Chapter Sixteen
Emma stared at James. He was talking, but it was like she was being held under water as she watched his lips move. He sounded incredibly far away and hollow as her mind spun on what he had just said.
Her father was here. Here! He had come all the way from London to the shire of Abernathe, found Falcon’s Landing and stormed this castle like an invading army.
He had come searching for her and her mother, rather than simply waiting for their return to London in another week’s time. And that could not be a piece of good news.
“—why you would believe this would not be a happy bit of news, Your Grace,” her mother was saying, her tone falsely bright. “I didn’t expect my husband to join us here, but of course we will both be most pleased to see him.”
Emma took in her mother’s words with a slow shake of her head. Even in this moment, when it was obvious James knew of their troubles with her father, her mother was more concerned with appearances than protection. Worse, Emma knew that the moment her mother laid eyes on her husband she would turn to a tittering debutante, swept away by a handsome man.
Because she always did.
“Is he…in there?” Emma asked, flicking her hand toward the room where James had exited from a moment before.
He nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Then in we go,” her mother said, and all but pushed past James to open the door.
James looked at Emma as Mrs. Liston did so. Then he reached out and traced just his fingers across her own. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
She shivered at the intimacy of both his touch and his words, but then she stepped away. James said he was here for her, but that was not permanent. If she leaned too heavily on him, when he was gone she might not recall how to bear her own weight.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and then moved past him into the parlor where her father now stood with her mother. He was holding Mrs. Liston’s hand and she was staring up at him with adoration, despite all her statements about how dangerous and unreliable he was. It had always been that way with them.
Emma watched her father as he was distracted by the bride he found so easy to discard. It had been nearly a year since she’d last laid eyes upon him. She was always surprised by how young he still looked. His hair maintained its thickness and luster despite the growing gray at his temples, and his eyes were bright. Of course, not having to bear any responsibility would do that to a man.
“There’s my Emma,” he said, dropping her mother’s hand as he moved across the room to her. He leaned in to buss her cheek and she bore it as best she could.
“Father,” she said softly.
“Papa,” he corrected. “No need for such formality. Not when I come with such news for you.”
Emma’s heart jumped to double time. “Such news” didn’t sound like a good thing. Her father’s plans and schemes never worked out, and she and her mother would be left gathering up the pieces in the end.
As always.
“What news?” Emma managed to squeak out.
Her father patted her cheek, then looked past her to James. He glared at the duke and Emma’s stomach turned. Leave it to her father to force himself into someone else’s home, then dare to be offended that he wasn’t welcomed.
“I’m famished and I have not exactly been met with politeness in this house. I assume you have quite the spread for your guests, eh, Abernathe?”
“Quite,” James said back, his tone clipped and dangerous.
Her father didn’t seem to care, for he clapped his hands together. “Most excellent. Then let us eat before I tell you the good news. Come, my love.”
He caught her mother’s arm and guided her from the room. Emma could hear her tittering as they left, and shut her eyes with a long sigh.
“Emma,” James whispered.
She spun around. “Perhaps you are correct in your low assessment of love, James. Look at what a fool it makes my mother.”
“I want to help,” he said.
She shrugged. “So you keep saying, but in this case there is nothing you can do. He is here now and…and likely all is lost. I should have been more focused. I should have tried harder. I shouldn’t have gotten caught up in—” She cut herself off and shook her head, not daring to look at James now. “It doesn’t matter.”
She said nothing else and left the room. James let her do so, following behind her without a word, just his presence.
And it comforted her even though she knew he could do nothing for her now.
They entered the breakfast room, which was buzzing with talk and laughter from the guests as they perused the offerings on the sideboard and sat together chatting and drinking tea or coffee.
But as Mrs. Liston entered with her arm locked through her husband’s, the conversation stopped and all eyes turned to the couple. Emma could hardly breathe as she watched her mother beam with what looked like genuine happiness and coo, “And look who has joined our happy party—my husband, Mr. Liston.”
“Quite a crowd, Abernathe,” Mr. Liston said with a laugh as he entered the room and drew his wife to the sideboard. Emma caught him looking at the women in attendance, saw him sizing them up.
She shook her head. Some things never changed.
James moved past her into the breakfast room and she felt him subtly draw his hand across her back as he did so. The warmth of his fingers as they brushed her spine made her sink momentarily into his comfort.
But then he was gone, talking to those in the room, obviously trying to divert some attention from the return of her wayward and publicly troubled father. She appreciated the effort, though it clearly did no good. As she entered the room, she felt the eyes on her. She heard the little whispers.
Though she wasn’t hungry, she joined her parents at the sideboard and dished herself a small plate, then moved to the table. Meg was sitting at one end and motioned to her, so Emma followed the directive and sat beside her friend. Beneath the table, Meg threaded her fingers into Emma’s and squeezed gently. Yet another place of support to be found in this family.
One she would lose if her father destroyed her at last.
Mr. Liston set both his plate and her mother’s down and flopped into a chair just a few places down from Emma’s. He began talking—too loudly, as always—and her heart sank.
“Chin up,” Meg whispered. “It’s always best to pretend you don’t even notice the humiliation.”
Emma shot her a look, thinking of that night at the ball when the Duchess of Abernathe had been so very drunk. Of course Meg understood what she was going through. Slowly she straightened in her chair and smiled at her friend.
She was going to get through this with her dignity intact, even if her social standing at last collapsed completely at her feet. Dignity had value.
“And what brought you as such a late addition to our party, Mr. Liston?” the duchess was asking as she heavily sugared a cup of coffee and drank it with a heavy sigh.
He grinned and his gaze flashed toward Emma. “I have news for Emma. Good news, in fact. And what better time to share it?”
James speared him with a glare. “Perhaps your news would better be given to your daughter in private, Liston.”
The crowd bounced their attention from Emma’s father to James in a heartbeat, then back to Mr. Liston as they awaited the response to the duke’s quiet admonishment.
“We’re amongst friends,” Liston said. “Aren’t we, Emma?”
Emma swallowed hard. Her father wanted to share whatever news he had right now because it was going upset her. That was the only reason he could possibly have for wanting to do this in a public forum. In this room, with all these people watching, she would not be able to show her upset in order to maintain a semblance of decorum. Nor would she be able to refuse him whatever he had arranged for her.
“Of course we are,” Mrs. Liston said, still staring at him in adoration, though her voice trembled a fraction and she shot Emma a concerned look.
“You are to marry, Emma,” Mr. Liston said with a wide grin when she didn’t answer his question. “I have arranged for you to wed Sir Archibald.”
Once again Emma felt as though her head had been dunked under water. Blood rushed to her ears and she swayed in her seat as the room erupted in surprised sounds. Meg held her hand tighter, Emma could feel each of her friend’s fingers against her skin, but she didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She didn’t breathe.
She just stared at her father and saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes. Something had happened that had forced his doing this. Something where he had traded her hand to save his own skin.
“Archibald was a guest here, I believe. Took quite a notion to you and came straight to me to make the arrangements. He’ll be rejoining the party shortly. I’m sure you don’t mind, Abernathe.” When Emma still could find no words, her father shook his head. “Well, come then, girl, say something,” Mr. Liston said with a chuckle. “I’ve arranged a good match for you, you must have something to say.”
“She is silent because Emma has been keeping secret her own news, Mr. Liston,” James said as he slowly rose to his feet. Emma watched him, well aware of his tall, strong body as he unfolded it. As he positioned himself toward her father, it was a subtle threat of his superior position and strength.
“J-James,” she whispered, not even caring that she was addressing him inappropriately in front of people who would gleefully talk about it. They had enough fodder now, what was a little more?
“News?” Mr. Liston repeated, giving Emma a concerned glance. “What news does my daughter have?”
James locked eyes with her, and in a split second, Emma saw what he would do. Meg must have sensed it too, for she sucked in a long gulp of air before he spoke again.
“Though Emma may appreciate the work you have done on her behalf to match her,” James said. “I’m afraid it is impossible. You see, Emma has already agreed to marry me.”
She pushed to her feet. “James,” she repeated.
“Yesterday,” he continued softly as he looked at her evenly. “I intended to officially ask her mother for her hand this morning when you made your arrival.”
At that, the room erupted in complete chaos and Emma felt blackness filling her vision. In the distance, she heard James shout out, “Catch her!”
And then the room went very dark.