by Abby Ayles
Nevertheless, it was her home, and she missed it dearly. Living in Blackburn Manor had been quite lovely, and she was grateful for the opportunity to live and work there. Still, she could not help feeling a little homesick and wishing that she could go home and see Marcus, at least every so often.
Emma began wringing her hands as she thought about Marcus. She had not heard from him in weeks, and she was growing more concerned with each passing day.
In his last letter, it was clear that he was doing far worse. Emma feared that, if he did not improve quickly, she would soon have no one at all to whom to return home.
Rosaline’s butler was waiting for her when she disembarked from the carriage. Rosaline herself was waiting just inside the front door, and she embraced Emma warmly.
“I am so glad you came,” she said.
“Thank you very much for inviting me,” Emma said, struggling to breathe.
She was stricken with awe at the glamor of the interior of Rosaline’s home. The tapestries and carpets were all vibrant, warm colors, obviously well-cleaned and cared for, making the home feel both intimidating and welcoming all at once. The furniture gleamed with fresh shine, each piece completely spotless and free from dust and blemishes.
Rosaline took Emma’s hand and led her to a large sitting room, where steaming tea and fresh, pink and yellow cakes were already waiting.
Rosaline took a seat on a soft, red velvet sofa and patted the spot next to her. She beamed at Emma, idly smoothing a wrinkle on her lovely pink satin gown.
Emma looked down at her plain brown dress, blushing at the outdated and worn look of it. Her discomfort at the reason for this meeting returned.
What business did she have trying to attract the attention of a man of Francis’s status?
“Well, now that you are here, I can tell you what I have been thinking,” Rosaline said, her eyes sparkling.
Emma smiled faintly at Rosaline’s enthusiasm. She reminded Emma a bit of Rowena when she became excited. She only wished that she could join Rosaline in her excitement.
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Emma asked. Secretly, she hoped that Rosaline would suddenly change her mind and call off the whole thing.
Instead, Rosaline nodded her head vigorously, smiling wider still.
“I am certain,” she said. “Trust me, Emma, this will be the best for everyone.”
Emma started to ask Rosaline how she could possibly know that, but another thought crossed her mind.
“Very well,” she said. “But I cannot be comfortable with any of this until I know what happened to Caroline. The children become too sad on the rare occasions that they mention their mother, and Lord Ashfield does not speak about her at all.”
Rosaline’s demeanor changed at once. Her smile vanished and her lovely green eyes grew sad.
“It truly was a tragedy,” she said quietly. “A terrible accident.”
Emma saw Rosaline struggling to restrain her tears, and she waited patiently for her to continue.
“There was a pair of young men who were dueling illegally, in the woods at the very edge of town,” she said, her voice steady but rough. “One of their bullets went rogue, flying past the intended target, and striking poor Caroline. She died there, on the street.”
“Was Francis with her?” Emma asked, horrified.
Rosaline’s expression made her wish she could take back her question. She sat, frozen, waiting for Rosaline to answer, and simultaneously praying that she did not.
Her prayer was answered. Rosaline turned her face away, but not before Emma saw a tear fall down her cheek.
Emma pulled a handkerchief from her dress pocket and offered it to Rosaline.
“I am terribly sorry,” Emma said, feeling horrible for bringing up the subject.
Rosaline nodded, dabbing at her face with Emma’s handkerchief.
“Fortunately, the children were not there. They were home, with their nurse,” she continued.
Emma felt a rush of relief. Losing their mother was traumatic enough for the poor children. She could not imagine how much worse it would have been had they been there to witness it.
But since Rosaline had not answered regarding Francis’s presence, did that mean he was there?
Emma bit her lip to keep from repeating her question.
“What happened to the men?” she asked instead.
“They were jailed, thankfully,” Rosaline said, twisting the handkerchief in her hands. “They have never left prison, and never will. Unfortunately, even justice did nothing to satisfy or comfort poor Lord Ashfield.”
Emma nodded.
“I imagine that his grief must have been tremendous,” she said.
She knew well that the loss of his wife had affected him very much. She had not known him long, and certainly not before Caroline’s death, but his distant, cool demeanor, particularly toward his children, told Emma a great deal.
“He grew more withdrawn by the day after her death,” Rosaline said forlornly. “He fears becoming close to anyone now, even friends and family, because he is certain that they, too, will die.”
Emma nodded thoughtfully. Of course, he would fear losing other people he loved, and she felt terrible for having not considered that possibility sooner.
“I am truly sorry for your family’s loss,” she said again, at a loss for anything else to say.
Rosaline looked at Emma again and smiled.
“It has been months since I have seen Francis behave as he has since you arrived,” she said, her sadness melting away. “It is the first time since Caroline’s death that Francis has shown even a flicker of animation. I really do believe that Francis has feelings for you.”
Emma blushed, both pleased and terrified at the thought that Francis might, indeed, fancy her. She only wished that she could be as confident as Rosaline was on the matter.
“Even if he does, I have not a clue as to how we will ever make this plan work,” Emma said. “I am not the right sort of woman for him at all. Not to mention that he will lose your uncle’s support if he marries anyone but you, and I am sure that he is not willing to take that risk.”
Rosaline brightened at once, returning to her former excited, gleeful disposition.
“I have been thinking about this a bit,” she said. “And we will simply have to be tricky.”
Emma stared at Rosaline, her eyes wide.
“Are you suggesting that we trick Lord Ashfield?” she asked.
Rosaline shook her head.
“Not trick him,” she said. “We must take the right steps at the exact right times.”
“What do you mean?” Emma asked.
“I will start by arranging for you to attend all of the Season dances that I attend this year,” she said, her enthusiasm growing. “Then, I will help the two of you get close to one another.”
Emma blanched and started to protest, but Rosaline patted her hands gently.
“Do not worry, I will be right here every step of the way,” she said reassuringly. “I will even coach you a little if you need it.”
“But what will this accomplish?” Emma asked. “Lord Ashfield sees me every day, in his very own home. How will these dances be any different?”
Rosaline squeezed Emma’s hands gently.
“Oh, don’t you see? That is precisely it,” she said. “If the two of you interact with each other at these events, outside of the house and without the children, he will at last realize that you are more than just a governess.”
Emma flinched at Rosaline’s last words. That was exactly her concern, her being nothing more than a governess.
Rosaline blushed furiously.
“Oh, please forgive me,” she said hastily. “What I meant was that he would see you for everything else you are.”
Despite her knotting stomach, Emma smiled at Rosaline.
“It is quite alright,” she said with what she hoped was a reassuring voice. At that moment, she realized how sincere Rosaline was about
wanting to help and befriend her.
“Alright,” Emma said, putting on her best brave smile. “When does all this begin?”
Rosaline clapped her hands together happily.
“I am putting together a dance to be held in two weeks,” she said.
Emma gasped, feeling her face flush.
“So soon?” she asked.
“Worry not, darling,” Rosaline said. “Remember, I will help you as much as you need.”
Emma sighed.
“It has been too long since I attended a Season ball,” she confessed. “I do not have anything appropriate to wear to an event so grand.”
Rosaline thought for a moment, then smiled again.
“My younger sister, Lucille, will surely have something you can wear,” she said. “The two of you are very similar in size, and I am certain she has a gown of which she has grown tired.”
Her flush deepened.
“I could never accept such a grand act of charity,” she said firmly.
Rosaline took Emma’s hands again and looked at her warmly.
“It is not charity when it is merely one woman helping her dear friend,” she assured her.
Emma looked at Rosaline in surprise. She could hardly believe that this beautiful, sophisticated woman had just called her a dear friend.
“Besides,” Rosaline continued. “This really is the best chance we have of pulling Lord Ashfield’s attentions to you.”
Emma still was not sure that she was comfortable with such a charitable proposal, even if they were friends. However, she knew that Rosaline was right.
As long as she was only Francis’s governess, that was all he would ever see. And she certainly did not have the means to dress for, or get into, the dances on her own.
Rosaline was watching Emma with excited anticipation. Again, she reminded Emma of Rowena, and she could not help smiling.
“Alright,” Emma said. “I graciously accept.”
Rosaline giggled and embraced Emma.
“This is going to be the best Season ever,” she promised.
Chapter 12
Francis chuckled at the words on the intricately decorated stationary before him.
It had been some time since he had given any thought to the events of the London Season. Now, he was looking at a formal invitation to one of the much-anticipated dances of the season, and from none other than Rosaline.
Perhaps she meant well by inviting him, but he was sure that she knew how he felt about attending social events. Or, perhaps the invitation had been her uncle’s doing as a direct reminder of his ultimatum.
Whatever the case, Francis decided that he would not be in attendance tonight. He had replied that he would, out of cordiality, but now that his wits had returned to him, he had regretted it.
He set aside the invitation, with the intention of writing a letter of apology for his failure to attend after all. A knock at the door of his study pulled him from his thoughts.
“Yes?” he asked brusquely.
The door creaked open slowly, and Emma stepped into the room.
Francis rose from his seat and smiled. He did not try to hide his pleasure at seeing her.
“Miss Baker, please, come in,” he said warmly.
“I hope that I am not interrupting anything, my lord,” she said timidly.
Francis moved to the side of his desk and shook his head firmly.
“Not at all,” he said. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, hesitantly sitting.
Francis observed that Emma looked quite nervous, which concerned him.
“Is everything alright?” he asked as he took up his own chair.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I was just wondering if I could ask a favor of you.”
Francis blinked, surprised. Emma had never asked anything of him. For a moment, he wondered if she was at last ready to discuss what was troubling her and if this favor was related to that in some way.
“Certainly,” Francis said. “What can I do for you?
Emma took a deep, long breath.
“I wanted to ask for an evening off if that is alright,” she said at last.
“Of course,” he said, his apprehension growing. “Just name the evening, and it is yours.”
He bit his lip to refrain from inquiring as to her reasons for needing the time off.
“If it is not too short notice, I was hoping to have tonight off,” she said, blushing suddenly. “I have received an invitation to a dance.”
Francis’s lips parted in surprise. Could she possibly be attending Rosaline’s dance? And what man had invited her?
Francis tried to shake off the surge of jealousy he suddenly felt, but he failed.
“An invitation?” he asked, as casually as possible. “From whom?”
Emma’s blush deepened.
“Rosaline invited me to a dance that she is hosting,” she said, almost whispering.
Francis frowned. It was highly unorthodox for Rosaline to invite Emma. Typically, women did not ask each other to a dance. However, he did not voice this thought aloud.
“If it is too short notice, I will not attend,” Emma repeated.
A thought occurred to Francis, and his face lit up.
“Actually, I, too, received an invitation to Rosaline’s ball,” he said.
Emma looked up at him then, her eyes large.
“Oh, really?” she asked.
“Indeed,” he said. “If you are not already planning to meet anyone else there, I could help you get to the Brentwood Townhouse.”
At Emma’s surprised expression, he quickly added, “Provided that we have a chaperone, of course.”
She blushed more furiously than ever, and Francis feared that he had overstepped his bounds. To his relief, however, she finally nodded.
“That would be lovely,” she said. She did not meet his gaze as she spoke, but Francis saw a small smile on her lips. She rose quickly from her seat. “Thank you, my lord. I shall not keep you any longer.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Baker,” Francis said. Then, he remembered something.
“Oh, before you go,” he said. “I saw your brother, Marcus, in town not long ago.”
Emma froze halfway to the door.
“Oh?” she asked, her voice tense.
“Yes,” he said. “And I must say, he was acting a bit strangely.”
He examined his fingers casually, watching Emma from the corner of his eye. It did not go unnoticed that she seemed frozen to the spot.
“I am sure that he was just in a rush,” she said.
Francis was unconvinced.
“Perhaps,” he said. “But he did not look well, either. He did not look himself at all.”
The earlier flush to Emma’s cheeks drained in an instant, and Francis thought briefly that she would faint.
“I have not a clue,” she said, still not meeting Francis’s eyes. “Perhaps he is just a bit under the weather.”
Francis did not need to see Emma’s expression to know that she was lying. Now, more than ever, he was certain that Emma’s troubles centered around her brother.
However, before Francis could press the matter further, Emma was suddenly in motion again, rushing to the open study door.
“If you will excuse me, my lord, I must prepare for the ball tonight,” she said. Before Francis could reply, she practically ran from the room.
With a sigh, Francis decided that he, too, should get dressed. It was already late in the afternoon, and the dance would be starting in a couple of hours.
He exited his study and made his way to his quarters.
***
Francis waited impatiently at the bottom of the staircase for Emma to finish dressing. They still had almost an hour before the dance started, so he was in no rush. However, he was beginning to regret deciding to attend this event and was anxious to get the party over with as quickly as possible.
He could just imagine the curious stares from all the
other guests, and all the hopeful glances of young, marriageable women wishing he would ask them to dance.
Worse still, he felt sure that his father-in-law would take this to mean that he was ready to consider his offer to marry Rosaline, especially since it was her who was hosting the ball.