Have you stayed? he said quietly. She turned to face him. You asked me to. I didn't think you would. Neither did I. The honesty hung between them, raw and exposed. Emma wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the conservatory. The glass walls trapped the heat from the house, but she felt it nowhere, only the chill of his stare.
Charles took a slow breath, his chest rising and falling beneath the tailcoat. The candlelight from the ballroom beyond cast shifting shadows across his face, making him look older, harder, like something had been carved out of him and never replaced. Why did you come back? he asked. His voice was quieter now, stripped of the anger that had sharpened it moments before. After all this time, why now?
Emma hesitated. The truth felt too heavy, too complicated, but lies had never come easily to her. My grandmother died 6 months ago. She was the only family I had left in France. Something flickered in his expression. Not quite sympathy, but close. I'm sorry. Don't be. She lived a long life. A good one. Emma's fingers twisted in the folds of her skirt, seeking something to hold on to. But when she passed, I realized I had nothing keeping me there anymore. No roots, no purpose, just emptiness. So you came back to England. My cousin wrote to me. She said enough time had passed. That society might be willing to forget what my father did if I was discreet, if I kept my head down and didn't make trouble.
She laughed softly, bitterly, as if I ever made trouble. Charles's jaw tightened. Your father's sins were never yours to carry. Tell that to the women who wouldn't look at me tonight, or the men who whispered behind their gloves when I entered the room. Emma met his gaze steadily, though it cost her. The name Ashford is still poison here, Charles. Some stains don't wash out.
He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching her face as if looking for the girl he'd known, the one who'd laughed without fear, who'd chased him through gardens, and declared impossible things with absolute certainty. You were never poison to me, he said finally. The words landed like stones in still water, sending ripples through her chest. Emma's breath caught. She wanted to believe him, wanted to let herself feel the warmth of that statement. But 18 years of exile had taught her not to trust beautiful words.
You say that now, she whispered. But you didn't come looking for me. Charles flinched as if she'd struck him. I told you. I searched for years, and then I stopped because I thought you were dead. The words tore out of him, rough and desperate. Your family vanished, Emma. The estate was sold. Your mother remarried some French merchant and disappeared to Lyon. There were rumors. He stopped, his hands curling into fists again. There were rumors you died of fever, that you drowned, that your father had taken you somewhere no one would ever find you.
Emma's throat constricted. She'd never known, never imagined that her disappearance had left such a wound. I didn't know anyone was looking. I was. Charles took a step closer, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. Every ball, every season. I looked for you in every blonde girl I saw. In every laugh that sounded like yours. In every, he stopped himself, his jaw working as he fought for control. I looked for you everywhere, Emma. And you were nowhere.
Guilt twisted in her stomach, sharp and bitter. I'm sorry. Don't apologize. He shook his head, the movement sharp. You were a child. You did what you had to do. So did you. Did I? A bitter smile touched his lips. There and gone like a ghost. I'm not so sure. Emma studied him in the dim light. The boy she remembered had been thin, all sharp angles and nervous energy. This man was different, broader, harder. There was a weariness in him that went bone deep, a kind of exhaustion that came from carrying too much for too long.
What happened to you? she asked softly. Charles's gaze snapped to hers, guarded. What do you mean? You're different. Not just older. It's, she struggled to find the words. It's like something broke inside you and never healed properly. For a moment she thought he wouldn't answer. His expression shuttered completely, that aristocratic mask sliding back into place. But then he exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping just a fraction.