Meg laughed, but the sound was pained rather than pleasurable. “Well, no one understands that concept better than I.”
Emma tilted her head, really seeing the pain on Meg’s face for the first time. Really seeing that trapped expression that she knew so well, herself. “Meg, do you not want-”
Meg shook her head. “Let’s not talk about what I want. It doesn’t matter. Come, let us meet your Mr. Middleton.”
They crossed the room together and Meg made the introductions as a good hostess. And as a good friend, she then found a reason to leave the two alone. Emma moved through the motions of a short discussion with the man, but was hardly attending even as they chatted and he asked her to dance.
She followed him to floor, and as they began to turn together, she saw James reenter the ballroom. His gaze found her, locking on her and her partner. His jaw tightened and his fists clenched at his sides. But he didn’t move on her.
And she turned her face and concentrated on the future, not the past. And not a fantasy she could never really have.
Chapter Fifteen
James stalked through the garden, not paying attention to anything around him. He didn’t give a damn about flowers or morning dew or chirping birds. Right now he was alive with frustration and an anger he couldn’t fully process. All he knew was that he had been kept awake all night by both. And every time he did find sleep?
He dreamed of Emma. Emma in his arms. Emma opening to him. Taking Emma.
Alternating between blind rage and a cockstand was not a pleasant way to fill the hours.
He careened around a corner and came to a stop. Standing there, staring up at the house, was Simon. “Crestwood?”
Simon started, turning toward him with a flush to his cheeks that almost looked guilty. “James, didn’t see you there. You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” James admitted. “Looks as though you couldn’t, either.”
Simon shrugged. “It’s a regular affliction for me lately, it seems. Walk with me?”
James stepped in beside his friend. “What troubles you?”
“Nothing that can be fixed,” Simon said, his tone very soft but also hard as steel. “What about you?”
“I’m sure you and Northfield have already discussed my problems at length,” James muttered.
Simon hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, if nothing else we are able to talk about you. He mentioned you’re struggling with…with this ruse you’ve decided to play out with Emma Liston.”
A ruse. James almost laughed. It seemed from the very beginning it had been more than a mere ruse.
“I don’t like feeling this way,” he admitted softly.
“Which way?” Simon asked.
“Like I’m having something taken from me. It isn’t even something I want.”
Simon came to a halt in the pathway and folded his arms. There was a snap to his expression, a hard line to his mouth, and he glared at James. “You aren’t having somethingtakenfrom you. Trust me, I know that feeling and this is not it. You aresurrenderingsomething. You fear it, so you’ll just let it go. Throw it away like it means nothing when it’s obvious it means everything.”
James stared. Normally Graham was the one who provided blunt words and hard advice, while Simon softened everything to make it more palatable. But in that moment, Simon almost looked like he wanted to hit James.
“It wasn’t supposed to be—”
“Oh, fuck supposed to be, James. Damn it!” Simon spun away, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve spent your life trying to live up to and run away from your father’s legacy. And now you’re willing to lose something…” He looked back at the house. “Lose something worthwhile just to make a point to a dead man. Well, if that’s what you want to do, you don’t deserve to have it.”
James drew back farther. “Simon…”
“Forget it,” his friend grunted. “Just forget I said anything. Grimble was looking for you earlier. I’ll…I’m sorry.”
Without another word, Simon turned and stomped off, not toward the house, but the stables. James watched him go, both troubled by his words and confused by the passion with which they had been spoken.
He finally walked to the house, Simon’s voice still ringing in his head. His friend was, for all intents and purposes, calling him a coward.
