Page 11 of A Game of Hearts

She turned away, blinking back tears, and nearly collided with Lady Anne, who had apparently approached without their notice.

“Oh dear,” Lady Anne’s voice dripped false concern. “Have I interrupted something? Though really, Miss Everton, such displays of emotion are hardly appropriate for a morning’s entertainment.”

“Your concern is noted, Lady Anne.” Emma was proud of how steady her voice remained. “Though unnecessary. Lord Limnwood and I were merely discussing the rules of engagement for this activity. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I see the next clue.”

She walked away, her back straight, letting none of her turmoil show. Behind her, she heard Lady Anne’s soft laugh.

“Such spirit, my Lord. Though hardly suitable in a lady of quality. I cannot imagine what Sir William was thinking, to allow his daughter such... freedom of expression.”

Emma didn’t wait to hear Lord Limnwood’s response. She had reached the temple folly, its classical columns cool and smooth under her trembling fingers as she steadied herself. She would not cry. She would not give either of them the satisfaction.

The sound of footsteps made her stiffen, but it was Lord James who appeared around the column.

“Miss Everton! Just the person I hoped to see. Lady Beatrice and I are completely stuck on this clue about Minerva’s bird. I don’t suppose...”

“The owl,” she supplied automatically. “Though I shouldn’t tell you that. It’s against the rules.”

Something in her tone made him look more closely at her face. His easy smile faded.

“I say, are you quite all right? Has my brother been being particularly stubborn about something?”

“Your brother is exactly what he wishes to be - a perfect model of proper behaviour.”

She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

“Ah.” Lord James’ expression showed perfect understanding. “He’s been noble and correct and completely idiotic, hasn’t he?”

A reluctant laugh escaped her.

“Something like that.”

“Miss Everton.” Lord Limnwood’s voice behind her made her jump. “I believe that we have a task to complete.”

“By all means, dear brother,” Lord James said cheerfully. “Though you might want to consider that sometimes the biggest risk to propriety is in maintaining it so rigidly that you drive away all possibility of joy.” He bowed to Emma. “Thank you for the hint about the owl. Lady Beatrice will be delighted.”

*****

James strolled away, whistling, leaving them in a silence thick with unspoken words. Around them, on the banks of the small lake and on the paths, the other couples were scattered about, most looking quite confused. Nathaniel watched Emma move gracefully around the folly’s columns, studying each carved detail as if he and his cutting words didn’t exist. Her dignity in the face of his cruelty shamed him. Yet he could not seem to find a way to bridge the gulf that his harsh words had created.

“The next clue should be here somewhere,” she said, her voice perfectly controlled. “Though perhaps we should wait for others to catch up more closely, lest us searching might remove us from clear public view for a few moments, and that would apparently be a grave breach of propriety.”

He deserved that.

“Miss Everton...”

“Please, my Lord. You made your position quite clear. Let us simply complete our task.”

But her hands trembled slightly as she reached for a piece of parchment tucked into a carved owl’s beak, and he found himself moving to steady her without thought. His fingers brushed her wrist, and he felt her sharp intake of breath.

“I should not have spoken so harshly,” he said quietly.

She turned to face him, and the hurt in her violet eyes struck him like a physical blow.

“No. You should not have. But you did, and now we both know exactly where we stand.”

“Do we?”

“Don’t.” She stepped back, breaking contact. “You cannot tell me that my very nature offends your sense of propriety one moment, then expect me to forget it the next.”