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He was not. Robert’s innocuous statement had set Emma’s world askew. Bainbridge hadn’t been the only man to ask for her hand.

Numb. She concentrated fiercely on feeling nothing, showing nothing, as the inn’s mistress tugged her inside, past a noisy taproom and up to an empty chamber. Emma accepted her help in changing out of her borrowed finery and back into her travel-stained garments.

Had Robert asked for her? Had he kept his promise? Her heart pounded, ready to soar at the possibility. Some part of her was screaming in happiness. Another huddled small, sobbing in relief. She squelched them both, along with myriad other wildly erratic emotions.

Her lessons might have come late, but she’d learned them well. She struggled to keep her expectations low and her walls high. She didn’t think she could survive another blow, another disappointment. How would she bear it if it were not true?

Outside, night had settled and Cora DeLane was ready to continue on. In the murky light of the innkeeper’s lantern, Robert was nowhere to be seen. Cora huddled with the older lady a moment, their whispers no match for the good-natured rowdiness emanating from the taproom.

Numb, Emma reminded herself as Cora left the woman with a last, urgent-sounding admonition. She held herself aloof, unfeeling as Robert’s ex-mistress hugged her close and then held her at arm’s length, searching her face.

Whatever she was looking for was not to be found. Emma started when Cora cupped her face in both hands, her stern gaze boring into her own. “You will not do this. You will not be afraid,” Cora whispered. “You’ve come too far to give in to fear now.” She let go and turned to climb into her vehicle. “Emma, dear,” she said, settling into her seat. “You can be happy if only you will allow it.”

Emma swallowed a surge of emotion and did not respond. The barouche began to move. Cora leaned forward. “Stay hidden tonight. Robert will take you on to Welbourne before first light. Get that fan to your aunt. It’s the best wedding gift you could give her.” Gravel crunched beneath the vehicle’s wheels. “Give my regards to Catherine,” Cora called.

Emma nodded and waved. She stood, staring after the vehicle, until the innkeeper called her to attention.

“This way.” The older woman gestured with her lantern. “The taproom’s full of locals,” she whispered hoarsely. “The main coaching inns are full tonight and I’ve several rooms let to the overflow.” She looked over her shoulder. “Even here there’s endless talk of the wedding at Welbourne, Rowland’s auction and that missing item. There’s a reward out for that thing, although folks is split on who’d pay more to have it, the duke or the jilted lover. It’d be best if no one ever knew you were here.”

Emma clutched at the thin bulk of the fan, tied safely into a pocket under her skirts. But it was not concern over the fan that had her anxiety escalating as she followed the bobbing light past the stables, to an even smaller, older barn. Robert was in there. Whatever was she going to say to him?

“The hay barn,” the innkeeper said. “Nobody comes here at night, though there’s an empty groom’s loft with a cot for you. S’pose it won’t hurt the gentleman to sleep the night in the hay.” She cracked the door open. “There’s supper in there, and a bit of traveling supplies. I expect you’ll be gone before the cock crows.”

“Thank you,” Emma whispered.

“Thank Cora, not me. It’s all her doin’.”

Emma stared at the open door while Cora’s words echoed in her head. You can be happy, if only you allow it.

Resolutely, she entered the barn.

* * *

Robert watched as Emma lingered at the door. Her posture was stiff, her face carefully blank. She hadn’t known. It was clear now that she had never been told of his visit, his offer. Robert didn’t know if he was angrier with her despicable uncle, or with her.

She’d believed he’d abandoned her. She hadn’t trusted him to keep his word.

“Come in and eat,” he said, gesturing to the bread, cheese and wine atop a crate.

She’d left her bonnet off. Even the dim light of the covered lamp set alight the sunlit streaks in her tawny hair. He stared at them, unspeaking as she slowly crossed the tiny space and sat upon a crooked stool.

“Robert,” she whispered. Her gaze was cast downward.

“Eat,” he ordered. He should avoid this now. It would be better to wait, to have this conversation when they weren’t so isolated, when he’d had time to gather sufficient control. “We’re leaving early, you should sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” She looked up then. “I must apologize. It’s true, I didn’t know, but I should never have believed...”

“That I was a worthless fribble?” he barked. “That’s what your uncle named me, when I had the audacity to ask for your hand. Perhaps I should have waited—it was right after your father’s death and I wished only to see you, comfort you. But he made it clear he had other plans for you.”

She reached out a hand but he moved away. “Don’t. I can’t really blame either of you, for he was right.”

“No,” she denied. “He wasn’t.”

“He was. At that time I had nothing to recommend me save a close acquaintance with the fast and loose set of the ton.” He met her dark eyes. “But I’ve changed. You inspired me. The Duke of Manning noticed, and encouraged me. I’ve worked closely with him, and learned much about business and land management. I hoped to make something of myself, to become worthy of you.”

She rose and crossed to him, slipping her hands around his waist. “You’ve always been worthy. But I’ve let you down.”

A terrible tension eased within him at her words and with her touch. He gripped her tight, breathing in the scent of her hair before he took her seat upon the stool, bringing her along to sit in his lap. “When the furor about the auction and the fan arose, the duke asked for my help. I agreed to do anything I could.”

“Of course.”

“And then do you know what he offered? He promised me an estate, should I succeed. It’s small, but it will be all mine.” He squeezed her waist. “It’s an unbelievable opportunity.”

She smiled and laid a hand across his cheek. Suddenly he grinned. When she shifted he’d felt the press of a long and narrow object against his hip. “Is that where you’ve been keeping the damned thing?”

She laughed. “It’s safe there.” She sobered. “Such a small thing to cause so much trouble.”

Robert sighed. “Rowland commissioned it years ago, after your aunt left her husband to live with her duke.” He ran a finger along her jaw. “Terrible things were said about her, then and since. Assumptions were made about her character and awful predictions of her complete ruination abounded. I suppose Rowland thought owning such an object would be a lark. If she really had been as wanton as some said, perhaps he would have enticed her to his bed.” He smiled grimly. “But she and the duke have proved loyal to each other and are still very much in love.”

“She wasn’t afraid to be happy,” Emma whispered.

He shrugged. “I know Rowland’s taunted her for years with the existence of that fan. But Catherine’s a strong woman.” She flushed and he stared into her dark eyes. “Like her niece.”

She smiled and arched slightly. He almost shouted his relief. Emma was here, in his lap, smiling at him again, her luscious mouth positioned just right for his kiss.

God, but he wanted nothing more than to oblige her. Every fiber of his being ached to snatch her close and taste her once more. He wanted to kiss her senseless, until all the turmoil and trouble about them disappeared and there was only her and him, and the sweet spiral of their desire. Instead, Robert groaned and did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He set his love off of his lap and stood.

Thrusting a hand in his hair he offered her a grimace of apology. “I’m sorry, Emma, but this is not our time or our place. I started this crazy journey meaning to prove something to your uncle. And then I wanted to prove myself to the duke.” He could only hope she would understand. “But now I mean to finish this for me. For us.”

He set his hands on her shoulders, and allowed himself one quick, tantalizing kiss on her lips. “I’m going to get you and that fan safely to Welbourne. We’re going to outwit Rowland, leave your uncle and his treacherous baron high and dry, and set your aunt at ease at last.” He leaned down and rested his forehead on hers. “Tomorrow we’ll be at the gates of Welbourne. And there we’ll decide our own futures.”

* * *

They left the barn early, before the birds had even begun to stir. Robert shook her awake and then climbed back down out of the loft. He hitched a nag to the rickety old cart he’d hired from the innkeeper and they were off; a farmer and his wife moving slowly along backcountry lanes.

Emma huddled beneath her cloak, lost in contemplation. She’d thought herself so brave, following in her aunt’s footsteps, leaving her uncle’s house to follow the path of her choosing. But she’d acted nothing but a coward since the first moment she’d glimpsed Robert on the street in Maidenhead.

Her aunt was courageous, withstanding the censure of the world to follow her heart. Robert was brave, daring to change the course of his life. But she’d been weak. She should have been forthright and asked him where he’d been, if he still cared for her and how and why he’d come to possess that fan. Instead she’d hidden, afraid of the answers. She’d let cynicism and bitterness color her perceptions.

But no longer. She knew Robert wanted to wait until they’d finished this, but suddenly Emma wanted him to know everything she was feeling. Now. Before they’d reached the end of their journey and without the distractions that would inevitably arise at Welbourne.

“Robert.” Emma placed her hand on his, where he held the reins loosely. They’d passed through the village of Twickenham. Robert had just begun to take the turn that would shortly bring them to Welbourne.

“Robert,” she repeated, insistent.

He pulled the horses up in the middle of the intersection and eyed her questioningly.

“I have something to say, and I do not wish to wait.”

His brow furrowed, he waited.

Emma gathered her courage. “I’ve been a terrible coward.” She shushed him when he stared to protest. “It’s true. The moment I saw you, in that silly apron, carrying a stack of empty crates, I closed myself off from you. I’d been hurt and I was afraid it would happen again. So I pushed you away, looked for reasons to be angry and told myself I’d be happier without you—when really I just wanted to be safe.”

She scooted closer to him on the bench and leaned into his reassuring warmth. “But you’ve shown me what it means to be brave, to risk failure in search of happiness. I see now that if I wall myself off from the negative or difficult things in life, then I’m closed to all of the good things as well.”

She breathed deeply. “So I’m going to tell you, right now, that I’m not going to give in to fear any longer. I want to be happy. I choose to be happy. With you.”

Robert transferred the ribbons to one hand, and trailed the fingers of the other along the line of her jaw. She tilted her head to him and this time, at last, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers.

A torrent of emotion surged through Emma. Joy and pride and a great swell of love for this man unfurled inside of her. She opened beneath him, and daringly touched her tongue to his. He moaned in response and kissed her deeply, his heavy hand settling at the small of her back and urging her closer.

Emma was lost, awash in a haze of pounding hearts and communing souls and rising desire. Gradually, though, the rumble of wheels and the jingle of harness began to pierce the sensual cloud that surrounded them. Robert pulled away, his grin rueful, and they both looked over their shoulders to find a coach and four come to a stop behind them.

The coachman sat atop his box, watching them with a commiserating grin, but the occupant of the coach, a wizened old man, had poked his head out of the window.

“Out of the way!” he shouted. He shook a cane in their direction. “What do you think you’re about, blocking the public road—and with such vulgar affrontery!”

Aghast, Emma shrank back. “It’s Bainbridge,” she whispered. She met Robert’s questioning stare with horror. “The baron—my uncle!”

Robert stiffened, but before he could react, they were all hailed by a call from ahead. Emma cringed further when she caught sight of her uncle on horseback, coming from the direction of Welbourne.

“Might as well turn around. They’ve had no sign of the chit,” he called to Bainbridge. He passed Robert and Emma with barely a glance at their worn clothes and ancient cart.

“The maid!” Bainbridge exclaimed. “That lying jade...”

“No, the girl spoke the truth.” Emma’s uncle sighed. “We must have missed her on the road. Let’s retrace our steps a bit and stop to think.” He waved impatiently at Robert. “Well, go on, good man, and quit blocking the road.”

Fighting a grin, Robert shrugged at Emma and shook out the reins, urging the nag to continue. Emma clutched his leg tightly until the coach and her uncle had turned about and headed back toward the village. She stared openmouthed at Robert as he pulled the horse up again. He bit his lip. She giggled—and then they both dissolved in a flood of hilarity and relief.

* * *

Soon after, they stopped before the gleaming gates of Welbourne Manor. Robert helped Emma down and soberly they stared at the gorgeous gardens beyond and the twinkle of the Thames in the distance.

“We’ve fought hard to get here,” Robert mused, “and now I feel strangely reluctant to enter.”

“I feel the same.”

He turned and took her in his arms. “You journeyed here to become ruined. In a way, I came to save myself. But I don’t think either of those goals fit us any longer.”

“No.” She sighed.

“What do you say we take the fan to the doorstep, with instructions for it to be delivered to the duke and his soon-to-be duchess, compliments of her niece—”

“And of you, too,” she insisted.

He nodded and kissed her nose. “And then shall we just continue on?”

Her eyes lit up. “Where shall we go?”

“I was thinking of Gretna Green.”

Emma stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms about his neck. “It’s perfect. Let’s go and be happy.”

THE END




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