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Alex, who had strategically positioned himself right next to her, leaned over and whispered, “I can’t imagine how you would know since you haven’t tried a bite.”
She smiled wanly and put a forkful in her mouth. It tasted like sawdust. She looked over at Eugenia. “Perhaps just some tea.”
By lunchtime Emma thought she might perish from hunger. Alex had had to take care of some estate business, so she and Belle had spent the morning exploring the house. When they arrived in the informal dining room, her heart sank when she realized that he wasn’t there.
Her stomach, however, rejoiced.
She quickly downed a plate of roast turkey and potatoes, fearful that he would arrive any minute. After she had finished a generous helping of peas and asparagus, she thought to ask Eugenia about his whereabouts.
“Well, I was hoping he’d join us,” his mother replied. “But he had to go out to the northwest corner of the estate to inspect the damage from last week’s rainstorm.”
“Is it very far?” Emma asked. Perhaps she could join him.
“Over an hour’s ride, I should think.”
“I see.” She hadn’t realized that Alex’s landholdings were quite that vast. “Well, in that case I’ll just have some of those lovely meringues.”
Emma decided with a sigh that it was most likely all for the best that he’d been called away. If he had spent every minute by her side (which she had a feeling was his original intention), she’d probably have wasted away by the time she got back to London.
But she couldn’t deny the fact that, despite the disturbance Alex caused her, she longed for his company every minute he was gone. She went for a ride through the countryside, but she didn’t enjoy herself because Alex wasn’t there to race her to the apple tree she came across a couple of miles east of Westonbirt. And then he wasn’t around to tease her when she deftly climbed the tree or to compliment her aim when she launched one of the apples into the air, pegged a weak branch, and sent five more apples tumbling down. She gave the fruit to Charlie when she returned, and he was so happy about the prospect of fresh apple tarts that he felt compelled to race up and down the stairs six times. His exuberance was infectious, but it just didn’t lift her spirits like one of Alex’s smiles. Emma doubted that anything could.
On the other hand, it was fortunate that she ate one of the apples while she was perched high in the tree because she certainly didn’t eat anything that night at dinner.
She didn’t see Alex the next morning, either. Henry had an important meeting with his solicitor that afternoon which he declared he could not miss, and so the entire family left fairly early in the morning. Alex, tired from his treks the previous day and unaware of the Blydons’ plans for such an early departure, slept quite late and missed Emma altogether.
Emma only sighed at his absence and helped herself to a hearty breakfast.
Eugenia and Sophie had already made plans to remain at Westonbirt until midweek, and Alex had decided that he couldn’t very well leave with all of the storm damage to attend to, so Emma and her family had a carriage to themselves for the return trip. The moment they were on their way, Belle opened her Shakespeare, Henry pulled out some business papers, and Caroline went to sleep. Emma stared out the window, resigning herself to a ride devoid of intelligent conversation.
She wasn’t disappointed.
When they arrived back at the townhouse in London, Emma breathed a sigh of relief, swore she’d bring a book on the next long trip, and dashed up the stairs to her room. The entire weekend had been emotionally draining, between her intimate encounter with Alex, her great realization that she loved him, and her inability to see him after that. The bumpy ride back to London hadn’t helped. It hadn’t occurred to her how tired she really was until she fell onto her bed and realized that she wasn’t going to get up for at least another week.
Or until someone knocked on her door ten seconds later.
“Hello, Emma.” Ned opened the door and poked his head into the room before she had a chance to answer. “Did you have a good weekend?” At her weary nod he continued. “Excellent. You look quite refreshed.”
Emma, who was lying on her stomach with her right cheek pressed into the bed and her arm twisted over her head at a somewhat unnatural angle, raised her eyes skeptically and realized that he wasn’t being the least bit sarcastic; he appeared quite distracted, and she doubted he’d actually taken a good look at her.
“Did you have a good weekend?” she inquired. “I imagine you enjoyed your brief period of freedom.”
Ned shuffled into the room, shut the door, and leaned against Emma’s desk. “Let’s just say I had an interesting weekend.”
“Oh dear.”
“Why don’t you tell me about your weekend first?”
Emma shrugged, pushing herself up into a sitting position, her back supported by the mountain of pillows that leaned against the headboard of her bed. “It was exactly what you would imagine.”
“A bunch of people trying to get you married?”
Including me. “Exactly. But I still managed to have a good time. It’s nice to get out of the city. It’s so congested here.”
“Good, good.” Ned started rocking back and forth on his heels, and Emma got the impression that he wasn’t paying any attention to what she was saying.
“Is something wrong, Ned?”
He took a deep breath. “Well, you could say that.” He walked over to the window and looked out, turned around and faced her, crossed his arms, uncrossed them, and started pacing.