Emma nodded. “Then Peter goes out to the chapel to check on the window....”
“And he hears somethin’ funny out back,” Syd went on. “And when he figgers out what’s wrong, he goes and grabs some rope from Bantry’s shed—”
Emma interrupted. “Why didn’t he come back to the hall for help?”
Syd shrugged. “Hey, Mattie’s out there hangin’ in the breeze. Maybe he figgered he didn’t have time to spare. So Petey drops the rope to Mattie, but she can’t use it on account of her busted flipper. So he goes down to help her—”
“And then he can’t get back up,” Emma broke in. “So he ties himself to Mattie, and stays to ride out the storm with her.” She slumped back in her chair, one hand on her heart. “My God ...”
“Yeah.” Syd’s voice was filled with satisfaction. “You ask me, Petey-boy deserves a medal.” He let the silence linger for a moment, then gave Emma a sly, sidelong look. “You didn’t do so bad yourself. You and Derek, you made a pretty good team, huh?”
Emma looked at the fire, embarrassed. “Yes, well, that was ... automatic. The only thing I could think about was that, if anything happened to Peter, I’d ... I’d ...” Emma shook her head and looked at her hands. “He’s such a good kid.”
“Nell ain’t so bad, neither, once you get used to her.”
“Afterward,” Emma went on, slowly raising her gaze to the fire again, “when I had Peter safe with me in the chapel, just for a split second, I thought I saw ...” Emma held back. She could tell the truth to Syd without mentioning the window. It might be better to say nothing of that until she’d seen it in the clear light of day.
“I saw something that made me realize how unfair I’ve been to Derek,” she continued. “I can’t begin to understand what he went through after his wife died. I’m sure he’s done his best to look after Peter and Nell since then, and I know that, once I’ve told him about the problem with Mrs. Higgins, he’ll straighten it out right away.”
“That’s real big of you, Emma,” Syd commented dryly.
Emma glanced at Syd’s impassive face, then looked quickly back to the fire. “I realized something else, too,” she said, in a voice so low that Syd had to lean forward to hear it. “Derek’s already lost his wife, and tonight he nearly lost his son. I ... I don’t want him to lose anyone else.”
“Interesting,” Syd murmured, nodding judiciously. “Excuse me, but is it old-fashioned of me to want to hear a little mention of love in there somewhere?”
“Well, of course I love him, Syd.” Emma toyed with the belt on her robe. “I fell in love with him the minute I laid eyes on him. Isn’t it ridiculous? And I just know he’s going to ask me to marry him,” she added worriedly. “That’s the kind of man he is.”
“I should hope so,” Syd stated firmly. He wrinkled his nose suddenly. “Is that the problem? What’ve you got against marriage?”
“I’m not sure anymore,” Emma said, with a helpless shrug. “I mean, it’s not as though I’ve tried it. Maybe it just frightens me because everyone says it’s so unhappy.”
“Of course it’s unhappy!” Syd shouted. Lunging to the edge of his chair, he turned to Emma, exasperated. “And it’s boring and crazy and funny and sad and everything else you can think of, and then some. ’Cause that’s what marriage is. It’s life times two, the most complicated equation there is. You can spend a whole lifetime workin’ on that one, Emma.” Syd eased himself back into his chair and refolded his hands across his stomach. He stared silently at the fire for a moment, then leaned toward Emma and said quietly, still looking at the fire, “You know, Emma, those people who think you gotta be happy all the time”—he dismissed them with a wave of his hand—“they’re kids. They shouldn’t be messin’ with marriage, which is for grown-ups. But you, Emma. You ain’t no kid.”
A slow smile returned to Emma’s lips. “No, Syd, I’m not.” She ducked her head sheepishly. “But what if he doesn’t ask me?”
“Oh, I got a feeling he’ll be reminded.”
Emma turned to Syd, alarmed. “Syd, you wouldn’t—”
“Not me,” said Syd. “I won’t say a word.” He reached over to fill his coffee cup again. “Y’know, Emma, honey, when I left the library, Derek and Grayson were having a little drink. They didn’t look like they was goin’ anywhere.”
“Really?” Emma pulled the towel from her head and ran her fingers through her damp hair. “After everything he’s been through tonight, he should be in bed.” She stood up. “I think I’ll go downstairs and ... and make sure Grayson doesn’t keep him up too late.”
“Yeah, that duke, he’s a real chatterbox,” said Syd, putting the pot down. “You sure you ain’t too tired?”
“Isn’t it amazing? I thought I’d be exhausted, but I feel wide awake. It must be the coffee.”
“Must be.” Syd sipped from his cup, but refrained from further comment.
Emma left the room without a candle, but again she found her way easily in the dark. She had no idea what time it was, but she suspected that most of the hall’s inhabitants were in bed and asleep. She met no one on her way down the stairs and saw no lights until she opened the library door.
The library was flooded with light. Dozens of candles, in candlestick holders of every conceivable size and shape, stood flickering from every available surface. Grayson and Kate were seated side by side on the couch, and Derek faced them from his accustomed chair near the fire. His curls were almost dry, and he’d changed into fresh jeans and a cobalt-blue cableknit sweater. Grayson had changed, too, into another well-cut tweed jacket, another immaculate shirt and silk tie.
Derek looked up as the door opened, and Kate and Grayson turned to look as well, and Emma suddenly remembered that she was wearing nothing but her robe and slippers. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the glorious fact that Derek was still awake.
“Emma?” Derek rose from his chair. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Emma crossed over to stand before him, unable to decide whether the sweater or Derek’s eyes were a deeper blue. “How’s Peter?”
“Sound asleep,” Derek assured her. “He was a bit delirious, but Dr. Singh says there’s no sign of any head injury, so we think it must be due to shock.”
“Delirious?” Emma asked.
“Babbling about the window changing color,” said Derek. “Not surprising, really. D’you know you were right? The young fool went out in that godawful storm just to make sure his precious window was intact.”
“Fool?” Emma echoed, a hint of heat in her voice.
“I say, Derek, old man,” murmured the duke.
“One moment, Grayson.” Derek looked down at Emma, perplexed. “Yes. Fool. What would you call a ten-year-old boy who risks his life to look at a bloody window?”
Emma’s foot began to tap. This wasn’t the conversation she’d had in mind. “I’d call him a very worried little boy,” she replied evenly.
“Worried?” Derek laughed. “I’d say he’s verging on delusional. Let’s face it, Emma. Those were hurricane-force winds out there, and Peter’s not exactly a tower of strength.”
“And I suppose you are?” Emma folded her arms.
“Er, Emma?” Kate’s soft voice held a touch of concern.
“In a minute, Kate.” Emma adjusted her glasses, then squared her shoulders. “Are you aware of the fact that that puny son of yours saved Mattie’s life tonight?”