Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

A ntoinetta was helping Emma change out of her dress after returning to the manor when the bedchamber door practically burst open and her mother walked in. The woman did not look pleased. Emma had tried to avoid her, but she hadn't been very successful. And on the few occasions of their meeting, her mother had made sure to show her displeasure. Emma assumed it was to do with the dress, for she couldn't think of anything else she might have done wrong.

"Simple instructions," Caroline began, her voice sharp and cold. "All you had to do was look pretty for the Earl. But instead, you choose to alter your frock and take the company of that Duke!" She added, her tone thick with accusation.

"I do not see anything wrong with my actions, mother," Emma said in a cool voice. She refused to succumb to her mother's intimidation.

"And you," the Baroness spat as she swiveled to Antoinetta. "You will pay for disregarding my instructions as well," she added harshly.

Antoinetta colored up as she gave a quick perfunctory curtsy and quickly exited the room. Emma felt horrible for getting her lady's maid in trouble now.

"Antoinetta was only following my instructions, mother. She did nothing wrong," Emma defended, her voice steady yet filled with regret for the position she had put her friend in.

"Do you know what the ladies are already saying?" Her mother ignored her and continued, pacing the room with growing agitation. "They're already debating that the Earl and the Duke are competing for your attention and affections," she trudged on.

"How is that supposed to look on your chances with the Earl? Do you think he would want to be rumored to be in competition for a lady with another man? He could so easily give you up then," she threw exasperated hands in the air.

"First of all, Mother, the Earl has no special interests in me," Emma began calmly, trying to insert some reason into the conversation.

"Maybe not yet. But you must change that," her mother interjected, cutting her off.

"And second," Emma ignored the interruption and continued, "I think I deserve better than a man who would so easily give me up. I am not some object to be fancied and disregarded," she added, her voice firm and resolute.

"And that is precisely what that Duke would do to you. He may fancy you now, but once he's bored, he will just as easily let go," her mother countered sharply.

"You don't know that," Emma returned, her defiance growing.

"Have you been deaf all this while, child? Do you not know his reputation?" Caroline said, her voice rising in frustration.

"I know the rumors going about," Emma responded, her tone less certain now. And she didn't even know why she was suddenly defending the Duke. Perhaps it stemmed from the desire to refuse her mother's control and stand up for herself.

She needed to find a husband, yes. But she refused to be a puppet any longer.

"And how do you think this looks on our family image? Our only daughter, dallying with two gentlemen…" Her mother's voice was sharp, filled with disappointment and accusation.

And since when did she care about modesty too? Emma wondered. Her parents had more regard for their image than they'd ever have for their own child. She swallowed an uncomfortable lump which rose to her throat.

"And so what, Mama?" Emma finally lost her patience. "Is it such a bad thing that I appear to have two suitors now?" She challenged, her voice rising with her burgeoning defiance.

Her mother seemed taken aback and sputtered, momentarily at a loss for words.

Emma opened her mouth to voice more of her grievances then, but her voice was drowned by her father's, who angrily joined them. "Did I not tell you to steer clear of that Duke?" Tristan spat. "What did you think you were doing? Clinging onto him the entire afternoon?" he added, his tone accusatory and harsh.

"I did not cling onto anyone, father," Emma defended, her voice firm yet weary from the constant battles.

"That reprehensible man will only ruin our plans," the Baron cried indignantly. "Now you listen here, girl," his voice lowered to a dangerous whisper. "You stay away from Seymore. And do whatever it takes to captivate Firman and make him yours," he said. "Your clock is ticking. And I am sure the Marquess of Neads is waiting…" He added, his words hanging ominously in the air.

Emma felt even more sick at the mention of Neads. She watched her father's lip curl smugly when he noticed how affected she was by his threats. The man derived pleasure from inflicting her pain, she concluded dejectedly.

When her parents stormed out of the room, she slumped into the chaise by the window, fighting the tears which burned at the back of her eyes. She looked out the window and saw Firman and Seymore in the gardens below. The Duke raised his head just then. And Emma found herself staring back at him as he held her gaze through the window. Something within her sank. What had she done to deserve her circumstances?

Emma felt dreadful still the next morning. "Oh no, you cannot skip breakfast, Emma!" Antoinetta cried when Emma said she had no appetite, and thus had no plans of going downstairs for breakfast. "You need some sustenance to start your day," her lady's maid insisted.

When Emma saw the concern in her eyes, she decided to humor her. "Very well. I will go down after finishing these letters," she said, acquiescing more for Antoinetta's sake than her own.

She was writing letters to her two dearest friends, Frances Hughes and Agnes Young, both of whom were happily married and rusticating in their family seats in the country with their husbands. Emma had gone to finishing school with the girls and missed them dearly—their adventures and times together. And as much as she was happy for them, she couldn't help but envy them too. Frances had married a Duke, and Agnes had married a Marquess, and both men adored their wives to distraction.

If only she could find such love too. Alas, her own reality was different. Perhaps she even lived in a different world from her friends, she thought to herself. Hers was definitely no fairytale.

Writing the letters was an excuse she sought to delay going down for breakfast. She wanted the room emptied. She didn't think she could countenance any company today.

"Do you promise to go down after the letters?" Antoinetta looked skeptical.

"I promise," Emma chuckled lightly.

"And to eat a proper meal?" Her lady's maid pressed on.

" And to eat a proper meal," Emma echoed, her voice light but her heart heavy, as she returned her attention to the letter she was writing Frances.

My dearest Frannie

It warms my heart to think of you nestled in your country, and I must encourage you to enjoy every moment before the start of the season—much is expected of the Duchess of Preston, after all.

I am currently attending a splendid house party in Wiltshire, hosted by the Earl of Firman and his family. The company is lively and the evenings are filled merriment. You should see the Earl's garden—it is positively from a dream! These are just the delights and diversions an old lady such as myself needs.

Good heavens! Frannie, I sounded very unlike myself there, telling you about the splendid time I am having here while in truth I am miserable. The gentlemen are dull, and dearly I miss you and Aggie. Why am I unhappy, you ask? This house party augurs an uninteresting season. I often wonder if my parents will allow me to remain unmarried by its end.

I shudder at the thought of having to do something desperate to find a husband. Do pray for your hopeless little friend, Frannie. And give many kisses to Caspian for me. I grow fonder of him every day.

With all my love,

Emma

As she read the letter after writing, she realized that her fingers had betrayed her and given her friends some of the truth of her emotions. Sighing, she sealed it and prepared to go down for breakfast.

The breakfast room was thankfully empty when she arrived. She fetched her food and sat to eat, grateful for the peace.

Her solitude was short-lived, however, when Seymore suddenly made an appearance. A part of Emma didn't want to see him. But another part of her couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked dressed in a dark blue coat.

She felt warmth stain her cheeks when he greeted her, and she tried not to meet his gaze. While he fetched his food, she tried to compose herself and concentrate on her own meal.

He returned and sat across from her. And she felt his gaze intent on her, practically shadowing her every move. The intensity of his attention was unsettling yet oddly thrilling, and Emma found herself caught between annoyance and a curious intrigue.

She purposefully kept quiet and refused to engage him in the conversation he no doubt sought. She filled her mouth with food and chewed slowly, focusing intently on her plate as if it held the answers to her growing disquiet.

"What, pray tell, are you sulking about on such a lovely day?" He finally broke the silence, his tone light, yet edged with a challenge that Emma knew all too well.

She knew it wasn't going to last anyway. Emma swallowed her food and prepared herself for the inevitable exchange.

"Why do you have a habit of intruding into people's lives and complicating them for them?" She returned instead, her voice steady but her hands beneath the table clenched in her lap.

"By complication you mean?" He quirked a brow, leaning forward slightly, his interest visibly piqued.

And Emma decided she'd had enough. She refused to let this continue. She didn't think she could bear another confrontation with her parents as a result. Thus she said, "I know you're trying to come between the Earl and me."

He surprisingly did not feign ignorance. "Does that mean you're trying to get the Earl's attention? And possibly affections too?" His gaze was searching as he inquired, tilting his head slightly as if to read her more clearly.

Emma suddenly felt self-conscious. Her throat ran dry too, and she took a sip of her orange juice to calm her nerves.

"What business of yours is my relationship with the Earl?" She returned sharply, meeting his gaze with a defiant lift of her chin.

"First, he is like a brother to me. So of course, it is my business to look out for him," he replied, his tone softening just a bit as if to remind her of his genuine concern.

"I believe he is a man more than capable of looking out for himself," Emma shot back, unwilling to let him see the turmoil beneath her composed exterior.

"You are right," he agreed, nodding slightly. "But that is family, is it not? We look out for each other, even when not needed," he added, a light shrug accompanying his words.

Your family. Not mine , she almost blurted out. But instead, she said, "You tried every means yesterday afternoon to get in the way. Is that your definition of looking out?"

"You make it sound as though I gave you no choice. I didn't force you, Miss Lovell. You could have easily left my company for Firman's, you know. But you didn't. Why?" he returned her question with another of his own, a slight tilt of his head indicating his curiosity.

He was right, damn it, Emma thought to herself. She'd had a choice. Yet she'd subconsciously chosen to remain with him. And she didn't have the answer to his question right now, for she didn't know why. Only that she'd chosen to remain with him. For whatever reasons elusive, and yet unknown.

Emma let her gaze fall back onto her plate. She really had no appetite to continue eating.

She thought of abandoning her meal, and wondered if that would give him the upper hand on her. The satisfaction of affecting her so that he eventually put her off her food weighed heavily on her mind. As she contemplated her options, they suddenly heard voices in the hallway before Lady Amberton appeared.

"Oh, Emma dear. There you are. I've been looking all over for you," she said, her voice carrying a cheerful urgency that Emma found both relieving and opportune.

"Is everything all right?" Emma asked, her expression one of mild concern, grateful for the interruption.

Lady Amberton smiled warmly and explained, "I am planning a treasure hunt for the afternoon and need your help writing the clues on the cards."

Emma couldn't be happier for the excuse to leave her food behind. She really couldn't stomach more, not to mention she desperately needed a breather from the Duke's suffocating company. He'd somehow deduced that she'd set her cap for Firman now, and she had a feeling he wouldn't back down and let them be…

Things had taken an unexpected turn now. As if she needed more complications in her life.

She forced herself out of her disturbed thoughts and prepared to leave. Emma was only too glad to join Lady Amberton, seeing it as a perfect escape from the tense atmosphere.

And as she walked out of the breakfast room, she felt his eyes on her and couldn't help glancing back when she reached the door. Seymore regarded her with such intensity it felt almost as though he could read her very soul. Something curiously akin to excitement fluttered in her stomach in concert with the cold blanket of apprehension that suddenly came over her.