That was what he didn't understand. She didn't panic. Not normally. It should have been an argument, at most, rather than fleeing. Still, he supposed she was entitled to respond in her own way, whether or not he understood the reasoning for it. They all reacted differently, in the end. The pregnancy itself alone was a likely culprit, on top of the things she'd listed off. He understood that she had reacted without thinking it through, but that did not mean it stopped him from wondering if this was going to form a habit. He could not run off to Denmark every time they had a disagreement.
Adrian wouldn't be the first bloke in London to feel a little awkward when a woman cried. It was genetics; built into their genetic code. Feminists every where would be outraged, but it was just instinct to protect them. Whether or not they needed it was irrelevant. He could spend all day arguing the varying ideas of the "Weaker sex" but he didn't have the patience for it that day.
"I was pretty certain my feelings for you were obvious," he commented, checking his pockets. As luck would have it, he found a clean handkerchief in the front pocket of his jacket. Why he had one in there, he wasn't entirely sure. In any rate, it proved to be of some use as he handed it to Emma. "I may not have said aloud that I love you, but it was quite clear in my actions. What else would I wish for us?"