Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

E mily had never experienced such a sensation of casually strolling in public with a gentleman, let alone her husband, but she found it most invigorating. Emily had her hand tucked in the crook of Alex's arm as they walked through the streets of Brighton that were bustling with crowds in the sunshine. It thrilled her that such a thing was acceptable, that he was not opposed, that they could smile at passersby, or linger at window displays, or comment on the beauty of their scenic ocean backdrop, and it would be completely normal. She wanted to enjoy it.

But all of this was overshadowed by the lingering concerns in the back of her mind. She wondered if every passerby knew of her scandalous origins, if some store owner had heard the truth from a visiting nobleman from London, if her husband would abandon her there on the shoreline once he knew where she came from. She tried to smile and take in the beauties of Brighton, to appreciate her brief moments of happiness, but it all felt a lie. She was living a lie, and the happiness she was experiencing would no doubt be taken from her at any given moment .

"Shall we walk closer to the beach?" Alex asked, looking down at her with a sparkle in his eyes.

She could not deny him, though her worries for his health still lingered. "Are you feeling up for it?"

He patted her hand that was tucked in his arm. "I am not fragile, Mrs. Westcott. I will survive a jaunt in the sand."

Together they walked away from the city streets toward the emptier spaces near the water's edge. She was ever conscious of the men more properly dressed to rush into the oncoming waves, and farther down on a separate part of the beach, the bathing machines for women to change privately and enjoy the water away from the public eye. Emily and Alex walked in the opposite direction, where she thought on what he'd said. How he still called her Mrs. Westcott.

"I suppose you ought to call me Emily," she said, breath tight in her throat and making the words come out uneven. "If we are to be friends going forward."

He slowed his steps and looked down at her. "You needn't feel obligated. I won't pressure you for something against your will."

"It's only fair, considering you gave me leave to call you Alex."

He examined her for a moment, his eyes searching her face, before he nodded. "Very well. Thank you for the privilege, Emily."

Her name on his lips caused gooseflesh to break out on her skin, which she ignored as they continued walking.

Only then was she able to relax her shoulders and fully appreciate their current surroundings. She was delighted by the call of the seagulls in the air, and the little seashells that dotted the shoreline. The spray of the waves and the warm sunshine felt invigorating against her cheeks, and as they neared the large cliffs ahead of them, Emily was ready to protest if he suggested they go back .

"Perhaps we should go explore the rocks by the cliffs," he said instead.

"Yes, that would be lovely."

So onward they pressed, him offering his hand when a step between boulders became too wide or precarious. In some places, the rocks at the bottom of the cliff were small enough to fit in her dress pocket, and in other places they were taller than her husband, statuesque and beautiful, with the salty waves often filling the gaps at their feet.

Emily followed Alex as they strolled, but she nearly walked into his back as he had paused at the corner of the rocks.

"Let's go this way," she said, stepping around him.

"No, wait," he whispered, catching her hand.

It was only when she paused to ask him why did she see the very reason. Hiding around the rocky corner ahead, she spotted a man and a woman, locked in a passionate embrace, pressed up against the cliff wall.

Emily gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth and muffle the sound. Her cheeks burned as she watched, unable to look away. The man's arms had secured the woman by the waist and the side of her face, and she was not in any hurry to get away, the way she clung to his shirt and slid fingers into his hair. Emily's mouth dropped open further as the man moved his lips down to her neck, and though they were still some distance away, the woman let out an audible moan of sheer pleasure.

This was just the sort of thing that would have delighted Lady Whetstone, but thankfully, they were in Brighton, and not in London, so this couple's reputation would remain unscathed.

It felt like a short moment that dragged into eternity, until Alex lightly cleared his throat and whispered, "Perhaps we should leave them to their privacy. "

"Yes, of course." Emily turned immediately and rushed in the opposite direction. She moved blindly at first, not giving any heed to the rocks that were too large or the gaps where she might need to hold her husband's hand to cross. She had been completely distracted by the sight, for it brought back all too familiar memories of her own.

Emily knew exactly what a moment like that felt like.

After passing through the more difficult portions of the rocks, they finally made it back to the sandy beach, with the edges of the cliff guiding them back toward the city. They walked in a careful silence until Alex spoke.

"We can laugh about it now, can we not?"

Emily could not look at him yet, her face still on fire. "Laugh at the couple?"

"No." He cleared his throat. "The moment we shared on the balcony."

Heaven have mercy.

Unable to keep from snapping her head to look at him, she witnessed his own bashful smile, with pink creeping up his neck.

"No, we most certainly cannot laugh about it." Her cheeks burned as she quickened her step to walk past him. There would be no talking about the kiss that found them in their current predicament of being married. No discussion of how many times she'd had to put those passionate moments from her mind. No conversation about wondering what it would feel like if it happened again under different circumstances.

She had not heard when he caught up to her, but he gently took her by the elbow, pausing her steps.

"And why not?" he asked, his tone even and genuinely curious. "Are you ashamed of it? Do you still hate me for it? Or some other reason perhaps?"

Emily had no words. It was the latter, yes, some unspeakable reason she could not laugh about that kiss—because she wanted more. She could have wrenched herself from his grasp at any moment, but she couldn't find the desire. For she wondered if he felt as she did, that perhaps, if they were to try it again, would it engulf her in the same fire she'd felt that night? She could not pull away due to the hope that if she remained silent, he just might attempt it again.

"I feel like I should confess to you, Emily," he said with a lowered voice, taking a step closer toward her, "That I would very much like to kiss you again someday."

His gaze wandered lower to her lips, making her mouth run dry.

Mr. Evans would have never…

Emily thoughtlessly brushed her tongue against her lips, and Alex took another step toward her. She tried to battle with her reason as time ticked on, her husband all the while looking at her like he would devour her at any given moment. Emily tried to remind herself that he had despised her before, that he said he would never fall in love with her. But she could not cling to those thoughts, as they slipped through her fingers, for her single-mindedness could only focus on the possibility of having his lips against hers once more. And heaven help her, if he meant to kiss her, she would let him.

He stepped forward again, forcing Emily to take a step back, and she found herself pressed against the cold rock of the cliff. Her escaping breath stuttered in anticipation, with Alex's determined gaze fixed on her mouth.

The sound of the waves suddenly grew closer and closer, until it crashed around them, frigid saltwater cresting over Alex's back, rushing up the wall of the cliff, and dousing them both, leaving them completely drenched.

Emily gasped repeatedly, her soaking clothes now freezing and clinging to her body. Any possibility of a kiss was immediately forgotten, except for Alex's arms on either side of her bracing against the cliff, letting out heavy breaths near her ear.

"So cold," he huffed, pulling back with a twinkle of delight in his dark brown eyes.

Oh, how she could have consumed him in return, the sight of a playful tease tugging at the corner of his lips. But the cold water had cleared her mind of any such ideas. "We must get back. I can't have you getting sick again."

So she took him by the hand and led him across the beach, ignoring the stares from other beachgoers who were more appropriately dressed.

Emily needed to think through things before they got that close again. She had only narrowly escaped that moment with her heart, but she didn't know how much longer she could keep it safe from him. Or just how long she could keep the truth from him.

If she wanted any chance for their marriage to be successful, the way he wanted them to try, if she truly wanted to live up to the ideology of friendship, then she needed to be honest with him first. They could not establish their relationship on lies, and he deserved to know where she came from, her true origins. She couldn't have some gossip rag out her first. She needed to tell him.

But she had been so horrible to him back at the start of it all. Certainly he would not jump at the chance to be her friend or want her as a wife once he knew. Perhaps it would be better to wait, give him some time to determine her character for himself before his opinion was shadowed by the truth. And it would also give her some time to determine how he would react, and at least prepare herself for it, should the worst happen.

At the very least, she would confer with Isabel and James when they went back to London. They could help her decide the best course of action. The duke had said it would be up to Emily's discretion, but she did not have societal knowledge of how to approach the subject or what to expect. She would need to wait and discuss it with them first.

But until then, that would make sleeping every night in Alex's arms all the more difficult.