“It was supposed to be Faith—” I was stupid not to have put it together before now. Emmett was never going to leave the May Queen up to chance. My stomach turns as the realization dawns on me. “No wonder she hates me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. You should have told me.”
Emmett looks down at his hands. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look truly unsure of himself. “She was a ballerina. I thought it would give her an advantage at the maypole. We’ve known each other for years.”
“So the rumors about you two were false? She’s not your lover, but your pawn?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “Not exactly.”
I push past him, disgusted. “You were willing to let your brother take one of your castoffs?”
He chases me through the boathouse. “Please, let me explain.”
“I’m interested in only one thing. How much does she know?” If Faith knows about Emmett’s plan to unseat the queen, she could easily blow this plot up. I could be executed for sedition.
“She doesn’t know my true goal. I promised only that I’d help her marry Bram. I told her to win May Queen, but not why.”
“Oh, perfect,” I snarl sarcastically.
He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. I have to look away to keep from staring. “I’m going to helpyouwin. This changes nothing. He’ll fall in love with you. I know he will.”
The idea of anyone falling in love with me is so ridiculous it makes me nauseous.
“Did you loveher?” I ask.
“Ivy—” He says my name like I’m a horse he’s trying to settle. Outside, a harpist begins playing, a sign that the latter part of the party has begun and I’ve been missing from the group for far too long.
I turn for the door, but Emmett captures my wrist in his hand once more, his hold gentler this time, an apology in it. “Meet me inthe sunken garden tonight at midnight and I’ll show you every last one of my cards.” He has the audacity to look wounded as I walk away.
I march out of the boathouse, the anger in me so hot and blinding I don’t see Bram until I’ve smacked directly into him.
“I’m sorry!” I exclaim.
He just chuckles. “We have to stop meeting like this, Lady Ivy.” He has the regatta trophy slung casually in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. Like his brother, he’s wearing a blue-and-white-striped sweater, his hair tousled from the wind and water. Unlike the rest of the rowers, he looks distinctly unwinded. His gray eyes don’t squint against the sun either. His posture is perfect, everything about him at ease.
I panic, afraid that Emmett will follow me and we’ll be caught once more. Bram may be good-natured, but I doubt he’s stupid.
“Will you show me the boat?” I ask, not giving him a chance to answer. I’m already bounding down the dock, leading him far enough away from the boathouse that Emmett should be able to escape undetected.
The door to the shed squeaks open, and Emmett peeks out. I widen my eyes at him in an attempt to tell him to stay put. He nods in understanding and pulls the door shut. It squeaks again. I grit my teeth in frustration.
Bram glances back. I have to act fast.
“How many of you fit in this thing?” It’s the first question I can think to ask.
“Uh, nine. Eight rowers, one coxswain.”
Great, now he thinks I’m dull. Or dim. Or the worst possible combination, dull and dim.
From behind his shoulder, I see Viscountess Bolingbroke eyeing us judgmentally from the lawn.
I distract Bram, gesturing to the small space in the stern of the shell. “Does the coxswain really fit in here?”
“Johnny is the smallest on our team. We fold him up like an elegant napkin, and he barks orders at us like a stern governess.”
“Sounds terrifying.”
