In the middle of the group, the earl, himself, Captain Nicholas Price, beamed fondly at her. He appeared regal, confident, larger than life, and on seeing him, she could barely keep from running over and falling into his arms.
He’d rescued her from Benedict Mason, had banished Vicar Blair to an unnamed location—supposedly to the penal colonies with Mason—then he’d left and had been gone for weeks. She hadn’t known where he was or if he was coming back, and she hadn’t asked. She wasn’t in any position to inquire about him and had studiously avoided any gossip.
For some odd reason, he’d proposed to her before he departed, and she couldn’t figure out why he had. She’d spent many sleepless nights mulling that peculiar encounter, recalling his shock at being rebuffed.
In light of how he’d tricked and deceived her, had he really thought she’d shame herself again? The notion had enraged her, and she’d kept herself centered and sane by envisioning him in London, chasing after every beautiful, rich debutante in the city.
Now he’d resurfaced as abruptly as he’d vanished. What did it portend?
“Surprise!” they shouted in unison.
“What is this?” she tentatively asked.
“It’s a school,” Nan explained. “Lord Stafford had it built—just for you.”
Nell added, “All the children in the village will be required to attend. He’s ordering them to learn to read and write, so you’ll be happy.”
“Oh.”
“Isn’t it grand?” Nan asked.
“Yes, very grand.”
The three girls skipped away, and they rushed to Lord Stafford and hugged him, grinning as if he walked on water.
“You wore me down, Em,” he said. “You nagged and nagged over your blasted school, and now you have it.”
In case she hadn’t noticed his largesse, he gestured around. It was a magnanimous, kingly motion that vividly reminded her of all that she had once loved and hated about him. He could be the kindest, most generous man in the world. But he could also be the most calculating and cruel.
She didn’t want him at Stafford. She was still recuperating from her ordeal, and she couldn’t abide the prospect of seeing him constantly and remembering how terribly he’d wounded her.
Suddenly, she realized the room was very quiet. Everyone was gaping, waiting for her to comment. They were in a festive mood and had expected her to be too. The earl had presented her with her life’s dream, practically on a silver platter.
Why wasn’t she celebrating? Why wasn’t she spinning in joyous circles?
“Do you like it, Emeline?” Nell nervously broached.
It was too much for Emeline to absorb. The school and the earl and her memories.
Feeling unaccountably distraught, she mumbled, “Excuse me,” and she staggered out. Blindly, she raced down the street, out of the village and into the woods. She slowed to a stop and sat against a tree.
What was happening to her? All she did anymore was weep and regret. She was overly emotional, prone to melancholy and maudlin reflection.
She wallowed in self-pity and couldn’t move beyond what had transpired. Why not? She wasn’t the only female in history who’d ever been duped by a scoundrel. Why couldn’t she forgive and forget as was the Christian way?
To her eternal disgust, much of her misery was due to Jo’s happiness.
Jo was increasing with the baby she’d presumed she could never have. She had a husband she adored and a daughter she cherished. She was rid of her horrid brother forever and living in a beautiful house, Mason’s old residence behind the manor.
Jo was brimming with elation, while Emeline was more dejected than ever.
Gad, she was pathetic! She couldn’t be glad for her friend, couldn’t wish her well.
Every time she gazed at Jo, she was overcome by envy and resentment. She and Jo had both dallied with the Price brothers, but at the conclusion of their illicit affairs, Jo had been blessed with every boon, while Emeline was where she’d always been. Alone. Poor. No husband. No home. No change on the horizon.
Long before she saw him, his boots crunched toward her on the gravel. She could have predicted he’d chase after her. He’d given her a wonderful gift, but she hadn’t been sufficiently grateful, so he’d harangue at her until she responded in a fashion more to his liking.
At the prospect of quarreling with him, she was frozen in place, too weary to flee or fight.
He rounded the bend and kept coming until he was directly in front of her, until he was so close that the tips of his boots slipped under the hem of her skirt. With her seated and him standing, he seemed inordinately tall. The sky was so blue, the clouds floating by over his head, and the sight made her dizzy.
He was too handsome, too virile, too . . . too . . . everything.
“For months, all I heard from you”—he was in a temper, his color high, his eyes flashing daggers—“was I want a school, I want a school. So I build you a damned school, and when I give it to you, with the whole town watching, you have a tantrum and run off. What is wrong with you?”
“Go away.”
“Not until you answer my question. What is wrong with you?”
He plopped down beside her, a lazy elbow balanced on his knee.
“Don’t you have to be somewhere?” she rudely snapped.
“Like where?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about with your regiment in the army? Weren’t you recalled to duty?”
“I retired from the army. That’s why I was away for so long.”
“You what?”
“I resigned. I missed Stafford too much.”
“You liar.”
“I’m not lying. You insisted the property would grow on me, and you were correct. This spot is my home. It’s in my blood, and I’m never leaving it again.”
He was staring at her strangely, making her extremely uncomfortable. They were playing a game of cat and mouse, with him the cat and her
