Page 40 of The Unfortunate Debutante
A silence descended over them before he said, “As your solicitor, you should know that I have received multiple offers for your cottage and surrounding land. Are you interested in selling?”
“No, I am not,” she stated in a firm tone. “I will never sell my family’s home.”
“That’s ludicrous, Emma,” he responded in a disapproving tone. “I’ve received good offers that I want you to consider…”
She spoke over him. “I’m not interested, Mr. Lockhart. Furthermore, I have granted leave for Lord Downshire to handle all of my financial matters.”
“I perceive that you do not lack for income at this time,” he remarked, frowning.
Deciding to take hold of this conversation, Emma shifted her gaze from his as she said, “Well, I hope you have safe travels.”
Peter had always been intense, but she had never found herself uncomfortable. At least, until now. Reaching out, he placed his hand over hers. “Are you happy?”
“Peter,” she admonished in a low tone, pulling back her hand and scooting over on the bench to create more distance between them, “you are being too familiar.”
“Are you in earnest?” he huffed.
Smoothing out her gown, she replied, “Very much so.”
“Why haven’t you returned any of my letters?” he asked, the hurt visible in his tone.
“I was only recently made aware of them, but that would not have changed anything,” she responded, picking up her bowl of lemon ice. “It’s inappropriate for a woman to write letters to a man that is not her family or her betrothed.”
She wanted to laugh at her own words, because Rachel would be so proud that she was standing on ceremony with Peter.
“But, Emma… we were betrothed,” he stated cautiously.
She shook her head. “No, we were not, Peter. You kept insisting that we were, but I have only ever considered you a friend.”
“How can you say that?” he asked, his voice rising.
Mr. Martin took a step closer to them and shot Peter a warning look.
Emma glanced down at her melted ice and sighed. So much for a delicious treat. She brought her gaze back up to Peter. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my family but…”
“No buts, Emma,” he said, speaking over her. “I promised your father that I would care for you on his deathbed. He gave us permission to wed.”
“Regardless, I have no desire to marry you, Peter.”
Unexpectedly, Peter’s expression turned thunderous. “You pompous chit,” he growled. “You are trying to rise above your station.”
Her gaze snapped back to his. “How dare you speak to me like that!”
He scoffed. “You’re just a country bumpkin. You don’t belong in this world,” he proclaimed, tossing his hands up in the air. “You belong with me.”
“I do not,” she asserted. “And I do belong in this world, because Lord Downshire is my guardian…”
Peter cut her off. “I have read about you in the morning papers, you know,” he began in a mocking chide. “You fell off a horse in Hyde Park, rolled in a mud puddle, and then you became inebriated at your own ball.” He shook his head. “I daresay that Lord Downshire is not the spectacular guardian that you are making him out to be.”
Mr. Martin stepped closer and warned, “Keep a civil tongue towards Miss Pearson, or this conversation is over.”
Taking a step back, Peter declared, “You don’t belong with these people. You would be nothing without me, and now you want to erase me from your life. I don’t think so, Emma.” His words were cruel and stiff. “We are connected, you and I.”
“It is time for you to leave…now,” Mr. Martin asserted, stepping in front of her. “If I ever see you speaking to Miss Pearson again, I will have you arrested.”
Peter gave him an irate look. “You can’t make that threat. You’re just a lowly guard.”
Removing a pistol from the back of his trousers, Mr. Martin brought it down to his right side. “I do have that authority. I am a Bow Street Runner, and I can make your life very uncomfortable, Mr. Lockhart.” His gaze turned hard, unyielding. “Stay away from Miss Pearson.”
