Chapter Thirty-Six

Lord and Lady Bartlett were an exceptionally sweet couple who greeted Emma warmly despite them having never met. Lady Bartlett was full of life and energy, her smiles wide and her enthusiasm practically spilling out of her, while her husband seemed the opposite, more subdued and calm. But anyone who looked at them could see the love they felt toward each other, and Emma immediately liked them.

"Are you thinking of spending Christmas here in Town this year, Harstone?" Lord Bartlett asked.

Alvaro chuckled when Tabitha gave him a warning look. "Much as I would like to, we will be returning to Staffordshire until the Season begins." He squeezed Tabitha's hand when she gave him a grateful smile.

While the men began discussing some government policy of sorts, Lady Bartlett took Emma's hand, as if they were old friends. "Are you the Miss Mackenzie that Nicholas Forester is looking for? He arrived ten minutes ago and immediately asked if you were here yet."

Emma's cheeks warmed despite her overwhelm, and she couldn't hold back her smile. "Yes, I suppose that is me. He is here?" She rose up on her toes but couldn't see the ballroom from the entryway.

Lady Bartlett giggled. She was young, but even with her exuberance, she still held the title of viscountess well. "Ah, will there be an engagement in my ballroom tonight? You look as if the sun just came up."

Emma's eyes went wide; she had no idea what to say to that. She could hardly make any assumptions, but then again, the whole point of meeting tonight was to make arrangements so the banns could be read on Sunday. She didn't want Lady Bartlett to start telling everyone that Emma and Nick would be getting engaged tonight, in case another man entirely would be waiting for her on the terrace.

Thankfully, Lord Bartlett seemed to catch on to his wife's enthusiasm and pulled her against his side, giving her a loving look. "Beth, we talked about this."

"Yes, Graham, I know," she said with mock annoyance. "I shouldn't frighten our guests by pretending we are the best of friends." She gave Emma's hand a squeeze, as she hadn't yet released her. "Perhaps we shall become friends in time."

Emma laughed. "I fully plan to live out my days in the country, but you are always welcome to come visit."

"Oh, I do love the country."

Lord Bartlett chuckled. "You hate the country."

Her smile turned softer, all her attention now on her husband as she pressed her fingers to his cheek. "I met you in the country. How could I hate it?"

Laughing as the pair got lost in each other's eyes, Alvaro gestured toward the ballroom. "Shall we?" Once out of earshot, he explained. "They are not yet a year married, and I've been told their story is quite a humorous one."

"I heard they both pretended to be untitled and fell for each other anyway," Catherine added with a sigh. "It all sounds so romantic."

Based on the mild disgust on his face, Elias seemed to disagree. "I don't think anyone should pretend to be something he isn't."

Emma glared at him. It seemed he was still against Nick's potentially dubious methods, and hopefully he would keep his disdain to himself throughout the night.

"Oh look," Catherine said. "There is Mr. Forester!"

Emma's heartbeat doubled in speed when she caught sight of him.

Though he was on the other side of the ballroom talking to the Duke of Tipton, he glanced behind him as if he had heard his name and caught Emma's gaze. He grinned at her and then discreetly pointed to His Grace, widening his eyes in mock awe and mouthing, "It's a duke!"

Emma bit her lip to hold back her laughter, wishing she were at his side instead of all the way over here.

"Good evening, Lord Harstone." A man Emma had met once but couldn't remember pulled her attention away from Nick. "I was wondering if I might ask Miss Mackenzie to join me for the next set."

"Yes, of course, Mr. Lewis," Alvaro said.

Emma reluctantly agreed to the dance, taking Mr. Lewis's arm and reminding herself that she wouldn't be able to spend the whole evening with Nick anyway. She still had several hours before her appointed meeting time on the balcony, and dancing would be her best way to spend those hours before she went mad with anticipation.

But dancing was a mistake.

The moment the men of the ton realized they could dance with the famed Emma Mackenzie, she couldn't get a minute to herself. She danced the supper set with a kind but quiet man who was so nervous that he nearly tripped over her as he led her into the dining hall, and his lack of conversation made it too easy for her to watch Nick laugh with Lady Georgina. Emma didn't especially love that. When supper was over, she hardly had the chance to catch up with Catherine before she was whisked away again for another dance. Even Lord Bartlett stood up with her once, though he wasn't much of a dancer and they spent the set in silence, something Emma actually welcomed after a night filled with tedious small talk.

It wasn't until just before midnight when Emma finally heard the voice she most wanted to hear.

"I believe this next one is promised to me."

Emma could have cried, she was so relieved. Though her current partner seemed reluctant to let her go, he dutifully handed her over to Nick, who tucked her arm through his and held her far closer than he needed to.

"You have been quite the prize tonight, dear Emma. I thought I might never get you away." He gave her a soft smile—a favorite of hers—and led her to the edge of the ballroom. The terrace waited just beyond a set of doors, and Emma was suddenly overcome with nerves.

"What if he isn't here?" she asked, gripping his arm and staring at the empty terrace through the windows. "I haven't seen any ribbons all night, and I must have danced with every eligible bachelor in attendance."

"Yes, I noticed." There was an edge to Nick's voice, but he softened before he looked at her. Reaching up, he stroked her cheek with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes. "Where has my brave Emma gone? You have nothing to fear."

He was wrong. She had everything to fear because Nick wasn't wearing a ribbon in his buttonhole, and he was making plans to revitalize his lands. What if she was mistaken, just as Elias had said? What would she do if she was asked to marry someone else when she felt such affection for Nick? She wasn't certain she could face that pressure.

When a tear escaped onto Emma's cheek, Nick frowned. "Emma," he whispered, leaning in close. He took up her hands, clasping them to his chest. "Do you trust me?"

"You know I do."

His eyebrows pulled low as he studied her face, like he was searching for the source of her fear. Little did he know that he was at the center of it all. What if she told him that she was in love with him? Would he still send her out onto the terrace? Maybe he would admit that he was behind the letters. Maybe he would ask her not to go out there and instead remain with him. Or maybe he would tell her that she was nothing but a friend to him and her only hope would be meeting her in two minutes.

"Nick," she whispered.

"Are you ready?" he whispered back.

"As I'll ever be." Reluctantly releasing his hands, she walked backward to the doors without taking her eyes off him. He gave her a reassuring smile, but there was worry beneath the optimism in his eyes. Not knowing what that might mean, Emma forced a deep breath and then stepped out onto the terrace.

Two minutes. Two minutes, and then she would have her answers.

But those two minutes came and went, and Emma wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the chill.

Five minutes, but she told herself not to worry. He was probably caught in a dance.

When nearly ten minutes had passed, Emma could no longer keep her chin up. What if he didn't come? What if Nick had left her out here so he could propose to Lady Georgina without interruption? What if—

The door opened, and Emma's breath caught in her throat. It was Nick who stepped through it, his eyes sad as he slowly approached her. Either he knew as well as she did that her mystery suitor had failed her, or... She was too cold and heartbroken to think about the alternatives.

"He didn't come." Emma didn't know how to feel right now, and she kept her eyes on Nick, willing him to explain.

He looked miserable. "He was frightened."

"By what?"

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a length of ribbon and ran it between his thumb and forefinger. Emma's breath caught, but he didn't seem to notice. "He feared you wouldn't trust that his love is real. He feared he had done nothing to make him worthy of you. He feared—he knows —you deserve so much more than a liar and a coward who couldn't find the courage to tell you how much you mean to him except in a letter." He held the ribbon up, glancing between it and her face. It wasn't in his buttonhole, but it was most decidedly blue, a detail she hadn't told him. "I tried to match the color of your eyes," he said with clear disappointment, "but they change so often that I didn't quite manage it. Perhaps I should have chosen gre—"

Emma grabbed his lapels and pulled him forward until their lips collided. At first, he didn't move a muscle, standing completely still, as if a statue. But then his hands jumped up, cupping her jaw, and the kiss changed, igniting into a fire that burned so hot she thought she might melt. Nick's lips moved against hers with an intensity that Emma matched eagerly. She tugged on his jacket, taking a step back, and he followed until they were out of sight against the wall. And then he dove deeper, mapping out every inch of her lips with his own until she eventually pushed him back so she could breathe.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, his lungs heaving.

Emma narrowed her eyes. "You had better not be apologizing for that kiss, Nicholas Forester."

Laughing, he brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. "Definitely not." To prove it, he kissed her again, this one achingly slow and tender. "I am sorry for lying to you. I should have told you it was me from the beginning, and I didn't intend for tonight to go in this direction, as much as I enjoyed your boldness." As if to prove himself, he took a step back, leaving Emma cold and wanting. "I will not speak for you, Emma, and I leave this choice to you. But you should know that Harstone will inherit the Mackenzie lands if you do not, and he has promised to allow you full use of the estate. You do not need me in order to live the life you wish." He swallowed. "You should also know that I love you with everything I am. I failed in finding you a husband who can be what you need, but I want nothing more than a happy life for you, Emma. Whether or not I am a part of it."

Her heart seemed ready to burst out of her chest. "What of your estate?" she asked. It was the one thing that didn't add up.

He cocked his head. "My estate?"

"Alvaro told me you are borrowing money to rebuild it."

Groaning, he ran his hands through his hair and glared into the ballroom. "I told him not to tell you," he grumbled. "I couldn't be sure you would accept me after this deception, and I have been sufficiently humbled to know I need to take control of my own life where I can. Regardless of what happens tonight, I want to do what I can with what is mine so you can be guaranteed what is yours."

Stepping forward, Emma reached up and ran her fingers through his hair just as he had done. For the last few days, he hadn't kept it nearly as neat as he used to, and she loved the way the blond waves seemed to have a mind of their own. He seemed so much more real now than he had when they first met, and he watched her with so much hope in his blue eyes.

"Oh, Nick, to think how I misjudged you." She pulled him down until their foreheads pressed together, and then she closed her eyes and focused on how right this felt. Like they were created to fit together.

The man could be infuriating at times, but he had a good heart, and he was likely the only person in existence who understood and embraced her oddities without ever once trying to change her.

Nick's arms snaked around her back and pulled her closer until she was flush against him, her head tucked under his chin. He spoke slowly, like he was having a hard time getting the words out. "I was so convinced you hated me for so long that I never thought you could..." She felt him swallow.

"I love you more than you could ever know, Nick Forester."

His breath hitched, and thick emotion choked his words when he spoke. "Everything I have, everything I am , is yours, dear Emma. I thought I might never be whole again, but you pieced me back together every time you forced me out of hiding and made me face the man I had become. Your spirit and bravery have given me the courage to think I might be happy again, and I will do anything to return that to you a thousand times over. There are no words to express how deeply I love you, and I never want to leave your side for as long as I live. If you'll have me."

Emma had never felt happier than she did now as she stood there in his arms. "Are you asking me to marry you, Mr. Forester?"

He chuckled, and the sound rumbled through her. "I am asking if you'll allow me to be your husband and follow you wherever life takes you."

"Even if I never want to set foot in London ever again?" She didn't mean that, mostly, but she was curious to see what he would say.

Instead of answering, Nick pulled back and whispered a kiss on her forehead. "Good riddance."

She grinned. "What if I want to run the estate and leave you to run the household?"

"We'd probably be better for it. I was raised by a housekeeper, after all." He kissed the tip of her nose.

"If I spend every other night with my nieces in the Harstone nursery?"

"I'll allow that only until we have our own nursery full of children." His next kiss found her mouth, and Emma got lost in it, imagining a future full of kisses and children and so much happiness that it couldn't possibly be real. But if she knew anything, she knew a life with Nick Forester would be so much better than anything she could possibly imagine.

And she couldn't wait to see how their story played out.