She trailed off, unwilling to confess her foolishness to this man. After all, he was not her confidante either.
“What do you wish?” he pressed.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
He stopped in the path and turned toward her. “We will crest this hill in fourteen steps, Emma. When we do, the picnic site will be just on the other side. Everyone will be watching for us, waiting for us, and this conversation will be over. There is no time for pretending. I have done something that I do not regret, but I also have no illusions that my confession doesn’t affect you. So if you wish something, tell me what it is now.”
His tone was sharp and dark, his gaze focused and compelling. In that instant, her wishes morphed from ones regarding Meg to ones about his mouth. His lips on hers.
She blinked those thoughts away. “I wish that I could have stayed friends with Meg. I did truly like her.”
He stared at her. “Why wouldn’t you stay friends with Meg?”
“Why would she want to be after this?” she asked, humiliated by tears that stung her eyes. “What she must think of me!”
“Meg likes you, she understands why this path is one you felt you must take. If anything she is angry at me for—”
He cut himself off and jerked his gaze away. She leaned forward. “What is she angry at you for?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, and looked back at her. “I had one other topic I wanted to address with you before we join the others. At least broach it for further discussion.”
Her lips parted. He had neatly cut her off from anything deeper in his heart and even though what they shared was not real, she felt disappointed. She cleared her throat. “What is that?”
“Your father, Emma,” he said softly.
All her thoughts of Meg, of her mother’s inappropriate suggestions, of wanting to kiss James, they all vanished in an instant and the world felt like it slowed to half-time.
“My…father,” she repeated, the words feeling like they were yanked from her body with painful force.
He nodded. “Yes. I’ve heard things here and there. I wanted to bring up the subject because of our situation.”
“Our situation,” she repeated. “How does my father have anything to do with oursituation? You aren’t truly courting me. You have no fear of what he could—” She broke off and caught a ragged breath. “What he could do. I do not wish to discuss him.”
He stared at her in true surprise. “I am not trying to pry, I just want to help.”
“You can’t help,” she said. “And youareprying.”
“Emma,” he said more sharply. “It is a perfectly reasonable question.”
“Yes, for a man who would be my husband,” she snapped. “You have made it clear you don’t want that role in reality. So you have no right to ask me about private things. After all, would you wish to tell me about your mother? About why she...why she is the way she is?”
He recoiled, turning his face like she had physically struck him. His jaw flexed as he kept his attention focused away from her. Finally, he said, “I see what you mean. Come then, let us return to the others.”
He motioned her toward the hill and began to walk again, without waiting for her. She stared after him a few steps before she scurried to catch up with him. He was quiet the entire way over the hill and then he smiled and all the pain, all the upset was gone. No one would ever guess they had quarreled from the way he waved to the group and gave some explanation about a rock in her slipper.
But even though no one else knew the truth, she did. She knew she had very likely ruined everything between them. And even though most of that everything was predicated on a ruse, her chest still hurt at the idea that this man now thought differently of her.
And there was nothing she could do to change that.
James sat at his desk, staring with unseeing eyes at the estate paperwork strewn across the top. He’d been in here for an hour, trying very hard to concentrate and failing miserably. All he could think about was Emma.
The picnic had been successful as far as Meg was concerned, but for James it had been torture. First, his attention to Emma didn’t seem to be working entirely as he’d hoped. He still caught the interested glances and whispers from some of the woman at the gathering. Certainly many of the freshest debutantes put their eyes elsewhere, but there were other women who gave him looks. The Countess of Montague, a notorious flirt, kept putting herself in his way, batting her eyelashes and talking about…honestly, he didn’t know what exactly.
Of course, that didn’t trouble him as much as the fact thatEmmahad sat as far from him as possible, never looking at him. Worst of all,shehad become the focus of several of the men in attendance. Unlike at the ball, these had been men of higher quality. Younger, many with money, there was even one viscount in the group.
In that respect, his plan was working as far as Emma was concerned, but he did not celebrate that fact.
There was a light knock on the door and his body clenched. He knew who it was. He knew what he had to do.
