Page 72 of Along Came a Rogue

Emily gave a bubble of laughter. She appreciated beyond measure Kate’s attempts to distract her with shopping, because so far, the distraction had been working. She was enjoying herself today more than she had in the past three months.

“You should buy that hat,” Kate urged.

“Me?” she squeaked, appalled. “That hat with this belly? Goodness, I’d look like the ostrich egg beneath the nesting feathers!”

“You’re beautiful, Emily,” Kate chastised. Then she added gently, “And Grey loves you just as you are.”

She shook her head sadly. “He’s never said so.”

“Perhaps not. But when I confronted him, he didn’t deny it.”

“Kate!” Emily halted in her steps with a gasp, mortified. “You didn’t!”

“I promised no meddling,” the duchess clarified. “I didn’t swear off direct confrontations.”

Emily groaned but kept her eyes straight ahead, despite the pain of disappointment thumping in her chest with each heartbeat. “Is that where I’m supposed to pin my hopes, then? That he didn’t deny he loves me?”

Kate squeezed her arm. “With these men of ours, Emily, that’s as good as saying it.” She added more softly, “For now.”

They walked on, with Kate pointing out various items in the windows and Emily feigning interest, her troubled mind once more focused on Grey.

“Look!” Kate gestured at the window, her first show of genuine excitement at anything in the storefronts. “The bookshop. Let’s linger a bit, shall we?”

“So we’ve found your weakness.” Emily smiled knowingly and let Kate lead her to the window to see the displayed books.

“An addiction,” she sighed deeply. “I am an unapologetic bluestocking, I’m afraid, especially when it comes to science books. I devoured the library at Hartsfield Park last winter.” She frowned at the passing shoppers around them and muttered beneath her breath, “Of course, Grey wouldn’t pick this store.”

Emily frowned, a warning prickling at the backs of her knees. “What do you mean?”

“I promised no meddling,” she repeated, a self-pleased smile at her lips. “I never promised not to arrange meetings that might force you two to talk.”

“Oh, you didn’t!” Emily stared at her, horrified, as she realized why Kate was so insistent about going shopping this afternoon.

Kate slid her a hard, knowing look. “Are you still unwilling to receive him at Chatham House?”

Emily began to answer, then closed her mouth. She couldn’t deny it.

“Then I had no choice, for both your sakes. And just to talk, that’s all. Whatever happens is completely between you two.” Kate lowered her voice, as secretively as if she were carrying out an espionage mission for the War Office. “We are to pretend to shop, then we’ll accidentally run into Grey in front of one of the stores. Since he and Edward are old friends, he’ll have a ready-made excuse to stop us to chat. Anyone watching will think nothing of the meeting. At just the right moment, I’ll notice a hat in a window, shoes, ribbons—a book, if I’m lucky—and wander off to look at it, far enough away that you two can have a moment of privacy.” She sighed the sigh of a thwarted romantic. “It’s not ideal, but short of kidnapping you to Strathmore House and risking the gossip of servants, it was the best I could arrange on such short notice.”

“For someone who’s sworn off meddling,” Emily grumbled dryly, knowing she had no choice now unless she wanted to run fleeing back to the carriage, and she didn’t think she could waddle quickly enough to escape, “you’re certainly very good at it.”

Instead of the laugh she expected, or even a scowl of pique, Kate’s eyes softened sympathetically. “You are miserable without that man, Emily. And I know that feeling, because I was miserable without Edward. I only want you to be as happy as I am.”

Her eyes stinging at her friend’s concern, Emily squeezed Kate’s hand. Nodding, unable to say anything around the knot in her throat, she looked away—and her heart stopped.

On the other side of the street, Grey sauntered slowly toward them. Dressed casually as if he’d planned nothing more for his day than a ride through the park, in his dusty boots and buckskin breeches, tan waistcoat, and maroon riding jacket, he stood out among the decorated dandies. A hawk among the peacocks. He tugged at the wrists of his leather riding gloves, the only outward sign that he was as nervous as she was about this wholly planned accidental meeting.

And he’d never looked more dashing.

Emily released Kate’s arm and stepped toward the street so she could claim a better view of him as he approached, despite knowing that she should run. Her hands shook, a nervous trembling that soon spread to the rest of her, right down to her toes, and worsened with each stride he drew nearer. Dear God, what would she say to him? And he to her? Her heart raced as she fought to breathe. Could she get through this at all without throwing herself into his arms like a complete cake?

With an uneasy smile, more happy to see him again than she would ever admit, Emily stopped at the edge of the street and waited for him to look up and see her. Her eyes focused intently on him. He gave no outward sign that he knew she was there, yet his stride quickened, just barely, almost imperceptibly.

The thundering sound of pounding hooves exploded behind her. Angry male shouts and fearful female screams split the air. She turned—

A phaeton raced toward them down the street. Perched on his high seat, the driver flicked his whip mercilessly and sent the team veering directly at her.

“Look out!” she screamed. With a fierce shove, she pushed Kate away just as the phaeton bore down on them. The duchess staggered backward, missing being struck by mere inches.