It was useless. He should have known better than to demand answers from a child. A flare of guilt prickled at him.
“What have you done?” The door flew open, and Emily swept into the room. As soon as she saw Royce, she bent down and gathered him into her arms. “You’ve made him cry.”
Like a furious mother lioness, she released the full force of her wrath. “He’s only a boy.”
“I asked him a few questions,” Stephen admitted. He felt sheepish, for the idea had not been a good one.
Emily mustered a smile for Royce. “Go and see Lizbeth. She has a slice of cake waiting for you.”
The promise of cake was all that was needed to send the child dashing from the room. When Royce had gone, Emily unleashed her fury. “What did you say to him? Why was he crying?”
There was true fear in her eyes, not just anger. “I only asked him a few questions.” He took a step closer, watching her tremble. “What are you so afraid of, Emily?”
“He doesn’t know his father is dead.”
“Why not?”
A deep weariness edged her expression. The rage grew calm as she gathered her composure. “It’s my fault. I couldn’t bear to hurt him. He lost his mother when his sister was born. And now his father.”
Stephen took her wrist, feeling her pulse quicken. Her hands were warm, and he smelled the light fragrance of vanilla near her nape. Like the sugar biscuits, he realized. And he found himself wanting to draw nearer. “Hiding the truth won’t make it go away.”
“And sometimes no one will believe the truth when it is spoken.” She held his scrutiny, jerking her hand away. “Go to London. I’m certain you’ll find the answers you seek there if you stay long enough.”
Her icy demeanor had returned. With her honey-gold hair tucked neatly into black netting, her face scrubbed clean, she appeared a paragon of virtue. She had changed her dress into an older gown, a dull black bombazine. Its hemline was frayed, and it had been remade more than once.
He grew irritated at her martyrdom and seized both wrists. Taking her left hand, he gripped her palm so that the wedding ring pressed into her skin. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me. What did I ever do to you? Besides marry you, if that indeed happened.”
“You promised to look after my brother when you left for London. But Daniel’s creditors killed him while you were away.” Tears burned in her eyes, and she added, “He bled to death.”
Emily tried to break free of his grasp, but he refused to let go. “Do you truly believe I would let a man die if I had the power to stop it?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured. Even so, doubts clouded her face.
Stephen moved closer, hoping to unravel the truth. But when his hand slipped around her waist, he saw the genuine grief in her eyes. Beneath the bombazine, the heat of her skin warmed his palm. His fingers touched one of the tiny buttons upon her gown, toying with it. “I don’t have any memory of what happened, Emily. I need to know.”
“There were…men who brought Daniel’s body to me.” Her voice was broken as he rested his hand upon her back. “At his home, not at Falkirk.”
He wondered why she hadn’t been staying here. “And who were these men?” His hand moved up her spine, tracing the dozens of tiny buttons until he reached one at the nape of her neck. With the flick of a thumb, he revealed a bit of skin. He wanted to gauge her reaction.
“I—I don’t know,” she stammered. “I thought they were your solicitors or from your father. They were looking for you.”
“Why?”
Her hand clamped over his when he grazed her skin. “Please don’t touch me.”
He ignored her, loosening another button. “Why not? You said we are married, did you not?” He was trying to determine whether there had been anything at all between them. More and more, he was starting to believe she had lied about their union.
“Because you don’t really want me. You only want answers I don’t have.”
A sudden flash of memory took hold. Emily stood before the fireplace in his bedchamber at Falkirk, her hair hanging down. Her fingers moved to unbutton his frockcoat, and her face was flushed with desire.
He dropped his hand away from her when the fleeting vision faded. Where had it come from? Was it real? Had they been lovers? Frustration clawed at his mind when the emptiness returned.
He leaned in close, so his face nearly touched hers. “Tell me why I married you.” With her so near, he could smell the fragrance of vanilla. Her clear eyes were confused, her cheeks pale.
She gripped her hands together so tightly her knuckles whitened. With a light shrug she met his gaze. “You said you wanted to take care of me, to help our family. And like a fool, I wanted to believe you loved me.”
He studied her for a moment. She looked so lost, so vulnerable. Behind her mask of bitterness, he caught a glimpse of the girl he’d once known. She’d been his best friend, long ago. And now she was his wife.
