Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(10)

Two

T ASIA WAS THE first to move. Carefully she pried the letter from Luke's hand and read in silence. Luke remained sitting with his head bent, all thoughts concealed.

After finishing the letter, Tasia set it aside with a sound of disgust. “What melodramatic prattle,” she said flatly. “He's painted them as a pair of starcrossed lovers, with you cast as the villain, of course. Adam is leaving her ‘for the sake of honor’—and he blames you for keeping them apart.”

Luke raised his face. He was pale, and his mouth was taut. “Who else is to blame but me?”

“You did what you felt was best.”

His wife's quick defense brought a warm gleam to his eyes, but then Luke shook his head wearily. “Emma was right. I should have allowed for the possibility that Milbank did love her, but—” He broke off and scowled. “You and I both know he's nothing but a parasite.”

“I'm afraid it's clear to everyone except Emma.”

“Should I have allowed him to court her when I knew he would hurt her? Christ, I don't know anything about headstrong daughters! All I know is that she's far too good for Milbank. I couldn't stand by and let him take advantage of her.”

“No, of course not,” Tasia said gently. “You love her too much for that. And Mary would never have wanted a man like him for her child.”

The mention of his first wife seemed to be Luke's undoing. He turned away with a groan, staring into the fire. “There were so many lonely years for Emma after Mary died…I should have married someone right away for my daughter's sake. She needed a woman's influence. I should have thought about what it was like for her to grow up without a mother, instead of thinking only of myself—”

“You're not to blame,” Tasia insisted. “And Emma doesn't hate you.”

Luke laughed without humor. “She gave a hell of an imitation.”

“She's angry and hurt because Adam deserted her, and you're the most available target. I'll talk to her when her temper cools. She'll be all right.” Tasia took his jaw in her small hands and urged him to look at her. Her blue-gray eyes were filled with love. “And you may be right about Emma needing a mother when she was young,” she whispered. “But I'm glad you didn't marry someone else. I'm so selfishly glad you waited for me.”

Luke lowered his face to her rounded shoulder, drawing comfort from her nearness. “So am I,” he said, his voice muffled. Tasia smiled and stroked his black hair, lingering on the threads of silver at his temples. To the rest of the world, Luke was a powerful, confident man who rarely allowed his emotions to show. Only with her did he reveal his doubts and feelings, trusting her with all the secrets of his heart.

“I love you,” she said against his ear, touching the lobe with the tip of her tongue.

Luke sought her mouth and kissed her hungrily, his arms drawing tightly around her. “Thank God for you,” he said, and pulled her down to the carpet.

Now that the London Season was officially over, the Stokehurst household—family, servants, and animals—was transferred to its sprawling country estate. Set on a broad hill overlooking the tidy village below, Southgate Hall was a romantic home built on the remains of the original castle, a Norman fortress. With its lofty turrets and intricate front of brick and glass, it would have been the perfect setting for a fairy tale. The family would relax for the next few months, far from the humid, fetid atmosphere of London. There would be an occasional house party, a few visits paid by friends and relatives, and the activity of the summer harvest.

Emma spent most of her time riding alone through the green countryside or working in the menagerie, located a quarter mile from Southgate Hall. The endless tasks of caring for her animals helped to take her mind off Adam. During the daylight she worked until her muscles ached, and at night she slept from exhaustion. But it was always there, the knowledge of what she had lost. She found it hard to accept that she would never be with Adam again.

The worst part of the day was suppertime. Emma gulped down her food and left the table as soon as possible, unable to endure her family's presence. She had never been so angry with her father. Every moment of loneliness was his fault. Every night of solitary sleep was because of him. Her father had made a few apologetic overtures to her, but she had remained coldly unforgiving. As far as Emma was concerned, there was no chance they would ever resume the close relationship they had once had. Something had been broken that could never be repaired.

It didn't matter that there was some truth to her father's claim that Adam had wanted her dowry. Of course the money had appealed to him—Adam had made no secret of that. But he had also cared for her. They would have had a good life together. Now that was gone, and Emma knew she would never be anyone's wife. She didn't intend to settle for some fat old widower or some half-witted bore just for the sake of being married.

By now she had lost all her value in the marriage market. There were too many younger, prettier girls who came out each Season, and they were the ones who caught the only decent bachelors available. Her father and Tasia were blind to the flaws that everyone else saw in her. They didn't seem to realize that Adam had been her only hope.

“Emma, do animals ever marry?” her six-year-old brother, William, asked one day as he watched her cleaning the chimpanzee pen. Its aging occupant, Cleo, combed her leathery fingers through William's black hair in a fruitless search for insects. The door to the building was left open, inviting any breeze that might find its way inside.