Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

E mily found herself nearly too distracted to focus on the conversation at hand. She wanted to see more of what Bath had to offer, having never traveled there before herself. She wanted to continue talking with the very interesting Mr. Martin. But her thoughts were continuously pulled back to the moment before in the street with her husband. He had been about to kiss her. And she wanted it desperately, but it terrified her just as much. She had mentioned their conversation on the beach in Brighton, and she needed an answer to that question before they could make any progress in their relationship. Which could not happen while they were out with his family.

So she forced herself to focus on the conversation at hand.

"How is it that you met Mrs. Martin?" Emily asked, as they strolled down the street arm in arm, the tail end of their caravan.

"Ah, you will have to ask her for the story. She will tell it much better." He spoke with a beautiful Spanish accent, a different emphasis on hard and soft syllables.

"And how long have you lived in England?"

"I suppose those stories are somewhat connected," he said, nodding with acceptance. "I was a merchant in Cadiz, and I had met young Alex during his Grand Tour. We kept in touch, and he wrote to me of opportunities to expand my business in Bristol. It was some years later that I came to visit him in Bath, which is when I met his mother, who had recently been widowed. She was so beautiful and charming; it was impossible to resist her."

With a sigh, Emily said, "You tell the story very well yourself, Mr. Martin."

"Is that you, Mrs. Westcott?"

Emily froze in her steps, immediately recognizing the sound of the voice behind her. It belonged to a person she never thought she would have to face again, but of course he would be in Bath.

Mr. Evans.

She slowly turned and faced him. "How do you do, Mr. Evans?" she asked in a timid voice she hardly recognized.

"I am very well, only surprised to see you here." He shuffled on his feet. "What brings you to Bath?"

Emily swallowed with great difficulty. "I am visiting my husband's family. This is Mr. Martin, my father-in-law."

Mr. Martin nodded in greeting, but he must have noted her discomfort, for he leaned in to whisper, "Do you not wish to see him? We can go, if you wish."

The familiar turn of phrase made Emily smile, as well as his genuine concern. "It is all right."

She looked over her shoulder, almost wishing for her husband to come rescue her, but perhaps this was something she needed to face alone. And she considered that maybe being out in society in Bath was not the best idea after all, for she had no control who would see her, who would see Alex, who would ask questions. Anyone might somehow learn or reveal her truth, but she couldn't stay hidden forever. Though that did not keep her from standing on shaky legs.

"How goes your stay in Bath?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting to carry on the conversation any longer than necessary.

"Very well. It is a lovely place to visit." Mr. Evans held his hat humbly in his hands, and as Emily took in the sight of him, she had expected a quickening of her pulse, or a return of the desire to hold his hand as she had once before. He had once been her only desire, but those feelings had thankfully faded away completely. She had not thought of him in ages, and the sight of him made her feel absolutely nothing.

Nothing compared to the way Alex made her feel.

She used to consider Mr. Evans so handsome, but as her affection for him had run dry, he appeared to her as any other normal man. She had once considered him the most perfect possible option for her, but now, she would not trade her husband for the world. Even with all their flaws and difficulties, Alex Westcott was the one she wanted.

"And how do you find it? Are you happy here?" He paused, taking a breath. "Happy with your husband?"

His last question should not have surprised her, but it did. He did not sound bitter or cross, and seemed to speak out of genuine curiosity. Yet she didn't know how to answer him. She and Alex were so close to an understanding, so close to happiness, and yet Emily would choose that over whatever comfortable life she might have had with Mr. Evans. That had to have meant something.

"Now doesn't this look cozy?"

Emily's head whirled around to where her husband stood with his mother.

"There you are." Mrs. Martin said, coming to claim her husband. "Let's let these young people talk amongst themselves." Then they walked forward toward the open shop where the sisters had entered.

Without hesitation, Emily moved to Alex's side, being very obvious about taking his hand. "Mr. Evans had seen us in the street and only wished to inquire after old friends," she explained, then she gave a false smile to the visitor. "We are very happy together, to be sure."

Alex squeezed her hand in return but said nothing as he stared the man down.

"And I am very glad to hear it. I wish you both very well. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Bath." Then he bowed in departure, continuing in the opposite direction.

Emily remained still, clinging to Alex's hand, should he decide to lash out after the man. But instead, he looked down at her in concern.

"Are you all right?" Alex mumbled.

"I am well."

He tugged on her hand, drawing her attention up. "Are you certain?"

Emily nodded. "I didn't expect anything to happen, but I'm grateful you came when you did."

"Ever your rescuer," he said with a smirk.

"I think thus far, it has been the opposite, wouldn't you agree?" she asked in a tease.

But suddenly, all teasing was gone from her when he lifted his hand, her chin gently held by his thumb and forefinger. Her lips voluntarily parted to draw additional needed breath, and his thumb brushed over her bottom lip in a torturous, delicate motion.

And was it her imagination, or was he leaning in closer?

"What are you doing?" she asked in a strangled whisper.

"Your lover is looking back." His voice had taken a deep, unrecognizable tone, one that would have left Emily in a trance, were it not for his inference.

"He is not my lover," she managed to say, standing firm in her stance.

Alex dropped his gaze to her mouth. "Then who is?"

You are, she wanted to say. The words were ready on her tongue.

Emily looked up into his terrifically dark eyes, wanting nothing more than for him to close this distance between them. She could feel his breath on her lips, feel the brush of his nose against hers; they were that close. In the middle of the street in Bath, without a care for reputation.

But then screaming to the forefront of her mind was the reminder of not only her reputation, but also his. Which renewed her fear of scandal, ruination, and societal damnation.

Not only that, but she didn't want him to kiss her for show. She wanted him to kiss her out of sincerity, out of desire, for her heart could not survive on anything else. She could not secure her heart as his with a kiss, only to give him ample opportunity to break it.

"Alex, wait, please." The tiny voice escaped her before she could fathom its meaning.

To her great disappointment, he pulled back, and she could see his regret as well. There was no escaping the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she caught her breath, wishing she could say something to ease the pain in his eyes.

But he simply nodded and said, "No, perhaps you are right." Then he gently pulled her to his side. "Come, let us join the others."

Emily returned to their party with a clenched jaw. They could not go on like this any longer. She wanted to finish the conversation they had started earlier, and more than anything, she wanted to be the recipient of his kiss once more, if he truly cared for her. But she would never know if they could actually end up happy together with the torment of her secret. She would have to tell him, here in Bath, without waiting to speak with the duke. She would have to be done with it once and for all.