Page 23 of The Earl's Christmas Deal
As Adam turned to her, his blue-green eyes sparking with gentle happiness, she managed a smile but moved further from him on the settee, glancing about the room in alarm, wondering if she had exposed herself again. The ice that rushedthrough her stomach at the thought was an awful reminder of everything she had been through.
She attempted to remain civil and courteous, but the mood between them changed considerably as the game wound down.
Adam watched Emilia with concern, wondering if he had somehow offended her. She seemed reserved suddenly, as she had been when they had first met. There was a strange detachment in her gaze, that looked deliberate, yet sad. As the game concluded and the group dispersed, she bid him goodnight, thanking him for the game. He longed to accompany her out of the room but held himself back.
He watched her walk away, wondering in a strange turn of events what Anastasia would have made of her. He believed they would have got along well. Anastasia was of the same quiet nature. He could no longer deny that despite the guilt he felt at looking at another woman with any kind of interest, he liked Lady Emilia Sterling very much.
She was witty, clever, and fiercely talented. Unlike many other women of his acquaintance, she was demure and sensible. As he made his way up to his room, Adam felt a warmth of affection toward her—terrifying and wonderful in equal measure.
As Emilia closed the door of her bed chamber, she breathed a sigh of relief, sliding down the wood to the floor and sitting on the thick carpet, allowing herself a moment of quiet contemplation. She could not believe all that had taken place.
The duke had been insufferable and drunk for much of the evening, not to mention his horrible daughters had put her in her place multiple times. But she had come away from what should have been an acute humiliation with lightness in her heart—all because of Lord Bellebrook.
The connection between them felt as fine as a strand of gossamer, loosely linking them to one another, but primed tobreak at the slightest pressure. She did not know what lay in her future, but the only easy decision she could make was that she must avoid the duke at all costs.
CHAPTER NINE
The following morning, Emilia had risen with the dawn’s first light.
She had spent several hours watching the ghostly, twisting snowflakes falling past her window in the darkness, her mind a maelstrom of thoughts giving way to unpleasant dreams.
When she finally got out of bed, the crackling of the fire greeted her ears, accompanied by the warm, enticing scent of cinnamon wafting from the kitchens below. There was a thick blanket of snow on the ground outsideand a significant layer upon her window ledge. She pulled up the sash, smiling at the sparkling diamonds before her. She thought of collecting a small amount and throwing it down to the gardens, but shedid not wish to disturb it.
Everything around the grounds was perfect, clean, and dazzlingly white. It appeared that a badger had trundled through the snow, leaving lumbering uneven footsteps below her, and she could see the evidence of birds having hopped about the flowerbeds.
She allowed herself the time to bask in the Christmas feeling of the season. The view from her window unfolded like a winter painting, frozen in time and unspoiled.
As she went down the stairs to the dining hall, a bustle of servants surrounded her. Many of them nodded in greeting, and she smiled at them in return, but her hands were plucking incessantly at her gown. She wondered whether, by the end of the week, she might have worn a hole through everyone.
The doors to the dining hall had been left open, the remaining guests helping themselves to breakfast. Emilia was grateful to take the opportunity to linger a little and not have totake a seat immediately. All of the Eastons had already arrived, and Penelope, Caroline, and Sophia were seated together, speaking in low voices.
The duke and his daughters were the most well-to-do of those who had remained. Emilia marvelled at how her mother could cope with twenty people all at once so close to Christmas, but as Lady Sternwood swept into the room, directing servants left, right, and centre, it appeared she was in her element.
As Emilia pondered what she wanted to eat for breakfast, someone cleared their throat behind her, and she tensed, expecting the duke. When she turned, however, it was to see her father standing rather awkwardly behind her.
“Are you alright, my dear?” he asked in an uncharacteristic show of affection. “You look pale.”
“I did not sleep all that well,” she remarked quickly. The last thing she needed was for her parents to worry about her to an even greater degree. “Are you alright, Papa? Have you enjoyed the party thus far?”
“Indeed I have; Bentley is a demon at cards, though. I had no idea the man played so deep.”
Emilia felt a gnawing sensation in her stomach. “Lord Adam Bentley is a gambler?”
Her father raised his eyebrows in apparent disinterest. “Hardly. But Frederick Bentley, on the other hand, most certainly is. I lost a handful to him late into the night, foolishness of the highest degree. Best keep that from your mother, if you would.”
He harrumphed good-naturedly and went to find his seat. Emilia could not hold back a chuckle. It was nice to be confided in by her father. Even though the circumstances of her union to the duke were not what she would ever have chosen, she had to admit that her parents were more relaxed this week than she had seen them in years.
An unpleasant sensation filled her at that thought. It was all very well for them to be relaxed because of her potential marriage, but they did not seem to care what her life would be like once it had happened. She looked over at the duke’s daughters and decided to try to get to know them today. They could not be all bad.
She went to take a seat opposite them and attempted a smile at Penelope. The girl gave her a long, baleful glare, and then all three of them turned away and began to speak amongst themselves.
It was a slight and not a subtle one.
Emilia pursed her lips, glancing about, noticing Mrs Verity Bentley watching them. Emilia quickly looked away, picking up her teacup to distract herself. She felt her cheeks flame as the cup clattered against the saucer.
As she sat watching the duke’s daughter deliberately avoid eye contact with her, the door opened, and her fingers clutched at the handle of her teacup even tighter as the other object of her thoughts walked into the room.
Adam Bentley looked impossibly good in a dark green waistcoat that perfectly enhanced the colour of his eyes. Despite breakfast usually being a more casual affair, he wore a neat cravat, and it looked as though his valet had cut his hair since the night before—he looked dashing, untouchable, and unfairly handsome.
