Christmas Day dawned clear and cold, the house alive with laughter and frivolity as the guests ate, drank, sang, and generally made merry. Emma was in the midst of unwrapping one of her presents when Mercedes eased onto the sofa next to her.
“Open this one when you are alone,” she whispered and pressed a small oblong box into Emma’s hand.
Emma’s breath caught. “Is it—?” she began to say, then caught herself in time.
Mercedes gave her an encouraging smile, then rose to return to her own small hillock of gifts.
Emma trembled, her heart racing. Making sure no one saw, she slipped the small box into her pocket and continued on with the festivities.
She had to wait until it was time to change for dinner before she finally managed a few minutes alone. Pleading the need for a nap, she sent her maid away with instructions that she not be disturbed.
Emma hurriedly took a seat and ripped open the small box. Inside was a note from Nick and a delicate flowered brooch made of gold and amethysts. She pinned it on her dress, then read the missive.
Happy Christmas, my dearest love. I shall come for you at 4 a.m. tomorrow. Wait in your room and be ready.
Finally, Nick is coming for me, she thought, hugging the note to her chest.
Tomorrow they would flee and she would begin the most exciting adventure of her life, and the most fulfilling.
Tomorrow she would become Dominic Gregory’s wife.
The predawn hour was dark and silent, and Emma’s bedchamber was swathed in a wealth of shadows as she waited in an armchair by the lazily burning fire. By prior arrangement, Ariadne had promised to unlock the side door that led to the garden so Nick could gain access to the house. Assuming she had been successful, he would have no difficulty making his way inside and up the stairs.
In preparation for his arrival, Emma had dressed in her warmest forest green cashmere gown and a matching traveling cloak, her small, trusty valise packed with a change of clothes and a few essentials; anything more than that she would buy later as necessity required. She wasn’t sure yet if Rupert would allow her to claim any of her current wardrobe. Her jewels and other belongings would likely be forfeit as well—punishment for her elopement.
But she did not care.
Certainly, there would be those who would say she was imprudent to give up her royal title and everything that came with it in order to marry for love. But to her, she was giving up nothing. Material belongings were only things—easily left behind, easily forgotten. Nick was irreplaceable, his love the only thing she knew she could not live without.
She had already said her good-byes to Ariadne and Mercedes, leaving them each with tearful hugs and promises to write as soon as she could.
“Once Nick and I are settled, you must both come to visit,” Emma told them.
“Of course we shall,” Ariadne said, her words quickly seconded by Mercedes. “And do not worry for a moment about your brother. He can put me on a rack and try to torture the details from me, but I won’t tell him a thing.”
Emma couldn’t keep from smiling. “I expect Rupert will be furious, but not enough to actually torture you.”
Ariadne gave her a look as if she had her doubts but was willing to suffer regardless.
“You can count on me as well,” Mercedes said. “Just be happy, Emma.”
And on that one score, Emma had no doubt; her future with Nick couldn’t be anything but happy.
She hadn’t slept, too keyed up to even doze. Yet a kind of electrified lethargy stole around her as she waited, her eyelids drooping slightly so that when a soft tap came at the door, she startled awake.
Moving rapidly across the room, she cracked open the door and there stood Nick, too handsome for words. A hint of crisp winter air had stolen in on his greatcoat, his scent clean and deliciously masculine. He pulled her into his arms and took her lips, their kiss one of mutual relief and joyful exaltation.
Then, just as quickly as their embrace had begun, he released her. “Ready? We haven’t a moment to waste.”
Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed four times, its echo fading into silence. Emma smiled, her pulse pounding out an anticipatory beat. “Yes, let’s go.”
Hand in hand, her valise clutched firmly in Nick’s grip, they moved toward the staircase. Down they went, silent and stealthy as a pair of cats, careful to keep to the shadows even though the house was absolutely still.
She didn’t say a word and neither did Nick, absolutely quiet as they reached the ground floor landing and made the turn that would lead them out the back garden door and onward to the drive where Nick had left his carriage. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as they took the last few steps.
They arrived at the door without mishap, and Nick was just stretching out a hand to lift the latch when a soft but unmistakable footfall rang out from behind them.