Page 68 of The Viscount's Promise
Caleb spun about to face his friend, a fatalistic kind of doom darkening his features. “What did you do, Tristan?”
Daphne stepped forward then. “He didn’t decide on it alone,” she declared. “If anything, it was my idea. He was simply going along with it.”
“Your idea,” Caleb stated blankly. “Why am I getting a very bad feeling about all of this?”
As was Emily. She gripped tight to the back of the chair she stood behind as if it were the one thing tethering her to the ground.
Daphne looked at her then. Emily felt her entire world tip.
“We did so want Emily and Lord Morley to be happy, you see,” Daphne explained, her eyes begging forgiveness.
“Morley?” Caleb asked, even as Emily’s heart thumped heavy in her chest. “And Emily? What the devil are you talking about?”
“I am so sorry, Emily,” Daphne said, ignoring their brother. “We were convinced there was something between you and Lord Morley. And your attraction for one another seemed more apparent the more Tristan and I were in each other’s company. You seemed so determined to throw Tristan and I together at every turn, and Lord Morley to see that it didn’t happen, that we believed feigning a romance was the best way to force you together and make the both of you see that you needed one another.”
A thick silence descended. Emily felt she was suffocating under it. “Do you mean to tell me,” she said slowly, distinctly, “that you and Sir Tristan were never attracted to one another?”
“Oh, no, we were,” Daphne declared. “But once we kissed we both realized there was nothing there.”
“You kissed my sister?” Caleb roared.
“It was nothing, really,” Daphne said dismissively, waving her brother’s rage off with one slender hand.
“Well, now, I wouldn’t say it was nothing,” Sir Tristan said defensively before he caught sight of Caleb’s expression. He backed away several steps. “No, you are so right. It was nothing. Nothing at all.”
“You made it all up?” Emily asked, her voice trembling. She stepped out from behind the chair, storming forward until she was directly in front of the couple. Her hands shook so violently she feared what she might do with them and clenched them into tight balls. “How could you do something like that? How could you manipulate us in such an underhanded way?”
“We were not manipulating you,” Daphne denied. “We were simply giving you both the opportunity to form an attachment, to throw you both together in the most inflamed situations possible.”
Emily’s vision went red. “So we were some kind of scientific experiment to you? Throw the damaged spinster together with the handsome rake and see what happens?”
Daphne’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Of course not!”
Imogen rushed forward, putting her arm around Emily. “Dearest, you’re becoming overset. Daphne would never have done such a thing lightly. She loves you.”
The calm reason in her friend’s voice finally cut through Emily’s anger. The air left her in a rush, taking with it all her indignation. She slumped, leaning into Imogen. “You’re right,” she rasped. “And how much better am I? Wasn’t I doing just that, manipulating them into forming an attachment? Though my reasons were not so noble.”
“What do you mean?” Imogen asked quietly.
Emily looked at Daphne, guilt filling her. “I thought I saw a mutual attraction between you and Sir Tristan. But my main reason for attempting to throw you both together was a desire to see you married off, to prevent our trip to London.”
Daphne stared at her in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me the trip was so abhorrent to you?”
Emily shrugged. “How could I? You were so happy. And you asked me to go. I could not disappoint you by abandoning you when you needed me most.”
Her sister came closer and took up her hands. “I knew you wouldn’t care for it, but I didn’t think it would panic you to such a degree. My goodness, I am a selfish creature indeed, to not know your heart.”
She pulled Emily into a hug. Emily stood frozen for a moment, stunned, before she crumbled. Wrapping her arms about her sister’s slender waist, she pressed her burning eyes into Daphne’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s I who am sorry,” Daphne murmured. She pulled back, looking Emily in the eye. “Though I would love to have you there with me, I won’t force you. Your happiness means more to me than anything. I could not enjoy my time in London knowing I was making you miserable by forcing you to go.”
Emily gave her a watery smile. She waited, expecting relief to lighten the weight on her chest. This was a kind of victory, after all. It was what she had wanted all along, to be able to stay behind at Willowhaven. But it did not give her an ounce of relief. Instead the muted grief in her breast seemed to grow more acute.
“Now that we have that settled,” Caleb said, his voice breaking through the silence, “would someone mind telling me what that business was about Emily and Morley forming an attachment?”
Emily felt as if she’d taken a punch to the gut. In a flash she knew what settled so heavy on her soul. Malcolm. Or rather the loss of him and the promise of what they could have had together.
“There was nothing between us,” she said. “Daphne and Sir Tristan were quite mistaken.”
