Chapter 14

CHAPTER14

Emma hoped Silas’s cheek was still stinging. Indeed, he was very lucky that she was desperate for an alternative way of mending things with her family while salvaging her reputation, or things might have gotten even uglier. And she definitely would not have reluctantly agreed to the fake betrothal deal.

“Do you think I shall regret this, little bear?” she cooed at the beautiful puppy, who was playing a rather painful game of hide and attack with her hands, from underneath a chair in the empty morning room.

The puppy lunged for her fingers, and she caught him mid-leap, sweeping him up into her arms. She chuckled as he dove into a fervent licking of her face, his tail wagging furiously.

“What does that mean, sweetling?” she asked, beaming. “Does that mean I will regret it, or I will not?”

The puppy sneezed.

“That is precisely what I thought.” She kissed his nose. “This arrangement will be the death of me. I have never been good at pretending. If I were any good at it, I would be married by now.”

The puppy settled into her arms, his mouth stretching in a yawn. She sat back against the leg of the chair, stroking him gently as he fell into a deep slumber, and turned her gaze out of the morning room window.

In the distance, she could see the woods, and imagined the lake beyond them. Imagined the willow tree and Silas’s arms around her, his lips upon hers, kissing her as if he did want more than a deal of convenience, as if she was the only thing he needed. No matter how hard she tried, her mind kept returning to that moment, tormenting her with it.

“There you are! I have been searching everywhere for you!” Nora’s relieved voice snapped Emma’s attention away from the woods and the memory of that shimmering lake.

Emma put on a smile. “Eliza said you had retired to your chambers with a headache. I did not want to disturb you.”

In truth, she had not wanted her friend to see her in the aftermath of that kiss, in case she saw the guilt etched across her face. She had needed some time to regain her composure first.

“It was that Scotsman giving me the headache,” Nora muttered, walking toward Emma. She halted sharply after a few paces. “What is that?”

Emma peered down at the sleeping puppy. “This is Snowy.”

“Snowy? Is that supposed to be ironic?” Nora hurried the last few steps toward her friend and sat down beside her, wiggling her hands for a cuddle of the puppy.

“It certainly is; like naming a horse Peter.” Emma laughed, carefully placing the sleeping dog in Nora’s arms.

Nora’s eyes shone as she held the pup. “He is beautiful.” She paused. “Tell me this is not a persuasion gift from the duke—a cute trick to win your favor.”

“He was caught in a thorn bush. I rescued him,” Emma explained.

Nora nodded. “That explains the cuts on your arms. For a moment, I was worried I might have to borrow a dueling pistol and challenge His Grace. Have you had them treated? You do not want them to suppurate.”

“I… did not even realize,” Emma murmured, noting the fine, red marks on her arms for the first time.

Nora made a discerning sound. “You were likely too enchanted by that handsome devil and his wicked charms. I would not be surprised if he put the puppy in the thorn bush, knowing you would find it.”

“You do not like him, do you?” Emma smiled nervously.

If Nora did not like Silas, how on earth was Emma supposed to tell her friend that they were ‘courting’ and would soon be ‘betrothed’? Even if she told her the truth about the pretense of the endeavor, she doubted Nora would support it.

“I do not trust him. There is a difference,” Nora replied haltingly. “That valet of his did everything within his power to keep me from returning to you, and it gave me the most awful feeling that I had unwittingly fallen into a trap. You cannot know how worried I have been. I thought… some harm beyond a few cuts had befallen you.”

Emma furrowed her brow. “I do not think His Grace is that wicked.”

Visions of their kisses flashed into her head once more. By anyone’s standards, they had been inappropriate, but she could not blame the encounter entirely upon Silas.

There had been many opportunities where she could have smacked him or shoved him away, and she sensed he would have respected her choice. She was as responsible as he was for letting the kisses happen.

“How did his valet keep you from returning?” she asked, eager to change the subject.

Nora pulled an irritated face. “We made it to the stables, and I waited for him to arrange a more suitable, calmer horse. Instead, he walked off, and when I called after him, reiterating that you were out there and needed me to chaperone, he shrugged and said, ‘I have important business to which I must attend. We can return to them when I’ve done it.’ I tried to insist, but he disappeared into the house, and I lost him.”

“I am sorry he did that, but I was quite well. Silas meant me no harm,” Emma urged.

At that, Nora paled. “What did you just call him?”

“Pardon?”

“You just referred to him as “Silas.” Does this mean⁠—”

“It does not mean anything,” Emma interrupted quickly. “He said I ought to call him by his name, and I saw no reason to disobey.”

What she did not add was that he had suggested it only to make the ruse more believable.

“Lovers do not refer to one another as ‘Lady This’ and ‘Your Grace That.’ Nor do I think I would mind hearing my name on your tongue, in public at least. In private, I will still be ‘Your Grace.’ So we do not ‘complicate’ matters,” he had told her.

She had almost slapped him a third time, insisting,“I will use your name, but we are not lovers. Do not refer to us as such. Ever.”

He had smirked at that, and her stomach had fluttered.

Nora opened her mouth to say something more, when two brash, dominating voices filtered into the peace of the morning room. Augusta and Eliza, it seemed, had not yet tired of catching up on all the years they had been apart.

“You will join us at the opera in two days’ time, will you not?” Augusta queried. “It would be my greatest joy to have you sit in our private box with us. Lady Emma and her friend as well, of course.”

“I cannot abide the opera,” Eliza replied, “but I shall bear it for an old friend.”

“Your daughter and her husband must come, too.”

“Oh, she will leap at the opportunity,” Eliza said, chuckling. “Marina loves everything I despise. She always has. And it seems she has the most excellent timing!”

Augusta gasped. “Is that her now?”

“It looks like her husband’s carriage. Come, let me introduce you!” Eliza urged.

“I cannot believe you have a married daughter. I cannot believe you have a daughter! Even looking at you now, you are still that girl I used to know.” There was a note of sadness in Augusta’s voice, as if she wished she were back in that time.

Eliza laughed. “As I cannot believe that you have two sons and so many wrinkles. You had skin like alabaster. I was always bitterly jealous of it.”

“You are lucky I have a sense of humor,” Augusta scolded playfully. “Wrinkles, indeed. I shall have you know that I am often mistaken for being a decade younger than I am.”

“I was only teasing, dear Aggie. Why, I have not aged well at all. I am often mistaken for being a decade older than I am!”

The two older women cackled, their footsteps retreating from the morning room door. Emma listened to their progress across the entrance hall, and the groan of the front door opening.

A short while later, she heard Marina’s voice. “Do not mention my appearance. I cannot apologize enough. The carriage wheel came off on our way here, and if I had not helped, we would still be stuck somewhere on the road.”

“She gave it such a huge push that she fell forward, face first into the mud,” a masculine voice joined in, brimming with good humor. Her husband, Jasper, presumably. Emma had never actually spoken with him; she had only seen him before.

“I believe that is rather obvious,” Marina retorted. “Now, where is Lady Emma? I have something for her.”

Eliza’s sharp exhale bristled through the entire manor. “Goodness… now that you mention it, I have no notion of where Emma is. Aggie, have you seen her?”

“Not since she set out with my son and her friend,” Augusta replied.

A growl of irritation rumbled from Marina. “Are you quite serious, Mama? You are supposed to be keeping a watchful eye on her! She is your ward, for goodness’ sake. You promised me you would do better.”

“I am sure she is here somewhere!” Eliza insisted, sounding a little rattled.

Nora nudged Emma’s arm. “I believe that is our cue to make our grand entrance.”

Nora passed the sleeping hound back to Emma, and with a breath, they edged out of the morning room to greet the newcomers… and to put Eliza’s mind at ease as to her ward’s whereabouts.

“Thank goodness,” Marina breathed, setting her sights on Emma. “At least you are keeping yourself out of trouble. Mama, you and I must have a word once I am settled.”

Eliza looked sheepish. “Of course, my dear girl.”

“Was the puppy your idea, Mama?” Marina smiled, reaching out to scratch the darling creature’s head.

“Puppy?” Augusta nearly choked on her own spit. “Does my son know about this? He cannot abide disorder in the house.”

Emma hid a smile. “He said he did not mind, as long as I took full responsibility for the dear thing.”

Augusta relaxed. “Well then, I certainly have no complaints. I always longed to have a dog in the house, but first it was my husband who refused to allow it, and then it was my son.” She paused, squinting. “Perhaps, you are a better influence upon him than I could have hoped. Now, my younger son adores animals. He would have a manor full of dogs and cats if he could, but⁠—”

“Might you help me settle into my chambers?” Marina interjected, gently taking hold of Emma’s elbow. “Your… acquaintance can watch the puppy while you assist me.”

Emma was not certain she liked the cautionary tone of Marina’s voice, but she desperately longed to be friends with her godmother’s daughter and would not have even thought of refusing. Dutifully, she passed Snowy back into Nora’s care and, with her head bowed as if she were headed to trial, she followed Marina up the stairs.

“I will just amuse myself, I suppose!” Jasper called up to his wife, who glanced back over her shoulder, shooting him a mischievous smile.

That is the sort of love I would choose for myself—a union of understanding, acceptance, and irreverence, taking nothing seriously but the love itself. Emma sighed at the impossibility, for she had heard all of the stories of Marina and Jasper, Joanna and Edwin, and Nancy and Adam. Those were the sorts of marriages a woman could strive for, but all that awaited Emma was pretense and, most likely, spinsterhood.

Or a nunnery. Let us not forget the nunnery.

* * *

“Did you not bring your children with you?” Emma asked, as Marina closed the door to the bedchamber she and Jasper would be occupying.

Marina smiled. “I left them with Nancy. She insisted, in truth. I think she wanted an excuse not to have to travel with her own children, for they struggle with new surroundings.”

“What of Joanna? When will she be arriving?” Emma perched awkwardly on the chair by the vanity, as Marina busied herself with her personal valise of belongings.

“She is unwell, and will not be joining us,” Marina replied.

Emma stared down into her lap. “Oh.”

“Do not be disappointed, Emma. You shall have me all to yourself. And you have your friend for company, too. She seems to be a darling girl—I look forward to getting to know her better. The sweet puppy, too.”

Emma raised her head. “Is she actually unwell, or is it—?” She trailed off, guilt holding her tongue.

“I saw her myself,” Marina insisted. “She has one of those particularly nasty summer colds. It is nothing to do with… that.”

Despite her words, Emma did not believe Marina. They both knew that Joanna was staying away because of what had been written in the scandal sheets. Joanna could not afford to associate with Emma, not if she wanted to weather the storm of the sheets’ accusations.

Perhaps, agreeing to this deceit with Silas may help that, too. The thought offered the smallest speck of cheer and hope, though she was still dubious about how society would view her when it ended.

“How did you feel when you first met your husband?” she asked suddenly.

Marina frowned. “We had an… unusual beginning.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “I saw a notice in the scandal sheets, that he was in want of a bride. At the very next ball, I waited until he had departed, and I… sort of jumped out at him. Made him an offer for a marriage of convenience, as I suspected that was all he wanted.” A soft smile graced her lips. “But after the wedding, as we were getting to know one another, it became something I had never dreamed of for myself. It became true love. In truth, I think I loved him when we first met in the tea shop to discuss the prospect, but I did not realize until later.”

“What of your… first kiss?”

“The most magical moment,” Marina sighed. “He was playing the pianoforte. He did not know I was listening. I approached him, sat down on the piano bench, and when he ceased playing… he kissed me for the very first time. We were married by then, but it continues to be one of the most thrilling moments of my life.”

Emma floundered. “But… you were not expecting it, or were you expecting it?”

She waited for Marina’s answer, but as the silence stretched between the two women, Emma glanced up to find Marina staring at her with suspicion in her eyes, her lips pressed into a grim line.

“Emma, I want you to answer me honestly,” Marina said, her tone grave. “Has His Grace kissed you? Did he kiss you against your will?”

All thoughts of sharing a sisterly moment with Marina evaporated in Emma’s heart, panic replacing the excitement of the memory—of her first kiss, for she had decided not to count the one by the stables. She was not the sort of girl who wallowed, but she could not help thinking that no matter what she did, she was always doing it the wrong way.

Should I be sorry for it? Her brain said yes, but her heart said no. It had not felt like a wretched deed. It had felt wonderful. It was what had come afterward—Silas’s revelation of the truth—that had tarnished it, but even then, it had not ruined it for her.

“No,” she said firmly.

“Emma, you must be honest with me.”

“He did not kiss me. I thought he might ask to, but he did not,” Emma lied. The first test of her ability to pretend.

Marina pulled a face. “Very well, but if he does attempt to do such a thing, you must run. You must fetch me and allow me to deal with it. You cannot risk your reputation any more than you already have, Emma. I do not mean this to hurt you, but to protect you. Until you have decided whether to accept his offer, and until you are married if that is your choice, you must not even let him kiss your cheek.”

“I understand my situation. I am sorry for worrying you,” Emma mumbled, realizing that she was stuck with a precious secret that it seemed she could not tell a soul. Not even those closest to her.

I miss my sister. Her heart sank, for Lydia would have squealed and shrieked with excitement, making Emma feel better about the whole thing. But she was not allowed to see Lydia. Not until she had removed the stain upon the family name, one way or another.

If she had been uncertain before, she was convinced now: a fake betrothal with Silas was the only way to fix what she had broken.