18
The days were longer nowthan when Griffin had left for Austria, the late afternoon sunlight casting an almost magical glow upon the English countryside. He’d arrived in Cardiff just two hours ago and was now on his way to London by post chaise. The letter he’d mailed to Emily a week earlier had said to expect him on June tenth, but he’d settled things with Christoph and Edvard sooner than he’d expected and had not felt compelled to linger in Vienna longer than necessary.
By the time he reached London, it was past six o’ clock. Excitement bubbled inside him, both at the prospect of seeing Emily again, but also because he could hardly wait to give her the gift he’d made for her. So he decided to make a quick stop at Camberly House to inform his brother that he had returned, only to learn that he, their mother, and Mary were all out for the evening.
“They are dining with the Howards at Vauxhall Garden,” Murdoch, Caleb’s butler, informed him.
Griffin put his hat back on. “Then I shall find them there. Thank you, Murdoch”
He hailed a new hackney and asked the driver to make haste. Vauxhall wasn’t far. He’d be there within fifteen minutes at most. And then he would finally see Emily again.
A smile tugged at his lips. He’d bloody well kiss her too, regardless of who might be watching. The mere memory of her rosy lips was like an invigorating tonic. It banished the exhaustion of travel from his body and nearly made him leap from the carriage when it reached the pleasure garden.
Collecting himself, he managed to slow his pace a little. At least enough not to look as though reaching his destination with haste was a matter of life and death.
A group of laughing young men stumbled into his path, forcing Griffin to halt his progress for a moment. “He just got engaged,” one of them grinned.
“Congratulations,” Griffin said, trying not to sound irritated.
The young men bowed flamboyantly, all clearly in their cups. Nothing would ruin their good cheer this evening and nothing would ruin his either. So he went around them and headed for the pavilion where the supper boxes overlooked a crowded dance floor. Griffin scanned the tables and immediately spotted Caleb, whose head was bowed in Mary’s direction while he spoke.
Shifting his gaze, Griffin considered the rest of the group while continuing forward. There was his mother, Mr. and Mrs. Howard, Laura, Miss Amanda Partridge…
He frowned. What was she doing here and where the hell was Emily? Disappointment threatened to crush his elation. She was supposed to be here.
Mary said something to Laura and pointed toward the dance floor. Griffin instinctively turned and as he did so, as he took in the scene before him, time seemed to slow to a halt. The music played by four violinists stabbed at his soul until it started to bleed, his chest strained against his heart, stifling the beat. Because there she was, dancing with Mr. Damnhimtohell Partridge.
There had been moments in his life when it had felt like the world as he knew it had been flipped upside down. Like the day he’d discovered that Clara was married or later, when he’d learned George had died. That same feeling of complete loss overwhelmed him for a second before anger set in and a rage, unlike any he’d ever known, caused fire to burn through his veins. Griffin clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. How dare he? And how dareshe? Griffin made a deliberate effort to breathe. The air flowing into his lungs felt heavy and uncomfortable, like there was more than there was room for and it was suffocating him. To think that he had hastened back to her, driven by love! He almost laughed at his own stupidity. Loyalty was a rare quality to find in a woman. He’d known this and yet he’d allowed himself to be caught in Emily’s snare.
She knew how he felt about Partridge and yet, here she was, dancing with him as if Griffin didn’t exist, as if her attachment to him didn’t matter. And the bastard was grinning down into her upturned face as if he’d just conquered the world.
Griffin flexed his fingers.
Christ, how he’d love to punch him in the face. But having his mother witness such poor conduct – subjecting her to scenes of violence – gave him pause. He winced, hating the helplessness he was being forced to endure on account of propriety. Perhaps a visit to Gentleman Jackson’s would help him alleviate some of his anger.
He prepared to turn, but just then Emily looked his way, her eyes widening with surprise as her steps faltered in the middle of a turn. Griffin smirked. Just as well that she should know that he’d seen her. When she twisted back to look in his direction again, he executed a mocking bow before turning away. With clipped footsteps and a renewed purpose, he strode toward the garden’s exit. A carriage was what he needed now, followed by a sound exchange of fisticuffs and a bottle of brandy with which to drown his pain.
Emily staredafter Griffin’s retreating back. He’d returned, his handsome face causing a burst of euphoria to spread through her veins. Until she’d noticed his expression. And now he was walking away, intent on leaving her because…because he didn’t know what had happened during his absence and because seeing her with David had caused him to think the worst.
“I have to go,” she said, causing David to knit his brow in confusion. “You must excuse me.”
She didn’t even wait for him to lead her off the dance floor, but left him there in her desperation to reach the man she loved so she could explain. Her gown tangled around her legs, slowing her movement. Had he not seen his family sitting in the supper box? Surely he would know that they would not sanction her throwing Griffin over for another man? But no, logical reasoning had likely abandoned him because of who that man was. And because of how deeply Clara had once hurt him so long ago.
Heart racing, Emily wound her way between people enjoying an evening stroll. She quickened her pace to a near run when she spotted the top of Griffin’s head near the exit.
“Watch it,” an older man told her when she accidentally bumped against him.
Emily muttered a quick, “Excuse me,” and hurried on her way. When she stepped out onto the pavement, she looked both ways, studying both pedestrians and carriages.
There!
She only just managed to catch a quick glimpse of Griffin’s broad back before he disappeared into a hackney. “Stop!” Sprinting forward as fast as her feet would carry her, Emily called again for the coachman to wait while passersby stopped to stare at her like she was some sort of lunatic making her escape from Bedlam.
The carriage started rolling forward, heedless of her commands, and without even thinking, she launched herself at the door and yanked it wide open. One foot found the step, allowing her to climb up into the dim interior just as the carriage rolled into the street. Panting, she pulled the door shut behind her and collapsed on the bench.
Her gaze met Griffin’s and a shudder went through her. He was closer now, allowing her to better see the extent of his anger.
“Pursuing me isn’t helping my effort to escape you,” he snapped.
