“What do you mean?” Surely she’d realized by now how strongly he felt about her?
“Well, for one thing you do not love me. And I refuse to marry for anything less.”
Griffin blinked. “I’m sure that with time I shall—”
“What if you don’t? What if you never love me the way I…” With a gulp of pain she gave him her back. A whispered plea followed. “Please go.”
Griffin stood as if roots had sprouted from the soles of his feet and driven through the floorboards beneath. “Emily.” He wanted to go to her, hold her, force her to understand that she mattered to him, that he cared about her, and that love would grow between them if she’d just allow it.
But the fierce shake of her head denied him. Her rigid posture informed him that she no longer wanted his touch. And as hard as that was for him to accept, he forced himself to do as she asked.
“Very well.” Incredibly, he managed to move his feet and direct his body to the door. He paused there. “We will speak again tomorrow when we’ve both had some time to think. For now, I shall bid you good night.”
He opened the door and exited her room. Her whispered words of parting drifted after him like ghosts through the night. How he’d managed to muck this up was beyond him, but one thing was clear and that was that he’d grossly underestimated what Emily wanted.
On that thought, he let himself into his own bedchamber. Her words repeated in his head.What if you never love me the way I…
What?
How did that sentence end? Withdeserve, hope,orneed? He shrugged off his jacket and started undoing his cravat. Then he froze. Could it possibly have been,the way I love you? His heart skittered at the very idea, and his chest grew oddly tight. Dare he hope this was what she’d been meaning to say? And what if it was? She’d already said she would only marry for love, which meant he would have to love her in return.
His brow strained in response to his frown, causing an ache that he rather relished, for it was something he could more easily relate to. Everything else, this feeling of loss that had drained all happiness from him when she’d told him no, leaving him hollow inside, the constant desire to be near her, to simply see her smile, was something so foreign he’d not taken time to examine it closely. Or rather, he’d deliberately chosen not to because the intensity of his emotions where Emily was concerned, his inability to think rationally in her presence, and his eagerness to defy propriety for her, terrified him. Even now it had taken remarkable restraint on his part not to claim her. Years of good upbringing must be to blame, the gentleman he’d so often pushed aside when it came to widows and demimondaines stepping forward to show him the way.
A quick tumble was not the way to go. Not when it came to Emily. No matter how much she believed otherwise. He knew her by now, knew that she would regret it because of her romantic nature.
He undid his cravat, tossed the long length of fabric on a nearby chair and removed his waistcoat. His shirt, trousers, unmentionables, and hose followed, leaving his skin susceptible to the cool air in the room.
Padding across the floor, he pulled down the sheets, climbed into bed, and blew out his candle. For long moments after, he stared up into the infinite darkness while going over every interaction he and Emily had shared during the past few weeks. He adored her smile, her easy laughter, the determined purpose with which she went through life, and her willingness to suffer embarrassment in favor of honesty. But did he love her? He wasn’t entirely sure, which was why he’d kept silent earlier when she’d brought it up. Because when it came to the contents of his heart, the last thing he wanted was to make a mistake. He had to understand what he felt for her before he let her know.
In the meantime, however, courting her properly wouldn’t be amiss. She deserved to be treated with honor and respect. And as challenging as that might prove since she’d probably try to avoid him after his idiocy this evening, he was damn well going to try. Because going back to Vienna without being somehow attached to Emily simply wasn’t an option.
She was never leavingher bedchamber again. Not after last night’s disastrous conversation with Griffin and certainly not when Langdon and his wife were due to arrive at some point during the day. She’d rather eat rotten food and endure being sick for a week.
Very well.
Maybe that was a bit dramatic.
But the thought of having to face either man today was unbearable. She considered her appearance in the mirror. Shadows darkened the skin beneath her eyes, a testament to how poorly she’d slept.
She pinched her cheeks to add some color, then turned away from her reflection when it didn’t provide the desired result. Had she really been one second away from blurting her feelings for Griffin to him? Dropping her face in her hands, she let out a groan.
He’d offered to marry her for heaven’s sake, and she, fool that she was, had demanded more. Because loving him when he did not love her in return would be devastating. It would wear on her heart and destroy her soul.
She knew this, but it still didn’t soothe the pain or regret slicing through her after she’d refused him. That had lingered, keeping her from the deep, peaceful sleep she was used to. Instead, she’d been restless, her dreams plagued by running and being chased, of flowers wilting, her parents shouting, and then, right before she’d woken, a pistol aimed straight at her forehead.
She glanced at the door. Someone would come and check on her soon, either her friends or her mother. When they did, they would see the state she was in and proceed to ask questions. Questions she’d no desire to answer. Which meant she had to pretend everything was as it should be and that her heart wasn’t breaking because of a wish that would never be realized. No matter how much she longed to hide away here in her bedchamber forever and avoid reality, she had to dress and go down to breakfast. It was her only chance at normalcy.
“You look exhausted,” Laura observed when Emily stepped into the dining room ten minutes later.
Apparently her attempt at looking well rested by widening her eyes and smiling was unsuccessful. And now everyone was looking at her, though she was grateful to find Griffin absent.
“I started on a new book last night,” Emily said, stifling a yawn. “Couldn’t put it down.” Which wasn’t a complete lie. At least not the part about having a new book. She’d found it in the library the previous evening before dinner. She just hadn’t opened it yet.
“What’s it called?” Georgina asked while Emily slid into a chair next to Mary. Cassandra and Laura sat directly opposite with Emily’s father, Caleb, and the dowager duchess a bit further down the table to Emily’s right while the children occupied the other end of the table.
“Patisserie Extraordinaire.” She poured herself a cup of tea while explaining, “It’s a French pastry book.”
Cass grinned. “Only you would consider that bedtime reading.”
