Page 20 of The Earl's Christmas Deal
Emilia glanced around at the other women in the circle and was dismayed to find that no one would meet her eyes. The scandal she had hoped would be so far in her past that many would overlook it was hanging between them all like a shroud.
She forced a tight smile.
“It is rather close in here; I shall just get some air by the window,” she muttered and rose, forcing herself to walk slowly away from the group instead of breaking into a run.
As she came to the window ledge, she stared out at the muted white blanket that lay across the grass in the gardens. Snow had been steadily falling throughout the ball, and it was beyond beautiful to watch it in the reflections of the firelight. Emilia wished she were outside, experiencing the first fall of winter alone. She loved being by herself. There was no one to judge her or pity her. She could just be.
“I did not know it was snowing,” Charlotte remarked as she made her way over to her friend. She had just entered the room and was surprised to find Emiliaalone. “It is so beautiful.”
“Mm,” Emilia said softly.
“I cannot believe how agreeable Lord Spencer is. I feel rather foolish, having assumed he would be a dullard. Do you know he has read almost as many books as I have? Including the love stories that I thought most men would not be interested in at all. His favourite book is Emma by Jane Austen, just like mine. I do not remember when anyone has made me smile so much.” She laughed. “You are wicked for saying I pushed you into that lake. If Ihadpushed you in I would not have been so wet trying to get youout.”
Charlotte paused when she noticed that her friend did not appear to be listening to her. Her eyes were glazed, and her skin wasrather pale.
“Emilia?” she asked. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, yes,” Emilia said blithely, pushing away the melancholy of her situation. She looked at Charlotte’s wide hazel eyes and the excitement and happiness on her friend’s face. “I am so pleased that he is agreeable. You have liked so many verydisagreeablemen.”
Charlotte snorted. “Come, tell me more of what he said at the dance,” Emilia insisted, hoping that her friend's happiness might somehow erode the influence of the duke’s unpleasant family.
CHAPTER EIGHT
In the darkness of the billiard room, heavy shadows had formed as the men smoked and drank together.
Adam stood at the side with Lionel, watching Lord Sternwood and Lord Pinkerton play. Pinkerton was by far the worse for drink between the two and almost scratched the table with his cue on his third attempt to strike the ball.
Adam had noticed Frederick hovering behind him, but it was only when Lionel stepped away to refresh his drink that Frederick finally approached him.
“It has been a few months since I saw you, cousin,” Frederick said with a smile. Adam had deliberately distanced himself from that side of the family, but he noted the familiarity Frederick tried to inject into his tone.
“I hope your mother is doing better,” he offered.
“She is; thank you for the flowers you sent. I owe you an apology, nonetheless, as I was unable to attend Anastasia’s funeral. My mother’s health was much afflicted at the time as well.”
A lead weight landed in the pit of Adam’s stomach. He had been happily thinking of Lady Emilia up until that point, but Frederick’s words destroyed any anticipation he might have felt at seeing her again.
His aunt and Lionel rarely spoke of Anastasia; they knew the effect it had on him, but Frederick seemed to have no such compunction. His voice would have sounded remorseful to anyone else, but Adam knew better. Nothing that Frederick said was sincere unless it related to himself.
“Thank you,” Adam said stiffly. “You wrote me a letter at the time. I understood well enough.”
Frederick sipped his drink, observing his cousin with interest. The man had become ghostly pale at the mention of his wife.Perhaps ensuring he remains unattached will be easier than I thought.
If Adam’s response to the mere mention of his wife’s name caused this type of reaction, Frederick could only imagine what would happen if he accused him of showing attention to another.
“She was a wonderful woman and a great credit to you. I am glad to see you out and socialising again after so long.” Adam’s response was only to swallow, his jaw visibly tightening.
“Bentley!” Both men turned at the call, neither of them certain who was being hailed. “Will you play?” Lord Sternwood asked, looking at Frederick.
Frederick felt a shudder of nerves. He could not afford to play deep tonight; he had barely a coin to his name after an ill-advised trip to a gambling hell. But he could hardly refuse his host.
“Of course, my Lord, prepare to be trounced!” Every man in the room laughed heartily except for Adam, and Frederick bowed to him and made his way over to the table.
Lionel cursed inwardly as he returned with their drinks to find Frederick walking away from his cousin. Adam looked deathly pale, and Lionel could only imagine what the blaggard had said to him.
“Here, old chap,” he said, handing the small quarter inch of whisky to him. “Barely a thimble full, as requested.”
Adam’s smile was genuine as he received the glass, and they touched the tips together in a gentle clink.
