Read Ghosts of Winters Past Online
Authors: Christy Graham Parker
Ghosts of Winters Past (3 page)
Three
Henry gazed over the crowd in the Duponts
’
ballroom the next night. He was certain his request for Emma and her family to be invited had been granted, but he didn’t know if they would come. The Duponts
’
masquerade ball marked the start of the Christmas season and everyone who mattered would be in attendance. That alone might be reason enough for Emma to stay away. If he’d called on her earlier in the day, he probably would know. Instead, he’d stayed away.
He had, however, sent her a mask to wear. It might be viewed by some as highly inappropriate, but he wanted to know who she was the moment she arrived.
He searched the crowd again. Surely she would come. A mask ball would be the perfect way to ease her back into society.
A blonde woman with a pink mask walked past, assessing him. He didn’t think he knew her. Maybe she was Blakemore’s daughter. He purposed himself to stay away.
He glanced to the doorway and his breath caught.
She had arrived.
The golden mask, edged with tiny pearls, looked stunning paired with her red hair. His eyes traveled down the rest of her outfit. She’d chosen an ivory gown. Every inch of her looked beautiful.
He walked to stand before her and bowed. “Lady Emma.”
Her chin lifted. “Your
g
race.”
There was a slight tremble to her voice. His heart broke knowing how scared she must be.
“I’m so pleased you came,” he said.
“Mother and Father insisted.”
He tried to ignore the sharp pain her words inflicted upon his heart. “In that case, I’m so pleased they insisted you
come
. You look beautiful.”
The hand holding her mask shook just a bit. “Thank you.”
He held out his arm. “Come walk with me.”
They made their way along the edges of the dance floor. Every so often he risked a glance at her. Her eyes never stopped moving as she looked over the crowd. He’d hoped that walking would help ease her nerves, but her hand kept a vise-like grip on his arm.
“So many people,” she said at one point.
“No need to fret. No one can tell who you are with the mask on. We can leave before the reveal if you like.”
She stopped walking. “You did this on purpose. The masquerade was your way to get me out in public.”
He couldn’t tell if she was angry or not, so he answered her simply. “Did you just now reach that conclusion?”
“I was so angry at my parents for making me come, I didn’t think on it overmuch.”
He wanted to please her. He’d hoped the ball would somehow show her that he wanted to spend time with her.
“Thank you,” she
whispered,
so softly he almost missed it.
For just a moment, her shield dropped, and he saw her. The woman she
had been
five years ago
w
asn’t gone after all. She was just buried. He knew in that second he’d do anything in his power to see her brought fully back to life.
Unfortunately, the room was crowded. People stood everywhere
;
talking, dancing, and watching. It was a favorite game at such events
—
trying to guess who was who under the masks. He and Emma were drawing their fair share of stares. But it wasn’t time yet for society to make the acquaintance of his partner.
“Shall we go outside?” he asked.
Behind her mask, her eyes narrowed.
“Not like that,” he hastened to explain. “Just there. Beyond the open doors. It will be completely acceptable.”
The back of the ballroom
boasted
a set of windows and two doors, both of which were opened to the outdoors. From what he could tell, no one was taking advantage of the out of doors, perhaps because of the cold. But it would be almost private and no one could say it was improper.
“Please. I wish to spend some time alone with you.”
A flash of knowledge crossed her face. Time alone had been what got them to this point in the first place. Had he not seen her previous expression of acknowledgement, he’d never
have
worked
up
the nerve. But it had been there and standing just so with her, even surrounded by people, the night seemed almost magical.
“Yes,” she said quietly, her response all but lost in the constant low-level hum of the crowd.
How one simple word made his heart race, he wasn’t sure. Using all of his considerable self-control, he led her through the crowd. He nodded at this person and that, not attempting to make eye contact. He hoped he and Emma blended in and that their exit would be unnoticed.
“It’s colder out here than I thought it would be,” she said once they made it outside.
He didn’t want to go back inside, so he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He couldn’t help brushing his fingers over the nape of her neck as he did so. She trembled and turned so they remained almost touching.
It
seemed as if the temperature rose by ten degrees.
“Thank you…
Henry.”
He reached up and traced the line of her cheekbone. “Emma.”
But he moved no
closer,
for they were dancing dangerously near the edge. He wanted to bring her back into society, not drag her out of it even further. With a sigh, he pulled back.
“I hate balls,” he said.
She walked to the rail and looked over the lawn below. “I enjoyed them. Before.”
He closed his eyes. It was time.
“I was a fool,” he said.
She turned back, facing him. “So you said, yet you never explained.”
“I allowed my father to control my actions.”
“Your father?”
“Yes, he threatened to disinherit me if I didn’t leave for the Continent.”
“He did? Why?”
Had he not asked himself
that
very question every day for the last five years? Even five years later, with his father dead, he had no answers.
“He never said and I was too afraid to challenge him. But believe me, Emma, I always planned to come back to you.”
“Those are just words,” she said, her voice filled with pain. “You’re only here because your father died. What if he had lived for fifteen more years?”
“I would like to think I wouldn’t wait fifteen years.”
“And yet you waited five.”
So he had. There was no excuse for it.
“At the very least you could have sent a letter. Something.”
“You didn’t get my letters?”
“What letters?”
“Emma, I wrote every week for two years.”
“I never got the first one.”
“I have no reason to lie at this point.”
Of course, the truth was, he had every reason to lie and she knew it. The silence hung heavy between them.
“If you believe nothing I’ve ever said to you,” he
took a step closer
,
“
b
elieve this
.
I wrote those letters. And sent them by post.”
“Someone is being deceitful.”
He said no more. He had spoken the truth
. I
t was up to her whether or not she’d believe him. If he said more, he would seem desperate.
She frowned. “Your father could not have kept your letters from me. Which means someone in my house did so.”
It seemed to be the reasonable deduction to make. As much as he would have liked to, his father couldn’t have intercepted mail addressed to Emma. And it wasn’t possible every piece of post had been lost. But to insinuate the culprit resided in Emma’s house? If it were true…
“My mother or father,” she said, reaching the same conclusion he had. “But why?”
He watched as her expression changed. Little by little, he saw the recognition cross her face that all was not as she’d always assumed. He knew the feeling well,
as
he’d gone through the same process five years ago when his father gave his directive.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not wishing for anyone in his acquaintance to experience what he had. He had been young then, but he remembered feeling as if his entire life had been a lie.
She sniffled and wiped her nose. “It’s not your fault.”
“Would that it were. Then perhaps I could do something about it.”
He did not envy her the days to come. Days when she would either have to confront her parents or bury and deny her feelings. Either option would bring her pain
,
and she had already dealt with enough pain.
He glanced back inside and a temporary solution hit him. “Dance with me.”
She looked at him as if he’d just asked her to fly to the moon. “I beg your pardon?”
“Dance with me.”
“What? Here?”
“It is a ball.”
“You’re quite mad.” Finally, her eyes had lost that pained look.
He couldn’t help the grin he knew covered his face. “You wouldn’t be the first to call me that. Do you waltz?”
She gasped. “Now I know for a fact that you’re mad.”
“Right. The waltz is still considered inappropriate here. I’d forgotten.”
“You waltz?”
“I learned on the Continent.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I could teach you.”
She didn’t say anything, so he reached to take her in his arms.
She slapped at his hands. “Not here.”
“Does that mean I can teach you somewhere else?”
“Maybe.”
Excitement pounded through his veins. She was flirting with him.
He put an arm around her
, d
rawing her close. “Maybe? That sounds almost like a yes.”
She dropped her mask and brushed his shoulder. “Dangerous? Yes. Though I fear I’m the mad one.”
He spun them around. “You? Never.”
“With you? Always.”
They came to a stop and he looked into her eyes. “There’s my Emma.”
Her face flushed. So beautiful when paired with her hair. “Please,
y
our
g
race.”
He placed a finger over her lips. “Sh
h
. Henry.”
She looked over his shoulder to the ballroom behind him. “We should go back inside before we’re missed.”
“Call me Henry.”
She lifted her chin, but answered in a whisper, “Henry.”
He wanted so badly to kiss her. To see if her lips tasted as sweet as he remembered. But she’d trusted him so far and he would not damage that trust. With a heavy
heart,
he released her and held out his arm. “Let me escort you back inside.”
She shrugged out of his jacket
,
and they silently went about the business of returning to real life.
****
Emma lay awake in the darkness of the night, replaying the evening’s events. She could not fathom the woman she
had become
outside with Henry. It reminded her too much of who she
had been
and what she’d done five years ago. It scared her that Henry held that much power over her.
She flipped onto her belly. She’d not worked up the nerve to approach her parents about Henry’s letters. Assuming, of course, that there had been letters. She felt almost certain that he had told the truth. She’d not been able to detect any deceit when he
’d
told her about them.
The next day he would be coming by to pick her up at ten to take her on an outing. He was stopping by the orphanage first to pick up a few of the older boys and Bess. He certainly knew how to get on her good side. But though she was excited to be going out with the children, she knew she’d much rather be going out alone with him.
Maybe she would talk with her mother in the morning. She didn’t think she would come
right out
and ask about the letters, but she could probably work up the courage to ask indirectly.
Enough.
Time enough for worrying about her parents and missing letters later. As she shifted into sleep, she allowed her thoughts to wander from worries to how it felt to be in Henry’s arms again.
****
The morning dawned cold and bright with a fresh layer of snow dusting everything and blanketing the outdoors in a beautiful, serene scene. Emma couldn’t suppress
her laughter
as she imagined half a dozen boys running around and the footprints they’d leave in their wake.
With memories of the previous night running through her mind, she went about picking out her outfit. Red, she decided. Henry had always liked her in red. Another laugh bubbled up. Her lady’s maid gave her a perplexed look, but didn’t say anything. Perhaps because it had been such a long time since Emma started the day with laughter. Or
had
laughed during any part of the day.
Once dressed, she made her way to the dining room. Her merriment ceased when she saw her mother eating.
The letters.
Straightening her shoulders, she walked to the table.
“Good morning,
M
other.”
“Emmaline, dear, you look radiant.”
She acknowledged the compliment with a nod. “The Duke of Salle is coming by at ten to pick me up.”
A servant placed a plate down in front of her. The joy of seeing Henry again was overshadowed by the fact someone in her own family had deceived her. Suddenly, her appetite was gone.
“His
g
race always was a nice boy. He’s become a handsome young man.” Her mother seemed blissfully unaware that anything was amiss.
Emma picked at her eggs. She should eat something. It would be embarrassing if her stomach rumbled while she was out with Henry.
Across the table, her mother was gazing out the window and stirring her tea.
“Do you think it strange
h
is
g
race never wrote me while he was on the Continent?” Emma studied her mother, searching for any sign of recognition or guilt. Anything that would give away a part in keeping her estranged from Henry. Her mother’s eyebrows wrinkled as though she were contemplating the question, but nothing appeared questionable in her demeanor.
“Men are always odd in their ways,” her mother finally said. “Who knows why they do what they do?”
“But to be gone for five years and then show up so
…
determined.”
“That’s not at all odd
. I
t’s normal. Most men are quite determined. Your father certainly was.”
She didn’t want to talk about her father
. S
he wanted to keep the focus on Henry and why someone would have wanted to keep them apart for five years.
“Where is
F
ather?” It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him not to be at breakfast, but she realized she hadn’t seen him much of late.
Not since Henry
had returned,
that
was
.
“He went out with his new steward this morning. Something about contracts.”
When her mother put it that way, it didn’t seem at all strange her father had been out of sight. He had much to do with his new employee.
“What are you and
h
is
g
race doing today?”
“We’re going to go for a ride with some of the older boys from the home. Bess is coming with us.”
“I never did like you spending all that time with those children. I hope now that someone is showing an interest in you, you’ll spend time with those of your own age and station.”
And just like that, she felt it reasonable to think her mother had nothing to do with the missing letters. Surely she could not have been the one to hide Henry’s letters if she was so happy Emma was spending time with him.
“Mother, you know I enjoy my time at the
orphanage
. I’m not going to stop just because some man is back in London.”
“He is not some man.”
She wasn’t in the mood to hear a lecture from her mother on Henry. Not with the memory of his arms around her still so fresh she could almost feel them. What would her mother say if she’d seen her outside last night?
Not only that, what would she say if Emma admitted she was counting down to when she might feel his arms again?