Chapter Ten

A Week Later

“Y ou look positively radiant,” Oliver said, kissing his wife.

“Do I? Well, then, it is thanks to you for letting Emilia stay. I can’t tell you how much joy it brings me to have my dear friend back.”

“And I can’t tell you how much joy it brings me to see you happy,” Oliver said. “But do be cautious. People suffering from grief can be unpredictable in their moods. If Emilia sometimes seems”—he paused—“a little different from her old self, know that it’s only part of the grieving process. And you can always count on me for help if you feel overwhelmed.”

Kate nodded, somewhat relieved to hear Oliver’s explanation. At times, Emilia seemed like an entirely different person, and it hurt. But then she’d return to her previous self, and Kate would chastise herself for being unkind. It was good to know that none of it was her fault.

“Now”—Oliver circled his arm around his wife—“how is the planning for the dinner party going?”

“Marvelous. I’m preparing the invitations, and Emilia and I will be visiting the modiste today to be fitted for some new dresses. I hope you don’t mind, darling. But I can’t help wanting to get her something new for when she enters half-mourning in a few weeks. I’m think a violet dress will do nicely.”

“Of course, my dear. Go and enjoy yourselves. You both deserve a treat.”

Kate and Emilia spent a full day at the modiste and then enjoyed tea at Gunter’s in Berkeley Square. They ordered a pot of tea and an assortment of teacakes, scones with clotted cream, and fresh berries. The plum and lemon cakes were Kate’s favorites, and she put one of each on her plate. Being with child had made her ravenous.

“I cannot wait to see you out of your full mourning clothes and in that violet dress.” Kate dropped a lump of sugar in her tea. “And in the meantime, the new black dress we ordered for you will do nicely for the dinner party.” She took a bite of her lemon cake, chewed, and swallowed. “That is delicious,” she said, taking a bite of the plum cake.

Emilia had not touched her tea or any cakes on the table.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Kate asked.

“How could I when I have to listen to talk about dinner parties, dresses, and cakes while my brother is not yet cold in his grave? I thought you said you loved him.”

Kate swallowed and put down her fork. “I did—I do. You know that. But we talked about this. How Theo would want us both to be happy.”

“Look at you,” Emilia said in a furious whisper, pointing to Kate’s pink empire dress and matching bonnet. “You didn’t spend one day in black mourning clothes, did you?”

Tears pricked Kate’s eyes. She had wanted to wear black, but her papa would have grown suspicious. After all, he hadn’t known about her betrothal. And then, Aunt Jane had carted her off to London. And the only person who wore full black at the Lyon’s Den was Mrs. Dove Lyon. But Kate did not want to tell Emilia about that. “I’m sorry,” she said, remembering Oliver’s warning about potentially unpredictable behavior. Emilia was grieving. It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t control her emotions. “That was insensitive of me. I didn’t mean to imply that entering half mourning was something to celebrate.”

“And what of your mourning period,” Emilia snarled in a low voice. “The one that doesn’t seem to have existed.” She pushed back her chair, stood up, and marched away, leaving her tea and cakes untouched.

Kate quickly followed, and they walked in silence to Park Lane. She felt wretched. How could she convince Emilia that she wasn’t happier now than before Theo died when that wasn’t the truth? She was guilty of loving Oliver more than Theo and of not wanting to go back in time and change anything. Most of all, she was guilty of being the happiest she’d ever been.

“I see the way you are with Oliver,” Emilia said as they approached the lavish Knox mansion. “You love him more than you loved Theo. Or maybe it’s his money and his grand home you love more. But Theo’s dead, and you can’t hurt him anymore. Now, I worry for his child. You’ll love Oliver’s children more than you’ll love Theo’s child.”

“No, Emilia.” Kate grabbed Emilia’s arm and forced her to stop. “How can you say such things? I know you’ve suffered these past months, but you mustn’t think so poorly of me. I can’t stand it.” Kate thought about telling Emilia that Oliver couldn’t sire children but decided against it.

Emilia gave Kate an icy stare before pushing open the gate and walking toward the front door.

A heavy weight settled on Kate’s shoulders and stayed with her throughout the day. Emilia seemed to change from joyful one minute to angry and resentful the next. Kate wanted to be understanding. Her friend had suffered a devastating loss, and having been in the carriage with Theo when he died made it all the more painful for her. Poor Emilia was alone in the world, and she wanted her to feel like she had a family now that Kate carried Theo’s babe.

Guilt gnawed at Kate. The most painful part of Emilia’s behavior was not her tirade, but her words, because they were true. In two short months, Kate had fallen in love with another man—and not just fallen in love—the love she’d bourn for Theo paled in comparison to her love for Oliver. And that made her blameworthy.

“I trust the two of you had an enjoyable day and ordered new dresses for the dinner party,” Oliver said when the three were seated at the dinner table.

“I’ve decided to cancel,” Kate said, glancing at Emilia.

“Cancel?” Emilia exclaimed. “Whatever for? I’m so looking forward to wearing my lovely purple dress. It will cheer me up to start wearing a spot of color again,” she said brightly.

Kate blinked. “I thought you—”

“Theo just loved me in purple,” Emilia said, cutting off Kate’s words. “It will be a bit of cheer after suffering so much pain.” She dabbed her eyes with the corner of her napkin.

“I thought—I mean—If you want then of course I won’t cancel.”

“No, it’s best you do. I don’t want you to go to any trouble on my behalf. You’ve been so down lately. I expect you’re tired, and I wonder if my presence here is too much for you.”

“There’s no need to do everything yourself, Kate,” Oliver said, “Have the servants arrange things. It’s three weeks away. They have ample time.”

“Yes, of course.” Kate frowned, still trying to digest the sudden change in Emilia’s attitude.

“Oh dear,” Emilia said, “now you look cross. I’m so very sorry, I hate to be such a nuisance.”

Kate jerked her head up to face Emilia. “What, no I—”

“Is all this upset really necessary?” Oliver interjected. “There’s no need to worry. The servants will take care of everything.”

“You’re right, of course.” A lump formed in Kate’s throat. How had everything turned against her when she did her best to please Emilia? They’d been having such a wonderful time planning the party together when Emilia had turned on her out of nowhere, and now Oliver thought she was being unreasonable, too.

“Do you know, I feel rather exhausted,” Kate said, “would you both excuse me? I’d like to go and lie down.”

“Of course, my love,” Oliver stood up and kissed her lightly on the forehead, “make sure you get some rest.”

Kate forced a smile and excused herself from the room. As she walked out, she heard Julia say, “Do you know, I feel like playing a jolly tune on the pianoforte. Would you care to be my audience?”

“I’d love that. Thank you,” Oliver replied.

Kate paused. Was it her imagination, or was Emilia only angry and upset when they were alone together? What in the world had gotten into her?

It was almost as though she blamed Kate for Theo’s death.