Page 2 of Her Wolf of a Duke

“The both of you deserve exactly what I have planned for you. Sarah shall marry the highest ranking gentleman that offers to take her hand, and you shall…”

Emma knew perfectly well that he did not care what became of her. His spinster daughter was a disappointment in his eyes. It was just as well that he had no intentions of finding her a match, she thought, as that was not why she was attending the party. It was to take place over several days, and in that time Emma hoped to find a suitor for her sister. That was all that she intended to do, and it was already a daunting prospect. Sarah wanted a love match, and that was a very finicky thing indeed.

Upon their arrival, Emma saw her three friends in an instant. They were all standing together, a strange mismatch of ladies that Emma would only add to the variety of. Their looks, however, did not matter to her at all. She was simply ecstatic to see them. She practically threw herself out of the carriage in excitement; she knew she would receive a scolding for that from her father that evening but she didn’t dwell on it.

“You are here at last!” Cecilia Penton beamed. “I was afraid that you were not coming. We spinsters must stay with one another, you know.”

“I believe what you meant to say is that without me you are the oldest,” Emma laughed.

It was true; Cecilia was but three-and-twenty, though she might as well have been a spinster since she was all of seven.

Cecilia laughed, a stray blonde ringlet bouncing as she did so. It was a shame that she had never had any interest in marriage, for she was the very definition of beauty. Her blue eyes captivated many gentlemen, the beauty marks beneath her eye and above her lip giving her a very striking appearance, but the words coming from her pretty red lips frightened each one away. It was just as she liked it.

“Well,” Cecilia continued, “I must admit that is another excellent reason for my liking you so much. I cannot wrangle these two blushing future brides alone.”

“Cecilia, be quiet!” Dorothy yelped.

“Why? Can you not stand the thought of anyone looking at you?”

“You know perfectly well that I cannot,” Dorothy huffed, folding her arms over her ample bosom, her cheeks flaming so much that they almost hid her freckles.

“Well, unfortunately,” Emma said kindly, “you are one of four very witty ladies. You cannot hide away forever.”

“Sadly, no. Then again, among the three of you I can hide very well. I am the shortest, after all, and though wider than you I believe gentlemen find it easy to overlook the one that appears to have been plucked from a local farm and wedged into orange satin.”

Beatrice, the youngest of the group, grimaced.

“Your sister again?”

“Indeed. I have tried so hard to avoid her wonderful advice, but she refuses to let me escape into the corner. All of my gowns are these horrific bright shades.”

“Then it is just as well that I have your measurements,” Cecilia winked, “as well as a lack of need for my own new gowns. I shall show you what I have later, yes?”

Dorothy’s green eyes came to life.

“Oh, Cecilia, thank you!”

They were a strange group of all shapes and sizes, all with different ideas of what they wanted, but they did all agree on the very important fact that they would, eventually, achieve their dreams. That made their friendship very easy, and as adebutante, Emma knew that Beatrice was very grateful for that. Her dark blue eyes were wide, watching the exchange.

“I thought we ladies were supposed to see each other as competition,” she joked.

“Should I ever be seen as competition,” Cecilia grinned, “something must have gone very wrong, indeed.”

“None of us are competition toyou,Bea,” Dorothy sighed. “Well, except for Emma, should she ever change her mind.”

“Dorothy Godwin,” Emma said in a strict tone worthy of a governess, “I cannot have this week pass with you being so… like this. You are a beautiful young lady, and only twenty. One day, you shall find a very nice gentleman that shares your floral passions and you shall be very happy indeed.”

“I do hope so.”

“I know you will!” Beatrice smiled.

Beatrice Jennings was the newest addition to their group, having met them at a ball a few months prior, but it was as though she had always been there. The best part about her was that she softened whatever Cecilia said, which lightened Emma’s load a good deal.

“Have you ever been to this estate?” Dorothy asked, turning to Emma. “The three of us have not.”

“Nor have I, no. I do not tend to spend time with rakish dukes. It would be a very nasty habit indeed.”

A dry cough and a side glance from her father told her that she had said a little too much with that.

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