Page 30 of The Earl's Christmas Deal
He had wed Anastasia in a small chapel much like this one. Neither of them had been interested in a grand occasion. It had been a wonderful day, and in his mind’s eye, he was standing at the aisle with her, waiting for her to become his wife.
As the memory flooded his brain he looked to his left, anticipating Anastasia’s familiar smile, but was instead met by Emilia’s vibrant presence. Adam jolted sideways in his seat making his aunt gasp and she looked at him in consternation.
“My apologies,” he murmured, his voice coming out as a croak.
What on earth has come over me?
Despite only knowing Emilia for two days, she had become thoroughly embedded in his mindand seemed to have permeated all of his senses. When he had woken that morning, she had been his first thought—not Anastasia, as he was accustomed to—but Emilia. He thought of her smile often, and each time he did so, it made him see her again.
That line of shimmering joy that had begun with her music was spreading like aflower blooming in his chest, and he seemed unable to stop it. The guilt he felt at Anastasia’s memory was there and perhaps would always be, but somehow, the sharp edge to it had dulled. He felt hopeful for his future, the dark walls of his study and endless ledgers finally losing their appeal after all these years. He felt ready for a change.
How good it would be to fill the world with colour. Every time he was around Emilia, he felt as though everything was brighter and clearer.
Adam rose with the congregation, having no idea what had just been said as another hymn began. He glanced at Emilia, his hands tightening further on his book as he saw her take a subtle step away from the Duke of Elderbridge.
I cannot be mistaken; there is no interest there.
He kept his eyes on Emilia’s elegant form throughout the service, her face bathed in golden light from the windows above her, and his heart feeling as though it was bathed in it, too. It was as though everything he had believed, all the light in his life that he had assumed was snuffed out, had merely been in the darkness, waiting for someone to draw it out again.
As they exited the chapel, the snow was still falling in earnest. It was so thick, and the day so cold, that the snowflakes were adhering to every surface, even vertical lampposts.
The ground about them was devoid of any path, despite it having been cleared just that morning. Adam was taken aback by the beauty of it, wishing he could stand and watch it fall for hours. The soft brush of each flake on the ground was soothing to his ears, and he pictured walking through it with Emilia by his side speaking of music and all the things she loved.
But the Sterlings seemed concerned by the snowstorm that had erupted about the guests and ushered everyone quickly back to the manor without any time for dallying.
Lionel and Adam stamped their feet as they entered the house, and tea was brought to the drawing room, where everyone was invited to assemble. Adam glanced at Lionel as his cousin helped him with his coat and scoffed quietly as he made a show of folding it and handing it to the butler with a bow.
“You are a simpleton,” Adam muttered affectionately.
“The cold air suits you, cousin,” Lionel replied. “You look better in the last few days than you have these past few years. I do hope you will continue to venture from the house. It makes you look rather less like an ogre.”
Adam let out a bark of laughter at that and noticed Lady Seraphina Cheswick glance across at him with a demure smile as her parents fussed over her gown.
Adam gave her a short nod in response, unsure how he was to navigate the next few days. Lady Seraphina was not an unpleasant girl, but she paled in comparison to Lady Emilia. Lady Seraphina’s mother clearly had designs upon his affections, and his own aunt had made it clear he needed to make an alliance.
Was he foolish to think Lady Emilia might become that alliance? After so short a time, the idea seemed like madness—but nevertheless, it persisted.
Emilia sat beside Charlotte in the drawing room as her mother and father debated what they should do due to the snow. They had been planning a walk that afternoon, but the heavy snowfall and the steep drop in temperature meant that their plans were thwarted.
“Emilia, we shall do a recital,” her mother whispered to her as the other guests began to gather. “You will begin it, and then we will ask others to take their turn.”
Emilia did not argue. Her mother had been taken aback by the depth of the snow and was obviously agitated. Lord Sternwood gave Emilia a reassuring nod as he handed her one of her favourite books of poetry, and Charlotte smiled.
“Excellent choice, Lord Sternwood,” Charlotte remarked, having known Emilia’s father for many years and feeling comfortable in his presence. “You have exquisite taste.”
Emilia’s father chuckled. He had always been very fond of Charlotte.
Emilia felt her palms sweating as she plucked at the edge of her dress. Charlotte was all smiles and encouragement as her audience settled themselves. Emilia was not a natural performer when a piano was not in front of her, and she felt nerves slice through her.
But as she looked across the room, she saw Lord Bellebrook opposite. Lionel Spencer seemed preoccupied with trying to catch Charlotte’s eye, but Adam was looking at her—and only her. He gave her a small smile and a nod, and Emilia finally found the strength to rise and stand before the room.
She opened the book, glancing at Charlotte, who was now paying rapt attention and began to read. The poem was by Wordsworth and spoke of lost love and redemption. To Emilia, with Adam’s eyes upon her, she felt as though it spoke for him of all he had lost and was yet to gain from life.
Adam watched Emilia, her full lips reciting and growing bolder as the poem continued. It was interesting to watch her speak like this. The pianoforte was a natural thing for her, almost an extension of herself, and in a recital she did not seem so comfortable.
He leaned forward, trying to instil in her his silent encouragement. He thought of all she had endured in the preceding yearsand the pain it must have caused her and her family to be so shunned bysociety.
He had heard a little more from Augusta on the subject, and it was true; there had been no evidence of what had happened with Lord Julian Blackmoor. The man himself had denied it on every occasion since, and yet for Emilia, the derision from those such as the duke’s daughters was still palpable to this day.
