CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Emilia stood in her bedroom and pulled on her coat as the party prepared to walk to the local village.

The morning air was brisk and cold, and the house was bustling with movement as the guests prepared to depart. She rubbed her hands together against the cold, recalling the comforting warmth of Lord Bellebrook’s arm wrapped around hers the day before.

Everything still seemed surreal, but her strange sense of happinessin his presence was also clouded by guilt. Emilia knew what her parents were expecting and how they valued the duke’s connection. They were still adamant that he was the best possible choice for her despite so many reasons why their match did not make sense in Emilia’s eyes.

She looked beyond to the beautiful world outside and walked to the fireplace, touching the holly leaves that were scattered across its surface.

When her world had fallen apart after her discussion with Lord Blackmoor, she had been numb to many emotions. It was strange to remember how much she had ignored from the past few years. It had not just been the bad feelings but also the good ones. Any emotion at all had been suppressed in her mind, and in the last few days, she was beginning to feel them come alive again.

Her heart felt full, and the Christmas season suddenly seemed joyous. She looked at the snow and the winter wonderland outside her window, and it seemed more beautiful than it ever had before. Emilia was excited for Christmas day. It would herald the penultimate moment before Adam would speak to her father, and a new future would be sealed for her.

Sophia, Penelope, and Carolinewould be pleased, she thought, with a small smile. They will not have to endure the insult of me becoming their mother, after all.

Emilia jolted in surprise, pulled from her thoughts, as she heard her mother’s voice drifting up the stairs and realised that she had lingered at her window for too long and would need to go down to meet the other guests.

Adam was waiting alongside Lionel when Emilia emerged at the head of the staircase. Her gaze was uncertain as she looked about the company, her hand held tightly to the bannister. Adam felt a bolt of happiness when her eyes alighted on his, and she appeared to relax. He came forward, waiting for her at the base of the stairs. Lady Sternwood was not far away from him, and he noticed her watching them as Emilia descended. Adam kept his face carefully blank but was aware that if they were to make the company believe their relationship had blossomed over the coming days, he would have to make it clear to her parents that he had an interest in their daughter.

Emilia reached the bottom step, taking a deep breath as she did so. Adam smiled and nodded to her in greeting.

“Good morning, Lady Emilia,” he said quietly, aware of the smile tugging at his lips. Adam knew they were not being entirely honest with those around them, but he was finding that he enjoyed having a secret that only he and Emilia were privy to.

“Good morning, Lord Bellebrook,” she said happily, looking about her. All the baskets they had prepared were assembled on a table beside the front door, and she ran her eyes over them appreciatively. “Have you managed to locate your creation amidst the throng?”

“I have. It is a pitiful sight. I believe I shall tuck it away to spare anyone the misfortune of displaying it in their home.”

She laughed in a light, pleasing way and stepped down the last step as the rest of the group came together. Adam was conscious of eyes on him and looked up at Lady Sternwood, only to find Frederick watching him. The man had such a look of loathing on his face thatit quite chilled Adam’s blood.

Adam frowned at him, and the look evaporated.

Hurriedly, Adam offered Emilia his arm as the duke entered the room. The man was flanked by his daughters, the youngest of whom was receiving a dressing down for some slight or another. The duke thankfully fell into step beside Sophia Easton, and the fact that Adam was escorting Emilia did not seem to register in his attention.

Emilia took Adam’s arm, and they made their way into the village.

Despite the heavy snowfall, carriages and wagons still had to travel into the little village of Tinsdale, and labourers must have spent many hours clearing the paths.

The little gaggle of party members all walked out onto the lane, relieved to see that deep grooves existed through the snow, creating a makeshift path. Much of the main road into the village had been cleared. Unlike outside the chapel, where the snow had been growing so thick it was almost impassable, it was much easier to navigate here.

A river ran alongside the road, its babbling path over the rocks, not having allowed the water to freeze. It flowed happily down the little hill and under a bridge to their left, snow covering the banks. Adam listened to the sound, likening it to the tinkle of notes on a piano.

“How are you this morning?” he asked Emilia. They had separated now that the path was firmer, and Adam was conscious that he could not hold her arm all the way to the village without eyebrows being raised.

Nevertheless, he still wanted to and felt her absence acutely. Lionel and Miss Fairfax walked ahead of them, chattering merrily, and Adam was eager to use the time to get to know Emilia on their short walk to the village.

She did not say anything for so long he wondered whether she had heard him.

“Is all well?” he asked softly. “You are not having second thoughts?”

She glanced at him then. “No, my Lord, nothing like that. I suppose I was wondering how honest to be with you.”

Adam’s heart warmed at the uncertainty in her voice. “I would never wish you to feel you could not be honest with me, Lady Emilia. Even if it is a difficult thing to confess, I would know your thoughts.”

“I suppose I am not sure how I feel,” she said a little ruefully. “I am lighter in myself. I find that Christmas has more joy to it than it has done for many years. It is odd, but I feel I have known you for longer than I have. Does that seem strange?”

Adam clenched his fists inside his gloves, the sting of the cold grounding him somehow.

“No. I do not think it is odd. It is how I feel also.”

“Truly?” she asked, a note of awe in her voice.

“Most assuredly. I wish to know you better.”

“You may ask me anything.”

“Anything?” he asked with a smile. “What a notion.”

She laughed. “Within reason. There may be some things I will not disclose.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, I do not know. Perhaps that when I think nobody is paying attention, I have been known to dip a mince pie into my tea.”

Adam barked a laugh so loud that Lionel and Miss Fairfax turned around, and he quickly schooled his features.

“I am appalled,” he said playfully. “I suppose I should confess then that I have hated, and will always hate, plum pudding and mince pies for long as I live.”

Emilia stopped in her tracks, forcing the Pinkertons to navigate around them, and Adam was very close to a belly laugh at her expression.

Realising that she was drawing attention, Emilia continued with a deep frown that shouldn’t have been so endearing.

“You do not like plum pudding. Even if it is covered with brandy?”

“I like brandy. Does that count?”

“It does not. Tell me you enjoy fruitcake.”

“Cannot stand the stuff.”

Emilia gasped in shock, and Adam chuckled, listening to the crunch of the snow beneath their feet and the chatter of the others as they neared the village.

“I simply do not know if I could marry a man who dislikes fruit cake,” she said, his voice very quiet.

“Whyever not? I would think it would be a reason to do so.”

“Why?” she asked, glancing at him.

“Well, you could eat it all for yourself, and I would never touch a crumb.”

Emilia brightened, her hazel eyes dancing as she grinned.

“That is an excellent point, Lord Bellebrook. Perhaps I shall allow it after all.”

“I am very pleased to hear it,” he said, looking up at the branches of the trees above them and the beautiful day that was forming above their heads.

As they reached the village, Emilia was struck by the look of some of the houses they were approaching. The area where they were distributing the baskets was rather more ramshackle than the main street, and an urchin boy watched them suspiciously from the top of some steps to their left.

Many of the houses had tiny windows that were banked with snow, and the general feel of the place was rundown and melancholy. Emilia was glad they had come, but she was also reminded of her own intense privilege in a world where people struggled to put food on the table.

She looked down at the basketsbrimming with food and festive cheer and realised that her mother had bought all of it as a frivolity. It might give these people a happier season, but this was a luxury many could not afford.

She would go back to her manor with its endless fires and food and likely forget this world as soon as she had entered it.

“My Lady?” she looked up into Adam’s face. His brow was furrowed, and he looked concerned.

“We are very lucky,” she said just quietly. “I was just thinking how short a time this will all last for these people.”

She wondered whether a man like Adam, who had come from the same rich background as she had, would understand her sentiment, but his expression quickly mirrored her own.

“It is a good thing we are doing,” he said softly.

“So much at this time of year is about excess,” she added. “These people have so little.”

Adam leaned across to take the basket from her as they began to distribute them to the villagers who were beginning to gather around them. As he did so his palm briefly covered her own and she looked up into an earnest intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.

“You are right, Lady Emilia. But they have more today because of these gifts, small though they are.”

She nodded, turning away from him as a woman approached carrying her infant son. She was all smiles and wished Emilia a merry Christmas, just as every single other person did. The villagers slowly began to emerge from their houses, many of them grinning widely, and Emilia watched her mother greet them all with great enthusiasm.

The streets were soon filled with people and Emilia was offered countless cups of tea to warm her, and some of the villagers even tried to give her gifts as thanks—all of which she refused.

On the other side of the square, the duke and his daughters also helped with the cause, but there was a stiffness in their movements that the other guests did not possess. It was clear this was not an activity they relished or took part in often. Some of the girls looked positively frightened of the villagers and Emilia found herself feeling sorry for them.

What a shallow life they must lead. She thought bitterly. And they have even more than we do as a family.

It was a morning of many emotions and feelings, but the overriding mood of those they met was unerring excitement and gratitude. It was humbling to be around so much hope, and Emilia left the village feeling as though she had been of some little use and promising that she would be back before Easter came around.

The group walked slowly back up the gradual incline to the manor. The long path was black with mud, and a mixture of snow, and the temperature seemed to have dropped since their earlier journey.

As they walked, Emilia noticed how much ice was forming beneath her feet, and as though to prove their existence, she suddenly lost her footing. A patch of thick ice took her by surprise beneath the snow and she slipped violently as she was thrown backwards.

She would have crashed painfully to the earth had not strong arms enveloped her right at the last moment, and she felt her weight suspended as Lord Bellebrook gripped her tightly to his chest.

The moment was suspended in time, his face above hers, inches away, as he balanced her weight against him. Both of them were arched back as though in the middle of a dance, an endless, sparking electricity snapping between them.

Adam blinked as Emilia pulled in a deep breath, and he slowly lifted her back to standing. A few of the group had stopped the check she was alright, and she hastily confirmed it. Glancing up she noticed Mr Frederick Bentley standing beside Lady Sophia Easton, their stares and expressions almost identical as they observed her.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly.

“Are you unharmed?” Adam’s voice was far lower than it had been, and when she looked up at him, there was a heat in his gaze that she had not seen before.

“Yes, thank you, quite alright.”

It was not long before they returned to the manor, and Emilia dispensed with her cloak as Lord Bellebrook and Lord Spencer walked together toward the library.

Emilia was about to join Charlotte when her mother strode across her path, her expression tight and displeased.

“A word, Emilia,” she hissed, and Emilia had no choice but to follow her. She glanced behind her to see where her father had got to and saw him watching them retreat with a resigned expression.

This cannot be good. She thought miserably.

Her mother drew her into a parlour room that was rarely used. It was small and cold, and the windows faced the rear courtyard. The wallpaper was of a livid green with thrushes and cranes fluttering across it and the whole effect was rather gloomy and confused.

Her mother closed the door behind her and came to stand before her daughter, glaring at her with a calculating gaze that made Emilia want to cower into a corner.

“Explain yourself this moment,” her mother insisted.

“Mama?”

“Do not play dumb with me, Emilia. What did I just witness between you and Lord Bellebrook?”

Emilia frowned. At the back of her mind, she had dared to hope that her mother would simply switch her affections seamlessly from the duke to the earl once she learned the truth. But by the expression on Lady Sternwood’s face, it had been a fool’s hope.

Her mother had always been a social climber, and since the scandal, she had not coped well with the doors of good society becoming closed to her. Emilia realised with depressing certainty that her mother viewed the duke as a better option for her, merely due to his title and the opportunities it might afford her.

“Mama, I merely slipped.”

“He was at your side for the entirety of the morning. I have seen you speaking to one another a great deal, and do not remind me of your behaviour in the gardens yesterday. Did you want me to die of shame?”

“It was just a snowball fight, Mama.”

“And you are a lady, not a child of eight.”

Her mother seemed to change tack as Emilia recoiled from her and walked toward her, taking her hands and looking at her imploringly.

“Do not let the chance with the duke slip away, my dear. He is a great match. No one will be able to question your reputation if you marry him. Lord Bellebrook is a widower who has barely been seen in society since his wife’s death. There have been many rumours that he will never remarry andthat he was so in love with Anastasia Bentley that his heart will never be mended.” She squeezed Emilia’s fingers painfully. “The duke knows what he wants and has been clear with me and your father. What has Lord Bellebrook done? Nothing. You cannot trust anyone who does not make their intentions clear.”

He has proposed to me, Mama. Is that clear enough?

“Yes, Mama.”

“I wish to see you settled in life. I always have.”

Emilia noted the use of the word ‘settled,’ not ‘happy.’ Her mother wanted to return to the exalted halls of her peers and be welcomed with open arms. The duke’s status and his eldest daughters' advantageous marriages would allow her mother to circulate in the higher echelons that she craved. Emilia knew how much that would mean to both of her parents, and she wished she could be selfless enough to grant it to them.

But the idea of the duke marrying her, or even being close to her , revolted her. To her surprise, another thought immediately followed the other, and she found herself wondering what it might be like if Lord Bellebrook were to take her hand or perhaps brush her arm. The thought brought a warm flush to her cheeks, which she hoped her mother’s sharp gaze had not noticed.

“Choose wisely, my dear. Life does not give us these chances often.”

Without another word, her mother swept from the room, leaving Emilia in a tangle of confusion and uncertainty.