Chapter Two
She took off down the corridor, her hands wrapped around the precious egg strapped to her body. Between her legs, one of the clips bounced against her inner thigh. How could she have been so stupid?
Down the hall, she heard the door. Quickly, she made for the stairs. Several ladies and gentlemen stood conversing with their flutes of champagne. Emily slowed. She gripped the hand rail, taking each stair down with intentional care. A few of the men stepped out of her way while the women stared at her. A few smiled and nodded to her. She glanced above, and there he stood.
She couldn’t breathe.
His brow raised.
She almost stumbled down the next stair and a set of hands reached out to steady her. “Easy there, darling.” She turned her attention to Jacques, his gaze on Blake standing at the top of the stairs.
“You need to get me out of here now.”
“I see you found your way to the powder room.” He assisted her past a woman going up the stairs, holding her long gown up from tripping.
“I’ve been compromised.” She went to look behind her when Jacques put his hand on her face and stopped her. “I’ll say. Our host can’t take his eyes off you.”
She allowed Jacques to slip her hand on his arm as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “What’s he doing?” Her heart thundered in her chest.
“Speaking to two other gentlemen on your behalf, I’m sure.”
“You knew he was here, didn’t you?”
“I assure you, I did not.”
“We need to get out of here.” She smiled as they passed a group of people mingling just outside the dining room.
“There’s Margaret. I’ll meet you at the dock.”
Emily’s heart pounded in her chest. She turned her head when Jacques said, “Don’t look at him. I’ll take care of him. You get Margaret.”
“She’ll come on her own, she always does.” She didn’t have time to explain. Against her belly, the egg grew hot. Emily rubbed her egg and took a deep breath.
“Are you, all right?”
“Just get me out of here.” She took another breath in through her nose and out her mouth. The two men headed towards the stairs. Emily glazed from the corner of her eye; the master of the manor had disappeared.
“He has all the exits blocked by now with security.” Jacques guided her toward the dining room.
“Since when has that stopped you?” Emily hissed. Her skin burned against the warmth of the egg.
“Give Margaret my apologies for our early departure. I’ll meet you by the ferry dock.” Jacques left her and slipped through the crowd of people admiring the display of art in the foyer.
Emily waddled to the dining room. She found Margaret standing with three gentlemen discussing politics and art. Her silver haired aunt laid her hand on Emily’s arm. “Oh Reese, there you are my dear. I was just telling Mr. Haralamb of our visit to Salisbury last summer. Remember those beautiful stones?”
Emily spotted Blake coming her way. “Very strange and mysterious, actually.” Emily winced at the stinging sensation growing up her chest.
“My dear, are you, all right?” Mr. Haralamb asked.
A bead of sweat broke out on her forehead, not from Blake, coming to stand beside Mr. Haralamb, but from the sweltering heat spreading through her body.
“I’m not. Thank you for asking.” Emily turned to Margret. “I’m sorry Aunt Margaret, but I am really not feeling well this evening. I wanted to let you know Jacques and I are stepping out for a bit of air.”
“Thank you dear.” Margaret patted Emily’s arm whilst looking Emily in the eye. Emily turned her head slightly to acknowledge Blake’s presence in their little group. Margaret looked at him from the corner of her eye and sighed. “Our Reese here is carrying a very fragile delivery.”
“Indeed,” Blake said.
Emily clutched the egg around her. He pressed between Mr. Haralamb and Margaret taking her by the arms. The gentleman beside her stepped aside and made room for him.
“You are feeling unwell, love?” he asked.
Emily felt the blood drain from her face. Her arms grew slick with sweat. She glanced over at Margaret, whose eyes had enlarged to the size of her flute stand.
“You look pale. Perhaps instead you’d prefer to go lie down.” He wrapped his arm around her. Emily saw black spots floating in front of her vision. She shook her head trying to clear them away.
“You are acquainted with each other?” Mr. Haralamb asked.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Margaret said. “Mr. Haralamb this is Blake Beowulf, our host tonight and master of Giresun Manor.”
“Ah yes, Mr. Beowulf, pleasure,” Mr. Haralamb said.
Emily leaned into him. Her head felt like it was spinning while her hair line absorbed the dampness from her perspiring skin. “I really must go now. I-I’m so sorry.”
“Yes… Yes. How thoughtless of me!” Margaret took hold of Emily. “We must get you out of here. Jacques will wonder what is keeping you.”
“Please…” before Emily could say more her legs trembled and her knees buckled.