matter of time. She had to face facts. Dr Milburn had been quite clear on that. She had to be practical, but she also had to ensure Harrison and Lowe would survive.
'As I said--it was a chill. He is inclined to overdo things at times. Mama used to complain about it regularly.'
'The evening will do your father good. There, now, you can relax. He has made it to the door.
He is safe from the night air.'
Emma pressed her lips together. Jack was making it sound as if she acted like her father's gaoler, or an overly-protective nanny. 'I have no wish for the chill to return. It was...frightening to see my father in bed.'
'You will be gratified to know that he has decided to be sensible and allow me to oversee the bridge until at least Christmas.'
'But I understood you had a number of projects...' Emma said with dismay. She had hoped she'd be able to persuade her father without involving Jack. She was not sure if she was ready to explain that it had been her father who had made the mistakes. She had clung to the hope that Jack would tire of this game and depart, now that her father appeared to be getting better.
'None as pressing as this one. I am not satisfied with the riverbed. The second survey--' He stopped, and his lips turned up. 'Ah, but I shall say no more until after I have seen you polka.'
'You enjoy teasing me. We are here now.'
'But a contract is a contract, Miss Harrison.'
'I shall hold you to your promise,' Emma said, and allowed the maid to take her cloak and muff. Her hands smoothed the rose silk, making sure it fell smoothly.
Jack's eyes suddenly darkened as the full glory of her ballgown was revealed. The rose silk and Belgian lace set off her complexion nicely, she thought, and the spaniel curls at the side of her head made the planes of her face seem less angular, younger somehow, but she had definitely lowered the neckline a little too much. She resisted the urge to pull it higher.
She lowered her lashes and quickly scanned the list of dances. 'There is a polka first. Or one immediately after supper.'
'I had wondered if you would mention it.' Jack took the printed sheet from her. 'Normally a lady waits to be asked.'
'We have an agreement. Unless you mean for me to dance with someone else?'
'How did our contract go?' His voice rippled over her, holding her in its warmth. 'Remind me of the exact terms. Did we specify who you were to dance with?'
'I...I can't remember.' Emma hated that her voice faltered, that her mind appeared to be more intent on the shape of his mouth than on the terms of their agreement. She straightened her shoulders. It was humiliating to think that he did not really want to dance with her. He knew that they had agreed on a polka, and that was the first dance. It only stood to reason. Maybe he wanted to wait until the one after supper, see her sit on the sidelines, waiting to be asked?
Emma forced her spine upright. This was not going to be the first time she had spent most of a dance seated.
'My father has entered into the spirit. He refuses to divulge any information.'
'I believe he can sense an opportunity.' Jack's hand touched the small of her back, guiding her forward and up the stairs. 'You are now here, but can you polka properly? I have no wish to cause you embarrassment. Or would you prefer a waltz?'
A waltz. Emma moved away from his hand. He had no idea what the two words did to her insides, making her remember what it had been like all those years ago here. They had waltzed then. He had been light on his feet, and a warm cocoon had surrounded her. What would it be like to waltz with him now? Emma's mouth went dry. She thought she had buried such thoughts a long time ago.
She noticed Jack was watching her with speculation in his eyes. He had probably forgotten.
Emma straightened her skirt, lifted her chin, and became determined to look forward. 'I can polka, Mr Stanton. I am quite determined to polka.'
Emma did not want to think about how many times she had
'As I said--it was a chill. He is inclined to overdo things at times. Mama used to complain about it regularly.'
'The evening will do your father good. There, now, you can relax. He has made it to the door.
He is safe from the night air.'
Emma pressed her lips together. Jack was making it sound as if she acted like her father's gaoler, or an overly-protective nanny. 'I have no wish for the chill to return. It was...frightening to see my father in bed.'
'You will be gratified to know that he has decided to be sensible and allow me to oversee the bridge until at least Christmas.'
'But I understood you had a number of projects...' Emma said with dismay. She had hoped she'd be able to persuade her father without involving Jack. She was not sure if she was ready to explain that it had been her father who had made the mistakes. She had clung to the hope that Jack would tire of this game and depart, now that her father appeared to be getting better.
'None as pressing as this one. I am not satisfied with the riverbed. The second survey--' He stopped, and his lips turned up. 'Ah, but I shall say no more until after I have seen you polka.'
'You enjoy teasing me. We are here now.'
'But a contract is a contract, Miss Harrison.'
'I shall hold you to your promise,' Emma said, and allowed the maid to take her cloak and muff. Her hands smoothed the rose silk, making sure it fell smoothly.
Jack's eyes suddenly darkened as the full glory of her ballgown was revealed. The rose silk and Belgian lace set off her complexion nicely, she thought, and the spaniel curls at the side of her head made the planes of her face seem less angular, younger somehow, but she had definitely lowered the neckline a little too much. She resisted the urge to pull it higher.
She lowered her lashes and quickly scanned the list of dances. 'There is a polka first. Or one immediately after supper.'
'I had wondered if you would mention it.' Jack took the printed sheet from her. 'Normally a lady waits to be asked.'
'We have an agreement. Unless you mean for me to dance with someone else?'
'How did our contract go?' His voice rippled over her, holding her in its warmth. 'Remind me of the exact terms. Did we specify who you were to dance with?'
'I...I can't remember.' Emma hated that her voice faltered, that her mind appeared to be more intent on the shape of his mouth than on the terms of their agreement. She straightened her shoulders. It was humiliating to think that he did not really want to dance with her. He knew that they had agreed on a polka, and that was the first dance. It only stood to reason. Maybe he wanted to wait until the one after supper, see her sit on the sidelines, waiting to be asked?
Emma forced her spine upright. This was not going to be the first time she had spent most of a dance seated.
'My father has entered into the spirit. He refuses to divulge any information.'
'I believe he can sense an opportunity.' Jack's hand touched the small of her back, guiding her forward and up the stairs. 'You are now here, but can you polka properly? I have no wish to cause you embarrassment. Or would you prefer a waltz?'
A waltz. Emma moved away from his hand. He had no idea what the two words did to her insides, making her remember what it had been like all those years ago here. They had waltzed then. He had been light on his feet, and a warm cocoon had surrounded her. What would it be like to waltz with him now? Emma's mouth went dry. She thought she had buried such thoughts a long time ago.
She noticed Jack was watching her with speculation in his eyes. He had probably forgotten.
Emma straightened her skirt, lifted her chin, and became determined to look forward. 'I can polka, Mr Stanton. I am quite determined to polka.'
Emma did not want to think about how many times she had
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