation that he was a gullible fool. Samuel had died after touching him. His mother had died. His father, eccentric and perhaps a little mad, had also been a devotee of the arcane and esoteric. In mystic apothecary, there was none in England to rival his knowledge. That was what made Julian firm in his belief.
“I have prepared a note to my parents. Could you arrange for it to be delivered? Assuming you are resolved to not allow me to leave,” Emily stated, matching the frost that had been present in Julian’s tone.
“Of course, Emily. It will be taken at once. But do not make it sound as though I am your jailor—”
“But you are,” Emily interrupted.
“I know the curse will strike you down. I simply do not know precisely when. I cannot risk it happening when you are traveling back to your home. We are in the depths of Epping Forest here, miles from the nearest farm or shepherd's hut. You did not ask for this and I will not see you struck down on the road. You deserve better.”
“I have thought about this for much of the night,” Emily said, pouring another cup of tea and clearing her throat before coughing slightly.
The sound of that cough was like a knife to Julian’s heart. He resisted the urge to wince, pouring himself a cup after her.
“I did not sleep much,” Emily continued. “I realize that I am a single female with no authority over the few servants you have and no idea where I am geographically. I am a stranger to this part of England. I could wander in completely the wrong direction if I tried to leave on my own and I doubt your butler will furnish me with horse or trap.”
Julian shook his head decisively.
“So, let us be truthful, I am your prisoner,” Emily looked up and finished.
For a moment, Julian felt a thrill of such potency that shame followed hard on its heels. The words coming from Emily’s mouth had conjured an image of her at his mercy, physically vulnerable to him and to any whim he wished. Even bound. He sipped the tea and hoped that his cheeks had not colored. He felt breathless at the staggering eroticism of the image. It was entirely inappropriate and shameful, but once lodged in his mind, he could not unsee it.
“I grant it is so,” Julian eventually said, “by my orders and by the curse I have inflicted on you.”
Emily’s cheeks flamed bright and she buried her face in her teacup. When she replaced it, Julian noticed that the cup trembled against the saucer. She folded her hands in her lap.
“You have nothing to fear from me. I swear on my eternal soul. I will do no more harm to you than has already been done. You will be an honored guest and nothing will be denied to you,” Julian put in, earnestly.
Emily smiled ruefully. “Except for my freedom.”
Julian bit back anger, unused to being defied or questioned. He reminded himself that he was to blame and she had a right to defiance.
“As I have said, it is not for cruel reasons that I act this way.”
“I have heard you, Julian,” Emily murmured with a tremor in her voice to match that in her hands, “but you must understand that I have a history that has made me… wary of men. Almost to say afraid of them for the most part. So, I am not predisposed to trust.”
Julian frowned at that, wondering at what she could be alluding to. It did not matter. It was not his business.
“Very well,” Emily said, taking a deep breath and then coughing again, covering her mouth with a handkerchief. “I am powerless. I have explained in my letter that I am convalescing here after falling into the mere after losing my way. I had told my father that I was taking the post coach to Chigwell to shop for a new bonnet. It will seem plausible as he knows I have a love of walking. Do not fear that my note to him will expose you.”
Julian nodded. “I am grateful for that. I would not have opened it nor had Crammond open it to see the contents. Even if you had brought a constable to my door.”
“I will not try to leave, but may I request for something in return?” Emily said after a moment’s breath.
“Of course. Ask and you will have it.”
“That if your curse does not manifest… that if I recover from what I maintain is a cold and am well, that you will return me to my home?”
“I can make that promise and do so,” Julian stated.
