She wanted to lie. Wanted to protect him. Protect them both from the inevitable pain. But they'd promised each other truth. I can't, she whispered. I can't tell you that. Something broke in his expression. Relief and agony mixed together. Then what do we do? We stick to the plan. 6 weeks. No more, no less. We take what we can have, and we don't ask for more. And if 6 weeks destroys us, then we find a way to survive it.
Charles laughed, a broken sound. You make it sound so simple. It's not simple. It's impossible. But it's all we have. He was close enough now that Emma could see the fine lines around his eyes, the shadow of stubble along his jaw. Could feel the heat of him, the exhaustion rolling off in waves. You should go home, she said gently. Get some rest. We can, we can meet later. Somewhere public, somewhere respectable. I don't want respectable, Charles said hoarsely. I want you.
The words landed like stones in still water. Emma's breath caught, her heart hammering against her ribs. You can't have me. Not the way you mean. I know. His hand lifted, hovering near her cheek. But can I have this? Just for a moment. Emma knew she should refuse. Knew that allowing even this small intimacy would make everything harder. But she'd spent 18 years denying herself. 18 years saying no. She nodded.
Charles's hand cupped her face, his palm warm against her skin. His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone with devastating gentleness. Emma's eyes fluttered closed, every nerve in her body focused on that single point of contact. You're so beautiful, he whispered. You were beautiful at 7, but now, now you're breathtaking. Charles. I know. Oh, I know I shouldn't say these things, but you asked for truth. And the truth is that looking at you hurts, like staring at the sun, like wanting something so badly it burns.
Emma opened her eyes, found him staring at her with such raw longing it stole her breath. We can't do this, she whispered. Not here. Not now. Anyone could walk in. I don't care. You will. When the scandal breaks, when Lady Beatrice hears about it, when your mother, at the mention of his mother, Charles flinched, his hand dropped from her face, the loss of contact almost painful. You're right, he said, stepping back. I'm not thinking clearly. I should go. Yes.
But neither of them moved. They stood there in the morning light, separated by 2 feet of space and an ocean of impossibility. Tonight, Charles said suddenly. There's a musical at Lord Pembridge's house. Beatrice will be there. Half of London will be there. Come. Charles. I don't think, please. Let me see you in a room full of people and not be able to touch you. Let me practice restraint, because right now, standing here alone with you, I have none.
Emma's resolve wavered. It will only make things harder. I know. Come anyway. She should refuse. Should protect them both from this slow torture. But the look in his eyes, desperate and pleading and so achingly vulnerable, undid her. All right, she said softly. I'll come. Relief flooded his face. Thank you. But Charles, we have to be careful. We can't, we can't give them ammunition. I know. Lady Beatrice already suspects something. If we're not careful, I'll be the perfect gentleman, Charles promised. Distant. Polite. Nothing that could be construed as improper.
Emma wanted to believe him, but she'd seen the way he looked at her, the way his control frayed when they were together. You should go, she said again, before my cousin wakes. Before the servants start talking. Yes. But he lingered, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. Emma, don't, don't say anything else. Just go. He nodded. Turned toward the door. Then stopped, his hand on the frame.
6 weeks, he said without looking back. And then I'll let you go. I promise. He left before she could respond. Emma stood alone in the drawing room, her cheeks still warm from his touch. Through the window, she watched him walk away, a solitary figure in wrinkled evening clothes disappearing into the gray London morning. She pressed her hand to her face, touching where his hand had been. 6 weeks. It felt like both an eternity and no time at all.