Chapter 1

One Year Later

“Your dance card, Miss Fairley?”

Emma watched as her sister handed her dance card to Lord Wellbridge, wondering if this would be the Season when Lord Wellbridge would propose to her sister. Last Season, they had shown a good deal of interest in each other, but Lord Wellbridge had never once suggested courtship or the like though, given that this was now their third ball of the Season and he had danced twice with her at each one, Emma hoped it might soon come about.

She did care for her sister, and did hope that she found happiness. At the same time, there was a faint hope that she might be given a little more attention by their mother, once her sister was betrothed. Thus far, out of the three balls they had attended, Emma had been given very little attention, had barely danced, and had done nothing whatsoever to garner interest from anyone. It was as though her mother had decided that her sister was of greater importance than Emma – though mayhap, she was also still embarrassed by all that had followed Emma last Season.

“And you, Miss Fairley? Should you like to dance?”

Emma smiled in surprise, appreciative of Lord Wellbridge’s consideration.

“Yes, that would be wonderful. I thank you.”

“You will have to be careful with my sister, however,” Martha interjected, as Lord Wellbridge took the dance card from Emma, a laugh in her voice. “She is not inclined to dance with any particular grace!”

Heat rippled up Emma’s chest and into her face as she looked directly at her sister, seeing the way that Martha flushed red, catching Emma’s eye, and then looked away. Why had she said such a thing as that?

“I am sure it will be a lovely dance,” Lord Wellbridge replied, still signing Emma’s dance card – much to her relief – and then handing it back to her. “The cotillion, Miss Fairley? I hope that is satisfactory.”

“More than satisfactory, I assure you.”

Emma managed to smile and then put the dance card back on her wrist, keeping her gaze away from her sister. There was another brief conversation and, shortly thereafter, Lord Wellbridge took his leave.

“Whatever did you say such a thing as that for?” The moment the gentleman stepped away, Emma turned to her sister, the heat in her face turning to tears. “I am aware that I may have been a little clumsy in the previous Season, but I have danced many dances without any difficulty! Why should you say such a thing as that to Lord Wellbridge? You embarrassed me a great deal.”

“Indeed, Martha, that was a little inconsiderate,” their mother said, quietly. “I am surprised at you.”

As Emma watched, her sister closed her eyes and then dropped her head, though heat still lingered in her cheeks.

“Forgive me,” she mumbled, as Emma frowned. “I – I found myself a little jealous. The words slipped from my mouth before I could think of what I was saying.”

Instantly, the upset left Emma and she let out a slow breath, shaking her head and turning away from her sister.

“I am not at all interested in pursuing any sort of connection with Lord Wellbridge,” she said, softly. “I thought you would have understood that, Martha. I want very much for you to be happy.”

Her sister reached out one hand and took Emma’s, shaking her head as she did so.

“I am terribly sorry. I did not mean to say such things. My heart is a little pained, given that last Season, we appeared to be so very near to courtship, and yet nothing came of it.”

“I am sure something will happen this Season,” Emma replied, as their mother nodded fervently. “And if not, then there will be many other gentlemen who want your attention. You will be betrothed by the end of the Season, I am sure of it!”

Her sister gave her a rather watery smile and all of Emma’s angst disappeared in an instant, seeing just how upset Martha was. Thus far, Martha had said nothing about Lord Wellbridge to her, and Emma had not had any real understanding of just how sorrowful her sister had been over the gentleman. They were not particularly close as sisters, and Emma found herself regretting that.

“You can be assured of my support,” she murmured, as their mother smiled and then beckoned them to walk forward so they might, no doubt, find someone else to talk with and have their dance cards signed. “You can trust me for that, I assure you.”

Martha nodded, sniffing lightly, but lifting her chin to keep her expression gentle.

“I thank you, Emma. That does mean a great deal to me.”

“But of course.”

With a smile, Emma slipped her arm through her sister’s and together, they followed their mother.

“Thank you for the dance,Miss Fairley.”

Emma managed a smile, her heart slamming hard into her chest repeatedly, given that she had only just finished her dance with Lord Gibson.

“I thank you for it, Lord Gibson. It was most enjoyable.”

He offered his arm and Emma took it at once, finding herself flooded with relief that she had been able to dance not only with Lord Gibson but also, prior to that, with Lord Wellbridge, and had done so without falling, slipping, bumping into anyone, or stamping on anyone’s toes. All had gone very well indeed, and she was beginning to believe that this Season might now be a good deal better than the previous one.

“Let me return you to your mother, who I see waiting there.”

Lord Gibson gestured to her, and Emma smiled, catching her mother’s eye for a moment. Lady Follet looked very pleased indeed which, to Emma’s mind, meant that she was delighted with how the evening was going. That gave her more hope, believing that perhaps her mother would be a little more interested in helping her to find a match as well as her sister.

“My Lord, my Lady?”

Emma and Lord Gibson paused as a footman held out a tray for them. Upon it were both glasses of wine and smaller glasses of brandy and Emma, though she would much have preferred to have a glass of water given how hot and thirsty she was after dancing, thought to take a glass of wine. Lord Gibson took a glass of brandy and then released Emma’s arm so that she might take a drink also.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching for a glass of wine. No sooner had her fingers touched the glass than the footman’s arm jerked, as though, somehow, she had startled him. To her horror, she saw the tray tip forward, the glasses beginning to slide and tip towards the edge – and without knowing what she was doing, Emma reached to steady the footman, trying to catch his arm, trying to stop the glasses from falling to the ground.

She did not succeed.

With horror, she saw the glasses fall from the edge of the tray and then fall directly to the floor. The sound of smashing glass reverberated around the room and though she hurried to step back, liquid from both the wine and the brandy splashed onto her gown and the boots and breeches of Lord Gibson.

The silence that followed made Emma’s stomach twist with a sudden fright, dread filling her as she realized that the nightmare which she had dreaded had once more taken hold. She had no idea of how the tray had fallen but yet, every eye was fixed upon her as though she were the one responsible. Her chest grew tight, her breathing quickening as Lord Gibson took a step back from her.

“Whatever happened?” Lady Follet rushed towards her as murmuring began to rush around the room, though everyone still looked at her, with many whispering behind their hands. “What did you do, Emma?”

“I – I did nothing!” Emma protested, aware that her words sounded weak. “It was not my doing. All I did was reach out and take the glass of wine and then the tray fell.”

The footman who had dropped the tray was already attempting to pick up some of the glass and was quickly joined by other servants who began to do the same. Heat ran through her as she turned away, stammering an apology to Lord Gibson who, after only a moment, nodded and then turned on his heel, leaving her alone with her mother.

“I did not do this,” Emma whispered, though her mother closed her eyes tight, her face rather white. “Mama, I did not! I–”

“I will send for the carriage to take you home,” her mother interrupted, opening her eyes, reaching out, and catching Emma’s hand before beginning to pull her away. “There is nothing else for it.”

“But what about Martha?” Emma protested, suddenly worried that her sister would suffer for her mistakes. “She ought not to be pulled away.”

Lady Follet turned around, coming to a sudden stop.

“You misunderstand me, Emma,” she said, firmly. “I am telling you that you are returning home. You are to prepare for and then retire to bed. I will have the carriage return here to wait for the ball to end. I will certainly not punish your sister for your clumsiness.”

Emma’s heart dropped like a stone.

“I did not do anything, Mama,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion, wishing that her mother would believe her. “I do not understand what happened, but I am truly telling you that the only thing I did was take a glass from the tray. I did not fall into him, I did not stumble forward, I did not–”

“I am not interested in any of your excuses!” Lady Follet hissed, grasping Emma’s hand again and pulling herself a little closer to Emma. “Do you understand? You have not only embarrassed yourself, but you have also embarrassed me and your father and your sister! It is best for us all that you take yourself home and do so at once.”

She turned and marched Emma out of the ballroom and into the hall, though Emma’s eyes immediately began to fill with tears, her heart aching at the pain her mother’s words had caused. Blinking furiously, she found herself outside, seeing her mother speaking to the footman who instantly hurried away.

“I will return to your sister,” Lady Follet stated, coming back to Emma as quickly as she could. “There are two footmen here. Stay with them until the carriage arrives and then make your way home.”

Emma blinked furiously, her tears returning with a vengeance.

“You are not even going to stand with me?”

“I must be seen with your sister!” Lady Follet exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “I must do what I can to quash the whispers that are surely going to follow you now that this has happened. I will do my utmost to protect Martha from what you have done and, as I have said, it would be best for you to take yourself home and retire to bed.” She shook her head, her jaw tight. “Have the maid soak your gown the moment you return home. Let us hope that your father will not have to pay for yet another new gown for you.”

With that, she was gone, leaving Emma to stand alone but for those two footmen almost standing guard over her. She watched her mother stalk away from her as though she could not hurry herself away fast enough and, though she tried her utmost to control her tears, she could not prevent them from falling to her cheeks. Dropping her head in the hope of hiding them from the footmen who would, no doubt, whisper about what they had witnessed this evening, Emma felt her heart begin to ache all over again. This Season, which had started off so well, was now falling around her ears in disappointment, disillusion, and confusion, and now, all she could do was return home in disgrace.