As for Emma, she was late. He’d heard the clock strike two in the morning nearly ten minutes ago.
Where is she? he wondered. Surely she isn’t going to stand me up?
But then, just as he was wondering how difficult it would be to locate her bedchamber, a gentle brush-brush of slippers whispered through the silence.
And there she came, looking pale and insubstantial as a ghost in her white silk gown, her golden hair gleaming angelically in the tenebrous light. She stopped just beyond his reach, silent as she met his gaze.
“I thought perhaps you weren’t coming,” he said in a hushed voice.
She linked her hands together in front of her. “I almost didn’t. I nearly changed my mind. Then I got lost. How am I supposed to know which corridor is the east one?”
Despite her admission that she really had thought of standing him up, he couldn’t help but smile about her confusion navigating the unfamiliar house. “Well, you’re here now. I—”
He broke off, hearing what sounded like a door opening and voices issuing from several yards away. Placing a finger against his lips, he signaled Emma to say nothing. But she needed no urging, shrinking back into the heavy shadows beside him.
Together they waited until the house grew silent once again.
Without speaking, Nick took her hand and led her forward. She resisted for a brief moment, then gave in and followed, the two of them gliding on quick, soundless feet down the hall.
He kept watch as they went, but no one appeared.
They walked along one long corridor, then turned into another, continuing halfway down.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
Instead of answering, he paused to scan the hallway again to make certain they were not observed, then hurried her across and into a room. Breathing a sigh of relief, he shut and locked the door behind him.
She took a couple steps forward, then stopped. “Is this your bedchamber?” A low hiss slipped from between her teeth as she shook her head and turned back toward the door. “I can’t be here. If I am caught—”
“You won’t be caught,” he assured, wrapping his hand around her arm. “I promise to take care that no one will know.”
At her skeptical look, he continued. “I would have met somewhere else, but I couldn’t think where we might talk and be sure not to be overheard.”
“What about the music room, or maybe the library?” she suggested with a hint of reproof before giving her arm a slight tug.
He didn’t let go. “Those choices are too risky what with all the guests in the house. Anyone could wander into any room at any time. Besides, I believe we’ve met in enough libraries already, don’t you?”
A slight flush warmed her cheeks at his reminder.
When she tugged again, he released her. She strolled into the room, then stopped and crossed her arms tightly over her ribs. “Very well. I am here, so let us talk. It’s probably for the best anyway. Why do I not go first?”
He raised a brow in surprise. “If you like.”
She nodded. “What are you doing here, Nick? And how did you come by an invitation? Am I correct in assuming that Ariadne and Mercedes had something to do with it?”
A moment passed before he replied. “I hope I am not giving away any confidences at this point if I say yes, although I am the one who actually obtained the invitation. I called in a favor with an admiralty contact I know. Their Highnesses simply told me when and where I needed to be.”
“They ought to have minded their own business.”
He shunted aside the small pain her words caused, buried the trace of worry. “Well, I am not.”
“And none of you deemed it my business to mention your little plan beforehand rather than springing it on me at tonight’s reception?” she continued.
“You did look rather astonished,” he remarked with a slight smile. “I am sorry. It was at my request that they concealed it. I feared you might refuse to see me if you knew.”
Her arms tightened fractionally around her chest and she frowned.
“Emma, I had to see you. I had to have a chance to talk things out without all the rancor of our last real conversation. We couldn’t talk freely that night at the theater, and there are things that need saying. For a start, I feel I owe you an apology.”
She looked up, her eyes wide. “An apology? For what?”
“I was cruel that night at Carlton House. I was angry and judged you without giving you a real opportunity to explain. It is only that I knew one version of you, then suddenly discovered another. Your story about being a governess never really made sense. You always were far too independent, much too confident in your opinions to ever have been in the service of another. I knew that even then. But to find out who you really are—well, it was a shock. Regardless, I should not have spoken as I did.”