Page 103 of The Girl Out of Time
“No. No!” The warmth left her as Theo pulled away, panting, looking as shocked as if she’d suddenly dropped from the sky. “I can’t. I …”
She laid a hand on her chest. Her heart’s rapid beat thundered against her ribs. What did she do wrong? “Theo …”
She stepped toward him; he caught her hands and pressed them to his lips. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Why? Is it me? Am I not—”
“No. No, no.” He leaned his forehead to hers. “Emmeline, you’re … oh, you can’t even imagine.”
She held his gaze. Everything about him—how he touched her, how he looked at her—said he returned her feelings, but his words made no sense.
“I have to leave.” He sounded like he was resisting saying the words, but he let her go and walked away.
Chapter 25
Theo knocked on the solid oak door of Wescott’s study and entered at the summons. Despite the early afternoon, the curtains were partially drawn, leaving his uncle’s face half in shadow. “You requested to see me?”
“Sit,” Wescott said.
Theo took the chair across from the writing desk, swallowing a nervous lump. It was unlikely Wescott knew of Theo’s trespass yesterday.Nobody had seen him and Emmeline, and even then, no one outside the family knew of his connection to Wescott, so they wouldn’t exactly run to the earl with the scandalous news.
Wescott leaned forward, wrapping the Starry Night pendant around his fingers.
“Is there something wrong with it?” Theo asked.
“No, no. You delivered, as I asked.” Wescott absentmindedly stared at the pendant.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you need it? It doesn’t seem valuable.”
“Value can be ascribed to more than just the cost of a necklace.”
“Nostalgia?”
Wescott’s pale blue eyes drilled into him. “Revenge.” He tucked the necklace into the drawer. “But that’s not why I called you.” He stapled his hands on the desk. “I have a meeting with my estate manager tomorrow, and you’re to attend it. You need to get to know him, the properties he manages, see the books, understand how the work is to be done.”
Theo stared at the polished dark wood of the desk. In his dreams, where he was brave—like one of the heroes in Emmeline’s books—he’d stand up to Wescott and tell him the truth. He’d tell him he couldn’t follow his plan and become his heir because he was in love and wanted his own life.
“Do you hear me?”
He gulped. “Yes, Uncle.”
“Look at me.”
He raised his eyes as Wescott narrowed his.He knows.Not about Emmeline, but he had to know something was wrong.
“If there’s a problem, tell me now.” Wescott’s voice was demanding, rather than reassuring of finding a solution to that problem.
“Uncle, are you sure this is a good idea?”
“What is?”
“Me.”
Wescott scoffed. “You’re having doubts?”
“Well, I—”
“Without me, you’d be an illiterate French peasant, spending his days milking cows and raking hay. Youoweyourself to me.”
