Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

E mma couldn't believe Olivia's recklessness: sitting alone with a gentleman in an ajar room so exposed in a house filled with members of the ton . And worse, the gentleman was holding Olivia's hand while she smiled as though he was the most important person in her life. Emma rather liked Olivia and couldn't find it in her to simply ignore this and let the girl jeopardize her future so carelessly.

Thus, she pushed open the door, and stepped into the room with a firmness that belied her racing heart. To her surprise, neither Olivia nor the gentleman seemed startled at being caught together. If anything, the duo appeared comfortable and at ease, as if such encounters were commonplace here.

"Oh, Emma," Olivia began pleasantly at the sight of her, her smile warm but with a hint of nervousness. "Are you?—"

"With all due respect, sir, you should be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of a young lady in her own home," Emma addressed the gentleman, her tone stern and her gaze unyielding. The gentleman quirked a brow in ostensible surprise and… Amusement? The nerve of him! Something about his demeanor and lack of remorse for his actions irritated Emma deeply.

Olivia attempted to speak again. "Oh, but Emma?—"

"Do not worry, Olivia. Your secret is safe with me, for I shall not speak a word of this to anyone. You can be on your way. You are safe."

Olivia tried again, a note of desperation in her voice, clearly wanting to explain. "You see?—"

"It is all right, Olivia dear. Go on," the gentleman said softly, his tone soothing and his expression one of calm assurance.

Emma could not believe his audacity. There he was, flirting with Olivia despite her interruption and continued presence in the room. Olivia herself seemed torn, as though she wanted to argue, but upon reconsideration, she chose to exit the room.

Unbelievable! He has charmed her out of reason and caution, Emma thought, her brow furrowed in concern. She'd heard tales of gentlemen like him who preyed on the naivete and innocence of young ladies—a lot like the notorious Duke of Seymore.

"If you care about that lady, as you have no doubt professed to her, then you wouldn't risk her reputation so," Emma admonished him sharply after Olivia had left the room.

"Is that so?" He folded his arms across his broad chest, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement, which only served to heighten Emma's irritation. "You sound quite certain of my…professions," he added, his tone now teasing.

"Probably because I just walked in and interrupted them," she retorted defiantly. "Fortunately so, too. God knows what would have happened if anyone else had walked by the door."

"I suppose I should be grateful that you walked past then," he said, maintaining that infuriating air of amusement.

"I do not care for your gratitude," Emma snapped back, her patience wearing thin. He looked almost taken aback, surprised perhaps by her fervor. "Olivia deserves more, and better than a smeared reputation." My intervention was solely for Olivia's sake, and Olivia alone, she told herself. Not to win her or the Earl's favor.

"How would you know that? Is Olivia your friend, Miss…?" he probed, his tone shifting as he sought to understand her connection.

"Lovell," Emma responded quickly before adding, "I wouldn't call us friends just yet, but?—"

"Then you have no business interrupting her private conversations," he cut in sharply.

"Private conversation?" She echoed, her disbelief audible. "You were seated too close to her for comfort, and propriety, sir. You were even holding her ungloved hand! That is taking advantage of her. Not to mention courting a scandal which is bound to be devastating." Her ire was rising, and she could not truly understand why.

The gentleman was quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on Emma with a mirth that made her feel unexpectedly self-conscious.

She suddenly felt on display, very much aware of her lone presence with him in the room. Just when she thought that he was unaware, he said, "You know… For a lady so obsessed with propriety, you have stayed a rather long time alone with me in this room." His observation, pointed and unsettling, left Emma grappling with a mix of indignation and a dawning realization of her precarious situation.

She blinked, a gasp suddenly escaping her as she realized her own recklessness. Her cheeks flushed with a sudden heat, and without another word, she quickly turned on her heels and hurried out of the room. Something about this man infuriated her intensely, setting her nerves on edge in a manner she hadn't anticipated.

As she hastened down the long hallway, she collided with something… Someone.

"Oh, there you are, Emma!" came Olivia's voice as she steadied both of them.

"Is everything well, Miss Lovell?" the Earl inquired, his brows furrowed with what looked like concern. Emma stared from brother to sister, her confusion increasing.

"Oh, just fine, My Lord" she replied, attempting to collect herself and regain her composure.

"Did you leave him in the salon?" Olivia asked with an innocent enough tone, but it pricked Emma's already heightened senses.

"Who?" Emma blurted, momentarily taken aback by the question. "Oh yes! Yes, of course." She recovered, her mind racing as she pondered whether the Earl was aware of his sister's suitor and their earlier encounter.

"Mind if we return to the salon then, Miss Lovell?" the Earl suddenly asked, his inquiry pulling her from her thoughts.

Emma's brow furrowed at his odd request. She glanced at Olivia, who gave her an encouraging smile, though it did little to dispel her perplexity. "Is everything all right?" Emma asked as they walked.

"Quite well, Miss Lovell. I merely have something to show you back there," the Earl responded with a pleasant smile that seemed to mask an underlying purpose.

Reluctant yet curious about what the Earl intended to show her, Emma took a deep, steadying breath. Upon entering, she noticed that the infuriating gentleman was now helping himself to some liquor from a cabinet. He turned at their entrance, his expression not betraying any surprise.

"To what do I owe the growing number of company?" he asked, his tone even yet unmistakably filled with his usual aggravating insouciance.

She tried not to dwell on the way he now stared at her like some amusing creature he had underneath his magnifying glass. He was incredibly handsome with dark hair and captivating blue eyes. The intensity of his gaze was disconcerting, yet she forced herself to maintain composure.

"Miss Lovell, allow me to introduce my childhood friend, George Mullens, the Duke of Seymore," Firman announced, his voice pulling her from her uneasy thoughts.

Her stomach turned. And Emma found herself briefly robbed of words in her shock. So, this was the notorious Duke of Seymore. She ought to have known, what with how he tried to take advantage of Olivia earlier, or so she had thought.

"Olivia, Seymore, and I grew up together, Miss Lovell," Firman elaborated.

"You see, my dear Emma, Goerge is more a brother to me than anything else," Olivia said.

There was a look of triumph on Seymore's face as he said, "The late Lord and Lady Firman were good friends of my parents and were magnanimous enough to take me in upon my parents' premature demise."

"George is quite our brother, Miss Lovell," the Earl said as though to reinforce what everyone else had said.

"Oh," Emma let out, her voice a mere whisper as mortification threatened to strangle her. All of her ire and harsh words to him in an attempt to protect Olivia's reputation had been uncalled for.

"I'd tried to tell you earlier and introduce you but you appeared to be very concerned for me," Olivia said, and Emma realized just how quick she'd been in jumping to conclusions and overreacting.

"I…I apologize for my behavior earlier, Your Grace," Emma curtsied to the Duke now. A part of her wanted to avoid his smug gaze so as to save herself more indignation, but that defiant part of her won over, and she met and held his eyes, unwavering. Challenging.

Where she was expecting another snide remark from him, or even a childish ‘I told you', he surprised her instead by saying, "You had merely been protecting a friend ."

He was pleasant in his dismissal of her attitude, but she couldn't help noticing his stress on the word ‘friend' in reference to her relationship with Olivia. Was he taunting her now? After she'd made it clear to him earlier that she was just acquainted with Olivia.

"If you'll excuse me." Emma decided to bring an end to this display of her brashness and stupidity. She exited the room without giving them the opportunity to put in further conversation, her cheeks burning and her mind a whirl of embarrassed thoughts.

"Emma!" Olivia caught up to her in the hallway.

She stopped and turned, pinning a smile on her face despite the mortification gnawing at her insides. "Olivia," she greeted, managing a semblance of warmth.

"I should thank you for what you did for my reputation earlier," Olivia said sincerely. "Very few people would have been as thoughtful," she added, her tone soft yet earnest.

Heavens save me! Did I truly do it for her sake? Emma wondered if she had already turned into the conniving woman her parents expected her to be.

"Oh, it was nothing," Emma dismissed quickly, her cheeks coloring slightly. "Utterly unnecessary, too. If I had known," she added sheepishly, feeling the weight of her earlier actions even more.

"I do appreciate it, despite the misunderstanding," Olivia insisted, her expression telling Emma that her efforts, however misguided, had not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.

They parted soon after, and Emma was grateful to finally be on her way to sulk in her bedchamber before dinner. Whatever solitude she was anticipating came crashing down the moment she walked into her bedchamber. The unwelcoming sight of her mother rummaging through her clothes while a beleaguered Antoinetta stood to the side, instantly set her nerves on edge.

"Where were you?" Caroline demanded, her tone curt and focused, not bothering to look up as her daughter entered.

"I was out for some air," Emma responded.

"Dinner isn't going to wait for you. You must get ready. We cannot have you late for the first event," her mother said, still sifting through Emma's belongings.

"I have picked out your clothes." She finally looked up, her expression one of steely determination.

"Oh, but we've already decided on my attire for the evening, Mother," Emma countered, hoping to assert some control over at least this aspect of her life.

"That won't do!" Caroline dismissed without a second thought. "It is too…proper. We need you in something more… alluring ," she added, her choice of words sending a shiver down Emma's spine.

"But Mother?—"

"Those are your father's instructions. To have you dressed accordingly, Emma. I will not countenance any further protests," Caroline said with an air of finality Emma had never observed about her before. She met Antoinetta's apologetic gaze, which offered a silent commiseration before returning her attention to her mother, who was now choosing matching jewelry with a decisive hand.

So, her father wanted her dressed like a wanton. What was the word her mother used? ‘ Alluring ', Emma recalled, the realization making her stomach turn. Nevertheless, she heard herself ask, "Why do you do it, Mother?"

"Do what?" Caroline was confused, her brow furrowing.

"Why do you always dance, without question, to his merciless tunes?" Emma caught Antoinetta excusing herself.

Her mother sputtered for a moment, clearly taken aback by her frustrated outburst before replying, "What is so merciless about wanting to marry off our only child?"

"Wanting to marry her off in the right way," Emma countered sharply. "And do not make this sound as though he is doing it with my best interest at heart, Mother. You and I both know that that is far from his reason."

"In time, you will grow to appreciate what efforts we are making for you, Emma," her mother said instead, her eyes bearing a look of tired resignation. In the end, her mother would always protect him, Emma thought bitterly, even if it was at her own expense.

"Efforts I never asked for. Not in this manner," Emma returned.

"Must you always be defiant? Your father?—"

"Isn't always right, Mother!" Emma cried desperately. "Why can't you open your eyes for once and see what he's doing to you? To both of us?"

"Do not make me out to be his puppet!" Caroline's posture stiffened as she faced her daughter.

"But is that not what we are to him?" Emma shot back, her frustration boiling over.

What you have allowed him to make of us , Emma thought to herself, her heart sinking with the weight of her unsaid words.

Her mother appeared wounded and at a loss for words. She did not reply. Instead, she took a step back to admire what she had laid out on the bed, changing the subject to hide her discomfort. "There. This should do for an opening dinner. You will look splendid in it," she said with a smile that Emma found irritatingly superficial.

"Now get dressed and be on time!" She turned on her heels. "You cannot expect to catch the eye of any gentleman, much less the Earl, dressed like a pigeon in mourning," she added over her shoulder, her words sharp and dismissive.

"I didn't realize pigeons mourned," Emma returned defiantly, her tone matching her mother's in its sharpness.

Her mother paused at the door and turned, sending a displeased look her direction before finally exiting the room. Emma was left standing there, a mix of anger and sadness swirling within her. She had no choice in this. She never had any to begin with. She found herself all but dreading dinner now.

My parents' ability to snuff out every positive emotion within me ought to be a talent, truly , she thought bitterly just as Antoinetta walked back into the room. Her lady's maid did not say a word as she began preparing her for the evening in what the Baroness had selected.

Emma was grateful for the silence, for she was in no mood for conversation. Least of all optimism.