“Mr. Mason will?”
“Yes.”
That mysterious smile flitted by again.
“He’ll do it, Em,” he insisted. “I realize you’ve had some issues with him in the past, but he understands that this project is important to me. You’ll have his full cooperation.”
“Then I’m certain it will be a huge success.”
“I’m certain it will be too.” He scowled. “So . . . are you happy about this? I thought you would be.”
“I’m absolutely ecstatic.” She was so indifferent that she might have been a marble statue.
“Well . . . I’m . . . ah . . . relieved to hear it.”
Their discussion was concluded, and he knew he should get up and leave, but he couldn’t. Something was wrong. He had the distinct impression that he hadn’t communicated his objectives very clearly, and he was baffled by her apathy.
He was making amends. She comprehended that fact, didn’t she? This was his penance, his atonement. She wasn’t being cast out on the road, and he wasn’t abandoning her. He was providing for her financially so she would never again have to fret over money or shelter. She’d be able to support her sisters. She’d be employed at a job she loved.
Yet she gave no sign that she viewed any of it as a benefit.
Blasted woman!
“I have to go,” he said.
“Yes, you do.” She rose. “Thank you for conferring with me.”
“I’ll miss you,” he poignantly told her.
“I doubt it.”
“I will. I’m glad we met.”
“Your brother is waiting.”
He nodded, his pulse pounding with distress. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye to you, and good luck with your marriage. I hope matrimony brings you exactly what you deserve.”
At the sly insult, he snorted. “I’m sure it will.”
She started out, and he suffered the worst moment of panic.
When she filled him with such joy and contentment, why would he split with her? Why would he choose London and a life that offered no satisfaction at all?
The questions roiled through him, but he shook them off. He knew why he was headed for London. He was off to wed Veronica, and he had no desire to change his path. Not for anyone.
Still, as she stepped into the hall, he frantically called, “Em?”
She whipped around and retorted, “It’s Miss Wilson to you.”
Then she was gone, and it was over.
Emeline hovered in the windowseat in her bedchamber. If she wedged herself into the corner, she could see the stables. Two horses were saddled, ready for a journey. Lt. Price was mounted on one of them, which meant the earl was about to appear.
She was determined to watch him leave. It seemed necessary, like lancing a boil or cauterizing a wound.
She supposed she should be weeping, but she was too numb for sentiment. Her heart was broken, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Her bones ached, and she was terribly feverish, as if she was coming down with a fatal ague.
How much misery could a human being endure? How much despair could be heaped on a person before she simply collapsed under the weight?
A vision flashed, of him sitting at his fancy desk, tossing her a few crumbs of remuneration, and her blood boiled with fury.
It had been pointless to meet with him, but curiosity had goaded her into it. She hadn’t felt strong enough to face him, but she’d convinced herself there was no way he could injure her further.
She’d been wrong.
He’d wanted to explain himself. He wanted her to . . . understand.
She shuddered with disgust.
The man was insane, and she was just as mad for having involved herself with him. He’d warned her of his low character, but she’d refused to believe him.
Well, she definitely believed him now.
After surrendering her virginity, her payment was to be the reopening of her father’s school. At any other time during the prior year, she’d have been elated, but no longer.
The earl thought she’d agreed to be his teacher, and she hadn’t dissuaded him.
She smirked. As if Mr. Mason would help her! Nicholas Price was an idiot if he assumed so.
She’d written to the school in Cornwall, accepting the post there. For the next few weeks, she and her sisters would stay at the manor, as the earl had insisted they should. But once she received the coach fare, they’d move to Cornwall. And they’d never return.
Although there were many things she didn’t understand about Nicholas Price, there were many other things she understood all too clearly.
He had cared for Emeline—much more than he’d ever admitted to himself. The depth of his affection would dawn on him when he was all alone, when the nights were long and quiet.
He would marry his beautiful, rich Veronica, but he would never be happy with her. In the not-too-distant future, he would visit the estate, looking for Emeline and the solace she’d provided.
Only she would be gone, and no one would be able to tell him where she was.
She wouldn’t share her destination with anybody, not even Josephine, for if word leaked out, there would be people at Stafford who could inform him of her location. She’d spend the rest of her life, peering over her shoulder, hoping he was on his way to bring her home.
Every time a carriage was spotted on the road, every time she learned there was a stranger in town, she would wonder if he’d finally found her.
She wouldn’t live like that. She wouldn’t give him that much power over her.
On the day he showed up at Stafford, eager to be with her again, he deserved to discover that she had left and was never coming back. She wanted him to feel as she did at that very moment: friendless, unloved, lost, and bereft.
Outside, Lt. Price straightened, and shortly, Lord Stafford strolled into view. He checked the straps on his saddle, as he and his brother chatted, but they were too far away for Emeline to hear what they were saying.
Her sisters ran up, and Lord Stafford smiled at them. He knelt down, and Nan gave him a flower. He tucked it into his coat.
To Emeline’s great surprise, he wrapped his
