Page 63 of Emma & Edmund

"Hush, Jonathan," Margaret chided. "She's just focused. Asyoushould be. I can't imagine Mr. Thompson being pleased if this expensive trip was all for naught."

Emma's throat constricted at Margaret's mention of the cost of her fettered time. She couldn't deny the impact of her words, though, for Jonathan straightened, expression sobering before swallowing a heavy gulp, masking it with a sip of his glass.

"What a dower atmosphere," Danny saddled up to his cousin. "Too many sour faces for a ball, if you ask me. We're about to be free of this damned place, let us celebrate while we can."

"You say that as though we won't be celebrating the moment we return," Jonathan joked back, noticeably relaxing into the banter, "or the entire way home."

"Oh Lord in Heaven," Emma bemoaned, "you wish to repeat the incident on the way here? I swear, I only just scrubbed the smell out of my nose."

"I have yet to even regain mine!" Margaret's straight face only stayed for a moment before it broke over a joking grin.

The laugh spread, easing the lingering tension between the four.

"Excuse me."

With such simple words, the rock fell in Emma's gut once more. Just beyond Margaret's shoulder stood Mr. Tate, clad in a handsome plum suit and crisp white shirt, very different from the wet bird she had seen in the woods.

"May I speak with you, Miss Thompson? Perhaps on the balcony?" Although his question included her name, William's eyes were glued to Jonathan, awaiting his answer with eager eyes.

Emma wished she could feel that same eagerness, the itch under her skin to spend even a moment of quiet with the man. Perhaps, if she did, the eyes that would be sure to watch them from behind the blinds would be a nuisance. Instead, they felt like a blessing.

But the man, along with the destination, held no good feelings within her. Terror filled her gut. She could only hope he was sober enough to not replay the events of the first night, despite the location. Privacy was the one thing she did not need with William Tate, not when he proved he couldn’t be trusted with it.

"Of course!" While it was Jonathan who answered so emphatically, the dainty hand pushing at Emma's back certainly did not belong to him.

The evening air washed over her skin, prickling against the cold. William didn't seem to fare much better; she noticed a shiver rake through him from the corner of her eye.

"Miss Emma," he began, wandering close to the wide set of stairs leading down to the garden, "I feel I must be truthful with you..."

If you must, Emma stopped herself from saying, keeping her lips shut.

"I do not think I am speaking too far out of turn by saying a union between us would be advantageous for both our families. Your father’s company and my heritage line up well."

Heat burned through Emma's face, alighting her with an angry blush she was sure could be seen as clearly as the shining stars above. His presumption insulted her very soul.

"Well, I...you see...," she stuttered over her words, but it was an even worse show within her mind. It was as if all thoughts had been cleaned away, leaving only a shiny, smooth surface to pull words from. Before her was a man that had stolen her breath the moment she laid eyes on him, and repeatedly vowed to make her own, staring into her eyes after speaking words which, only days ago, would have rung true.

Now, however, she couldn't say the same. Excitement didn't fill her as he took her hand, and joy didn't course through her as he drew her in close.

"And I don't think," he continued, his whiskeyed breath washing over her face, "I would be too opposed to such a union."

Emma's mouth went dry, her throat closing in. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? This is what she dreamed of.

But it all felt so wrong.

Even if it did, though, that didn't stop the fact that William was looking at her so expectantly, leaning in even closer.

"May I kiss you, Emma?"

No!She screamed inwardly, hand itching to slap him again. But why not? At least he was asking this time.

It was the very thing that should seal her future perfectly. It would bring them closer together, making it difficult for William to choose another bride. If they were seen, even better. Rumors would surely follow them back to London, just serious enough that a discussion, at the very least, would happen with the Tate family and her father.

And still, she didn't want it.

"Well, that would be just - Edmund!"

Did her eyes deceive her? It was impossible that the figure just beyond Mr. Tate's shoulders was who she thought it was. There was no possibility that it was truly her odd friend who was ascending the garden stairs, three at a time, with a bounce in his step and a smile on his lips.

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