The sound of her slow breaths haunted him as he lay awake, the ache in his chest reminding him that not all ailments could be cured by time and rest.
Was this enough to get it out of your system?
The words played around Emily’s head as she listened to Oliver’s slumber. Early dawn light slipped past the shutters, bathing the room in grey, and she lay alone in her bed.
Just as she had requested.
At first, she had sunk into sleep without issue, but now she lay awake, mulling over everything that had happened, trying to convince herself that she had made the right decision.
This was one thing, this pleasure, but she could never marry the man her sister had aspired towards. That would be a betrayal too far. And so it only made sense that she keep Oliver at bay, and more importantly, kept her heart out of matters.
No intimacy. No emotions.
Nothoughts about it happening again.
Even if the thought of the way he had submitted made heat bloom between her legs. As though she weren’t already sore from the way she had ridden him just hours earlier.
No, it was very much not out of her system.
But it would be, soon enough. Once she returned home and picked up the threads of her old life, she would forget this ever happened. It would be as a dream to her—a pleasant dream that only visited at night, when the rest of the world was asleep. And perhaps she would never forget, but she would live—she wouldsurvive—and that was the only thing that mattered.
Chapter Twenty
ToEmily’smingleddisappointmentand relief, the next day dawned mild. The temperature had risen overnight, and the snow had half melted already, the dark bark of trees stark against the stone grey sky, and grass poking through the shovelled lawn.
By the time they had finished breakfast, Mr Chambers confirmed that a post chaise had made its way past them.
“I reckon the snow’s softened enough that it’ll clear within a few days,” he said as he kicked his boots off.
They all listened to the steady pitter-patter of melting snow from the roof.
Emily did not especially enjoy the cold under ordinary circumstances, and she especially did not enjoy this stage of the snow cycle, where everything turned mushy and damp—the sort of damp that tucked itself under collars and up sleeves. Colder, in some ways, that the crispness of freezing.
A temperature England excelled at.
Oliver looked at Emily from across the table. “Is the road traversable if we were to walk?” he asked.
“Walk? To the nearest village? You have ten miles to go, lad!”
“By the time we arrive, the snow might have melted enough to hire a coach.”
Mr Chambers eyed Oliver dubiously. “Perhaps, but mark my words, you’ll end up staying there overnight before you have a chance of getting out.”
“I don’t mind,” Emily said hastily. “It’s just we should get back to my sister. She’ll be worrying about us.”
At the mention of Isabella, Oliver’s face went perfectly blank.
Neither of them had discussed the previous night yet, but they would have to acknowledge it. A small, jealous part of Emily was glad he would not be marrying her sister, but thinking about Isabella meant thinking about what they had done.
Isabella would never know. But Emily still felt guilty.
Even so, she could not stop sneaking glances at Oliver. And she had felt his eyes on her more than once, too.
“We were hoping to send Old Tom along in the cart this afternoon, if you can stand to wait that long,” Mrs Chambers said. “That is, if the roads are looking well enough. It’s a rickety old thing, mind, the cart.”
Oliver swept them a formal bow. “I’m assured it can be no worse than my carriage, ma’am, and we’re most grateful to you for all your generosity.”
“Now then.” Mrs Chambers blushed and flicked a tea-towel at him. “You’re too handsome for your own good, Mr Beaumont, and that’s the truth. Is there anything else you need before you go?”
