Page 38 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter Fifteen

Emma was miserable.

It had been three days since she’d last spoke to Mr. Godwin, and in those three days, she had found little respite from the guilt and shame of exactly how she’d spoken to him. She tried to convince herself she had done the right thing, for she’d seen him dancing with the busty woman. It was likely she’d been a previous lover, and it lit a fire of jealousy within her chest, followed by doubt and rage, reminding her of her original goal; justice for Judith, and for Laura. She told herself he deserved every word she’d said after his years of mistreating other women. But that did nothing to remove the unsettled turning of her stomach any time she thought of him, which was becoming multiple times a day.

Over those three days, Emma had much to entertain. She had returned to the opera with Mr. Bernard, but it was impossible not to think of clandestine moments with Mr. Godwin. She had gone back to the museum, and immediately remembered their discussion about Greek gods. She had even been invited to tea with the Duchess of Norland; Emma had attended with much trepidation, but thankfully, Henry had not been present or even mentioned. Emma could not go through a ride in Hyde Park without being reminded of his heated gaze from their first jaunt. Even now, as she sat in Almack’s next to Mrs. Dunn, watching the height of society on display, all she could think about was his beckoning smile the moment they’d met. Why was his memory everywhere around London, making it impossible to avoid the sickening in her stomach? The way she’d treated him made her physically ill, and she didn’t know how to make it right.

She couldn’t apologize, for it had needed to be done. He’d needed to be set straight, else he could continue to do more damage. But his words about Laura had given Emma pause. It did sound like something Laura would do––become enamored with a young man and pursue him perhaps a little too strongly. That he would put her off instead of seducing her first did give him more credit than Emma had. And she knew he was not the one who had ruined her sister. Emma was coming to realize her words and reactions may have been a touch harsh––the punishment perhaps did not fit the crime, even if they did fit the criminal.

The worst of it had been the look in his eyes. He’d been looking at her with such affection and longing and hope, and instead of being the loving friend that he thought she’d become, she had pulled out a ruthless demeanor even Emma hadn’t known she possessed. She had grown accustomed to hearing his voice say such pretty words, but she wasn't prepared for the vulnerability he'd revealed. Then she’d spent magical moments in his arms, taking his affection and finding herself thrilling in it… before crushing him.

She was no better than he was. Even if he did deserve such treatment, she should have been above it. She shouldn’t have lowered herself to his level.

But it was in the past.

And now there was no way to make it right.

“What has you so glum this evening?” Mrs. Dunn asked, not taking her eyes off the dancers. “Miffed that Mr. Bernard hasn’t come to find you for a dance?”

“Not at all.” Emma raised her chin. “I’ve already reserved the quadrille with him.”

“And what of your other dancing companion?” Mrs. Dunn turned to raise an eyebrow at her.

Emma stiffened. “Perhaps he will not be in attendance this evening.” She hadn’t thought about what her falling out with Mr. Godwin would mean for his relationship with Mrs. Dunn. They were friends before Emma had been introduced to him, and she didn’t want to ruin their relationship the same way she had ruined her own relationship with him.

A loud clang sounded in the corridor, drawing the attention of those in the ballroom near the doorway. Emma looked, not expecting to see much, but when she caught a glimpse of Mr. Godwin with a woman on his arm, it made her swallow hard. So he had arrived and was compensating with another lady. Emma should have expected such behavior. He’d even told her in parting the change she desired for him would likely not happen. Still, she found herself disappointed and simultaneously nervous to be in the same room again. Would he truly give her up? Would she find a voice of apology to ease her guilt?

Another sound came from the corridor, this time a repeated bang, and Emma was certain this was a result of something Mr. Godwin had done. She didn’t intend to give him another lashing, but she did want to confirm if her suspicions were true.

“I believe I’ll fetch a drink; would you like anything?” Emma asked, not truly caring.

“No, thank you. But be sure to avoid whatever nonsense is happening out there.”

Emma hardly heard her. It was too late for that anyhow.

She made her way through the crowd and out the ballroom door, where she saw Mr. Godwin down the corridor and rounding the corner with a woman on his arm. Emma held her breath, trying to ignore the desire to follow after them and pressed forward, heading for the dining room refreshments. But the burn of curiosity would not let her be, so she peeked around the corner. The woman with him had seated him in an empty corridor chair, before leaning down to kiss his cheek and walking away. Seeing this as an opportunity, Emma glanced over her shoulder and walked toward him down the barely lit corridor.

As she approached, there was a definite scent of alcohol, and Mr. Godwin’s movements were slow and disjointed, leading her to believe he was the cause of all the loud sounds.

“Mr. Godwin.”

He looked up, his beautiful green eyes now glazed over with pain and drink. She had done that to him.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Emma huffed. “Of course you know me.”

He shook his head, casting his gaze to the ground. “Last I checked, a beautiful woman such as yourself told me she never wanted to see me again.” Then he looked up and leveled an angry glare at her.

A pair of ladies eyed him as they passed through the corridor, making Emma flush. “You were making quite a scene with all the banging about, so I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.” Mr. Godwin shook his head. “I was trying to take Mrs. Palmer to the dancefloor, but she spilled her drink all over me, and then she spilled it all over her, so we have some clothes that need changing, it seems.”

Anger curled Emma’s hand into a fist. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m just being exactly what you said I was!” He threw his hands out to the side with dramatic flair. “I’m nothing more than a wastrel and a drunk who preys on innocent women, so that’s all I’m doing.”

Emma took a deep breath and raised her chin. “I may have spoken out of turn. It was not my place to say such things to you.”

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