Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Emma

3 months later

T hree months later, the air around Hayward House was thick with the tension of Alexander's long-anticipated arrival. Emma watched from an upstairs window as her brother’s carriage rattled up the drive, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. A flurry of activity had filled the estate over the past few days, as Alexander’s Irish servants unloaded trunks, crates, and the belongings he intended to establish at Hayward permanently.

With each passing hour, it became painfully clear to Emma that the house she had known her entire life was changing—Alexander’s presence would turn it into something different, something that felt less like her home.

Then again, after her father’s disgrace, she had barely felt at home at Hayward House. She had continued her habit of staying with one sister or the other, with only occasional stays at Hayward.

Of late, her time was spent mostly at the Society for the Promotion of Benevolence, the small charity where she tutored children at a nearby orphanage. It had become her solace, her purpose. She knew the children and staff by name and they were delighted to have her. So much did she enjoy her time there that she hardly ever thought of her unfortunate marital circumstances.

Indeed, she had missed the start of the Season and had to be reminded to ask for a voucher for Almack’s – though she considered it wasted money as she had no desire to actually visit.

The quietness at Hayward had been nice at times when she wanted to focus on her reading without the bustle that generally erupted at her sister’s homes.

But now, Alexander was bringing an entire household of new servants with him from Ireland, filling the house with people she hardly knew. It all felt too sudden, too overwhelming. A certain an end to her quiet space.

“How are you feeling about today?” Arabella’s voice was gentle, as if aware of Emma's hesitation.

Emma gave a half-shrug, clasping her hands to keep them steady. “Honestly, I’m not sure. It feels... strange.” She paused, then added, “Hayward hasn’t felt like mine in a long time, and now, with all the servants here and Alexander returning, it’s like it isn’t even familiar.”

Arabella looked at her kindly. “It is an adjustment, I know. But things might be easier once Alexander is here. He’ll keep the estate in order, and you can focus on your work.” Her eyes sparkled with encouragement. “You’ve been doing such good things, Emma. Do not let this change deter you. All will be well.”

“I have truly found my calling with the charity. Do you know, I have been writing stories for the children, reading to them. They adore it.”

A smile touched Arabella’s lips. “You always cared for others, Emma. I’m glad you’ve found a way to express it. But tell me, have you considered attending a ball or two? You’re still young, and the season is starting. It could be... refreshing.”

Emma shook her head. “No, Bella. I’ve done my share of dancing and smiling and hoping for proposals that never came. I’m content as I am. Not everyone must be wed. I can be perfectly content on my own. I always thought I needed marriage but I no longer do. I have all the contentment I need.”

Arabella looked unconvinced but said nothing further. Instead, she gave Emma’s hand a reassuring squeeze just as the sound of carriage wheels reached their ears. The sisters exchanged glances before stepping closer to the window. Outside, Alexander’s carriage rolled to a stop, and Emma’s stomach gave an involuntary flutter of nerves.

A footman opened the door, and first to step down was Alexander, tall and straight-backed, his eyes scanning the grounds with a look of both nostalgia and something deeper, perhaps apprehension. He had not been back here in more than ten years. On the prior occasion he’d visited, he’d stayed at Arabella or Hanna’s homes.

Henry, who had collected him from the harbor, followed close behind, and Arabella immediately hurried outside to embrace her husband. Emma watched as her sister then turned to Alexander, greeting him with the warmth of an older sibling reunited. But Emma held back, feeling a sharp reluctance to join the reunion.

Finally, Alexander’s gaze fell on her. He stepped forward, his arms open, catching her in a surprisingly warm hug and giving her a light kiss on each cheek. She blinked, taken aback by this gesture.

“What is this?” she asked, raising a brow. “Have you become French in your travels?”

Alexander laughed heartily. “Not quite. Waterloo didn’t quite transform me into a Frenchman, but I rather like the custom. Civilized, isn’t it?”

Emma surprised herself by smiling a little, despite her initial reluctance, and together they turned to walk inside. But her smile faded as he looked around the grand entrance hall, his gaze lingering on each familiar detail as if seeing it for the first time.

“I can’t quite believe I’ll be living here again,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“It will be… rather strange,” Emma said carefully, crossing her arms as they came to a pause by the grand staircase. “And if you would rather have Hayward to yourself, I could stay with Arabella and Henry. I know how you value your independence.”

There was a pause, and Arabella and Henry exchanged an awkward glance. But Alexander looked at her with a frown, his brow knitting in concern.

“No, Emma,” he said firmly. “One of the things I look forward to most is spending time with you. I’ve had the good fortune of being close to Arabella and Henry when they visited Helena and I in Ireland and I’ve seen Hanna often enough. But you—well, I hardly know you as well as I’d like.”

Emma stiffened, her own words biting as they slipped out. “Well, if you hadn’t abandoned us as children, we might not have that problem.”

The silence that followed was sharp, ringing in the air as her words settled. Arabella’s mouth opened slightly in surprise, while Henry shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flicking to the floor. Alexander’s face softened, though, and a look of regret filled his eyes.

“I understand why you feel that way,” he said quietly. “And I don’t blame you.”

They stood in tense silence for a moment, until Arabella cleared her throat, her voice breaking the uneasy atmosphere. “Well, Alexander, I’m sure you’ll want to settle in. We’ll let you rest from your travels and see you for dinner tomorrow night.”

As Arabella and Henry left, an uncomfortable silence settled over the entry hall of Hayward House. Emma glanced sideways at her brother, his figure still as solid and unfamiliar as a guest’s, despite the echoes of shared history that filled the house around them. Alexander looked at her, his gaze steady, and then turned to inspect the hall, his eyes lingering over every familiar feature—the elegant staircase, the carefully arranged vases, the wide windows casting evening shadows.

Alexander's voice, quiet and thoughtful, broke the silence. “It’s strange, being back here. Feels both the same and entirely different.” His expression softened as he looked at her. “But tell me about your charity work. Arabella mentioned it, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

Emma hesitated, surprised he had remembered. Her work with the Society for the Promotion of Benevolence had become a defining part of her life in his absence, but Alexander had never shown much interest in such things. Still, his gaze held a sincerity that made her relent, if only a little.

“It’s… fulfilling,” she said cautiously, feeling her pride in it seep through despite herself. “I read to the children, advocate for them.”

He nodded, clearly moved by her words. “That’s wonderful, Emma. Truly.” He paused, considering, then added gently, “But it sounds like you give a lot of yourself there. Isn’t it a little… consuming? I wonder if it leaves you enough time for other pursuits. Surely, you haven’t given up on marriage altogether?”

Emma’s jaw tightened. The compliment had been a mere stepping-stone for him, she realized—just another way to maneuver her toward the path he thought she should be on. She took a sharp breath. “Marriage? Alexander, I don’t want to go to balls or simper before men who would just as soon not see me at all. I have no reason to believe it’s even possible after our father’s actions. And besides,” she said, lifting her chin, “I’m perfectly content with the life I’ve made.”

Alexander frowned, a hint of frustration crossing his face. “I’m not so sure. What Father did was terrible, yes, but it doesn’t define you. You deserve more than tutoring at an orphanage, Emma. And I’ll do what I can to see that your future changes for the better.”

Emma scoffed, the bitterness rising unbidden. “Your promises? What good did they do when you left us here alone, Alexander? I learned long ago not to rely on your assurances.”

A charged silence followed, thick with the old anger she’d fought to bury for years. Alexander’s face tightened, a flicker of regret crossing his features. “Emma, I came back to move on from all that. I understand the hurt I caused—I’m not excusing it. But… the others have forgiven me. Why can’t you?”

She shook her head, her heart hammering, her anger swirling up with a long-buried ache. “I’m not like them,” she replied, her voice low and fierce. “I don’t need you, Alexander. I never have. And I certainly don’t need your charity now.”

But his eyes met hers with a flash of something defiant, a resolute glint she hadn’t seen in him before. “I think you do need me, Emma. You don’t have to admit it, but you need someone to look out for you. Whether you like it or not, that’s my duty. I won’t stand by while you give up on the life you could have. I’m your protector, and that won’t change, even if you hate me for it.”

Emma’s laugh was harsh and hollow. “My protector? Is that what you call disappearing to Ireland for a decade while I grew up fending off gossip and keeping this family intact?” She clenched her fists, every inch of her body screaming to get away from him. “I don’t need your protection, Alexander. Not then, and not now.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed down the hallway, her pulse racing. She had hoped that time would dull her resentment, but standing here with him, it was as raw and bitter as ever. She wished, with all her heart, that he had never come back.