Intertwine (35 page)

Nearly three weeks later

July 6, 1812

H
ave I mentioned that you are enchantingly radiant this evening, my love?” James murmured in her ear. Emme stood at the edge of the ballroom, her arm nestled into his elbow, watching the dancers move through a quadrille.

“Let me think.” She cocked her head as if trying to remember. “Only about six times. I wouldn’t mind hearing it at least once more.”

“Please permit me to say you look captivatingly incandescent, milady.” Smile hovering, James raised her gloved knuckles to his lips.

“Thank you, good sir. And have I mentioned that you are a ridiculously hot piece of eye candy?” She dropped her upper-crust accent for the last part, making it sound decidedly American.

Emme patted his arm as James chuckled. But really, he did look swoon-worthy in a black coat and blue waistcoat which perfectly matched his eyes. It really was almost too much.

Emme caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirrored walls of Sir Henry’s ballroom. Her satin wine-red ball gown gleamed in the candlelight. She had even put on a little blush and light mascara, clean and natural looking. Her dark hair curled around her face, threaded through with pearls.

She felt like Cinderella at the ball with Prince Charming. Only with fewer anthropomorphic mice, musical fairy godmothers and frighteningly hazardous glass slippers. Not to mention that Georgiana would never be an ugly step-sister.

Okay, so maybe the analogy didn’t work all that well when she thought about it. Except that James was her prince. And she transformed whenever she was with him.

Tightening her hold on his arm, Emme watched the assembled dancers moving through the country dance figures. The entire scene seemed like something from a movie set: elegant ladies in glittering fabrics and men in dark cut coats and tight pantaloons. Lilting music weaving through it all.

The last few weeks had been the most idyllic of her life. That giddy, effervescence of new love deepening into something weightier. Something more. Laughing with James, understanding him as 21st century Emme. And James coming to know her as her whole self.

Emme had quickly realized that actually living in 1812 was remarkably useful when it came to doing historical research. James had helped her understand the nuances of the local economy. Additionally, she had taken to informally interviewing tenants as she and Georgiana visited them, making note of what she would be able to academically substantiate if and when she returned to 2012.

For his part, James seemed to be settling into the idea of 21st century life, were that to happen. He asked incessant questions and had instantly adopted her multi-tool as his own.

“It’s like everything all at once,” he kept saying, pulling the little scissors in and out. He was particularly fond of the toothpick.

And the MRE’s? Well, he had found the whole process of heating them with the warmer utterly fascinating but had been less than impressed with the beef stew. The barbecue chicken he had declared passable.

And then there were her electronic devices. He was constantly hunched over a lit screen (when no one else was around). He continually asked her things. Some of which she knew the answer to (calculator, notepad) and others she did not. (
I don’t know why Siri keeps talking to you; I think she has personal space issues.
)

It didn’t help that Marc had long ago developed the obnoxious habit of stealing her phone and putting something ridiculous on it for her to later discover. Which explained how James ended up loving Fat Booth. Pretty much everyone at Haldon Manor had unknowingly fallen victim. Arthur looked particularly ridiculous with an enormously enlarged head and three chin rolls. Fortunately, Emme had managed to delete Atomic Fart before James found it.

Was this what everyone meant when they said James didn’t care much for propriety? That on a certain level, he was perpetually twelve-years-old?

In particular, James loved delving through the media on her devices: books, videos, photos and music. He was reading through her e-book library at a voracious pace. Though Emme hoped his taste in music improved over time. He absolutely loved (loved!) Donny Osmond. As in, Emme would catch him listening to
Puppy Love
, swaying with her pink head phones stuck in his ears. Marc really did have a sick sense of humor sometimes. And a decidedly questionable taste in music.

The music drew to a close and the swirl of dancers stilled. Watching guests bow as the set finished, Emme wondered if it wasn’t time to introduce the concept of digital detox. James shifted next to her as the quadrille ended, and the orchestra struck up the bars of a waltz.

“I believe this is my dance,” James said, taking her hand and leading her onto the floor. Emme had memorized all of the country dances and could now participate in them with more ease. But the waltz still remained her favorite.

Emme caught a glimpse of Linwood talking with Arthur and Marianne, who looked lovely in her lavender half-mourning. At the love-lorn couple’s side, Sir Henry offered his arm to Georgiana to dance.

James slipped his hand around Emme’s back and began twirling her through the lilting phrases. She fell into the rise and fall of the music, the spinning of mirror and candle and shimmering satin.

It was one of those perfect moments. Where your heart takes a picture and you store it away, so that when life becomes
less than
, you can pull out this one perfect memory and remember. At one point in time, life had been decidedly
more
.

Emme sighed. It was almost perfect enough to make her want to remain here. Stay in 1812 and just take what life gave. Did it really matter when she and James lived, as long as they were together?

She was still pondering the question as the music ended. James tucked her hand back into his elbow and escorted her toward Georgiana and Sir Henry. Emme curtsied to Sir Henry, noting that Georgiana looked particularly pretty tonight dressed in ivory silk with a gauzy overdress. She was all cream and gold and sparkling blue eyes. Her cough had been better, but her weight loss was still relentless. Her dress hung loosely on bony shoulders.

“I was just apologizing to Sir Henry for my lack of breath during the dance,” Georgiana said, smiling faintly. “In fact, I was wondering if you wouldn’t come with me to the ladies’ retiring room, Emma. I feel the need to rest for a moment.”

Emme nodded and took Georgiana’s arm as they walked out of the ballroom. Not telling Georgiana about her restored memory had been difficult. But both Emme and James had worried how Georgiana would take the truth, both good and bad.

“Oh, Miss Knight. Georgiana!” Emme heard as they stepped into the darkened hallway. They both turned to see Marianne Linwood gesture for them to join her through a side door.

Exchanging a quick puzzled glance, Emme and Georgiana followed her into Sir Henry’s library. To the right of the door, a fire flickered in the hearth bouncing light off walls of books and honey wooden paneling. Candles illuminated the space. Moonlight streamed through a large window opposite the fireplace.

Marianne half-closed the door behind them and glanced around, apparently assuring herself that no one else was in the room. She turned back to them.

“My dearest Georgiana, I must beg you for a favor.” Marianne appeared anxious, which only increased Emme’s curiosity. What was Marianne up to?

Oh, and please could it be just a little juicy?

“Am I to suppose that you would like me to do what I have done in the past?” Georgiana asked.

Marianne nodded mutely, suddenly blinking back tears.

Georgiana smiled and reached out to place a hand over Marianne’s. “Please, don’t fret, Marianne. Linwood will relent. He loves you too well to see you unhappy. And Arthur is nothing if not persistence personified. You must have faith. Here, wipe your tears.” Georgiana dug out and handed her a handkerchief.

“I am so sorry, Georgiana, truly I am,” Marianne said, dabbing daintily at her eyes. “But Timothy makes it nearly impossible for Arthur and I to have even two minutes private conversation. I do not wish to act with impropriety, but sometimes my brother can be difficult.”

“You are of age, Marianne,” Georgiana said with a shake of her head. “Free to make your own decisions. You know that Linwood can only control your happiness if you allow it.”

Marianne bit her lip, nervous and indecisive. “Yes, I know, but Timothy has been such a kind and good brother to me over the years.”

Emme’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Marianne continued, “I cannot bear the thought of disappointing him and going against his wishes. I love him too well to hurt him so. You will do this then?”

“Of course, dearest friend. Your happiness, and Arthur’s too, is my fondest wish. Would you like me to fetch him?”

“That will not be necessary. He knows if you leave the ballroom, he is to come searching for us.” As if on cue, the door open behind them. “Oh, and here he is.” Emme turned to see Arthur walk into the room, closing the door behind.

Marianne’s face lit up upon seeing him, all longing and love. Arthur’s returning gaze was equally love-struck.

Emme looked questioningly at Georgiana, cocking an eyebrow. Georgiana gave her a tiny grin and gestured for Emme to sit in one the chairs facing the fire. Arthur and Marianne walked to the opposite side of the room, talking in low, hushed whispers, silhouetted against the window.

“I take it we are to act as chaperones?” Emme murmured to Georgiana once they had seated themselves, their backs to the couple, giving them a degree of privacy.

Georgiana nodded. “They are both concerned about appearances and do not wish to misstep. But it is hard when you are young and in love. Not to mention that Linwood would put a bullet through Arthur if he caught him alone with Marianne.”

Emme couldn’t resist a glance over her shoulder and saw Arthur take Marianne’s hand and bring it tenderly to his lips, lingering on her knuckles.

“I usually avert my eyes,” Georgiana said with a small smile, gesturing for Emme to turn her attention back to the fire and away from the love scene being enacted.

They sat in silence for several moments. Emme wondered if it would be bad form to analyze the small noises she could hear behind her.

Was that rustling sound a tight embrace or just Marianne moving closer to the window? She listened a little more intently. . . . She didn’t know what that sound was. Okay, but that last sound . . . that was definitely a kiss.

Emme and Georgiana jumped as the door suddenly opened.

“How dare you!”

Emme stood and turned to see Lord Linwood.

She sighed. Really, that had been a little too predictable.

Linwood strode angrily toward Arthur who had quickly released Marianne and was now backing away from the enraged viscount.

“Timothy!” Marianne exclaimed. Her look one of exasperation more than worry, she moved to intercept her brother.

“Please, Linwood, it was nothing untoward. We were chaperoned.” Arthur held out his hands placatingly, gesturing toward Emme and Georgiana standing in front of the fire.

Linwood whirled around and took in the two ladies, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Emme resisted the urge to wave a hand in greeting and instead bobbed a small curtsy with Georgiana.

“Heavens, Linwood, calm down. Nothing has happened,” James drawled as he came through the doorway, calmly closing it behind him. He stood next to Emme.

In the middle of the room, Linwood processed the scene, looking back and forth between his sister and Arthur. He clenched his jaw.

“I have had enough of this, Arthur,” he said after a long moment. “Your association with my sister is at an end.”

Marianne’s loud gasp echoed through the room. Arthur stiffened. Linwood’s face remained a haughty mask.

Silence. No one spoke or moved.

“Come, Marianne. We are leaving now. This evening has most definitely lost its appeal.” Linwood held out his hand for his sister and half turned, not even looking to see if she followed.

But she did not move.

Instead, she stood still and shocked for a moment, as if warring within herself. And then something changed. Marianne’s shoulders suddenly straightened, her eyes determined. With a jut of her chin, she reached out to Arthur and clasped his hand in hers.

“No, Timothy.” Her voice may have wavered, but the firmness of her jaw made her resolution clear.

“Pardon me?” Linwood said icily, turning back to his sister.

“You heard me, Timothy. I said no. I am not leaving. I will remain the rest of the evening here . . . with Arthur.” The last bit said more softly with an adoring glance at her not-betrothed.

Linwood’s expression turned into a full on angry scowl. There was no other way to describe it. It was the most emotion Emme had ever seen him display. And he turned the full force of his anger on Arthur.

“You are responsible for this. How dare you turn her against me!” he hissed.

But Arthur’s stunned expression clearly stated he found Marianne’s behavior as surprising as Linwood.

“Oh please, Linwood. Arthur has done no such thing and you know it,” James said quietly. “Though I must applaud Marianne for standing up for what she wants.”