Page 6 of The Earl's Christmas Deal
“You are right,” Emilia replied with a sigh. “I am sorry Charlotte, I am being very petulant today. I suppose it is a fresh wound upon a wound to learn that I am on the shelf already.”
“None of that. You, my dear, are the most beautiful woman in the world,” Charlotte declared, her voice firm yet soft.”
“This is why I adore you,” Emilia said warmly. “You always lift my spirits.”
“It is my duty, after all. I will not see you so downcast. Have you spoken to your mother of your reticence about the Duke?”
Emilia sighed heavily. “It would be quite hopeless. All my parents think about now is how they will marry me off. I do not fault them; I am well aware that my isolation has weighed heavily upon them both, but Mama would not understand. To her, an eligible marriage bears far more importance than my own sentiments.; she has made that abundantly clear.”
“Well, It pains me to hear it,” Charlotte stated wearily, “yet, in her fashion, shedoescare for you.”
“She does. But any closeness there once was between us has slowly degraded over time. If I were to broach the subject, it would be yet another argument at the end of an already tumultuous year. It would get us nowhere.”
“Then let us not lose hope that the duke may meet you and be utterly repulsed by your haggard appearance.”
Emilia laughed loudly, and Charlotte grinned. They continued on beneath the weak winter sunshine, walking past the frozen pond and crisp, silent grasses immobilised by frost.
However, Emilia’s smile slowly faded as she considered the upcoming party. She usually loved Christmas; it had once been her favourite time of year, but it felt tarnished somehow. The shine very much dimmed, even as the house became more and more festive around her.
Perhaps shewouldfind someone to her liking at the party. Yet, there remained the troubling question of whether he would be able to look beyond the shadows cast by her past. No one in society was ignorant of the rumours that clung to her—unfounded though they were—and the more one endeavoured to refute such talk, the more it seemed to mark one as a liar.
It was a cruel truth, but the fact that a widower wanted to wed her was an unpleasant sign of what was to come. Only a desperate man would want her.
It had been two years, and yet sometimes, it felt like her disgrace had only happened yesterday. She looked up at the white sky, the clouds heavy with snow, and prayed that this Christmas, her fortunes might change.
She squeezed Charlotte’s arm and felt an answering tightening against her own.
My future may hang in the balance over the coming days, but at least I am not alone.
CHAPTER THREE
A week later, Emilia stood at the top of the grand staircase, her heart heavy with trepidation as she watched the carriages approach. Sternwood Manor was unrecognisable after her mother’s attentions over the last week, and she had to admit, it looked wonderful.
Practically every surface was adorned with greenery. Ivy and laurel wreaths hung above many of the doorways, and evergreen branches from the gardens were laid across each mantelpiece. The stairs themselves were hung with silver and gold ornaments that sparkled in the candlelight, and Emilia found herself enjoying the sight of them for the first time in many years.
There seemed to be an atmosphere of hope in the house. She had rejoiced in it at first until she realised the cause. Her mother’s good mood, and therefore her father’s, was due to their expectations of the duke and his imminent arrival.
Emilia swallowed as she glanced down the long flight of stairs, trying to get a handle on her nerves. It was the first event of this kind she had attended since the scandal. Even though her parents were the hosts, she still felt on edge and vulnerable in high society again.
Descending the stairs, she joined her mother and father at the doorway, greeting the guests as they entered. Everyone seemed polite and friendly as they passed her, but many in society were adept at hiding their true feelings until they were in private.
The crunch of gravel outside caught her attention, and a magnificent carriage arrived, pulled by a team of four blackstallions. Her mother stiffened instantly, and a wave of nausea rushed through Emilia’s body as she recognised who it must be.
Rich as Croesus,she thought irritably,that’ll please Mother.
From the carriage stepped a tall man with greying, dark brown hair. He had a neat beardclipped close to his chin and bright green eyes that peered up at the house with interest. His lips were thin; his face pinched as though he were evaluating everything in his path. Emilia disliked the look of him immediately.
Behind him, three women emerged from the carriage. They were about the same height and perhaps two or three years older than each other. Emilia was reminded of the sisters in King Lear and tried to work out which two were Goneril and Regan.
They had dark hair like their father, were impeccably dressed in the latest fashions, and had a sneering, unpleasant countenance as though their father’s judgments hadpassed directly onto them.
Emilia had never felt such a profound dislike for so many people on sight before, but her father strode forward promptly as the duke ascended the steps and shook his hand.
All of the daughters wore polite smiles now, but their eyes were cold. In perfect unison, they turned to regard Emilia, as though their movements had been choreographed in advance. Their identical brown eyes looked her up and down as one being—it was the most critical appraisal she had ever been subjected to.
Sophia, Penelope, and Caroline Easton. They were a formidable sight. Sophia was the eldest and gave Emilia such an icy glare that she was surprised she was not frozen to the spot. The two younger girls turned to one another to whisper and burst into giggles, receiving a firm glare from their father.
I may become their stepmother in time.Emilia thought hopelessly.What a terrible fate to have thrust upon me.
