“I left you a note,” she defended.
“Ah, yes, the note,” he shot back derisively. “So personal you could have interchanged it for the one you left my aunt and I should never have known the difference.”
He was right, she thought guiltily. The note had been polite and reserved—too reserved, she knew now, especially in light of their final hours together. But at the time there had been no way she could have mustered the resilience to express what was in her heart, let alone tell him the truth.
Leaving as she’d done had been cowardly, she admitted. But she’d thought it easiest to shield him from the truth. How ironic that all her noble intentions had come crashing down around her ears tonight because of a party.
“Nick, I—”
“You what?” he said scathingly. “Why did you do it, Emma? Was it a lark for you, pretending to be a commoner? Did we all amuse you while you went around playacting for a few weeks? While you duped me into escorting you around Town as if you were some naive little canary dazzled by the sights?”
“No, it wasn’t like that.” But there was enough truth to his accusation to make her words sound weak, false.
From the derisive gleam in his eyes, she knew he heard the hesitation in her voice. “Then how was it?” he demanded. “Did you find the novelty of living in a mere town house entertaining after a life spent in palaces? Did you chuckle into your pillow each night over having to do without all the little luxuries, all the while knowing you would be returning soon enough to your pampered, overindulged existence?”
Her face stiffened. “You know nothing of my existence.”
“Do I not? Well, I’ll tell you what I think whether you care to hear it or not. I think you were bored, and with your brother not yet in England, you decided to escape your handlers and go off on a spree.”
Her eyes rounded in surprise. “How do you know Rupert wasn’t here at the time?”
“Because I have ears and a brain and I read the newspapers. I am aware that His Highness didn’t arrive in the country until the early part of October—not long before you so abruptly fled from my town house.”
She said nothing, momentarily stunned into silence by how close his suppositions were to the truth.
“I also think,” he continued in a relentless tone, “that you misjudged the difficulties you might face running off alone to London. You were easy prey for those thieves, who took your reticule and your money, and I believe you were genuinely surprised at finding your coconspirator, Mrs. Brown-Jones, away from home.”
He crossed his arms pugnaciously over his chest. “Tell me, is she even a teacher, or was that yet another lie? Perhaps she’s actually the Queen of Sheba in disguise. After what I discovered tonight, I would believe almost anything.”
Emma drew herself up at his barely veiled insult. “Mrs. Brown-Jones was indeed my teacher and she did not conspire with me in any manner.”
“Except for telling me more lies, you mean?”
“She told you what you needed to hear.”
“No, she told me what you wanted me to hear.” His arms dropped to his sides and he stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat and barely repressed rage rippling off his body. “But what did you tell her? Did you tell her about us? About the fact you gave yourself to me the night before you left?”
Heat blossomed in her cheeks.
“Did you tell her how you tossed up your nightgown and let me tup you good and long and hard on my library sofa?”
Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged.
“What I don’t understand is why. Why did you give me your virginity? Or was its loss just another adventure? One more daring thing for you to try in order to keep the boredom at bay?”
A chill swept through her. “You think you have me all figured out, but you don’t know me at all,” she whispered.
A wry expression crossed his face. “You’re right. I don’t. Not after tonight. The girl I made love to was sweet and kind and truthful. Her name was Emma. But you, Princess Emmaline, I don’t know what to make of you.”
She’d thought her heart was broken, but it shattered all over again. The man she loved, the man she dreamed of still, hated her. Even more, he disdained her, imagining the very worst things about her actions without giving her any chance to defend herself, without trying to see so much as a shred of good in her.
“Are you with child?” he asked suddenly, the blunt question taking her off stride yet again. “I at least deserve to know the truth of that.”
She could have punished him, she supposed. Refused to answer him either way. But she wasn’t the manipulative person he obviously imagined her to be and she would not deny his demand.