He was quiet a moment, long enough that even her mother shifted under his accusatory silence. He cast a swift glance at Emma, and she prayed he could see she had not arranged this ridiculous display.
“Of course you are correct, Mrs. Liston,” he said softly. “My behavior is untoward. I apologize to you and to Miss Liston.”
“Oh no,” Mrs. Liston burst out. “Of course my daughter is so very honored by the attention you pay to her.”
“Mama!” Emma hissed, grasping her arm.
Mrs. Liston shook her off. “We will leave you now, Your Grace. But I certainly hope we shall have the honor of you dancing with Emma tonight.”
James inclined his head without verbally responding, and Mrs. Liston caught Emma’s hand and drew her to the door. She went with her mother, incapable of doing anything else in the face of this new humiliation. But as they exited, she cast one final look back at James.
He was staring at her, face still impassive, and it was in that moment she realized that he’d never told her he didn’t want her to leave. And after this display, she could imagine he would want nothing but exactly that.
Chapter Fourteen
Emma stood against the wall, her head bent and her lips pinched. James felt his stomach turn as he watched her, for her pain was clear. All he could think about were the three options Graham had offered him hours ago. He could send her away, he could make one last attempt to help her or he could simply claim her as his own and be done with this madness.
But the last was impossible. It felt impossible. He’d vowed never to marry as a punishment to his father, and that was part of the reason he resisted his duty. But there were other reasons, too. Chief amongst them is that Emma’s ability to see into his soul was abjectly terrifying to him. Lettinganyoneso close was an exercise in pain.
He’d learned that from his father, if nothing else. How many times had the man drawn him in, especially when he was small? He’d pretend to change, pretend to care, only to cruelly cast him out just as swiftly. James had learned that love wasn’t permanent. It never could be.
He could not allow Emma any closer than she already was, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still want to help her. He’d seen what she was up against during the intrusion of her mother earlier in the evening. Mrs. Liston was so desperate that she might ruin everything for Emma if they didn’t act swiftly.
So he drew a harsh breath, steeled himself against whatever foolish feelings were trying to break through within him, and crossed the ballroom toward Emma.
She seemed to sense his approach, for when he was about halfway across the floor, she looked up and found him. Her eyes went wide as she straightened up and her lips parted.
He was lost. He wanted to take her mouth, he wanted to take her body, he wanted to hold her up against him and let everything warm and wonderful about her fill him in his empty spaces.
But he couldn’t allow that. He stopped before her and held out a hand. “Dance?” he asked, incapable of making the question more formal.
She stared at his outstretched fingers for far longer than any other lady in his acquaintance would have done. Then she nodded speechlessly. He took her hand, jolted once again by awareness at the action, and led her to the dancefloor where they began to move together.
She was silent a long time. He allowed it for he had no idea what to say to her, how to face her when she was far more than he’d ever expected her to be weeks ago when his plan was hatched.
Now that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Finally, she cleared her throat and whispered, “You told me that your father was why your mother behaves as she does. It is the same with me and mine. His issues are…well known. I’m certain you must be aware of them.”
He stared at her, shocked that she would at last address his earlier question to her. After everything that had happened since, he hadn’t thought she would bring down that particular wall.
Yet she did. She trusted him and that made his chest swell with pride. That she would offer this glimpse into herself meant something. He wanted it more than he cared to admit.
“I have heard a few whisperings about Harold Liston, I admit.”
Her face drained of color at those words, and for a moment she stumbled in her steps. He steadied her, keeping her upright as he examined her face.
“Thatis what my mother fears most,” she said in a tone that was barely audible. “That eventually those whisperings will becoming shouts and any chance I have at the future she wants for me will be dashed at last.”
“The future she wants?”
She nodded. “A good marriage, one that will offer not just me a place in the world, but her.”
His jaw tightened. How he understood about being forced to take care of those around him, even to his own detriment. “That is a great deal to lay on your shoulders.”
She shrugged one of those shoulders and said, “It is what has been expected of me for as long as I can recall. The weight can be…heavy, especially since I have failed in obtaining what she wants for so long. But it isn’t as if I have any choice in the matter. Going to live in the countryside as a spinster is not something I am allowed to think about.”
He wrinkled his brow at the unexpected option she put forth. “Is that what you would want, to live a life alone? Never marry, never become a mother yourself?”
