CHAPTER SEVEN

After the joy of the dance with Lord Bellebrook, Emilia was elated. As he led her from the floor, returning her to her mother and father with a perfect bow, Emilia tried to conceal the blush she knew was painted across her face.

Her mother watched their approach excitedly and smiled as Lord Bellebrook removed himself from their company.

“I am most pleased, Emilia, " her mother exclaimed as she watched Adam’s back glide through the crowd.“He is such an excellent dance partner.”

“Do you think so, Mama?”

“Of course! And his daughters are themost elegant women, are they not? Why, I believe the duke is already taken with you. You must ensure that you use the Christmas party to get to know him.”

Emilia clenched her fists at her sides. Her association with Lord Bellebrook might be fleeting, but he was at least someone she could look forward to spending time within the coming days. The duke was the opposite of that. Smelling of brandyand constantly followed about by his judgmental daughters, Emilia had no desire to spendmore time with him than was necessary.

To her dismay, the decision was taken out of her hands while she was at the refreshment table. She had been admiring the kissing boughsand the effort her mother had put into them when a light touch to her elbow made her turn, and her stomach plummeted to the floor.

It was evident the Duke of Elderbridge had indulged in more alcohol since the dance. His eyes were glassy, and his jaw wobbled beneath his beard as he smiled at her. Emilia had an uncle who drank heavily, and she recognised the signs of a man who pretended to be sober in public, even when he was not.

“Your Grace,” she greeted him with a tight smile.

“You are in need of refreshment, I see,” he said as though it were an impressive observation. “One mustn’t drink too much at these sorts of things, of course, no matter your nerves.”

The absolute hypocrisy of the man, she thought furiously.

“Indeed, my Lord, I am drinking the fruit cordial only.”

“Good girl,” he said, reaching for the decanter of wine. It was tied beautifully with a red ribbon trimmed with gold. As the duke’s meaty fingers seized upon it, the bow fell forlornly to the surface of the table, where it absorbed the splash of wine he then managed to spill across it.

I could never desire this man, she thought desperately. How can my parents believe he is a suitable husband for me?

She wanted to tell him to leave her alone, to turn her back and cut him completely, but her options were limited. She could not simply brush him off. If he chose to make an offer to her father, she knew it would be accepted without question. Given her current status in society, turning down a duke’s proposal was almost impossible.

She felt increasingly ensnared by the events spiralling around her, a mounting sense of fear taking hold. Her life no longer felt her own, as though she were merely a spectator to her own fate.

Across the room, Adam watched Emilia flinch away from the duke and felt an overwhelming urge to intervene. She looked miserable.

He had wondered whether Lady Emilia approved of the duke’s attentions, given their age difference. Elderbridge was wealthy, to be sure, but there were over twenty years between them. Adam knew plenty of mothers who would prefer a younger candidate to secure a good marriage.

He had been surprised, therefore, to see Lady Sternwood’s enthusiasm for the match. She had barely spared Adam a glance when he had returned from the dancefloor.

He frowned as the duke swayed alarmingly toward Lady Emilia, his body brushing against hers. Her back stiffened visibly, her eyes glazing over as though she were picturing herself somewhere else. Adam was desperate to step in so she might escape.

He took a step forward, determined to follow through with his plan. However, just as he did so, Anastasia’s face loomed in his memory, and he felt a jolt of intense guilt. He stopped, paralyzed by grief and indecision.

This is not my place. Her affairs are not my concern, and I must not presume she would welcome my interference in any case.

Having convinced himself his services were unnecessary, he turned away, burying his discomfort in a glass of wine.

***

As the ball transitioned to a formal dinner, Adam found himself seated beside Lady Seraphina Cheswick. It certainly felt deliberate this time, and he glanced up the table at his aunt, irritated that she continued to manipulate him, even when they were not at home.

Lady Seraphina was the height of gentility and polite, aristocratic conversation. Before Adam could sit down, she had commented upon the cutlery, the pinecones placed beside the fire in the scuttle, and almost every napkin on the table.

The conversation remained stilted and awkward as Adam struggled for an interesting topic, acutely aware of all the other guests conversing easily around them.

“Have you travelled much, my Lord?” Seraphina asked as the starters were served.

“Not in recent years, but I did travel extensively in my youth.”

“I adore travelling, although I am not so comfortable on a ship. My stomach does not agree with the jostling of the sea,” she tittered in a way that might have been pretty if it weren’t at such a high pitch.

Adam glanced down the table to where Emilia was seated. She was opposite her friend Miss Fairfax and sitting beside Lionel. The three of them were in a lively debate, and Adam was rather envious of their easy conversation.

He allowed Lady Seraphina’s constant stream of chatter to fade into the background and, as discreetly as possible, began to eavesdrop upon the group’s discussion.

“Miss Fairfax has always been a terrible influence,” Emilia was saying over the protestations of her friend. “She once took me down to the side of a lake near her home and pushed me in.”

“I did no such thing. This is slander!” Miss Fairfax exclaimed.

Emilia was smiling heartily now. “There is a sordid rumour that I fell, but I maintain I was pushed. She also led me into a cave once!”

Adam found himself smiling. Emilia seemed to be telling the tales for Lionel’s benefit, who had barely taken his eyes from Miss Fairfax.

“A cave?” Lionel asked, taking a sip of his wine as Charlotte tried to contain her laughter.

“It was not a cave; it was a small overhang beneath the rocks, and I thought I had seen a den beneath it.”

“Wolves, no doubt,” Emilia said darkly.

“Wolves do not dwell in caverns, nor do they roam England!” Miss Fairfax protested and all of them fell about laughing. Adam could not help but smile along with them.

“My Lord?”

Adam looked back to his dinner partner. Seraphina’s eyes flickered between his and Lady Emilia’s, her smile seeming rather more fixed than it had been.

“Yes, my Lady?”

“I was asking you where you had travelled to,” she seemed crestfallen. “That is what we were discussing.”

“Of course. Yes. I believe my favourite destination is Paris. What is yours?”

Seraphina Cheswick seemed to recover herself a little and began speaking of Bath again, whilst Adam tried to look interested in the topic. Without conscious thought his mind began to imagine showing Lady Emilia Paris. He had always intended to go with Anastasia, but her illness had prevented it. He wondered what Lady Emilia would think of the beauty he found there, his love of the city and its artwork, not to mention its music.

“I have always longed to go to Paris,” Seraphina concluded, drinking the last of her wine, her cheeks slightly flushed.

“I am sure you would adore the city. And there is nothing to prevent more travelling in later life,” he mused. Perhaps he might return to Paris someday; he had missed it.

The look on Seraphina’s face transformed instantly into happy joy, and Adam’s gut clenched as he saw her mother looking at them meaningfully. The marchioness was watching them with a gleam in her eyes, and Adam placed his glass on the table, grinding his teeth.

This was precisely why he had wanted to avoid such a party. Every interaction became something to remark upon between a man and a woman at this kind of occasion. He could not even have an innocent discussion on travel without others assuming he was pursuing a new match.

He looked around the table, observing the machinations of the society he had been separated from for so long. Every interaction, when observed from a distance, had a double meaning. Ladies who were polite to one another were often rivals, vying to get their daughter married to the same man.

All of the men were pontificating about their accomplishments—Frederick and the duke included. It reminded Adam of a nest of vipers trying to eat each other to become the strongest versions of themselves.

As Lady Seraphina began speaking of the many candles on the table and how exquisite the decorations were, Adam allowed his gaze to wander, taking in Lady Emilia’s laugh and her bright, twinkling eyes.

As she took a sip from her glass, Emilia was aware of the earl observing her and felt a fluttering in her chest at his scrutiny. She had been rather downcast to see him sitting with Lady Seraphina at the table but Lord Spencer was excellent company.

She was pleased that he seemed to have eyes only for Charlotte. They were a handsome couple, with Charlotte’s dark hair matching that of Lord Spencer. Both of them weretall and elegant and he was clearly intelligent which would please her friend.

As Lord Spencer and Charlotte spoke together, they touched upon a topic that Emilia was less familiar with. Both of them adored the book Gulliver’s Travels, which Emilia had yet to read. As she allowed them to have their time in relative privacy, her ears were attuned to another conversation further down the table, where Caroline, Penelope, and Sophia Easton were sitting with their father.

Emilia had been relieved not to be placed beside the duke at dinner, but now she realised her foolishness in assuming she would escape his attentions entirely.

“But this is the issue, is it not?” Sophia asked loudly, her fork hovering above her plate with a perfect cube of meat speared on the end of it. “Scandal dogs one’s steps forever. There is no escaping it. A good name can be tarnished for all time by the slightest misstep.”

“Indeed,” Penelope agreed, sounding older than her years. “I knew of a girl who merely looked at an eligible man the wrong way before she was out in society, and no one would go near her again!”

Emilia kept her back straight, and her head bowed over her food. She did not look in their direction, forcing the embarrassment of the topic away.

“Scandal can be forgiven if it is far enough in the past,” the duke interjected. He had barely spoken until that moment, and his interruption felt pointed. Emilia would have given anything to leave the room.

“Yes, Papa, but who would wish to be tainted by it? When Joselyn Mortimer was disgraced, I had to cut her from my circle. And she was my dearest friend,” Sophia stated.

Emilia recognised that tone. It was the sort of thing people said when the subject of their conversation was not dear at all.

“It depends upon the nature of the scandal,” the duke concluded dismissively. “Many are overblown.”

Emilia wasn’t sure if he thought he was helping her with that comment, but she hated it all the same. It could not be acoincidence that the topic had been raised within her earshot. She did not wish to actively think ill of people, but his daughters appeared to be making a deliberate point for her benefit.

Two years before, the duke’s defence of her might have been a touching thing to hear. But now, his comments on her apparent loss of virtue made her hackles rise.

I do not need defending because I have done nothing wrong. If the vultures in society had not listened to Henrietta, I would not have had to endure this idiocy.

She wished she could say something, even stand and address them haughtily, and then stalk out of the room. But she knew it would be pointless—the only person she would end up injuring would be herself.

Across the table, Charlotte observed her friend trying to keep her own temper in check. The duke’s daughters really did seem to be the worst type of women. So far, Charlotte had seen nothing but cynical looks, unpleasant commentary, and superiority from the lot of them.

Charlotte had always admired Emilia for her resilience in weathering the cruel storm that had swirled about her for so long. As their gazes met, she raised her eyebrows in a silent query to ensure that Emilia was alright, but her friend merely shook her head in reply.

Charlotte’s eyes were drawn to the man to Emilia’s right, his gaze occasionally flicking over to the duke’s daughters with what looked like veiled annoyance.

Charlotte had been quite mistaken in her dismissal of him. Lionel Spencer was anything but a simpleton. He was intelligent, witty, very handsome and altogether the type of man she enjoyed spending time with.

However, Charlotte felt a shudder of something foreign and alarming as she looked at him.

Her mother and father had told her many times that her conduct was the reason she had never attracted a man in her first season. Indeed, she had had no prospects for the majority of the summer and no callers. Charlotte’s fingers clenched around her knife and fork as she recalled the endless days, sitting beside her mother upon the settee, waiting for visitors who never came.

She stared down at her plate, scolding herself for her wayward thoughts.

What would a man like Lionel Spencer see in the likes of me?

***

As the dinner concluded and the party dispersed, many of the ladies appeared relieved to part from the gentlemen for a while. The men made their way to the billiards room, while the ladies withdrew to the drawing room.

Unfortunately, Emilia found herself seated beside Sophie and Penelope again, and her mother was nowhere to be found. Emilia was suddenly isolated and alone amidst a group of strangers, and Penelope took full advantage, turning to her sister pointedly as she glanced at Emilia.

“I saw the Countess of Blackmoor at the Yule Ball a few days ago.”

Emilia’s spine went rigid.

“Oh, she is the kindest creature in the world,” Sophia replied. “I adore the balls that she arranges; they are the best events of the season.” Sophia turned to Emilia. “Did you attend the ball, Lady Emilia?”

Emilia felt as though she were looking down the barrel of a musket, and every single eye in the room had turned to stare at her.

The absolute audacity of Penelope. She was likely not even old enough to know of the scandal; she would only have heard of it from her sister.

“Sadly, not,” Emilia managed, “we were unable to attend as my father was out of the country.”

“What a pity. I understood you were acquainted with the countess.”

Sophia was playing a dangerous game; even Emilia knew that. The embarrassment was all her own, but openly discussing a scandal in such a way was generally frowned upon. The Ton were much more comfortable speaking behind a person’s back than challenging them outright. But Sophia was clever enough to keep her tone innocent and light. It was clever; even Emilia had to admit that.

“I am acquainted with her,” Emilia said. She was tempted to add, ‘and her son, Lord Julian,’ to see if Sophia recoiled behind her barb, but she knew that would be beyond foolish.

“Yes, I am sure she has mentioned your name to me,” Sophia added, her eyes narrowing as though trying to remember. “And, of course, she is a great friend of Papa’s, and he values her opinion above all others.”

Emilia nodded, unable to speak. Was this girl honestly referring to her connection with the duke before they had even spent a full day together? She must have nerves of steel.

Or perhaps she simply does not care.

Emilia glanced around at the other women in the circle and was dismayed to find that no one would meet her eyes. The scandal she had hoped would be so far in her past that many would overlook it was hanging between them all like a shroud.

She forced a tight smile.

“It is rather close in here; I shall just get some air by the window,” she muttered and rose, forcing herself to walk slowly away from the group instead of breaking into a run.

As she came to the window ledge, she stared out at the muted white blanket that lay across the grass in the gardens. Snow had been steadily falling throughout the ball, and it was beyond beautiful to watch it in the reflections of the firelight. Emilia wished she were outside, experiencing the first fall of winter alone. She loved being by herself. There was no one to judge her or pity her. She could just be.

“I did not know it was snowing,” Charlotte remarked as she made her way over to her friend. She had just entered the room and was surprised to find Emiliaalone. “It is so beautiful.”

“Mm,” Emilia said softly.

“I cannot believe how agreeable Lord Spencer is. I feel rather foolish, having assumed he would be a dullard. Do you know he has read almost as many books as I have? Including the love stories that I thought most men would not be interested in at all. His favourite book is Emma by Jane Austen, just like mine. I do not remember when anyone has made me smile so much.” She laughed. “You are wicked for saying I pushed you into that lake. If I had pushed you in I would not have been so wet trying to get you out .”

Charlotte paused when she noticed that her friend did not appear to be listening to her. Her eyes were glazed, and her skin wasrather pale.

“Emilia?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Emilia said blithely, pushing away the melancholy of her situation. She looked at Charlotte’s wide hazel eyes and the excitement and happiness on her friend’s face. “I am so pleased that he is agreeable. You have liked so many very disagreeable men.”

Charlotte snorted. “Come, tell me more of what he said at the dance,” Emilia insisted, hoping that her friend's happiness might somehow erode the influence of the duke’s unpleasant family.