He can’t so much as look at me.
The fire hisses and pops as I stoke it. “Since we’re here, we might as well not freeze to death,” I say.
I strip off my green velvet coatdress, my ruined shoes, my crinoline, my soggy stockings, then pause. I won’t be able to manage the corset on my own.
I glance over to where Emmett is standing in front of the fire. As if he can feel the weight of my gaze, he lifts his head and his eyes meet mine.
He pauses. “What?”
“I—” I can’t very well ask him to undress me. “It’s nothing.”
He rises and crosses the room toward me. I curse the way my cheeks turn scarlet red. Maybe I should have let the storm drown me.
“I know my way around a corset, Ivy.”
A million petty comebacks are on my tongue, but I bite it. With careful fingers, he undoes the knot at the small of my back.
His hands creep up my spine, tugging at the laces with deft skill. “You’re shivering,” he says after a tense second.
His fingers still, but the warm weight of them hovers over my spine. “So hurry up,” I say.
Emmett sighs heavily and returns to his work on the corset. “There,” he says, with one final tug, and the corset falls to my feet. I step out of it, now in nothing but my soaked chemise and drawers made transparent by the water.
“Better?” His voice is quiet, tense.
“Yes,” I answer reluctantly.
Emmett is gentlemanly enough to avert his eyes. He picks up my soaked clothing and arranges it carefully by the fire to dry.
With his back to me, I slip out of my undergarments and wrap myself in the quilt at the foot of the bed.
I settle into the wingback chair in front of the fireplace, and the warmth sends prickles up my body, every joint beginning to thaw.
“Are you trying to ruin me?” I say with a small smile. Emmett is now slumped low in the chair next to me, still soaked to the bone in his wet clothes. I hope the joke will get a smile out of him, but itonly deepens the crease between his eyebrows. I’ve never seen him look so upset.
The fire crackles, and I wiggle my toes out from under the quilt to move them even closer to it. “You’re no use to the cause if you die of hypothermia,” I say to him.
He doesn’t answer, just keeps staring at the flames, his breathing ragged. The storm outside howls like a banshee.
“Emmett—” I say more forcefully, and he blinks back to himself. “I don’t understand why you’re angry with me right now.”
This gets his attention fully. “Angry? I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself.”
“You can’t control the weather.”
“No, not that. I should have left you alone, let you be. The most selfish thing I’ve ever done is let you get involved in this.”
“It was my idea to sneak off today.”
“But you wouldn’t have had to if it weren’t for me.”
“Stop acting like you’re the only one with ideas! I hate her too. I want to unseat her too!”
“I didn’t mean to suggest you didn’t have ideas of your own.”
“You don’t own the market on being a person with radical ambitions. The only reason I’ve received any of Bram’s attention is because of your help. I agreed to this, remember?”
“I manipulated you. I manipulated Faith. I manipulated my brother. I’m horrible. Your sister was correct in her judgment of me. I’m a horrible person.”
