“And maybe they wouldn’t if they knew the full story.”
“No one needs to know. It’s not any of their business.”
“If you say so,” Norman said. “I can’t tell you what to tell people. I can say that people will look at you again at this ball. That might even be why some of them are coming. You stay out of thepublic eye so much that they might be looking for a chance to remind themselves what your scars look like.”
Reeves groaned. “Don’t make me dread this even more than I already do,” he said. “I’m only having this ball because Gareth thought it would be a good idea.”
“Since when do you do what Gareth tells you to do?” Norman asked, raising an eyebrow. “The last I heard of it, you two struggled to get along during the best of times. Don’t tell me you see him as a friend all of a sudden?”
“Not a friend, but he is my late wife’s brother,” Reeves said. “He’s Emma’s uncle, too. He has a place in my life, no matter what I might think of him personally, and if he thinks a ball is a good idea for Emma, I have to at least consider that.”
“He thinks a ball is a good idea forEmma?”
“He thinks it will help her re-adjust to life now that she’s home,” Reeves said. “I wouldn’t have thought so, but Bridget agrees with him.”
“Bridget, eh?” The expression on Norman’s face shifted to a knowing grin. “She’s a lovely young lady, isn’t she?”
Reeves scowled, unable to suppress the rush of irritation that swept through him. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Don’t say she’s lovely?” Norman asked. “You don’t agree that she is?”
“You know what I mean.” Reeves gritted his teeth. “You shouldn’t be looking at her that way at all. It’s not appropriate. She’s here as my guest, not as something for you to look at.”
Norman held up his hands defensively. “Reeves, calm yourself. I was speaking of her character, not her appearance. I only meant to say she’s a lovely person. That’s something we’re agreed upon, surely? You can’t fault me for feeling that way.”
Reeves scowled. The truth was, he didn’t like it. But he could admit there was nothing inappropriate in what his friend had said. He wasn’t sure what he didn’t like exactly, other than the fact that Norman talking about Bridget at all made him feel ill at ease. He didn’t want Norman to speak about her, or even to think about her.
Why should that bother me so much? After all, he was with me when we met Bridget. Of course, he has opinions about her.
He was spared having to think about it too hard when Norman spoke again. “Isn’t that her right now?”
Reeves squinted in the direction his friend was pointing. Sure enough, there was Bridget, standing in the doorway to the manor. As they watched, he was surprised to see a carriage draw up to the door. A man got out and made his way up the steps to greet her, and then she showed him into the house.
“What the dickens?” Reeves murmured.
“That was Dr. Roberts,” Norman said.
“Your eyesight is something.” Reeves frowned. “What is the doctor doing here? I don’t…”
And then he was running, running almost before he even understood the reason why.
Bridget had sent for the doctor.
The possibilities screamed through his head as he tore across the grounds, leaving Norman behind.Emma.Something had happened to her. She was hurt. She was ill. Something related to her kidnapping had emerged that had convinced Bridget that medical assistance was required…
He burst into the house and followed the sound of voices through to the sitting room.
His eyes went immediately to Emma. She was sitting on the floor next to the fire, quietly taking in everything around her. For a moment, he couldn’t process what was happening. He looked her up and down, trying to figure out what was wrong, what had caused the doctor to be summoned.
“It’s all right,” Bridget’s voice said.
Only then did he turn and take notice of her. She was on a settee, her leg extended out in front of her, her skirt pulled up to her knees so that the doctor could examine it.
Reeves found his gaze lingering on her exposed calves, even though he knew better than to look at her in that way. Now, who was being indecent? He would be ashamed of his behavior later, but right now all he could think about was how smooth and soft her skin looked…
She cleared her throat and adjusted her skirts so that she was covered. “I’m sorry,” she said.
He managed to look up, to meet her eyes, and saw that her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. He imagined his own probably were too. His face was certainly hot enough. “What’s going on?” he demanded, his voice coming out as a grumble. He was going to have to get himself under control here.
