Page 80 of Emma & Edmund

Her gut twisted painfully, sending nausea up her throat. Leaning her head against the rocking seatback hardly helped, and the deep sinking knowledge that she would get no reprieve for the next five days had her nearly groaning out loud.

"What about the Inghams?" Emma mumbled, trying to distract herself. "We all came together."

"Ha!" Jonathan's mirthless laugh echoed off the small cabin's walls. "Margaret Ingham won't be allowed in the same building as you, let alone the same coach."

"But-"

"There's nothing to argue with, Emma. The life you knew is utterly over."

Chapter 22

The long, dreary ride back to London was nothing compared to the lashing she received from Gerald Thompson upon arrival.

"What have you done, Emma? How could you do this?"

Standing in the center of his study, before her father's grand oak desk, Emma stared down at her clamped-together hands, listening to the wall clock tick loudly to her left.

She hadn't been home a quarter-hour before she was pulled within by her red-faced father. While she had hoped otherwise on the way home, news reached London before she did.

"All the time and money we spent getting you ready - wasted! Your chances are ruined, Emma. Destroyed."

"I-"

"Do you have any idea the conversations I have overheard? No father should have to hear those things about his daughter."

He was right, no father should hear his daughter called a whore by the same people who once sat at his dinner table.

"The Tateslaughedwhen I welcomed them back to town! Do you know how humiliating that was?"

Even as tears threatened to spill out, she had to hold back a snarl. How dare William even begin to speak ill of her? If anything, at least she learned who the sniveling man truly was before committing herself to him. It was almost vindication that she destroyed the party enough that his good time at Belmont was cut short, with all leaving shortly after the Thompsons.

And yet still, the knowledge did not stop the look of utter vexation her father wore, the way he demanded answers she couldn't give.

"I'm sorry, Father."

A deep sigh came from the man seated before her.

"What happened? This isn't like you, to lose all sense. If you tell me what happened, I can contact the Lockhart estate and-"

"No!" Emma's neck snapped up to meet his eyes. "Please, don't do that."

Her father bristled. "And why not? They owe us! You are owed an engagement - I am owed a discussion!"

A clenched fist pounded against the top of his desk, making Emma jump at its suddenness. He had never raised a hand to her, but be it the long journey, the unending turning of her stomach, or simply the shock of all that happened catching up to her, tears slipped down her face.

Another sigh and the scrape of a chair against hardwood. In the next moment, comforting arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling Emma into her father's embrace.

Once upon a time, he might have had a similar hold to Edmund's, but the years had softened the muscles and created pillows of his chest. And unlike Edmund, who towered over her, Gerald's beard tickled the top of her scalp.

Thinking of the earl in the woods, no matter how brief, had her stomach clenching all over again, making her sobs of pain come out just that much harder.

"Hush now." He pat her back in small circles, sounding just as choked as his daughter's sobs. "Please stop crying, darling. If you wish me to leave those country bums alone, I shall. We don't need them. My estate will be more than enough for you. In the meantime, we will just wait for all of this to blow over."

"You believe it will, Papa?"

"Trust me, time heals everything."

Her father had never led her astray before, but as the days dragged into weeks, she began to doubt him. Time only made everything worse.

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