Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Emma

E mma sat before the vanity in her chamber, a soft, satisfied smile playing on her lips. The room was dimly lit, the flickering glow of the fireplace casting warm, golden hues across the elegant furnishings. Brigitte, her lady’s maid, deftly removed the pins from Emma’s hair, her movements gentle and precise.

“You’re in high spirits tonight, Your Grace,” Brigitte observed with a small smile of her own, glancing at Emma in the mirror.

Emma chuckled lightly, her hands folding in her lap. “It was a pleasant evening, wasn’t it?”

Brigitte nodded. “The dining room staff said everything went smoothly. His Grace seemed quite impressed with your arrangements.”

Emma’s smile deepened, and she leaned back slightly in her chair. “Not just impressed. He was genuinely interested. In the children, in the work the orphanage does—it wasn’t just politeness.” She paused, a contemplative note entering her voice. “It surprised me.”

Brigitte set down the last of the pins and began brushing Emma’s hair, her strokes rhythmic and soothing. “I’ve noticed His Grace takes more of an interest in your endeavors these days.”

Emma shook her head with a soft laugh. “You’re reading too much into things. We’re simply coming to an understanding, that’s all. Perhaps, in time, we might even become friends. But that is the extent of it.”

Brigitte raised her brows, meeting Emma’s gaze in the mirror. “Don’t judge too quickly, Your Grace. Things may change yet.”

Emma’s smile faltered, and she looked thoughtful for a moment. “Perhaps,” she conceded quietly. “We’ll see.”

Brigitte set the brush down and began preparing Emma’s nightgown. “So, His Grace will come to the orphanage tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Emma said, her tone brightening again. “And afterward, we’re going to Hyde Park. He thought it would be nice to go for a walk since it’s nearby. He’s meeting a few of his associates there.”

Brigitte smirked as she helped Emma into her gown. “Will Lord Weston be among them?”

Emma’s cheeks warmed at the mention of Jonathan’s name, and she glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t believe so. Though, judging by your interest, I imagine if he were, you might offer yourself as an escort.”

Brigitte colored deeply and turned back to the vanity, picking up a brush. “I was only asking, Your Grace,” she muttered, clearly flustered.

Emma laughed softly, the sound light and genuine. “You needn’t be embarrassed, Brigitte. He is rather dashing, I’ll admit. I can see why everyone at the estate seems to moon over him. Including you, Brigitte?”

“I suppose I cannot deny that he is rather appealing. If I were not a maid perhaps I might set my cap on him also. If I were Lady Brigitte, instead of Brigitte Orlean, lady’s maid.”

Emma gasped, mock scandalized, before bursting into laughter. Brigitte joined in, their shared mirth filling the room.

When the laughter faded, Brigitte placed the brush down and smiled warmly at Emma. “It’s good to see you laughing again. It’s been some time.”

Emma tilted her head, a thoughtful expression softening her features. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I hadn’t realized how long it’s been.”

She thought back to the evening’s events—the lively conversation at dinner, Jonathan’s playful humor, Evan’s quiet attentiveness. For the first time in what felt like ages, she had felt truly at ease. There was a lightness to her heart she hadn’t expected, a sense of looking forward to the days ahead.

Yet, amidst her happiness, a shadow lingered. Emma’s gaze drifted to the nightstand, where the letters she had discovered weeks ago were tucked away in the drawer. The one addressed to “Rose” in particular haunted her thoughts.

She wondered if Evan’s frequent trips to town were tied to the letters, to Rose, whoever she might be. A part of her yearned to know the truth, but another part feared what she might uncover. If she and Evan had any hope of forging a true friendship, it had to be built on trust.

Emma sighed and turned back to the mirror. “Brigitte, do you think…” She hesitated, then shook her head. “No, never mind.”

Brigitte tilted her head curiously but said nothing, continuing to tidy up the room.

Emma’s thoughts swirled. Should she return the letters to Evan? Should she tell him she had found them? But what if he thought she had read them? What if it shattered the fragile connection they were beginning to build?

No, she decided firmly. She would leave the letters where they were for now, pushed to the back of the drawer and out of sight.

Tonight, she wanted nothing to disturb the sense of peace she had found. For the first time, she felt hope—not just for the orphanage, but for herself. For the possibility that her marriage to Evan could become something more than just an arrangement.

Emma smiled faintly at her reflection, the firelight catching the warmth in her eyes. Tomorrow would come with its challenges and revelations, but for now, she was content to let the evening linger in her heart.