Page 53 of Prescription for Sin

Emma watched Arthur assess Everett with cool politeness. Her brother-in-law’s usual warmth was notably absent as he exchanged pleasantries.

When the group’s attention was drawn to some commotion near the punch bowl, Everett moved closer to Emma. “You dance beautifully,” he murmured. “Kincaid seems to have acquired new skills along with his title.”

“Not only that, he manages to maintain engaging conversation without being distracted by every pretty face in the room,” Emma said tartly.

To her irritation, his eyes sparkled. “Jealous, Miss Brown?”

“Of your admiring flock? Hardly.”

“No? Then why do I feel daggers every time I smile at another woman?”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” He leaned ever so slightly closer while keeping his eyes on the crowd. “Admit it, Emma. You feel this too, this maddening pull between us, even as you are looking for another suitor.”

“I—” She swallowed hard, fighting the effect his proximity had on her senses. “Arthur, Lord Salisbury, disapproves of our involvement. I ought to follow his advice.” She swallowed nervously.

“Since when did you heed the advice of other people?” He sounded bitter.

“Since Arthur holds the key to my happiness, wealth, influence, and family,” I should listen and marry Kincaid.”

“Kincaid?” He whirled around then lowered his volume. “Let me help you decide.” His low timbre made her knees weak. “Lesson six: temperature. How heat and cold can heighten every sensation…”

The memory of their last lesson made her cheeks flame, but she couldn’t possibly give more of herself to a man she couldn’t trust. “No. I believe Lady Amy’s brother, Lord Lex, is waiting to claim his dance.” Handing her champagne flute to Everett, she fled to the safety of the dance floor, where a young man waited with an outstretched hand.

She felt Everett’s gaze burning into her back as Lord Lex led her away and tried to convince herself she could walk away from him any time.

Everett paced his chamber like a caged beast, his evening clothes discarded, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Emma, resplendent in pink silk, her golden hair catching candlelight, those remarkable eyes flashing with barely concealed hurt. The memory of her scent lingered from their encounter in the study. It made his blood sing.

His fingers itched to trace the path they’d mapped during their lessons, to discover if her skin still burned for him despite her anger, despite Kincaid, Lex, and whoever else she had danced with. The quiet of his room pressed in around him, making the space between them seem both infinite and paper-thin. One corridor separated them. A few dozen steps would bring him to her door.

But he remained rooted in place, his father’s ultimatum echoing in his mind. Marriage or ruin. Protection or destruction. The choice seemed simple on its surface. He loved her, after all. Wanted her with an intensity that frightened him. Yet the thought of manipulating her into marriage, of using her feelings to call her his wife…

Could Lord Salisbury truly protect her if his father decided to strike? The Royal College held enormous power. One whisper of improper conduct—of stolen medical records, of unauthorised surgeries—would end Emma’s career. His father had nothing left to lose. He would sacrifice her without hesitation to save his company.

Marriage would give his father pause before attacking his daughter-in-law. The Royal Physician’s position was too precious to gamble with family scandal.

Images from the ball tormented him. Lex’s hand drifting too low on Emma’s back as they waltzed. The way she’d laughed at some wit of Kincaid’s, her head tilted back to expose the elegant line of her throat. The cluster of eager young lords vying for her attention, each hoping to be the one to tame the infamous Miss Brown.

“Damn it all,” he muttered, consumed by possessive rage at the memory of other men’s hands on her. This jealousy was beneath him. Emma wasn’t his to claim, to protect, to possess. She was brilliant and independent and perfectly capable of making her own choices.

But God help him; the thought of her choosing someone else, of another man discovering the passion beneath her clinical exterior… His crystal tumbler crashed against the fireplace, the sound barely loud enough to drown out his father’s words echoing in his mind.

Sometimes love means making difficult decisions for those we care about.

The real question was: did he love Emma enough to let her make her own choice, even if it meant losing her?

Temperature

The winter morning sparkled with promise, sunlight fracturing off snow into thousands of diamond points. Emma adjusted her fur muff as their party gathered on the front steps of Lullingstone, watching her breath form delicate clouds in the crisp air. Helen, resplendent in her emerald-green walking dress, declared she would keep Lady Salisbury company by the fire, claiming that “tramping through the frozen white powder is an activity best left to those with more enthusiasm than wisdom.” She fixed Emma with a pointed look. “Do try not to catch your death out there, darling. It would be a shame to ruin this lovely party.”

Laughing, Emma linked arms with Lady Amy and spoke in a low voice. “I daresay some of us are more interested in nature than others.” She nodded toward Lady Winona, who was busy adjusting her bonnet and sneaking glances at Everett rather than admiring the frost-laden landscape.

“I find nature fascinating,” Lady Winona declared as if she had overheard. “Particularly the study of… of…”

“Trees?” Lord Lex supplied with an innocent smile.

“Precisely!” Lady Winona brightened. “Dr Moreland was just discussing the extraordinary specimens he encountered in Edinburgh.”