The Wedding Dress(78)

“I’d not even spoken to you, Emily. You’d not returned one of my letters. What was I to say to your father? ‘Hello, sir, I’d like to marry your daughter, even though I’ve not spoken to her in five months.’”

“Yes, Daniel, for pity’s sake, yes.”

He sighed and faced the dark clouds of the corridor. “Then why are you marrying Phillip Saltonstall?”

“I’m in jail, Daniel.” Emily let her hands fall from the bars and grabbed her cloak as it threatened to slip from her shoulders. “I don’t want to have this conversation. I can’t think about it now. I just want to get out of here.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” He slapped his cap against the bars. “Let me go see what I can do.”

“Thank you. And, Daniel?”

“Yes?”

“That night, at the Italian Garden. Who were you with?” She didn’t have a right to know but she asked anyway.

“My chums, Ross and Alex.”

“Did you dance?”

“Once, but only to save Ross’s neck and not embarrass the poor girl he dragged over to our table.” He fitted his cap on his head. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished.”

“I’ll be back with food and hot coffee, and hopefully news about your release.”

“Daniel, you’re so kind and I’m behaving so rudely. I’m sorry, but this is my first jail experience. I’ll be more cordial next time.”

She loved the timbre of his laugh. It cushioned her pain. “I’m sure you will.” He reached his hand through the bars and smoothed the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Emily Canton, you can air your frustration to me anytime.” He bowed as he backed down the corridor. “Sparring with you is more fun than frolicking with any other girl.”

Emily leaned against the bars, staring at the spot where Daniel had been, inhaling his subtle, clean fragrance. Did she love him? Oh, that man could get under her skin, make her blood boil. But she loved sparring with him too. He made her heart and mind race. Unlike Phillip, who seemed only interested in . . . her body? He spoke constantly of her charm and beauty. And of her family’s name. But rarely commented on her stories or laughed at her anecdotes.

Did she love Phillip? At the moment she couldn’t think about anything but being freed.

Oh, what did it matter? She’d pledged Phillip her love, accepted his ring. What good was her word if she didn’t honor it when the day seemed difficult and fruitless?

Even if she loved Daniel, she was given to Phillip. Like it or not, she was bound by her own actions and confession.

Oh mercy. Emily yanked on the bars. “Let me go!”

The far steel door clanged again and her heart jumped. Daniel. Emily’s mouth watered in anticipation of food. Her pulse pumped in anticipation of Daniel.

But it wasn’t Daniel who came around the corner.

“Phillip.” She stretched her arms through the cell, her heart beating against the bars. “You came.” He walked beside the officer, his chin raised, his back straight, shoulders wide.

“As soon as I could, dearest.” He held her face and tipped her forehead toward him for a kiss. “I’m so sorry, Emily, so sorry. You can trust I’ll be speaking to the chief of police and the mayor about this miscarriage of justice.”

“Bail’s been posted,” the officer said. “You’re free to go, Miss Canton.”

The cell door opened and Phillip drew Emily into him, caressing her, whispering, “I’m here now. This will be handled. Trust me.”

“Oh, Phillip.” Tears soaked up the rest of her words. She felt weak and womanly, needing the arms of her man. How could she have flirted with Daniel only moments ago? How dare he deposit doubt in her heart? Again. Emily gazed up at Phillip. “I don’t want to wait.”

A saucy grin tripped a light his eyes. “Darling, I’ve been saying that for a while but we can’t”—he gazed around—“the officers might come upon us.” He raised her hand and slid her diamond down her finger. “I believe this belongs to you.”

“I mean let’s get married, Phillip. I don’t want to wait until spring. Let’s get married on New Year’s Eve. Let’s end 1912 in each other’s arms.”

“Are you sure? What about Europe for our honeymoon?”

“We’ll go to Hot Springs or Florida. In the spring we’ll sail to Paris. Doesn’t it sound lovely, Phillip?”

“It sounds divine. New Year’s Eve you’ll become my wife. I’ll speak to your father and mine.”

“What about our mothers?”

Phillip wrapped his arm around her, kissed her forehead, and escorted her out of her cell. “That, my sweet chickadee, is a chore for you.”

She laughed. A hearty, free laugh. “You send me to the wolves while you handle the lambs, I see.”

“A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”

As they rounded the corner, Daniel stood in the corridor, a basket in his hand. His eyes roamed from Emily’s face to Phillip’s. Without a word, he turned on his heel and left.

Phillip shook his head. “Such an odd fella,” he said, chuckling, mocking.

“Do you . . .” Emily cleared the clutter from her voice. “Know him?”