Chapter 25
My Dearest Drake,
I have learned you are in London. I know it is not ladylike to admit this but… I am excited to see you.
Ever Yours,
Emmaline
Emmaline sat on the wrought iron bench in the gardens. She tugged the wide brim of her bonnet lower to conceal the extent of her grief from her maid, and hugged the small spade close to her stomach. She welcomed the sharp sting of the metal biting into her flesh, because it momentarily dulled the pain of her broken heart.
She had ended it.
Even thinking it now, it seemed surreal.
Since she’d been a mere girl her life had been seamlessly entwined with Lord Drake’s. She’d come to know him as her future. After years of waiting for him to finally come up to scratch, she should welcome the liberty of finally being free. Now she would have a real Season, an opportunity to pursue what she yearned for most in life—love.
Yet, why did she feel as though she’d had everything she ever dreamed of and had lost it?
She turned to her maid. “Will you fetch the duke?”
Grace rose and rushed to do Emmaline’s bidding. “Yes, my lady.”
Emmaline stood up from the bench and paced the gardens, failing to see the flowers. Then she made the mistake of stealing a glance at the cerastium covering the ground and it was too much.
She sank to her knees and lovingly stroked the silk of the tiny, fragile bloom. She dropped her face in her hands and shook her head back and forth, trying to tamp out the feel of Drake’s touch, the memories of how he’d made her body unfurl like petals opening up in the early spring.
A shadow fell over her and blotted out the nauseating sweetness of the sun’s rays.
Sebastian’s concerned voice interrupted her musings. “Em? Are you all right?”
She didn’t stand up. Didn’t look at him. “It is done. I have freed him.”
How did she manage to keep her words so steady?
Sebastian fell silent.
Emmaline didn’t know what she’d expected. Perhaps a bit of gloating on his part. After all, how many times over the past months had he insisted she break it off with Drake?
Sebastian sat onto the wrought iron bench. He rested a hand on her shoulder.
She leaned into him much as she had when she’d been a small girl who’d tumbled down the stairs. He’d scooped her up and held her until he’d driven away all the hurt. Oh, why couldn’t she be a small child again, back when life was so very simple?
“You know I just want to see you happy?”
Emmaline gave a jerky nod.
“So why do I feel you are still not?”
She rested her chin on Sebastian’s knee, and looked up at him. “I love him. Of all the mad, foolish, awful things to do…I went and fell in love with him.”
Her brother said nothing for a long moment. Finally, he removed her broad straw bonnet, and gave it his utmost concentration. “Do you know Em, I still remember the day you were born. You were red-faced, screaming. Tears were dripping down your chubby cheeks. The nurse was desperately trying to soothe you. I leaned over the crib, and just like that, miracle of miracles, you ceased crying. I hadn’t given much thought to what being an older brother meant. I realized in that moment I wanted to protect you from any and every hurt.”
“Some things are beyond even your control, Sebastian.”
“Unfortunately, I know that.” He redirected his attention to the hat in his hands. “You know I think this bonnet is ridiculous.”
She wrinkled her nose and swatted him on the arm. “I love that bonnet.”
He spared a disparaging look for the item in question. “I would never, ever pick this hat for you. I have teased you time and time again. But you insist on wearing this one. There’s no explaining it, is there, Em?” He directed his attention to Emmaline. “Simply a matter of…taste, I guess you could say.”
Emmaline swallowed. “It is that,” she whispered.
Sebastian tugged at the fraying blue satin ribbons. “See how it’s fraying here? Even the straw is starting to tear.” He dragged a finger along the areas in question.
“Seb—”
He continued. “Someday you are going to need a new hat. You will find the hat, and it will be perfect for you.”
Emmaline chewed her lip. “I will never, ever feel this way—about another, hat.” Her words were strong with conviction.
“No, no you may not. But nonetheless, you will find one and you will learn to love it. Do you understand?”
She nodded against his knee, again feeling like a little girl.
Sebastian set the hat down on the bench beside him. During her childhood, he used to tease her mercilessly about her concerns over Lord Drake’s devotion. As the years passed and it became clear that there was credence to her fears, he’d ceased tormenting her. He then became the protective one. The brother who assured her that she was, indeed, wanted. Now, he was the brother who was being truthful. She loved him even more for that.
“I’m never going to be happy again,” she said, nearly choking on the words.
A hoarse sound lodged in Sebastian’s throat, and he dragged her unceremoniously off the ground into his arms. He took her by the shoulders and gave her a slight shake. “Listen to me. You are beautiful and kind and smart. Someday you will find a gentlemen deserving of your love and it will be Drake’s loss. He made a foolish mistake and someday I’m certain he’ll realize that.”
Emmaline buried a gasping sob in his jacket front. “For all the consolation that is. Oh God, I’ve become a watering pot.”
He tugged out a kerchief and wiped her nose. “A rather messy one at that.”
She claimed the kerchief and held it to her face while she wept. “He never wanted our betrothal. Why?”
Sebastian cursed and took her by the shoulders. “Look at me. He is flawed.”
Emmaline bit her lip. In spite of what had come to pass between her and Drake, in spite of his unwillingness to commit, not defending him felt like a betrayal. She thought about his loss of control in the gardens and felt an urge to defend him. Sebastian would call her all kinds the fool for trying to disabuse him of his notions.
Yes, Drake was scarred. But that had nothing to do with why he didn’t want her.
Sebastian folded an arm over Emmaline’s shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. He waited until her tears abated to a watery hiccough. “Better?” he asked.
Oh Sebastian, I’m not a child anymore. One good, healthy cry could not erase the waves of hurt cascading over her. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d never be better, that this hurt would always be there. “Better,” she lied.
Sebastian brightened and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He picked up her hat and set it atop her head. “I’m serious. I am getting you a new hat, whether you like it or not.”
Emmaline managed a laugh. “Someday you’ll realize, you can’t just find the perfect hat, anywhere.”
Sebastian winked at her. “We shall see about that.”