Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

O h, do not think the worst, Emma!

She must be imagining things, she reasoned. Perhaps the stress of the recent events was making her see shadows where there were none. George's demeanor was likely no different from any other day; it was her perception that had altered under the weight of her anxieties. Yes, this had to be it!

With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Emma approached him. "A lovely morning is it not, Your Grace?" she greeted, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.

"Is it?" he asked in a tone that was clipped and cold. This only served to heighten her worries, confirming that something was certainly amiss.

Without another word, she turned away and made her way to the sideboard. Her movements were mechanical as she abstractedly served herself, her mind swirling with a torrent of thoughts about George's uncharacteristic behavior.

Choosing a seat as far from him as possible, Emma sat down quietly. It was only after a footman served her some orange juice and she glanced down at her plate did she realize what she had absentmindedly gathered from the sideboard—a solitary slice of toast.

They sat in silence, the seconds stretching into what felt like an eternity. Emma bit into her toast, the bread dry and difficult to swallow. She couldn't decide what was choking her more: her meager meal or the palpable tension that filled the room.

Seeking any distraction to ease the discomfort, she reached for the marmalade and began to spread it thickly over the bitten toast. It was then she felt the weight of George's gaze on her. Lifting her eyes, she found him staring at her, his look one of accusation.

Emma was more confused than ever. What could possibly be going through his mind to look at her so? Was it something she had done, or was there something else troubling him?

She didn't know why George was acting this way, or what it was she might have done. Especially after their dance last night, all had seemed well when they'd parted. A part of her wanted to bridge the gap, to take her meal and move closer to him so she could quietly ask what was wrong. But the other part, the more sensible one, reminded her of the pressing matters awaiting her attention, matters far greater than deciphering the moods of George.

Thus, with a sense of resignation, she continued to eat her toast, though each bite seemed more laborious than the last. Quickly finishing her meal, she left the room, her thoughts already shifting to the tasks ahead. She needed to find Alexander; there were plans to set in motion, plans that couldn't wait for the resolution of whatever storm brewed within George.

"Just the lady I was looking for," a cheerful voice called out in the hallway just then, pulling her from her reverie. Emma turned and saw Olivia approaching, her face alight with excitement. Before Emma could respond, Olivia looped her arm through hers and led her down the hallway.

"Some paintings just arrived. Fancy catching the first glimpse?" Olivia proposed with an enthusiastic tug, not pausing to wait for an answer before pulling Emma along with her.

They made their way to the gallery, where footmen were just finishing up hanging one of the newly arrived pieces. The servants bowed politely and excused themselves as Olivia and Emma approached the new addition to the collection.

"It's magnificent, is it not?" Olivia said, stopping before a dramatic painting of a ship caught in a tempest, the dark swirling clouds and churning sea rendered with breathtaking intensity.

"This is the other one," Olivia pointed to the painting adjacent to the tempestuous sea, drawing Emma's attention to a cheerier scene. It depicted a grand castle standing tall under the bright sun of a summer day, its majesty undeniable, resembling Firman Castle in its regal stature and serene setting.

Emma's gaze, however, drifted back to the painting of the ship caught in the storm. Both artworks struck a chord with her, unsettling her as she compared them to the current turmoil in her life. She felt akin to the ship, battered by relentless waves, yearning for the safety and stability represented by the castle. Yet, as she looked on, the castle seemed more unattainable than ever, a distant dream not meant for someone like her.

"I must say, the Earl has quite the keen eye for art," Emma remarked, admiration creeping into her voice despite her troubled thoughts.

"Alexander?" Olivia snorted, a playful smirk crossing her features. Emma's brow lifted in surprise. What other Earl could Olivia possibly mean?

"My brother cannot appreciate art to save his life," Olivia clarified, laughter tinting her words. "George acquired them," she revealed, her tone shifting to one of fond amusement.

"Oh," Emma exhaled softly, taken aback. Her eyes returned to the paintings, and a pang of something akin to sadness tugged at her heart, knowing now whose taste had selected these pieces.

"George is the connoisseur here. He always has been, since childhood," Olivia continued, her voice swelling with the pride of a younger sister. "Our late mama always said he was like a bird who saw color in everything and everyone. He had quite the free spirit, you see. He still does," she added fondly, her eyes glinting with memories.

Alas, Emma thought, a bittersweet feeling washing over her as she recalled George's cold, almost venomous gaze earlier that morning. Despite his affinity for seeing color in everything, he seemed to see none in her. How could such a man, who appreciated beauty and depth in art, look at her with such disdain? The contradiction pained her.

How Emma longed not only to alter his view but to transform the entirety of his feelings for her, and perhaps even influence his reputation in society and his sworn bachelorhood. It was a daunting wish, yet it tugged at her heart with relentless persistence.

"You speak of the Duke as you would an older brother," Emma observed, hearing the curiosity and wistfulness in her tone.

"Why, there is no difference. I hold him in just as much regard. We all do," Olivia responded, her voice rich with affection. "George and Alexander are my brothers, and I wouldn't change them for the world," she added, her words flowing with a fervor that spoke of deep familial bonds.

Hearing Olivia speak with such warmth, Emma felt a pang of emotion tighten around her chest. The stark contrast between Olivia's cherished relationships and her own familial struggles was poignant. What had she done, or not done, to be deprived of such love in her life? She thought of Aggie's letter, recalling how her friend had spoken of her husband and family with equal adoration.

Emma inwardly resigned at that moment. Perhaps love simply was not written in the heavens for her. Olivia suddenly looped her arm through Emma's.

"What do you say we have some tea brought up here? I am quite reluctant to join Aunt Jane and the ladies in the drawing room."

Emma mustered a smile. "Is embroidery draining your spirits, dear friend?"

Olivia winced, guiding Emma to a sitting area near the fireplace. "It is not so much the embroidery as it is the company. All the ladies ever talk about is the coming season."

"I know precisely what you mean," Emma returned, then added under her breath, "At least, your aunt and brother do not expect you to find a husband this season."

Olivia walked to the bell near the door and pulled it. As she walked back to Emma, she asked, "Is that what your parents are asking of you, Emma?"

Emma felt her eyes widen. "I did not think you heard that."

Olivia sat beside her and smiled softly. "I have very sharp ears, and I have noticed that you seem quite distressed as of late."

Emma dropped her face into her hands and sighed. "Am I this incapable of concealing my feelings?"

"No, dear Emma." Olivia touched her shoulder. "I am too observant for my own good. George hates it."

Please, do not mention George.

"He says I might find myself in trouble if I witness something I should not," Olivia continued, and Emma raised her head, her chest feeling constricted. "Something scandalous."

The mention of scandal brought to Emma's mind George's reputation. She wondered why he was treating her so coldly when he was not better himself. He was a rake, and one who would never protect a woman's reputation.

Do you know all the facts, Emma? her mind prodded.

"Olivia, forgive my impertinence. I have come to know George to be quite different from what society thinks of him." Olivia's shoulders straightened as she listened to Emma. "There is no truth in the scandal he was involved in, is there?"

Olivia was about to answer when a knock came. They looked up to see a footman in the doorway. He bowed politely. "You called, My Ladies?"

"Please, have some tea and biscuits brought here," Olivia instructed. When they were alone again, she turned to Emma, her expression serious. "Women of the ton are vicious creatures, and they will say and do anything to trap a man with George's wealth and title. Even Alex is not safe."

Olivia's words struck Emma like a blow, and she had to lower her eyes to keep her composure. She still did not know the truth about George's scandal, but this was no longer about him. It was about the fact that she was one of those vicious women of the ton.

"Emma?" She felt Olivia's gentle hand on hers and looked up. "Are you well? Is it your parents?"

Perhaps it was time for Emma to confide in a friend other than Antoinetta. "They have grown weary of my search, and this season will be my third."

Olivia's eyes widened. "Oh, but you have George and Alex's attention, Emma."

This made Emma wince and she shook her head. "They are not courting me."

"But they could." Olivia took her hand. "You have become dear to me, Emma, and I would so love to have you in our family."

Their tea arrived just then, granting Emma time to consider her answer. Olivia couldn't know that she was after her brother, and the thought of lying made Emma feel very sick.

"Allow me to pour," Emma offered in an attempt to distract herself. She filled the first teacup, then looked up. "Sugar?"

"And milk, please."

Emma added them and handed Olivia the cup before pouring herself a cup. "My parents do not approve of the attention I have." Emma's words were carefully thought out and they were true. Her parents disliked George.

Olivia blinked. She must have been thinking about what manner of parents Emma had. "Whyever do they not? One is a Duke and the other an Earl!"

Emma laughed despite herself. "George has their disapproval because of his ‘reputation'."

"Oh, I see." Olivia frowned slightly. "You asked to be certain that he is a good man, did you not?"

"I can see that he is a good man, Olivia."

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Do you know something, Emma?" When Emma inclined her head, Olivia added, "I thought you and Alex would make a lovely pair, but I am beginning to think that you and George might be perfect for each other."

Emma had successfully confided in Olivia without telling any blatant lie. This should have made her feel better but it didn't. "I think so, as well."

Olivia's eyes misted. "This is why you have been so distressed, is it not?"

"It is." Emma sipped her tea, hoping the warmth would revive her. It did not.

Olivia set her cup down and hugged her. "I am sorry, Emma. Please, allow me to help in any manner that I can." She pulled away and looked at her. "Would you like me to speak to your parents, to vouch for George?"

"No, please!" Emma replied quickly. "It would be better if George defends himself."

"He is too proud to," Olivia pointed out with a sigh.

"I know."

Her friend believed an impossible love story here. Whether or not that was a good thing was yet to be determined.

"We should speak of something else," Emma suggested.

"Oh, yes." Olivia picked up her cup again. "Aunt Jane is considering hosting a final picnic before the party ends. What do you think?"

"That is a splendid idea."

"She is very fond of you, Emma."

"I am very fond of her, as well," Emma confessed with a smile that felt very genuine. "How long have you lived with her?"

"She was married to the late Earl of Amberton for three years before he died. I heard he fell off his horse. Aunt Jane was inconsolable. Father, who was her brother, brought her to live with him, Mother, and Alex. Mother died during my birth, and Aunt Jane decided to raise us instead of remarrying." Olivia smiled wistfully. "She says Lord Amberton is her only love."

This was the sort of love Emma dreamed of. Even though Lady Amberton lost hers, she had true love.

"She seems happy now," Emma observed, reaching for a frosted biscuit. "I suppose you complete her life."

"She tells us that we do. George was very reserved when he came to live with us after his parents' death. He was ten, Alex was eight, and I was two. Aunt Jane drew him out, and then he grew charming and decided to lord over all of us." Olivia animated that with a roll of her eyes, and Emma laughed.

"He became our older brother, and he knows more about the affairs of the Firman earldom than Alex. I would even venture to say that he is both Duke of Seymour and Earl of Firman for how responsible he has been for both realms. Alex would rather be left alone with his plants."

Emma's chest tightened again. She was learning more about George and coming to respect him while he hated her. What ugly fate!

"Olivia," Emma said softly. "If you continue to speak of George in this manner, I might think you are earnestly attempting to endear him to me."

Olivia smiled. "I do not think I need to do that, but perhaps you need reminding that if you want something, you should aim for it."

Emma returned her smile. "That is very good advice."

"Oh, I am certainly going to miss you, Emma dear!" Olivia suddenly exclaimed, pulling her into a tight embrace that was both comforting and suffocating with its intensity. "I wish this party wouldn't end so we could have more time together," Olivia added, her voice muffled against Emma's shoulder.

"Oh, we will meet in Town once the season commences," Emma reassured her friend, managing a smile as she spoke. Yet, even as she uttered these words of comfort, her heart ached with a sense of impending loss. The party would end, and with it, perhaps, her last chance to change her fate and find a semblance of the love and belonging she witnessed so often around her.

She was unsure whether she would participate in the season. Not if she failed here. Then, her father would have sold her, she thought dejectedly.

"I must say, the best thing that happened to me this house party was meeting you, Emma," Olivia carried on, her voice filled with a warmth that soothed Emma's frayed nerves.

"Oh, you are too kind," Emma responded, trying to muster a smile, though her heart was heavy.

"Why, you do not believe me?" There was genuine surprise in Olivia's face as she pulled away slightly to look at Emma more directly.

"You are one of the most genuine souls I have ever met, Emma. You are a magnificent young lady. Believe it, treasure yourself, and don't ever forget it," Olivia added earnestly, her eyes earnest and insistent.

Tears pricked at the back of Emma's eyes now. She desperately wanted to believe Olivia's words. She wanted to see in herself what Olivia apparently saw.

"Thank you, Olivia," Emma managed to say, her voice thick with emotion.

"No. Thank you ," Olivia responded, giving Emma's hands a comforting squeeze before releasing them.

After her little tour of the gallery with Olivia, Emma felt the weight of her impending decisions pulling her outside. She decided to go to the gardens, each step heavy with the gravity of what she was about to do. What she must do.

She made her way to the west wing as per her mother's instructions. But instead of proceeding to where her mother had described, Emma took a little detour. She followed a winding cobbled path that led to a small pond surrounded by beautiful flowers. It was peaceful here, a great contrast to the chaos roiling within her.

She sat on a bench by the pond, watching the dragonflies waltz over the silken surface of the water. The tranquility of the scene offered her a moment of respite from her turmoil.

For the umpteenth time, Emma searched for any other way out of her situation. She didn't want to do this. The Earl did not deserve this from her. He's been too kind, she thought to herself.

It was all too wrong.

Footsteps nearly startled her, and when she turned, her heart both skipped a beat and sank. George was walking toward her.