“He’s lucky he didn’t get her killed,” Derek retorted.
“Lucky?” Emma’s voice cracked. “How about courageous and heroic and brave? How about magnificent? Frankly, I think Peter’s luck ran out when he got you for a father.”
“What do you mean by that?” Derek sputtered.
“I mean that, if you can look at what he did tonight and see nothing but foolishness and luck, then you don’t deserve your son. For your information, the window has changed.”
“What?” chorused Grayson and Kate.
“Now you’re sounding delusional,” scoffed Derek.
“If anyone’s delusional, it’s you,” Emma shot back. The discussion was spinning out of control, but she couldn’t turn back now. “You’re the one who thinks that everything at home is fine and dandy.”
“I don’t see how my home situation—”
“Do you have any idea what Peter’s gone through while you’ve been feeling sorry for yourself? When’s the last time he brought a friend home from school?” Emma demanded. “Why did he drop out of the Boy Scouts?”
Derek stepped back, self-righteous and thoroughly confused. “Peter’s very conscientious about his studies. Why, Mrs. Higgins says—”
“Mrs. Higgins?” Emma squeaked. “Have you smelled Mrs. Higgins’s breath lately? I imagine the only work she does is propping her feet on the coffee table when Peter’s vacuuming the carpet.”
“Hoovering the carpet? What on earth are you talking about? You can’t possibly know what Peter does when he’s at home.”
“Give me Mrs. Higgins’s job description and I’ll tell you exactly what he does. You ask Nell. Better yet, pay Mrs. Higgins a surprise visit, or just give her a call. I did, and it was very enlightening.”
Derek was aghast. “You’ve been spying on me?”
“I’ve been paying attention to your children, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you.”
Derek drew himself up and looked down at Emma from a great height. “For someone who never wanted children of her own, you seem to be taking an inordinate amount of interest in mine.”
“Someone has to!” Emma snapped. “And if I were around, someone would. But there’s no danger of that. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.” Emma fell back a step, remembering a moment too late that she hadn’t yet been asked.
Derek’s recall was unfortunately precise. “Who said anything about getting married? One kiss and you’ve already got us racing up the aisle? You must be desperate.”
“A woman would have to be desperate to even consider marrying you!” Emma roared.
“Emma, Derek, please.” Grayson’s voice was calm and conciliatory as he came to stand between them. “You’ve both been through a dreadful experience. I’m sure that everything will look quite different after a good night’s rest. Kate, old thing, why don’t you take Emma upstairs and—” He stopped short as Emma turned the full force of her wrath in his direction.
“If you call Kate ‘old thing’ one more time, I’m ... I’m going to smack you in the kisser. Why don’t you put that poor woman out of her misery?”
“Emma,” Kate muttered urgently, reaching over to touch Emma’s arm.
“You stay out of this,” Emma barked, pulling her arm out of reach. Glaring at Grayson, she went on, “Can’t you see that she’s in love with you? And she wants to get married, though I can’t for the life of me understand why. So let’s get down to business. Grayson, are you going to marry Kate or not?”
Grayson touched his tie nervously and lowered his eyes. “Forgive me, Kate. I’d hoped to make this announcement at a more suitable time and place, but since Emma’s being so ... so refreshingly direct—”
“Just answer the question,” Emma commanded.
“Yes, Grayson,” added Kate, rising to stand behind Emma, “just answer the question.”
“Of course I intend to marry you, Kate,” Grayson said, with as much dignity as he could muster. “I’ve intended to marry you all along. But I couldn’t.”
“Why not?” Kate and Emma said together.
. “It wouldn’t have been proper,” Grayson replied, as though the answer were self-evident. “I didn’t have Grandmother’s ring.”
While Kate sank back onto the couch, open-mouthed, Emma gaped at the duke, too stunned for words. Next she did something she’d never done before and would probably never do again. She seized the duke by the knot of his silk tie and jerked him toward her, thundering, “Do you think Kate cares about jewelry?” Then she pushed the duke aside and stalked toward the door. “Men!” she roared, before gathering up the skirts of her blue robe and marching from the room, slamming the door behind her for good measure.
23
When Emma awoke, it was late afternoon, the sun was streaming through the balcony door, and Nell was sitting cross-legged on the end of her bed. She was watching Emma’s face intently, and when Emma’s eyes opened, she clambered across the bed to sit companionably near Emma’s pillows.
“Your bath is ready,” she said.
Emma blinked sleepily, not quite sure whether she was awake or only dreaming. The friendly little girl in the rumpled blue jeans and kelly-green sweater, who was toying with the laces on her scuffed sneakers and whose curls were as tousled as Derek’s, bore little resemblance to the picture-perfect and coolly self-possessed Lady Nell she’d come to know. Emma’s eyes widened as the dream child leaned over to pat her shoulder with a very real hand.
“Don’t worry, Emma,” Nell said consolingly. “Everyone won’t be mad at you forever.”
Emma’s only response was a prolonged and pathetic groan.
“That was a good scold you gave Papa last night.” Nell’s voice was filled with admiration and an unaccustomed earnestness. “I never heard anyone scold him like that before.”
Emma peeked over the edge of the bedclothes, horrified. “You weren’t there, were you?”
“ ’Course I was,” said Nell. “Up in the gallery.”
“You should’ve been in the nursery,” Emma reminded her.
“Bertie wanted to know what was going on. You can see everything from the gallery. I watched Dr. Singh fix Mattie’s arm. He’s a good doctor.” She pointed to Em-ma’s bruised knuckles. “You should let him fix your hand.”
I should donate my body to science, Emma thought miserably. A twinge shot through both shoulders as she reached for her glasses, and there was a distinct tenderness where her knees met the bedclothes through her flannel nightgown. Her palms were sore and her knuckles throbbed, but those aches and pains were minor compared with the pangs of conscience that assailed her. How could she have let herself go like that? Why had she said all those dreadful things? Kate would probably strangle her, the duke would banish her, and Derek would never speak to her again. She put her glasses on and lay back on her pillows, wondering what on earth had come over her.
Whatever it was, it seemed to be affecting Nell, as well. The ethereal princess who’d carried herself with such dignity and grace was now bouncing on the bed and looking as though she were bursting with news. More extraordinary still, her bear was nowhere in sight.
“Where’s Bertie?” Emma asked.
“Keeping Peter company,” Nell replied. “Dr. Singh says he’s supposed to stay in bed all day. Do you want to have your bath now?”
“I don’t know, Nell.” Emma sighed. “I may just stay in bed for the next few weeks.”
Nell giggled. “That’s what Bantry said when he saw the garden.”