“That’s another thing I’ve learned in this exceptionally long life of mine. It doesn’t matter if you accept things or not. They happen anyway.”
“I didn’t come here to be lectured,” Emmett snaps.
Eduart takes another slow sip of his tea. “Of course you did.”
Emmett stands to leave. “If you will not help us, we have no more business with you.”
Eduart turns his attention on me. “You’re one of Bram’s girls, aren’t you? I read about you in the paper. Does he know about the two of you?”
“No,” I spit venomously. “Bram doesn’t know about the plans to unseat his mother. Do you take us for idiots?”
Eduart shakes his head. “No, I meant does poor, sweet Prince Bram know you’re in love with his brother?”
“I’m not—” I stand to leave, my face scarlet red. It takes all the self-control I have not to dump my full teacup directly onto his horrible head.
“Let’s go, Ivy.” Emmett stomps through the hallway but pauses at the door. “Thank you for your hospitality, sir. I hope you enjoy the jam.”
Eduart calls after us as we stomp out the door. “You didn’t sign the wall!”
We step out of the house into the tangled garden where the airfeels thinner, and we both sigh in relief. The tension between my shoulders and the nausea pooled in my throat dissipates.
“Horrible man,” Emmett says.
“The absolute worst,” I agree.
“You, in love with me? You barely tolerate me.” He laughs but it comes out strained.
“Exactly,” I reply thinly.
We walk from the house into the forest. Birdsong starts up again, and I am relieved for one blissful minute, until it all comes crashing down. Where the horse and cart used to be is now only a kicked-up patch of dirt and wheel tracks.
“Dammit,” Emmett hisses.
On foot, getting back to camp will take hours. We’ll be lucky to return before the hunting party, and we have no reasonable way to explain our absence, let alone why we’re together.
“I’m ruined.” I panic, pacing. I’m tempted to pick up my skirts and start running, but we’re so far from camp, it wouldn’t be of any use.
Emmett looks at me, a steely set to his jaw. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
We follow the path out of the forest to a larger dirt road that leads back to Alton. “We’ll pay for a hackney in the village.” Emmett is walking so quickly it’s nearly a jog. He must know as well as I do, the timing will still be tight. We’ll have to get extraordinarily lucky.
Storm clouds gather on the horizon as the sun sinks dangerously low. Emmett and I both refuse to acknowledge it, as if ignoring time will make it pass more slowly.
We walk onto the Alton high street right as the storm breakswide open. Lightning cracks across the sky and we are drenched in seconds.
We sprint down the road to a thatched roof coaching inn. The sign hanging above the door sways in the howling wind. It’s got a faded crest under the wordsThe Swan.
Emmett and I burst through the doors to a ground floor pub teeming with people desperate to get away from the weather.
The proprietor, a steely-eyed old woman, marches over to us. “You’re dripping on the floor.”
Emmett looks like a drowned puppy, his hair plastered to his forehead, his coat hanging heavy off his shoulders. I’m sure I don’t look much better.
“We’ll be on our way soon, ma’am,” Emmett apologizes. “We need a hackney.”
The old woman tuts her tongue. “In this weather? Not a chance.” As if to prove her point, another crack of thunder echoes outside.
“We’re part of the prince’s hunting party. Please, we need to get back to the celebration,” Emmett insists.
