Bile churned like lava in his gut, rushing up into his throat. Somehow he swallowed it down, ignoring the burning sensation left in its wake.
Yet even if he believed Emma had left in a panic of shock and regret, something still didn’t ring true about her departure. What had driven her to go back to her former life when she’d seemed so content with him? She’d told him she had been dismissed from her last post and that she had no one to whom she could turn except the woman who now stood before him.
Was that not the case?
Was there something else?
Someone else?
He sensed he was missing an essential piece of the puzzle. But what exactly? What was it Emma’s friend would not say?
If he thought he could force the information from her, he would have tried. But he could tell she had a backbone of steel and would reveal nothing she did not wish to.
“Has she taken a new post?” he asked suddenly, hoping to catch her off guard. “Because if she feels compelled—”
Mrs. Brown-Jones shook her head. “It is nothing like that. She is safe and shall be well looked after. Let it go, my lord. Let her go.”
Let Emma go? Impossible. Emma might be capable of forgetting him, but he would never be able to do the same.
In that moment, he knew that no matter what the future might bring, Emma White would haunt him for the rest of his days.
“And if I choose not to let her go, as you say?” he asked, his jaw thrust pugnaciously forward.
“Then you will find yourself gravely disappointed, for your intransigence will change nothing.” She folded her hands at her waist, sending him a stern look that must surely have set her students atremble.
He stood his ground. “Will you at least do me the courtesy of informing Emma of my call?”
“If you like, though I am not certain when I shall be in touch with her again.”
“Well, when that occasion happens to present itself, then.”
The woman nodded in reluctant agreement. “As you wish, my lord. Now, I believe you should be on your way. Allow me to show you out.”
“That won’t be necessary. I can find my own way. Good day, madam.”
“Good-bye, my lord.”
He fought the urge to question her further, unable to help but notice the irrevocable quality of her farewell. Hands clenched at his sides, he strode from the room.
Upstairs, Emma peered around the sheer white window curtains in the family drawing room. The front door opened, then closed again, the sound echoing through the house with a doleful finality.
Her heart throbbed with a mixture of agony and anticipation as she waited for Nick to appear below, watching hungrily for a glimpse of him as he jogged down the steps toward his waiting carriage. Her breath caught on a silent inhalation when he came into view, his dark head bared to the elements, his hat held as if forgotten at his side. The cool October wind rose up just then to ruffle his hair with a kind of lover’s embrace.
Her fingers itched, longing to brush a stray tendril back from his forehead, needing to touch him one last time.
But she could not, aware this one last glimpse was all that remained, that soon he would be gone, forever and always.
Rebelling inwardly against the knowledge, she almost called out, nearly reaching for the sash to throw open the window and call down to him. Somehow she stopped herself and took a step back, arms locked around her chest as if that were the only thing keeping her from falling to pieces.
And perhaps it was, her ribs aching with a pain that left her light-headed and shivery.
Just then, he turned and glanced up, staring at the window where only moments ago she had been. She retreated again, concealing herself more deeply behind the draperies. Yet she couldn’t help but watch, her gaze lingering as he beat his hat against one thigh, brows drawn into a severe glower of obvious frustration and displeasure.
Will he miss me? she wondered. Does he care, or will he be relieved once the surprise of my disappearance wears off?
Either way, it mattered not. There was no future for them together.
The ache in her chest increased when he turned and swung up into the carriage, the pain burning so badly she could barely catch her breath.
Then, with a flick of the reins, he set the vehicle into motion and much too quickly disappeared from view.
She watched even after he was gone, leaning against the window frame for support. How long she stood there she had no idea. Distantly, she heard the soft click of the door opening behind her, followed by the gentle whisper of skirts as a woman moved into the room.
Emma said nothing, just continued to stare uncomprehendingly at the people and carriages and horses passing below in the street.
“He’s gone, Your Highness,” Mrs. Brown-Jones said in subdued voice.