Page 6 of Emma & Edmund

She was still staring at their beaming faces when the wood creaked next to her, and a deep sigh hit her ears.

"Finally!" Moments before, Emma almost felt too exhausted to turn her head. But when the voice that wrapped around her was the very same she had been waiting for the entire evening, sleep was the farthest thing from her mind.

"Mr. Tate," the breathless words left her mouth even before her neck finished whipping to face him, cracking in her excitement, "Imagine seeing you here."

It was stilted and awkward, but the acknowledgment only made his sparkling smile just that much broader, shining in the low light of the gallery.

Emma's breath hitched as William raised his hand, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear. Everywhere his fingertips touched had her skin prickling, and she desperately tried not to allow the fluster inside of her to show.

A tisk from the man beside her made it impossible to look away from his lips, only barely managing to hide the gaze behind lowered lashes. "From the bottom of my heart," every syllable, every emphasis was so perfect, "I deeply apologize for missing our dance. It has been quite the whirlwind of the evening."

It hadn't been for Emma. At least not for the last several hours. But she had seen how dragged around he had been, how people flocked to him.

"I'm sure we'll have another opportunity. We are stuck here for weeks, after all."

The pounding in her chest must have been heard across the room as his smile turned conspiratorial.

"I intend to right my wrongs this very evening."

"Oh?"

"Have you been to the balcony? I wonder if you would like to visit it with me?"

Glee filled Emma and, hiding the giddy smile behind her fan, she did her best to stop the squeal that threatened to come up her throat. It was pure will alone that wrangled it back to the depths of herself.

"I would love to, Mr. Tate. Have you received permission from my brother?" She nearly celebrated the clarity of her words, relishing the lack of stutter.

"We can pretend I did," William took her hand, his own perfectly smooth against her glove, lifting her from the bench. "I'm sure we can convince him of it when he sobers up."

"'When'? You must not know my brother, Mr. Tate. It is an 'if' at best."

Her whole life was made complete as William's laugh sounded throughout the room, tickled at her joke.

As late into the night as it was, not many noticed them as they passed. But those that did - including wide-eyed Grace - tracked their movement with such an anticipatory gaze, it almost felt like they had been waiting for that moment as long as she had.

The chilly evening air cooled her heated skin, washing over her in a wave. Emma hadn't even realized how warm it had gotten inside the packed home until the sweat that licked the back of her neck turned cold the moment she stepped through two grand French doors along the ballroom wall.

It truly was huge, as much as everything was at Belmont it seemed. Wrapping around the expanse of the back of the mansion, the marble floors and decorated railing invited the eye, and the many seats carefully surrounded by budding potted plants beckoned private conversations in an intimate, intricate setting.

It wasn't one of those seats, cushioned and plush even in the outdoors, which welcomed Emma and William, even as she longed to see if they were as soft as they felt. Instead, he guided her to the banister, the ledge overlooking the garden below.

As William took a deep sigh, Emma could barely contain the excited buzz flitting through her. She could practically feel it twisting her tongue, and she could only hope she kept her wits enough to not chase him off with muttered blabber.

"It's certainly strange out here, isn't it?" Whatever Emma had expected William to say, it wasn't that. A bit of wind left her sails, but she refused to let it deter her.

Emma forced the smallest, daintiest giggle she could. "It is no London. I didn't think things could ever be this dark."

Even as the light from the home spilled over the grass, it couldn't quite make it to the tree line, only barely distinguishable against the inky sky filled with uncountable glowing stars.

"It has gotten quite late, hasn't it," William sighed again. "I cannot help but feel horrible for leaving you high and dry."

"Oh really, it is not-"

"I just hadn't talked to the Cosgrove’s in months, and then Victoria introduced me to this boy who showed up with the Hawthorns claiming to be a cousin. Ugh," he sighed, head falling into his palm, "It's been a full evening indeed."

Nodding along, Emma found herself mindlessly surveying the dark wisping branches on the other side of the lawn. She couldn't help but think of how different their evenings had played out. But it was understandable, their experiences that night when the man who made a moment for her was as popular a figure as he was.

"Are you listening, Emma?"

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