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Well that was just silly. How was she to ever see him, how was she to ever get him to fall hopelessly in love with her, if he avoided the marriage mart at all costs? “And why is that, sir?”

He shrugged. “Well, what is the point, when one is betrothed?”

“Betrothed?” If a knife had plunged into Emma’s chest, it would have hurt less.Betrothed? How could he be betrothed? And how did she not know it? And who was he to marry? Was she very beautiful? Did he love her deeply?

Heathfield nodded, apparently unaware that her heart had just been shattered, the tiny pieces littered across the space between them. “My father made the arrangements before I was even wearing short pants.”

The room started to spin just a bit, and Emma folded her hands in her lap, hoping to keep the room from tipping any further. He’d been betrothed since childhood? She’d never even had a chance of catching him. “Well—” her voice sounded like a croak to her own ears— “I suppose it’s rather late then to offer you my felicitations.”

He frowned a bit and opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then closed it a moment later as though thinking better of doing so. He sat forwards on the settee and leaned closer to her, his blue eyes focused on Emma so intently she nearly lost her breath. “How haveyoufound the marriage mart, my lady?”

“Oh, wonderful,” she lied with feigned cheerfulness. “Delightful.”

“Indeed?”

“Well—” she forced a smile to her face— “Ididanyway. Like you, I have no need to attend such functions anymore.”

“And who is the lucky man?” he asked.

Heavens, what was she to say to that? She certainly didn’t want him to think her pathetic, that she’d pinned all her hopes on a future with him without any sort of encouragement on his part, that she was a foolish, lovesick ninny. And above all else, she certainly didn’t want his pity. “I’m certain you don’t know him,” she hedged.

“I won’t know unless you tell me his name.” He smiled. She really wished he’d stop smiling. His smile could disarm even the most stalwart of women.

“He’s Flemish.” The lie flew off Emma’s tongue. Flemish? Where had that come from?Flemish? She didn’t think she even knew anyone from Flanders.

“And your Flemish paragon’s name?” Heathfield pressed.

A Flemish name. A Flemish name? Good heavens. “Blommen.” She thought she recalled her brother Philip mentioning someone named Blommen at one point in his travels. “Balthasar Blommen.” There, that sounded perfectly Flemish, didn’t it? She hoped so.

Lord Heathfield’s disarming smile vanished. “You are right, Lady Emma, I am not familiar with your betrothed.”

“Oh, well, Mr. Blommen keeps very much to himself.” Emma’s mind spun with various ideas about her made-up fiancé. “A very private man.”

“A lucky one.”

“I’ll let him know you said so.”

“Is he here at Danby Castle? I’d love to offer my congratulations in person.”

Here? Emma nearly swallowed her tongue. Why had she made up some fiancé? And what would she do if Lord Heathfield mentioned Balthasar Blommen to anyone else? She should have never lied. Lying always got one in trouble, especially when the lie wasn’t a well thought out one. “Um,” she hedged. “Well, no, he’s not here. He’s back in London, but you mustn’t mention him to anyone.”

“And why is that?”

Whywasthat? Emma’s mind raced to find an answer. “Because Papa doesn’t approve.”

“Lord Norland doesn’t approve of Balthasar Blommen from Flanders? And why is that?”

Mainly because he doesn’t exist. Emma winced. “It is a long story, my lord. I would really rather not get into the details. But if Papa heard Mr. Blommen’s name, he would be furious, so please promise me you won’t mention him.”

Lord Heathfield lifted one of Emma’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I would never do anything that would cause you distress, my lady.”

When his lips grazed her hand, wonderful tingles washed across Emma. But she mentally shook the sensation away. She had no future with Lord Heathfield, so she really shouldn’t allow him to elicit tingles from her. “Thank you, my lord. Your betrothed is very lucky to have you.”

CHAPTER4

Inside his guest chambers,Heath dropped into a chintz chair beside his bed. After three days of traveling with Damien along the North Road and now the very strange encounter with Lady Emma, his head throbbed. He had no doubt that she was the one who had summoned him here. It was the why he couldn’t understand. The pretty little liar had also fabricated some Flemish fiancé. But to what end? None of it made any sense to him.

If he had any sense at all, he’d have his valet repack his things and he’d start back for London as soon as the sun rose in the sky. However, doing so was the last thing he wanted at the moment. He wanted to know why Lady Emma had beckoned him all the way to Yorkshire. He wanted to know why she’d lied to him. But mostly, he just wanted to be near her.