Page 30 of The Mister I Married

Chapter Nine

Alex set out the following morning with a belly full of breakfast and a borrowed mount, hoping a long ride through the city would work the tension from his muscles. He’d slept poorly last night, his thoughts consumed with his sister’s confession and how it might affect his arrangement with Emmy.

He’d agreed to take Tess back to Berkshire, of course. He couldn’t ask her to remain in London, not when it made her so miserable. He wasn’t a monster, after all.

That being said, this change did complicate the plans he’d made with Emmy.

And it would leave her with an important decision to make.

Alex guided his mount up Park Lane and through the entrance into Hyde Park, his gaze panning over the tree-lined path ahead, and the largely empty stretch of sun-glazed grass on either side.

Emmy loved London, and asking her to leave it now, so much earlier than they’d agreed upon, was hardly fair. He didn’t like to do it, but without Tess here to watch over while she hunted for a husband, he could not see the practicality in remaining, or in delaying the wedding.

Assuming there would be one, and that Emmy did not break off their betrothal.

His lips thinned at the thought, unease roiling, churning his breakfast in his gut. He would have to speak with her, and the sooner the better. He could not put it off, no matter how much he wanted to.

Therefore, he would have to pay a call on her, and it would have to be today.

Consternation knit his brow, and he tugged his hat low as he and his mount traveled up the bridle path. He wished he could write Emmy a letter instead, his thoughts being so much easier to write than to speak, but that would never do. Not for a matter as important as this.

No, he would pay a call on her as a gentleman should, and hope like hell he didn’t cock it all up.

“Mr. Whitcomb!”

Alex tugged on the reins and turned in his saddle toward the familiar female voice. As if his thoughts alone had conjured her up, there was Emmy, smiling at him from atop a handsome, coal black stallion.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone unaccountably tranquil, considering he’d been nearly struck dumb by the sight of her.

God’s wounds, she was lovely today.

Her dark green riding habit suited her perfectly, the rich velvet complementing her eyes and hugging every generous curve of her body. She wore a matching hat, tipped jauntily to one side, her dark curls glistening beneath the mid-morning sun.

He could do nothing but stare.

“My, what a beautiful animal,” she said, her gaze admiring as it swept over his borrowed mare. “What is her name?”

Alex blinked and turned his focus on the horse. “Gooseberry,” he said. “Goose, for short.”

“Gooseberry?” Emmy laughed, her dimples flashing. “What an odd name.”

Her amusement brought a smile to his lips. “She bit Aunt Lawrence the first time they met, and as punishment for such a tart greeting, she was named Gooseberry.” He stroked the horse’s neck. “She’s a prickly beast, but I rather like that about her.”

Emmy’s horse stretched his neck out to nuzzle Goose’s ear, earning him a soft snicker of warning.

“Tiberius, apparently, agrees with you,” Emmy said, chuckling as she gave her mount’s head a scratch.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them as they watched the horses further their acquaintance, and Alex wondered if he should broach the topic of his sister now, or wait until later, after he’d had more time to prepare his arguments.

Emmy, however, made the decision for him. “Your sister,” she said, before clearing her throat. “How is she?”

Alex saw the question for what it was—an attempt to ferret out whether he knew what she knew without giving away that there was something to know in case he didn’t know it yet.

“She is well,” he said, nudging Goose forward until he and Emmy were lined up side by side. “She approached me last night and confessed to her unhappiness. I assured her I would not keep her in London if she wished to leave.”

Emmy nodded. “I told her you would.”

“I had no idea she was unhappy,” he said, his jaw working. “I wish she’d told me sooner.”