Maybe she is just worried,he told himself firmly.
He let out a long breath. It was a lot to have happened insuch a short time. In no less than two days, they would move into Blackburne House together. He shook himself, feeling nervous. He’d had the place prepared for her—clean curtains, clean rugs, the entire house swept and tidied from top to bottom. He’d ordered fresh linen and laundry and he’d even considered hiring another maid, just to make sure the place stayed fresh and tidy. But even that didn’t feel as though it would be enough.
Bernadette deserved the best, and he wasn’t sure if he could give it to her.
He let out another long sigh. One thing he had to do, and that was what he’d told his mother he’d do. He would tell Bernadette how he felt, confessing his feelings. He had to.
She needs to know I love her, he thought distractedly.
He heard a noise on the path and he tensed. It was her. She was coming out after all! He breathed in and out, trying for calm.
“Nicholas? Nicholas!”
He spun around, horror filling him where joy and apprehension had been seconds ago.
“Emily!” he hissed. “Why are you here?”
Emily stepped out from the archway, her lovely, cruel face wreathed with sweet smiling. “Nicholas. How lovely to see you.” She stepped up to him, her voice a purr, her smile beguiling. “And you came out to talk to me.”
“I didn’t!” Nicholas said firmly, horror holding him in placewhere he stood across from the pond. “I came out to speak to...”
“Shh...” she whispered and stepped close to him. Before he could stop her, before he even knew what she was going to do, she reached up and rested a hand on his chest, another on his shoulder, drawing him close to her.
“What in...” He hissed, but he was off balance, and she leaned against him and just then, just as her body was pressed to his, he heard footsteps on the pathway. “No!” he shouted.
Emily looked up at him, and the sweet smile was gone, her eyes hard, a bitter cruelty in their green depths. She said nothing, but that hard gaze was like a knife stabbing into him. He turned away from her, her bitter gaze not quite as important as the fact that he was almost certain those footsteps had been Bernadette.
“Bernadette!” he shouted. “Wait! It wasn’t what you...”
He ran up the path, calling for her, and as he tried to explain he caught sight of her. She ran up the steps of the terrace and he ran towards her, but before he could get close, she opened the doors to the ballroom and disappeared inside.
Nicholas stood where he was, rooted to the spot in horror. He gazed at the doors, which swung closed, and for a moment he couldn’t think of anything or even breathe. Nothing made sense. What had happened?
He whipped around, thinking he heard footsteps on the path behind him, but it was something rustling in the bush, perhaps a bird, and when he walked down the path again, Emily hadvanished.
“What in...?” he swore. He walked to the pond, determined to find her, sure she had to be there somewhere, in the pavilion, perhaps, but she had gone from the garden, and he stalked around the path around the pond, but his searching was fruitless. Somehow, she’d sneaked back inside while he was searching for Bernadette.
He swore again. Bernadette had certainly seen them. Perdition alone knew what she must think. He blinked, shaking himself. It was no good running around looking for Emily, even though his first wish was to question her and find out just what she thought she was doing. He had to find Bernadette. She needed to hear from him what had really happened, before she thought the worst.
She wasn’t near the doors as he stuck his head into the ballroom, and he blinked, eyes unaccustomed to the sudden brightness, gaze searching the room. His heart thudded wildly.
Without thinking, he stumbled in, gazing around, looking for her. He could see nobody—everyone's faces were a blur. His heart was racing, and he drew a breath, trying to calm down, trying to decide what to do.
Her parents were somewhere in the ballroom. Surely, they would know where she was. He looked around, trying to locate them. The musicians were playing, the sound disjointed and horrid in his ears as he tried to focus. He gazed around, looking for someone he recognized.
Lord and Lady Rothendale were in the corner near theentrance, talking to a group of men and ladies around their own age. He hurried over and stood on the edge of the group, waiting for a moment when he could ask them where she was.
“Nicholas!” Grandfather appeared at his side, making him jump. “Capital party! Capital.”
Nicholas stared at him. His words didn’t make any sense. After a second, he cleared his throat. “Grandfather? Where’s Bernadette?”
Grandfather tilted his head, frowning. “No idea, Grandson. She must be here somewhere. It’s not such a big ballroom, eh? Big, but not that much.” He chuckled, as if pleased with his own jest.
Nicholas breathed out, feeling annoyed and desperate. “Are you sure you haven’t seen her?” he demanded.
Grandfather nodded. “Absolutely sure. I reckoned you two were waltzing. Capital music. Capital!”
Nicholas looked away, heart thudding in his chest. She was here somewhere—she had to be. His eyes scanned the room again, but he couldn’t see her. In a hall full of ladies in scarlet or white—the fashionable colors for the season—he would have expected a woman in pale blue would have stood out immediately. He could see nobody like her.
