Intertwine (House of Oak Book 1)

by Nichole Van

  Again, James said nothing. Arthur did make a valid point.

  But James refused to give up on the idea so quickly. Georgiana was dying and would not be with them for much longer, much as it pained James to face the fact. Marriage seemed an impossible prospect for her. And as a man, Arthur would hardly be irreparably tainted by any decision James made.

  “Arthur, you are making assumptions that simply may not be true. We will not know anything about her past until Emma’s memory returns or until someone comes to claim her. In the meantime, Emma’s presence has lifted Georgiana’s spirits and improved her health. You condemn her based on supposition, not facts.”

  Every instinct cried that Emma was meant for him. That their lives were intertwined together. If they were indeed fated to be separated, James would not be the one to precipitously cause the break. He would wait out their drama to the bitter end.

  Arthur scoffed.

  “James, be reasonable—”

  “This is my house and my decision to make.” James cut him off. “Emma stays. If you have a problem with it, you are more than welcome to leave tomorrow for Whitcomb. No one is forcing you to remain here.”

  Arthur ground his teeth, obviously perturbed. “You would like that, brother. But Linwood has relented and will allow Marianne to attend the assembly ball this week, despite her still being in half-mourning. I will hardly absent myself from her side.”

  “Then you will have to deal politely with our house guest, as I most certainly will not turn her away.”

  Chapter 21

  Haldon Manor

  The walled garden

  The next day

  June 9, 1812

  The warm night beckoned Emme outside. Everyone had said their goodnights and trudged upstairs, but Emme wasn’t tired.

  Instead she felt confused and lost.

  Gathering a shawl around her shoulders, she slipped down the stairs, across the back terrace and out into the walled garden. The scent of green growing things enveloped her. Wildflowers and wisteria and the season’s first roses, all wrapped in cricket song and the far off hoot of an owl.

  The moon was a pale sliver, leaving the night in darkness. Nearly unnaturally dark and yet . . . somehow not.

  Though the actual sky was inky black—darker than seemed normal to her—the heavens glistened with stars. Millions, . . no, billions of them. The entire sky pulsing with pinpricks of light—the Milky Way a clear, glittering ribbon cutting through it all.

  Had there always been so many stars? Though the moon shone faint and thin, the starlight was still bright enough to cast shadows.

  Odd that.

  Looking up, Emme felt as if she were falling into the heavens. Vast and unnerving.

  She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, closing her eyes to blot out the blinking stars, fighting back the panic. She had gone almost a week without an attack. Funny that the night sky should bring one on.

  Emme heard a rustle of sound behind her and jumped with a slight cry of alarm as a strong hand grasped her arm.

  “It’s fine. It’s just me.” His voice was low, warming her. She sighed in relief.

  “You startled me.” Her own voice sounded husky. Sultry even.

  She could make him out even in the starlight, catching the gleam of his bright hair, the white of a cravat against his dark jacket. He shifted and slid his hand to the small of her back, directing her toward a bench she could see, glinting in the light of the stars.

  “Come. Sit with me,” James murmured, his lips close to her ear.

  Emme sank into the bench, drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. James sat next to her, his leg pressing against hers.

  “You seemed sad tonight. Want to talk about it?” His voice ached with caring. Or was that just her own heart? Emme gulped, her throat suddenly tight.

  “Oh, James,” she whispered into the night. “What are we ever to do?”

  He found her hand and curled it into his grasp. Rough and slightly calloused. A man’s hand. Strong and solid and encircling.

  She clasped it tightly, twining her fingers with his. He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair.

  Her own hand ached to follow it. Longed to touch him.

  “Yes. This situation is ridiculously difficult.”

  “I don’t know . . . ,” she began and then choked.

  Inhaling slowly, she started again. “I don’t know what to do. Who is that man in the locket to me? And how long do I hold on to him?”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  She heard him exhale slowly. “I understand your hesitation.”

  “It’s been weeks and no one has come for me. What does that mean?”

  “It means that someone somewhere is probably looking frantically for you. Or if they aren’t, then they are fools and don’t deserve you, dearest Emma.”

  “You know my name most likely isn’t Emma, right?”

  “Probably. But it suits you for now.”

  They sat in silence for a minute. Just being. His hand warm and comforting in hers.

  “I worry . . . ,” she paused, staring sightlessly out into the dark night. “. . . my feelings for you.”

  “Ah.” He stirred next to her, shifting closer. “I am suddenly liking the direction of this conversation.” Teasing in his voice.

  Emme smiled. Trust James to make her laugh, to chase away her sadness.

  He’s perfect, you know. It’s like he’s your destiny or something, Alter Emme whispered.

  Now why did that sound familiar?

  Emme nudged him with her shoulder.

  “Be serious,” she said, still smiling.

  “Oh, I am, I assure you.”

  “I often wonder, do I like you for yourself?”

  James let out a low chortle and leaned into her.

  “You just admitted you like me,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear.

  Oh handsome, you have no idea, Alter Emme muttered.

  Emme smiled wider and shook her head. Again, she nudged him.

  “As I was saying, do I like you for you? Or is it just that you remind me of your doppelganger in a locket in my vanity drawer?”

  “Doppelganger?” James gave a burst of startled laughter.

  “Uh . . . ,” Emme hunted her brain for the meaning of the term. “I think it’s German. It means your double. This idea that there is someone else in the world who is your exact twin.”

  “My twin? That is interesting. Is this twin possibly evil?”

  Emme laughed. “Possibly. Though it’s more likely you are the evil twin.”

  “True,” James chuckled in reply. “Mr. F does look a little too saintly to be the evil one.”

  “Indeed, he does.”

  “But if I am the devilish one, does that mean I get to steal you away?”

  The question hung between them.

  The agony of longing and loss suddenly clenched her chest. Emme felt balanced on a precipice, where one slight move one way or the other would make all the difference.

  And she had no idea which move to make.

  They sat in silence again for a few moments.

  “I keep going over all the what ifs,” he finally said.

  “Me too. I even made a list of them.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. You shouldn’t be surprised. You know I enjoy making lists.”

  “That is true. I love your lists.” But his warm voice and the caress of his hand made it obvious he loved something else too.

  Something more.

  Do you really think locket-boy could be any better than this? Alter Emme asked.

  The question caused Emme to shiver slightly. James misunderstood the motion.

  “You’re cold,” he said quietly.

  Emme anticipated him offering her his coat, as he usually did. She sat expectantly.

  But instead James released her hand and slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against his heated chest.


  Emme tensed for just a moment and then she gave in, melting into him with a sigh. She nestled her nose into his neckcloth and breathed him in.

  He smelled of crisp linen and something else she recognized as being entirely James. She rested her hand on his chest, sliding it slightly under his jacket and waistcoat to rest on his shirt. She could feel his muscles, firm under her hand, his hammering heart mimicking her own. His arm encircled her waist, resting warm and secure on her hip, his thumb tracing unconscious circles.

  James sighed with contentment, like having her body tucked against his side made the whole universe feel aligned.

  It felt impossibly right.

  As if they could face down any obstacle, as long as his hand was in hers. As if together, they were more than just the sum of two.

  He gathered her even closer and buried his face in her hair. She felt a soft kiss brush her curls.

  “You are far too captivating a creature. I fear if you leave me, you will take something vital and necessary with you.” He exhaled into her hair.

  “Oh, James,” she murmured.

  “I will fight to keep you. Consider yourself warned.”

  She felt of his strength. His commitment. Unlike Mr. F. Where had he been the last three weeks?

  Yeah, really, Alter Emme agreed.

  Emme knew instinctively that James would be there for her no matter what came. He would hunt her to the ends of the earth, on hands and knees if he had to. And suddenly that mattered a lot.

  More than some unknown man in a locket in her vanity drawer.

  Emme sighed again and allowed herself to melt into him a little more.

  James shifted and sent his nose wandering down to her ear. And then continued down her throat, pressing his face into the crook of her neck.

  His lips remained still. He didn’t kiss her.

  He just breathed her in, silent and longing.

  His free hand came around and cupped her cheek, sliding into her short hair. He raised his head slightly, cradling her cheek against his.

  Holding her with aching tenderness. As if she were too precious to ever let go.

  Later that evening, Emme sat at her vanity, slowly slid open the drawer and pulled out the locket. She opened it and stared at his familiar face.

  Him.

  Trying one last time to remember anything, something.

  But nothing came.

  All she saw was James. The set of his jaw. The wave of his hair. That knowing twinkle in his eyes. Perfectly reflected in the locket. She read the inscription one more time.

  Throughout all time. Heart of my soul.

  The words still had the power to sear her. But was it enough? She blinked against the tightness in her throat.

  Gently she closed the locket. Held it cupped in her hands for a long moment. And then, with a shake of her head, brought it to her lips, kissing it softly.

  “I’m sorry,” Emme whispered. “Whoever you are.”

  She held the locket for another moment and then quietly tucked it back into the vanity drawer.

  Crawling into bed, she dreamed of a living, breathing man with a teasing smile that promised the whole world.

  And then some.

  Chapter 22

  The Assembly Rooms

  Marfield

  Three days later

  June 12, 1812

  The room was suffocatingly hot; the assembly rooms tightly packed with bodies.

  Public balls were popular in Marfield, making this one quite a crush. Worse, it had been a warm June day and the arrival of evening had not brought much relief.

  Emme fanned herself, moving slowly along the edge of the crowd toward an open window, hoping to catch a cool breeze. James was trapped in conversation with Sir Henry on the other side of the room. She caught a glimpse of Georgiana dancing with Arthur, a stately minuet that would not hamper her breathing. She looked radiant and happy, thrilled to feel well enough to attend.

  Marianne had arrived on the arm of her brother; Arthur had been eager to see her. Lord Linwood had not danced—Emme assumed he found it beneath his dignity—and had instead spent most of the evening staring either at his sister or at Emme, which she had found odd and unsettling.

  As for herself, Emme had already apologetically declined several requests to dance, as she didn’t remember the complicated steps—something that they had realized only that morning.

  Georgiana had mentioned something about dancing over breakfast which had led to Emme asking questions. Which led to Georgiana fetching James and playing the piano for them as he tried to teach her various country dances. As she moved gracefully through the steps, it became quickly obvious Emme was an experienced dancer. But she could not remember the figures. It all proved too complex for her to memorize in so short a period of time.

  “Why can I not remember the simplest things sometimes?” Emme moaned to James

  “Come, come, Emma,” James tried to cheer her. “Let us try a waltz.” The twinkle in his eye indicated a certain amount of mischief.

  “A waltz.” Emme looked at him thoughtfully, slowly nodding her head. James stepped forward, his arms outstretched, intending to show her the proper form for a closed dance position.

  But Emme noted his surprise as she instantly matched her arm position to his and stepped readily into his arms, gently placing one hand on his upper arm, resting the other in his hand, arching her back slightly and elongating her neck.

  She sighed in relief. It felt incredibly right. As if dancing the waltz were the most normal, natural thing to her.

  With a nod, Georgiana began playing a lilting tune in three-four time. With slight pressure from his hand in the small of her back, James led her into the familiar down-up-up rhythm, Emme effortlessly following his lead.

  Emme breathed in delight. Though she may have forgotten everything else about dancing, remembering how to waltz had been a lovely gift. A much needed boon.

  Of course, it didn’t hurt that James was an excellent partner. Floating her easily around the room. Providing just the right amount of pressure on her back as they twirled, subtly guiding her with shifts of his hand. His extremely warm hand.

  Emme smiled at the memory.

  Of course, he had claimed her waltz this evening too. The only one during the entire evening, mores the pity. She would not have minded an entire evening of waltzes with James.

  At the moment, however, she just wanted out of the stifling heat. Reaching the open window, she stepped in front of it, breathing in the cooler air with relief. She looked down and noted the window was actually a door opening onto a small balcony. She could see a staircase leading down into the back garden—a garden that looked cool and beckoning.

  It was too much temptation to resist.

  Emme carefully lifted the skirts of her cream silk ball gown and slipped out onto the balcony, quietly descending the steps into the garden. Enclosed by a wall, Emme could just make out a gate in the back. The space seemed overrun by roses and flickered with candlelight from the bright assembly room above and several torches set along the path. It felt lovely and fresh. Emme breathed in the cleansing night air as she wandered toward the back gate.

  “Madam!” A cool voice accosted her from behind. Startled, Emme turned to see Lord Linwood’s tall form coming toward her, his features dancing in the torchlight.

  “My lord?” she said in surprise, instinctively bobbing him a stiff curtsy as he stopped in front of her.

  Staring. And saying nothing.

  “To what do I owe the courtesy of this conversation?” Emme liked the frosty tone of her voice.

  She heard him exhale loudly.

  “Do not pretend to misunderstand my purpose here, madam,” his voice low in the torchlight.

  He took a step closer to her and seemed undecided for a moment. As if hesitating over what to do.

  Was he trying to use his height to intimidate her? To force her to back away? Well, she could play that game. Emme stood her ground.

>   Linwood studied at her for a long moment and then broke, moving around her to stare out into the garden, his back stiff and proud.

  Emme cocked an eyebrow as her gaze turned to follow him. She rapidly searched her brain, trying to remember anything that would make sense of his presence.

  I got nothing. You got anything? Alter Emme asked.

  Emme mentally shook her head.

  “I know who and what you are,” he said, menacingly.

  Emme sucked in her breath. Did Linwood know something about her past? Was he the key to understanding how she had come to be along the lane that night?

  He turned back to her, moving to block her way.

  She shook her head, bewildered. “If that is the case, my lord, then you know more than I myself. Perhaps you would care to share what you know with me?”

  Linwood snorted. “Let us not play these silly games. As I said, I know what you are. Did Knight think that his little secret would remain hidden? That I would not find out?” Emme could see a small amused grin dance on his lips.

  Truly puzzled, Emme stared at him in confusion. At a loss to say anything. His words made no sense to her.

  “I don’t understand . . . ,” she hesitantly began.

  “Do not play innocent,” he cut her off. “It is hardly convincing.”

  “Again, my lord, I really have no idea of what you speak. Truly. If you know something about me, about my past, please share it.”

  “Are you still pretending to have lost your memory then?”

  “It is no pretense, sir! How dare you imply that I am deliberately lying to everyone!” Emme could feel her temper rising.

  Really, the arrogant man was impossible.

  We’re just going to take a second and imagine him riding a pig through Marfield, Alter Emme said. And maybe only the pig will have clothing on.

  He looked at her, contempt evident in his stance, his stare.

  “You forget, madam, that Arthur is incapable of keeping a secret from Marianne. And Marianne, in her turn, is incapable of keeping a secret from me.”

  Emme cocked her head at the statement. It made sense but still didn’t illuminate her understanding.