her so intimately except him. There had to be a way to make these feelings fade.
“You need to tell him how you feel.”
Emma shook her head. “He doesn’t love me.”
Louisa drew her into a tight hug. “I was wrong about Simon, Emma. I wanted to keep you two apart because I didn’t believe he could ever love you in return.”
“You were right.”
“No, darling. I was dreadfully wrong. Did you not see the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep? Did you notice the way he couldn’t keep his gaze off you? He loves you, Emma.”
She desperately wanted to believe her sister. To have Simon’s love would fulfill her in so many ways she’d never thought possible. But as much as Louisa felt she knew Simon, Emma knew him better. “No, he only desires me, Louisa.”
“There was so much more than desire in his eyes. Have you told him how you feel about him?”
Emma drew back appalled. “Of course not!”
“Tell him.”
“Did you tell Harry that you loved him before he admitted his feeling for you?”
Louisa bit her lower lip. Finally, she answered, “No, but I should have. We would have settled things far quicker that way.”
“I cannot,” she whispered.
“Would you rather be alone for the rest of your life?”
A month ago, Emma might have replied yes. But something had changed. After being with Simon and now spending time away from him, all she wanted was to talk to him, comfort him, be wrapped in his warm embrace.
“I don’t think I do,” she whispered.
Louisa smiled. “This will all work out. In the meantime,” she pressed a slip of paper into Emma’s hand. “Happy birthday!”
Emma unfolded the note and stared at the name and dates on the paper. “I don’t understand.”
“Mrs. Antonia Davenport is an artist of some renown. She paints mostly in oils and has agreed to work with you at my home two days a week at ten in the morning.”
Emma’s hands trembled. “This is the best gift you’ve ever given me.”
Louisa hugged her. “There’s the front door, so I’m certain Simon has left. We should enjoy the rest of your birthday.”
“EXCUSE ME, I SHALL take my leave,” Simon said once Emma had run out of the room as if the mere sight of him made her ill.
“It appears dinner is over,” Harry commented. “We might as well have that talk now.”
They departed to Harry’s study. Once ensconced in the room, Harry turned and stared at him. “Have you lost your bloody mind? Emma!”
Simon sank into a chair. “Yes, I’ve lost my mind. There is no other excuse.”
Harry sat down opposite him. “Well, there is one other excuse.”
“And what might that be?”
Harry chuckled and then moved to pour them both a brandy. “You love her,” he replied as he handed the drink to Simon.
“It truly doesn’t matter if I do.”
“Why is that?” Harry returned to his seat and then sipped his brandy.
“I am not the type of man a lady of quality marries.”
Harry shrugged. “I agree. But Emma is hardly a lady of quality, as you well know. Her mother likes to keep up the pretense, but Emma is only the great-niece of a baron. Hardly good Society. And then there is that whole mess with her father, which only a few people are even aware exists.”
“Well, her mother made it quite clear that I am not good enough.”
“Her mother is a damned fool, caring only for her own welfare.”
“Perhaps, but Emma never disagreed with her disparagement of me and my background.”
Harry swore under his breath. “When did this happen?”
“Last week,” Simon explained what happened without going into detail, but it was enough that Harry understood.
“You have to marry her, Simon.”
“She won’t have me,” Simon replied bitterly. “And Mrs. Drake despises me.”
Harry shook his head with a deep scowl. “That woman is a troublemaker. She loves to do what she can to convince her daughters to marry peers, except when one was me, of course. I wasn’t good enough because a union with me meant more gossip.”
“At least I am in excellent company,” Simon commented. “How did you convince her?”
“I didn’t. Louisa told her in no uncertain terms that she was marrying me.” Harry chuckled. “And the fact that she might have been with child at the time made a case for urgency.”
A long sigh escaped Simon. “I won’t know about that for a few weeks yet. And I’m not certain even that will make a difference.”
“Have you told her you love her?”
Simon closed his eyes against the ache