CHAPTER ELEVEN

The following morning began with a church service at the manor’s private chapel.

Emilia was struck by the party's opulence against the chapel's relatively drab appearance. There were rich velvets and brocades among the dresses that the ladies were wearing, mixed with the cold stone and dark wood of the church interior.

A beautiful stained-glass window at the rear of the aisle cast a kaleidoscope of coloured light over the congregation as they took their seats.

It was another grey day outside, and she could see her breath as she walked toward her parents. Her mother turned and glanced behind her pointedly, and Emilia’s heart sank as she saw the duke and his daughters in the row behind.

The duke turned with a smile, gesturing for her to sit beside him. Emilia looked at her mother, but Lady Sternwood had already turned back to face the front of the chapel.

The stained glass along the wall was throwing patterns across the little congregation, and she did not think it was a coincidence that Benedict Easton was bathed in red from the light above him. It made him look rather demonic, and when she sat beside him, the stench of brandy was strong. It was still early in the morning; he must have already been drinking, or perhaps he had done so late into the night.

She swallowed back the nausea that the smell prompted and forced a polite smile.

“You are looking very well this morning,” the duke said, running his eyes over her. Emilia was glad of her thick coat in the cold interior of the chapel, but there was something in the way the duke looked at her that made her feel naked in his presence. She hated being close to him. It did not help matters that Sophia was glaring daggers at her behind her father’s back and Emilia looked away to hide her discomfort.

As she did so, the sight of Lord Bellebrook was a welcome one. He was wearing his own thick greatcoat and looked every bit as dashing as he had at the ball. The Earl of Bellebrook had the ability to appear far grander than someone like the Duke. It was almost as though Elderbridge affected his superiority, and Lord Bellebrook possessed it without even trying.

Adam sat on the opposite side of the church with his aunt and cousin. For a brief moment, he looked across at her as they all stood for the opening hymn. Emilia experienced a strange calm come over her at that look, which she could not explain. Something in having Adam close by was a balm to her fractured nerves. She did not know why he had such an effect on her, but she was grateful he was there.

As she began to sing, with Elderbridge’s booming voice beside her, it was almost as though she could feel Adam’s calming presence wrap around her, shielding her from the world, as though it was just the two of them.

“Do you think if I lit a candle to keep my hands warm anyone would notice?” Lionel asked and Adam gave him a warning glance. There were not enough people in the church to mask Lionel’s voice during the hymn and he was aware of the Pinkerton’s glaring at them irritably.

“I think the vicar would notice if you were to set the church on fire, yes.”

“It is freezing in here,” Lionel hissed, rubbing his hands against his thighs.

“Would you be still? You are making me feel colder.”

Adam gripped his hymn book more tightly and forced his eyes ahead of himwhen all he wanted to do was look at Lady Emilia again. This morning, she was wearing a dark coat and a dark hat to match it, and she looked effortlessly elegant. His own gloved hands were chilled beneath the thick fabric, and he hoped she had enough layers on to keep her warm.

The chapel itself was beautiful and ornate, with gold leaves climbing up the lectern where the vicar stood. As the first hymn ended, he sat down, surprised by how at ease he felt. It might have been the setting, but the notes of worry he had felt ever since he had arrived at the manor seemed to have faded.

He had wed Anastasia in a small chapel much like this one. Neither of them had been interested in a grand occasion. It had been a wonderful day, and in his mind’s eye, he was standing at the aisle with her, waiting for her to become his wife.

As the memory flooded his brain he looked to his left, anticipating Anastasia’s familiar smile, but was instead met by Emilia’s vibrant presence. Adam jolted sideways in his seat making his aunt gasp and she looked at him in consternation.

“My apologies,” he murmured, his voice coming out as a croak.

What on earth has come over me?

Despite only knowing Emilia for two days, she had become thoroughly embedded in his mindand seemed to have permeated all of his senses. When he had woken that morning, she had been his first thought—not Anastasia, as he was accustomed to—but Emilia. He thought of her smile often, and each time he did so, it made him see her again.

That line of shimmering joy that had begun with her music was spreading like aflower blooming in his chest, and he seemed unable to stop it. The guilt he felt at Anastasia’s memory was there and perhaps would always be, but somehow, the sharp edge to it had dulled. He felt hopeful for his future, the dark walls of his study and endless ledgers finally losing their appeal after all these years. He felt ready for a change.

How good it would be to fill the world with colour. Every time he was around Emilia, he felt as though everything was brighter and clearer.

Adam rose with the congregation, having no idea what had just been said as another hymn began. He glanced at Emilia, his hands tightening further on his book as he saw her take a subtle step away from the Duke of Elderbridge.

I cannot be mistaken; there is no interest there.

He kept his eyes on Emilia’s elegant form throughout the service, her face bathed in golden light from the windows above her, and his heart feeling as though it was bathed in it, too. It was as though everything he had believed, all the light in his life that he had assumed was snuffed out, had merely been in the darkness, waiting for someone to draw it out again.

As they exited the chapel, the snow was still falling in earnest. It was so thick, and the day so cold, that the snowflakes were adhering to every surface, even vertical lampposts.

The ground about them was devoid of any path, despite it having been cleared just that morning. Adam was taken aback by the beauty of it, wishing he could stand and watch it fall for hours. The soft brush of each flake on the ground was soothing to his ears, and he pictured walking through it with Emilia by his side speaking of music and all the things she loved.

But the Sterlings seemed concerned by the snowstorm that had erupted about the guests and ushered everyone quickly back to the manor without any time for dallying.

Lionel and Adam stamped their feet as they entered the house, and tea was brought to the drawing room, where everyone was invited to assemble. Adam glanced at Lionel as his cousin helped him with his coat and scoffed quietly as he made a show of folding it and handing it to the butler with a bow.

“You are a simpleton,” Adam muttered affectionately.

“The cold air suits you, cousin,” Lionel replied. “You look better in the last few days than you have these past few years. I do hope you will continue to venture from the house. It makes you look rather less like an ogre.”

Adam let out a bark of laughter at that and noticed Lady Seraphina Cheswick glance across at him with a demure smile as her parents fussed over her gown.

Adam gave her a short nod in response, unsure how he was to navigate the next few days. Lady Seraphina was not an unpleasant girl, but she paled in comparison to Lady Emilia. Lady Seraphina’s mother clearly had designs upon his affections, and his own aunt had made it clear he needed to make an alliance.

Was he foolish to think Lady Emilia might become that alliance? After so short a time, the idea seemed like madness—but nevertheless, it persisted.

Emilia sat beside Charlotte in the drawing room as her mother and father debated what they should do due to the snow. They had been planning a walk that afternoon, but the heavy snowfall and the steep drop in temperature meant that their plans were thwarted.

“Emilia, we shall do a recital,” her mother whispered to her as the other guests began to gather. “You will begin it, and then we will ask others to take their turn.”

Emilia did not argue. Her mother had been taken aback by the depth of the snow and was obviously agitated. Lord Sternwood gave Emilia a reassuring nod as he handed her one of her favourite books of poetry, and Charlotte smiled.

“Excellent choice, Lord Sternwood,” Charlotte remarked, having known Emilia’s father for many years and feeling comfortable in his presence. “You have exquisite taste.”

Emilia’s father chuckled. He had always been very fond of Charlotte.

Emilia felt her palms sweating as she plucked at the edge of her dress. Charlotte was all smiles and encouragement as her audience settled themselves. Emilia was not a natural performer when a piano was not in front of her, and she felt nerves slice through her.

But as she looked across the room, she saw Lord Bellebrook opposite. Lionel Spencer seemed preoccupied with trying to catch Charlotte’s eye, but Adam was looking at her—and only her. He gave her a small smile and a nod, and Emilia finally found the strength to rise and stand before the room.

She opened the book, glancing at Charlotte, who was now paying rapt attention and began to read. The poem was by Wordsworth and spoke of lost love and redemption. To Emilia, with Adam’s eyes upon her, she felt as though it spoke for him of all he had lost and was yet to gain from life.

Adam watched Emilia, her full lips reciting and growing bolder as the poem continued. It was interesting to watch her speak like this. The pianoforte was a natural thing for her, almost an extension of herself, and in a recital she did not seem so comfortable.

He leaned forward, trying to instil in her his silent encouragement. He thought of all she had endured in the preceding yearsand the pain it must have caused her and her family to be so shunned bysociety.

He had heard a little more from Augusta on the subject, and it was true; there had been no evidence of what had happened with Lord Julian Blackmoor. The man himself had denied it on every occasion since, and yet for Emilia, the derision from those such as the duke’s daughters was still palpable to this day.

Adam’s fingers clenched at the injustice of it all. He found himself lost in her words as she continued, watching her mouth move around the stanzas, the poise in her figure, the lightness in her tone. Her confidence grew from the beginning to the end, the slight shake in her voice fading as she reached the conclusion.

With a sigh of relief, she lowered the book, and everyone began to clap in earnest. She glanced at him, as his heart kicked hard in his chest and a blush suffused her cheeks as she curtsied and sat down. Adam was captivated by her and had to drag his gaze away to focus on Charlotte Fairfax as she rose to read her poem.

Charlotte’s reading was by Keats and Adam knew that Lionel had been touched by the gift of the poems from her. He glanced at his cousin to see what he thought of the reading, but Lionel only had eyes for Miss Fairfax.

Lionel’s posture was just as Adam’s had been as he had listened to Emilia. His cousin was leaning forward, his handsome face poised in deep concentration, his fists clenched so tightly Adam could see the whites of his knuckles.

“Wonderful,” Lionel whispered breathlessly as the poem concluded and was the loudest in the applause by quite some way.

The two men looked at one another in that moment, and a wealth of emotion was passed between them without words. They looked back to Lady Emilia and Miss Fairfax sitting together after their readings, and both of them sat back in their chairs in tandem as though exhausted by it all.

“I am genuinely glad we came,” Lionel said softly. Adam could only reply with a wan smile—he most heartily agreed.

As Charlotte settled beside her, Emilia squeezed her friend's hand and murmured her congratulations. Charlotte was adept at reading aloud and the ability came far more naturally for her. Even so, Emilia was always surprised by how much she enjoyed the aftermath of a challenging experience. Before every performance, she was always horribly nervous, yet the excitement at the end was always worth the fear.

As the recital ended, however, and the guests began to disperse. Elderbridge was at her side in a moment, and Emilia watched Charlotte give him a stiff glance before her friend reluctantly had to leave them alone.

“That recital was exquisite, my Lady,” the duke said, leaning into her, his heavy bulk causing her to step lightly to the side as his torso almost brushed her arm. “You have a true passion in your words and a depth of feeling. I was quite moved.”

“Thank you, your Grace.”

“My daughters adore reading aloud, and we always have many occasions to do so at my estate. I would dearly love to hear you read again; I have never been so captivated.”

Emilia smiled. “You are too kind.”

Too kind and insincere. Emilia knew she had read without too many errors, but her cadence was often not quite as it should be when reading poetry—the emphasis on the words a little stilted. The duke was complimenting her to get into her good graces, and she did not appreciate it.

As Adam moved to leave the room, he noticed that the duke had cornered Emilia again. The man simply would not leave her alone and must have had the intelligence of a dullard to think she was encouraging him. He glanced at Lord and Lady Sternwood and realised that it did not matter. The duke did not need Emilia to want him, her parents approved and that was all that was required.

Adam clenched his jaw in irritation at the predicament Lady Emilia found herself in.

“You look positively murderous, Adam,” his aunt said suddenly beside him and he glanced at her, schooling his features as best he could.

Her intelligent eyes moved to Emilia and back to him, and she hooked her arm in his pointedly steering him out of the room. As he looked back, the duke rested an arm on Emilia’s elbow, and Adam had to force his feet to keep moving out of the door before he ran back and wrenched him away from her for good.

Perhaps there is a way that I can save her, he thought. Perhaps there is a way that I can save us both.