by Kate Pearce
Henry gaped at her in astonishment. She would worry about the protocol of such things in a brothel?
He realised then that she must have no idea what she’d walked into.
He refused to find it endearing. He didn’t have time to be charmed by her innocence.
“Nobody here minds about that stuff, Emily,” he said, gently placing the jacket around her wet shoulders. It swamped her.
He refused to find that endearing, either.
“B-but,” she protested, “Y-your wife—“
“My wife?” he asked, confused.
She nodded her head in Marissa’s direction.
Henry couldn’t contain his bark of laughter that drew more than one glance.
“Marissa is not my wife, Emily,” he grinned.
He watched myriad emotions flit across her face. God, she’d grown into a stunning beauty. He couldn’t stop his heart reacting to her anymore than he could stop his body from doing the same thing.
He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but whatever it was, it was enough to knock the stuffing out of him.
She looked relieved, which was interesting, then she appeared shocked, then finally disapproving.
“Really, Mr. Roache,” she sniffed. “You shouldn’t be — be — well, cavorting in public with a woman. Especially a woman who isn’t your wife.”
Henry couldn’t help it. Once more, he burst out laughing, drawing stares that he paid no attention to.
Had she always been this adorable? This beautiful? Even bedraggled and looking like a drowned rat, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Henry’s heart twisted as she frowned up at him with that stern, governess stare.
The idea of love at first sight had always seemed so ridiculous and nonsensical to him.
Yet that was how he felt right now. And whilst it was technically not first sight since he’d known her as a child, it really felt as though he were seeing her for the first time.
“I wasn’t cavorting. Marissa isn’t used to a man telling her no, and I most definitely was telling her no.” She looked relieved by his explanation and that pleased him more than it should have. “Emily.” He took a step closer, unsure as to what he was going to say, just knowing that he wanted to be nearer. “You—“
“Come, come, my dear.”
Frau Elke bustled over like a fussy mother hen.
“We must get you out of these wet clothes.”
Without awaiting a response, and with a quizzical look for Henry, the tall madame whisked Emily from the room.
Henry was left standing on the spot, eyes trailing after the girl from his past, who had just flipped his world upside down.
Emily stood nervously in the doorway of the cozy drawing room dominated by what Frau Elke had told her was a Tannenbaum.
The older woman had explained the tree’s tradition, and Emily thought it sounded wonderful.
She took in the plethora of people in the room; servants and workers, and strangers who looked as out of place here as she felt.
And yet…
She didn’t feel out of place. She knew she should. It had dawned on her just what this place was when Frau Elke had rushed her through the building to her own bedchamber in the back, instructing her not to enter any of the other rooms and to come straight back to the drawing room when she was changed.
Emily had politely declined offers of help.
She needed time alone to clear her head.
Henry was here. Henry!
Her heart had soared the second she’d seen him, but as she changed into the garments Frau Elke had found for her; slightly too big but comfortable, and more importantly, dry, Emily’s heart slowly began to sink.
Emily was an innocent, naïve even. But she knew that young men didn’t come to places like this for the art of conversation.
And he’d said woman who had been wrapped around him wasn’t his wife.
That meant she worked here.
And even though this establishment was a far cry from the seedy places her stepfather frequented, it was still a brothel.
So, the likelihood of Henry being just like the viscount was high. And that hurt her in ways she couldn’t even begin to describe.
Almost all of the occupants of the room were gathered round the Tannenbaum, and it sounded as though people were telling stories.
Ordinarily, Emily would have loved to sit down and listen to such tales, but right now the only thing she seemed able to focus on was Henry, and why he was here.
Which was ridiculous in the extreme! She had run away, for heaven’s sake! She knew not if her mother had made it back to the inn, she had no idea how far she was from London, or how she would get there. She didn’t even know how to go about accessing her funds.
Yet right now, all she seemed able to do was seek out Henry and study him.
He was standing by the roaring fire in the parlour’s large fireplace.
And though he was silent, he wasn’t paying any attention to the stories being told just behind him. Instead, he was staring into the dancing flames of the fire, his expression serious. Even sombre.
It seemed out of place at such a festive occasion.
Frau Elke certainly did Christmas celebrations in a different, but rather wonderful way.
Emily stepped further into the room, a floorboard squeaking beneath her borrowed shoe.
Immediately, Henry’s head snapped up, and his green gaze clashed with hers.
The breath left her body in a whoosh, and her heart thumped rapidly.
Why was she still reacting like this to him? It felt as though she were a girl again, with a silly infatuation.
Except it hadn’t been silly. Even when she’d only been on the cusp of womanhood, Emily had known what she was feeling for Henry Roach had been real.
But she would never allow herself to feel anything for a man like her stepfather.
And if her heart wouldn’t cooperate, well, she’d just ignore it.
Henry began to move toward her, and Emily’s heart fluttered, this time in panic.
If he spoke to her now, she’d do something mad like blurt out that she loved him or — or throw herself at him like that other woman had done.
So, without much thought to anything other than escaping, Emily turned on her heel and rushed to the other side of the room.
In the corner by the Tannenbaum, a small group of people were leaning down and staring at a young lady with a bucket in front of her
Emily glanced around the luxurious parlour to see if anyone else thought this was odd.
But no.
The people circling the decorated fir tree where all listening avidly to stories. And the people gazing at the pretty brunette seemed perfectly pleasant and in completely control of their senses.
Emily watched silently as the young lady dropped some sort of stretched material into the bucket.
“Taffy pulling.”
Emily whipped her head round at the sound of Henry’s voice in her ear.
“A Welsh tradition. The lady warms the taffy by the fire, then you pull some off and drop it into a bucket of cold water. Whatever shape the taffy takes, is the letter of the name of your true love.”
Emily’s mouth dried as Henry’s low, deep voice spoke of love.
“How do you know what it is?” she managed to croak.
The crooked smile he gave her would keep her awake for weeks, she knew.
“I had little else to do whilst I waited for you to return but listen to the stories and watch this.” He waved his hand toward the young girl with the bucket.
The memory of the woman he’d been with when she’d walked in flashed into Emily’s mind, ruining her relaxed mood.
“Little else to do?” she asked tartly. “I’m sure your companion from earlier could help you in that department.”
Henry’s grin at her attempt at sophisticated contempt did nothing to improve Emily’s spirits.
“Catty little thing, aren’t you?” he quip
ped, causing her anger to bubble. “But if you must know, I haven’t come here for help in that department for quite some time.”
Emily snorted in a most unladylike fashion.
“Why else would a single young man be here alone?” she asked drily.
“Frau Elke has become something of a friend,” he replied evenly, as though she had any right to know about his private business. “And I was stopping by to wish her a merry Christmas when I became stranded by the storm.”
“Oh,” was all she managed to respond. She believed him, though maybe she shouldn’t. He seemed sincere. And the truth was, she wanted to believe him. Desperately.
“When I was a young man, I was a — uh — visitor here,” he continued. “But I haven’t been for quite some time. That is the truth.”
Emily’s cheeks flamed with a mixture of pleasure, acute embarrassment at discussing such things, and a whole host of other emotions she couldn’t begin to sort her way through.
“Really, Mr. Roache. It is hardly appropriate for you to speak of such things to me. Why are you telling me this?”
Henry studied her for so long that she began to shift nervously on her feet.
Finally, he smiled, and it was so tender it took her breath away.
“It has suddenly become vitally important to me that you know the reason I’m here. That you know I am a good, honest man who is nothing like your stepfather.”
Emily’s jaw dropped in surprise.
How could he know that she’d been worried about that very thing not sixty minutes ago?
Confused by his astuteness, and more pleased than she should be at his wanting to reassure her, Emily turned away and concentrated on the taffy pulling, if only as a distraction from the man beside her and the feelings he was awakening.
To her surprise, as she watched, the taffy began to twist and curl until it made the shape of a letter.
It was amazing.
The young lady looked up then and Emily was struck again by how pretty she was, her dark eyes shining, her face open and friendly.
Emily didn’t know what came over her; it felt as though something was pulling her toward the now vacant seat in front of the lady.
Without a word, she sat in the chair and watched as the brunette pulled and stretched the material heated by the fire.
Chapter 5
Henry watched the candlelight dance across Emily’s golden curls, turning them to liquid sunshine.
His throat dried as he clenched his fist to resist reaching out to stroke one of the loosened tendrils.
His mind was alive with curiosity about how she’d come to be here. Alone.
His heart hammered when he thought of the trouble she might have found herself in.
Yet she was here. Safe.
He couldn’t have said why it had been so important to him to tell her that he wasn’t involved with any of Frau Elke’s girls.
He hadn’t lived as a monk. To pretend so would have been a lie, and he didn’t want to lie to Emily.
But it was imperative that she know he wasn’t that man anymore.
Henry smiled a little as he thought of that haughty face she’d made.
Quiet, sweet Emily Harris had quite the backbone.
And that made her even more attractive to him. So much so that to be near her caused an almost physical ache.
He watched silently as the brunette chattered to Emily, showing her what to do.
Henry’s heart began to hammer as Emily’s taffy piece dropped into the cold water.
He wasn’t one for believing in these types of traditions, yet he found himself worrying as his eyes remained riveted to a damned piece of toffee.
It shifted and curled and took eons to settle, and when it finally did, Henry felt the smile of victory spread across his face.
Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but when he looked at Emily, he couldn’t help but think that she looked as happy about her letter as he felt.
For there, floating in the water, somehow the taffy had made his initial.
“What’s taking so long?” Amos asked impatiently.
“So long?” the angel smiled. “They’ve only just seen each other again. Have patience.”
“But look at their hearts,” he argued. “Look what they’re feeling.”
The angel shook her head.
“They cannot see what we see here, Amos. You know this. And they cannot see what the other person feels.”
“But they are soulmates,” he argued stubbornly. “Look how their souls are desperate to connect.”
“And so they shall, when their hearts are ready,” the angel said, serenely but firmly. “We do not interfere with human feelings, Amos,” she warned. “We do not interfere with free will.”
Sir Amos sighed but nodded his understanding.
He had done all he could.
He had helped his daughter to find her true love.
He had helped Henry to find his.
The love they would share was the life-changing kind. The kind that very few humans ever really got to experience.
He’d never had it himself.
But he’d done all he could.
Now, he could only watch over them and hope that they would figure it out.
It didn’t mean anything.
Emily stared at the decorated Tannenbaum, at the candlelight and the firelight, and everything that made Frau Elke’s parlour seem so magical.
The storm was finally dying down, thank goodness.
A quick glance at Frau Elke’s clock said that Christmas Day was rapidly approaching.
At the stroke of midnight, in fact.
Who would have thought she would be spending Christmas with Henry Roache?
It had been a dream of hers since girlhood.
And now, somehow, he was back in her life.
When the taffy had shaped itself into Henry’s initial, Emily had been ecstatic, though it was silly to feel that way.
Of course it was silly.
A piece of toffee didn’t mean that Henry loved her or that they would spend their lives together.
But her foolish heart would not be reasoned with.
The love she’d harboured for him all these years was flowing through her and was impossible to stem.
She slipped out of the parlour into the blessedly quiet hallway.
The brightly lit drawing room lent some light so she wasn’t completely in the dark.
Perhaps she could slip away to the bedchamber Frau Elke had been kind enough to provide for her?
Nobody would notice, and after a good night’s sleep, she would awake with a clear mind and the ability to focus on more than Henry Roache.
“Escaping?”
As though her thoughts had conjured him, there he was.
Emily turned and smiled up at him, hoping her face didn’t give her thoughts away.
“I’m tired,” she said quietly. “It has been an eventful day.”
Henry lifted a hand and cupped her face, his thumb smoothing along her cheekbone, causing her blood to burst into flames.
“Emily,” he said hoarsely. “Please, tell me how you came to be here. What is going on? Where’s your mother?”
He could hardly expect her to concentrate on stringing a sentence together when he was touching her like that!
But she would have to try.
“Our carriage wheel broke on the road, and my mother was heading back to an inn we had passed when I — when I—“
“When you ran away,” he finished, and he sounded so disapproving that her temper flared.
“Yes, I ran away,” she said hotly. “They were dragging me to Canterbury to marry Blechly’s ancient, lecherous cousin. And I won’t be treated as a means to a bigger title or more wealth.”
Henry’s eyes grew icy, and he dropped his hand from her face. She tried not to miss it.
“Marry you off?” he asked, and he suddenly sounded furious.
“Marry me off,” she confirmed. “And I have no inte
ntions of being married to a man who is as bad as, if not worse, than my horrid stepfather. So, so I left. I am going to go to London and get my inheritance and live as far away from Blechly as I can manage. But the storm got so bad, and I was lost, and freezing, and—“ She was embarrassed to admit just how helpless she’d felt, but it was cathartic to be able to tell the whole sorry tale. “And I was scared,” she admitted.
She glanced up at him quickly before concentrating her gaze on his cravat.
Henry had left his family home and travelled to London, and Europe, and all sorts of exotic places growing his business interests. He was adventurous and courageous and free.
“I’m not brave,” she continued. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never done anything even remotely exciting. I’m a coward. So, so I was terrified, if you must know. And when I saw the lights from Frau Elke’s house, I was so relieved. I’ll wait out the storm and then I’ll go and get my money and live alone, and happy, and away from the viscount.”
Henry didn’t speak, and Emily was too scared to look up at him.
What if he decided to march her back to her mother? What if he thought she was mad, or selfish, or childish for running away?
The feel of his hand at her chin shocked her, and when he tipped her face up to meet his gaze, she complied.
“You are brave,” he said softly, surprising her. “Perhaps a little foolish to run into a snowstorm,” he smiled. “But you are no coward. And I am more glad than I can say that you ran from your carriage to Frau Elke’s, and that I was here to meet you.”
Emily’s heart was thumping so loudly, she was surprised it wasn’t echoing around the hallway.
“So, you can escort me back to my mother?” she asked breathlessly.
His grin was positively wolfish.
“No,” he said softly. “Because seeing you again, seeing what a beautiful, courageous woman you’ve grown into, has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Emily gasped aloud at his words.
“We’ve only just met again after all these years,” he continued. “And I know it’s foolish. I know it seems insane, but I feel like we were meant to meet again on this night, Emily. I feel like my heart, my soul, want nothing more than to belong to you.”
