Chapter Twenty-Six

Once Miss Barton had recovered from her illness, Alvaro suggested they all go out to the pleasure gardens at Vauxhall. He said it was because the weather would be turning soon, but Emma suspected he had ulterior motives when he couldn't stop chuckling to himself. Though generally a jovial man, this was different. When he made the suggestion after reading a letter that had come in at breakfast, Tabitha shot him a look of surprise but quickly agreed when he pierced her with a stare.

There was most assuredly more to his plans than a simple excursion.

"I hardly care about the reason," Miss Barton said when Emma told her about her suspicions. She sat in front of a mirror, directing her maid as to how to do her hair for the excursion. "I am still angry that I missed my chance to meet a duke! If only I could be so well liked as you, Miss Mackenzie. Perhaps you will draw him back in at Vauxhall and I can be introduced!"

Even if the Duke of Tipton were there, Emma hardly wished to introduce him to sweet Miss Barton. The moment Emma had met the man—without a formal introduction, no less—she had seen his charm as nothing more than a mask to hide the scoundrel underneath. His Grace made Nick look like a saint by comparison.

"Have you truly given up on Mr. Forester, then?" Emma asked, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt.

Miss Barton glanced at her in the mirror, her eyes narrowed. "I gave up on him as anything more than a friend just after coming to London. Why?"

Emma didn't exactly have an answer, not knowing where the question had come from, but she tried. "You were so enamored of him in Tutbury, and you spoke so highly of him the other day."

Miss Barton's lips pulled into a smile that made Emma nervous. "I will always admire the man, but my affection has, er, shifted." As her eyes darted to her jewelry box, Emma sat up a little straighter.

"Shifted where?"

Though Miss Barton laughed, the sound was shrill. Nervous. "Oh, nowhere in particular. It isn't as if a letter is the same as courting someone."

"A letter? Miss Barton, a courtship is exactly what a letter would mean. Are you writing to someone?"

"Come. We are going to be late!" Miss Barton leaped up and grabbed Emma's hand, pulling her to the door. "And it is probably time we stop being so formal around each other. You should call me Catherine."

Emma's thoughts were still stuck on the fact that Miss Barton—Catherine—was apparently harboring a secret love for someone at a distance. When had that happened? And how had she managed it? Surely Alvaro would have been concerned to learn his cousin was exchanging letters with a man when they were not engaged, which meant he likely didn't know. But all correspondence should have gone through him, unless Catherine had bribed one of the servants.

Catherine must have sensed Emma's wild thoughts because she moaned and pulled her into the empty music room. "I know," she whispered, wringing her hands. "I shouldn't have even entertained the idea, but we left for London so suddenly. And I thought, since he is your relation, there wouldn't be any harm in—"

"Elias?" Emma choked out his name in complete bewilderment. "You're writing to my cousin?"

Shushing her, Catherine watched the door for a moment, as if to make sure they were still alone. "I am as shocked as you are, Emma."

"I highly doubt that."

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Catherine looked so terrified that Emma knew she would never be able to share this secret. At least she knew Elias would never do anything to compromise the woman, though she would be giving her cousin a stern talking-to when she saw him next. It wasn't the strangest pairing she had ever seen, but it was high on the list.

Sighing, Emma squeezed Catherine's hand. "Your secret is safe. But I need you to be careful. I wouldn't want to see you forced into something you're not ready for. Either of you."

Catherine rewarded her concern with an embrace that knocked the wind out of her. "Thank you! And you're right. I will tell him in my next letter that we cannot sneak around any longer. If he wishes to court me, he must do it in the open." Then she tucked her arm through Emma's and led the way to the entrance hall to meet the others.

Catherine was still glued to Emma's side when they ran into Nick at Vauxhall, something that seemed to cause him a good deal of alarm, his eyes momentarily going wide. By the time he greeted Alvaro and Tabitha, however, he had managed to control his expression, smiling instead of looking ready to run.

"Ladies," he said, giving them a bow.

Emma did her best to curtsy with her arm locked with Catherine's, though she wasn't sure she managed it. "Mr. Forester."

"Quite a coincidence meeting you here," Alvaro said loudly.

Tabitha smacked his arm.

Ah, so he had wanted to come to Vauxhall to meet up with Nick. It made sense, though Emma wasn't sure why it had turned into an entire family excursion. Just as she didn't understand why Alvaro had told her she had a visitor the other day when Nick had been completely surprised to see her. She was beginning to suspect her brother-in-law thought he saw something that wasn't there and was playing his hand at being the worst matchmaker in the world.

"Who is your friend?" Catherine asked Nick.

Emma hadn't even noticed the man behind Nick, which was a bit ridiculous, considering that he stood several inches above Nick, who was by no means small. She must have been distracted by the look on Nick's face when they'd first arrived.

Stepping aside to allow his companion some space, Nick said, "This is Mr. George Seymour. I bumped into him earlier today and thought he might be interested in meeting you." His eyes landed on Emma before he added, "Both of you ladies."

"I am not sure why," Mr. Seymour muttered as he bowed.

Emma pursed her lips, unsure whether she should be scowling or laughing. If Nick truly wanted to get her married off and out of his way, he was going to have to try a lot harder than this. It was a miracle he still didn't know about Grandfather's marriage requirement for her, though she suspected he would still try to convince her to concede should she, by some miracle, find a match and earn the inheritance. Assuming she found a man with his own income, Nick would argue it was only fair that he have a living as well.

At this point, Emma was almost considering concession anyway, which didn't keep her stomach from tying itself into knots as she looked at the way Nick's eyes danced. If the likes of Nick Forester could find her someone worth marrying, he would deserve that inheritance and more.

"Yes, I suppose neither is a diamond of the first water," Nick said, giving Emma an examining look.

She might have felt offense, like Catherine clearly did as she wilted, but there was nothing serious in the man's expression. Choosing to say nothing, Emma was curious to hear Mr. Seymour's response.

He took his time, looking over both young women. Then he straightened, his chin in the air. "You're quite wrong about that, Forester. Both ladies are of the highest beauty."

Nick seemed on the verge of laughter, and Emma was quite certain she had figured out Mr. Seymour's character. She wanted to test her theory. "Mr. Seymour, it is lovely to meet you. And on such a pleasant evening."

He sniffed. "Actually, I find it rather muggy tonight."

"At least the gardens are beautiful this time of year," she said.

"If you appreciate dead foliage, then yes, but I am more interested in the spring and summer months."

"We were just walking the gardens," Emma said. "Are you fond of walking, like I am?"

"Not especially."

"A pity. I have rather been enjoying myself." Extricating herself from Catherine's hold, Emma slid her arm through Nick's before he could make any kind of protest. "Care to join me, Mr. Forester?"

He still held back laughter, enough amusement in his eyes to render him more handsome than usual. "I would like nothing better. Seymour, I know you do not enjoy walking, but Miss Barton—"

"I will gladly escort her."

Tugging Nick forward until they were a comfortable distance from the others, Emma burst into laughter, pleased when Nick joined in with her. And then she smacked his arm. "You are horrible!"

He held up his free hand, putting on an expression of innocence so far from believable that it made her laugh again. "I don't see what the problem is, Emma. Mr. Seymour is a man with his own opinions, which I know you value dearly, and he is tall. As far as I am aware, he is exactly what you—"

"You know very well that I require more than that to even think of considering a man. You are only making me less inclined to marry!"

Nick glanced behind them, likely to ensure they hadn't walked so far as to be out of sight. "I suppose you are right, but considering you refused to tell me more, I've had to come to my own conclusions. I happened upon Seymour this afternoon and couldn't help myself. He is a rather disagreeable fellow, but—"

"You are insufferable, Mr. Forester."

"And you deserve to be doted upon, I know."

Emma paused, thrown by that comment. But Nick seemed perfectly serious, like he meant every word. "Thank you," she said after a long while.

His arm tightened around hers ever so slightly, though he didn't seem to be aware he had done it. "I will find you a husband and convince you that you are wrong about marriage, Emma."

How long had he been using her Christian name? She hadn't noticed until now, which should have alarmed her. But her name on Nick's tongue felt familiar. She could almost picture a future with someone speaking her name with so much love and affection, something she'd never truly dared hope for. Nick seemed to think it was not only possible but likely.

Emma cleared her throat, trying to stay focused on the conversation instead of imagining a life in which she had someone who loved her. "Even if Mr. Seymour was only for your own amusement, you clearly have no idea what sort of man I—"

"Clever, kind, intelligent, slow to anger, honest. Am I close?"

Emma gaped at him, as she had not told him any of that. She hadn't even formed a list for herself, though she would appreciate all the things he listed. "Well, yes," she admitted. "Though, I do not believe such a man exists."

Nick grinned, making her heart pick up speed. He had always been handsome, but ever since she'd ruined his reputation, he had looked different. More open, less pretentious. There was something else in his expression as well, something almost mournful beneath the happiness. "I am certain he exists, Emma. Somewhere out there is a man who would give everything he possessed to make you happy. Excuse me."

The rest of the group reached them just then, and he gave her a bow before wandering off, leaving her completely befuddled.

"Odd fellow," Mr. Seymour said, clear judgment in his eyes as he watched Nick go.

Emma couldn't have disagreed more. A mystery, yes, but Nick Forester was anything but odd. In fact, she found him the most interesting man she had ever known, and she was desperate to know more.