by Abby Ayles
He knew that only he noticed it, because Grant and Rosaline did not know Emma as well as he did, and he made a mental note to ask her about it later. If, that was, he could do so without making Emma uncomfortable.
Grant was as pleasant as ever, but Francis noticed that he kept finding reasons to stare at Francis. Francis knew what was, indeed, coming, and after the serving of the third dinner course, he was proven right.
“I trust that you have had time to consider the proposal about which I wrote to you?” the elderly man asked.
Trying to hide a wince, Francis picked up his wine glass and took a long sip.
“I have not forgotten, my lord,” he said.
Emma looked up, her brow furrowing in confusion, but she remained silent. Rosaline flushed a deep red and turned toward the elderly man.
“Uncle,” she said. “We are having such a nice meal. Could we not discuss this another time?”
“This is, indeed, a wonderful meal,” Grant said. “But I am afraid that this cannot wait.”
Rosaline looked desperately at Francis, clearly wishing to continue protesting. At last, however, she just looked down at her plate and began pushing the remnants of her food around on her plate with her fork.
Emma, perceptive as ever, turned to the children with a sudden story about a little mouse who liked to watch grand dinners from its hole, effectively holding their attention away from the men’s conversation.
Francis took a deep breath and braced himself.
“Please, continue, my lord,” he said.
“Yes, well. As you know, I believe it is imperative to our business dealings that you agree to wed Rosaline,” he began.
Francis stole a glance at Rosaline, who was blushing more deeply, and looked as though she wanted to cry.
Before Francis could speak, Grant cut him off.
“As such, I must inform you that, if you do not consent to this marriage, and rather soon, I will be forced to pull my support at the end of the year.”
Chapter 9
Emma watched the exchange between Francis and his father-in-law in silence.
She knew that watching Francis writhe so uncomfortably under the elderly earl’s scrutiny should make her feel bad for him. However, her thoughts continued to drift to Rosaline, and she could not.
Throughout the entirety of dinner, Emma watched Rosaline. Rosaline had been nothing but kind and sweet, and Emma had liked her at once. However, Rosaline was everything that Emma was not.
Rosaline was tall and quiet, but well-spoken and charming whenever she did speak. She was also quite beautiful, which Emma envied deeply.
Emma struggled to admit it to herself, but at last, she had to accept the fact that she was jealous of the lovely woman who would apparently become Francis’s wife.
Until now, she had simply thought that her feelings toward her employer were born out of sympathy for him and his children. Now, however, she began to realize that she cared more for all of them than just a soft-hearted governess.
She also knew that it was foolish to believe that anything could ever blossom between them. She was a mere governess, and the daughter of a poor businessman, and Rosaline was a sophisticated, beautiful woman of means and status.
A woman like Emma would only ever pale in comparison to a lady like Rosaline.
At last, dinner concluded, but to Emma’s surprise, the guests stayed. Francis invited Rosaline and Grant Brentwood to join him in the drawing room for wine and cakes, and, to Emma’s surprise, asked her to stay as well, to keep Rosaline company.
He called the nanny to put the kids to bed, which tugged at Emma’s heart. She had been reading to the children every night since her first week as a governess, and she felt a pang of envy that the nanny would have the privilege of doing so that night.
However, she was also a bit relieved. After her earlier conversation with the children, and with her building jealousy toward Rosaline, she feared that she would not make good company for the children.
To her surprise, Rosaline chose the seat nearest to Emma once they adjourned to the drawing room. Emma looked around and saw that Francis was seated by the window and the elder earl was pacing in the middle of the room, speaking quietly enough that Emma could not hear what he was saying.
There were plenty of other seats throughout the room, however, and Emma assumed that Rosaline was simply being polite by joining her to engage in light-hearted conversation.
Emma smiled politely at her, unsure what to say. Rosaline was very easy going, but Emma could not shake the jealousy that brewed within her more with every moment she looked at the beautiful, elegant woman.
She was so lost in her envious thoughts that she almost jumped when the elegant woman spoke.
“I do apologize for my uncle,” she said. “He is sometimes too direct and blunt when he wants something.”
Emma put on her best, sweetest smile.
“Oh, that is alright,” she said. “I understand that he and Lord Ashfield had important business to discuss.”
“Yes,” Rosaline said bitterly. “Business, indeed. As though I am some sort of business deal to secure.”
Emma blinked in surprise. It was not common for women to voice their opinions about men’s business, and certainly not with so much emotion.
“I am sure that your uncle means well for you,” Emma said, unsure of what else to say.
“I have no doubt that he believes that he does,” Rosaline said. “However, he has yet to consider what it is that I want.”
Again, Emma was taken aback. Rosaline was speaking to her as though she was an old friend, and Emma was unsure as to how to respond.
As such, she sat silently, nodding sympathetically and taking a long sip of her wine.
Rosaline sighed and shook her head.
“I do not wish to marry Lord Ashfield,” she said at last.
Emma felt her cheeks flush. She tried to keep her surprise and relief from showing, so she took another sip of her wine.
“Oh?” Emma asked, feeling both dumb for having nothing else to say in response, and dumbfounded at Rosaline’s remark.
“Of course, I understand that Lord Ashfield is quite the catch,” Rosalie continued. “Apparently so, because my cousin married him. But my uncle is quite the boor, expecting Lord Ashfield to remarry so soon.”
Emma could hardly believe her ears. She had been convinced that Rosaline was all for Francis marrying her, despite his grief for his late wife.
“More wine?” Emma asked, feeling completely out of her element.
She regretted the words at once. Rosaline was obviously a woman of refined stock and would likely think anything more than a single glass of wine after dinner to be uncouth and unladylike.
Yet again, however, Rosaline surprised her.
“Yes, please, if you do not mind,” Rosaline said, holding up her glass to Emma.
Emma nodded wordlessly, taking Rosaline’s glass and refilling it from the decanter sitting atop the small table betwixt their seats. After a moment’s consideration, she refilled her own, as well.
She could not deny the sense of relief that was beginning to settle in her stomach as Rosaline spoke, but she was also still very nervous and envious of the poised, well-spoken woman sitting beside her.
Rosaline took a sip of the fresh glass Emma handed her and raised it in a gesture of thanks. Emma smiled and nodded, cursing herself for not knowing what to say. She drank from her own glass and put it on the table.
“It is quite clear to anyone with a pair of eyes that Lord Ashfield is not ready to remarry,” Rosaline continued. “And I think it atrocious that anyone should expect him to do so, especially for the sole purpose of business.”
Emma nodded once more in agreement. She knew well that Francis was in no way prepared for a second marriage. However, as nothing more than the governess, she knew that no one would take her opinions into consideration.
She thought back to what the children had said, about their father likin
g her, and she blushed.
She did not let herself consider that perhaps the reason he was unprepared to wed again was that he was beginning to fall for the likes of her.
“Besides,” Rosaline continued, looking at Emma with an expression she could not quite read. “I do not wish to take Lord Ashfield for my husband.”
Emma stared at her blankly, trying to hide the relief and hope that was beginning to overtake her emotions.
“Why is that?” Emma asked, suddenly more interested in her glass than in Rosaline’s face.
“Lord Ashfield is a good man, to be sure,” Rosaline said quickly. “But he is not the one I would choose for my husband.”
“Oh?” Emma asked, trying to discern where the conversation was leading.
“To me, it would feel a great deal as though I were spitting on my cousin’s grave, to marry her very own husband,” Rosaline said. “Especially to do so so soon after burying my dear cousin, and against his own will, at that.”
Emma stared at Rosaline, unsure how to take what the beautiful woman was saying.
“I do adore Lord Ashfield,” Rosaline said. “But I see him much like a brother, not as any sort of marriage prospect.” She took a drink of her wine. “Besides, I really do believe that it should be up to him as to when he marries, and who he marries.”
Still at a loss for words, Emma, too, took another sip of wine.
“What do you think?” Rosaline asked.
Emma blushed. She looked at Rosaline’s inquisitive face, wondering if the elegant woman had heard her thoughts. She cleared her throat and looked at Rosaline.
“Well,” she said. “I feel that, if Lord Ashfield is ill-prepared to remarry, he should be allowed adequate time to grieve and choose the wife he feels is most suited for him.”
No sooner than the words had escaped Emma’s lips than she regretted them. She blushed profusely, afraid that Rosaline would think that Emma meant that she was an inadequate match for Francis to wed.
“Oh, I most certainly agree,” Rosaline said. “I do not believe that I would be a good match for Lord Ashfield. And it does appear that he does, indeed, need a wife, to pull him from this melancholy state in which he has been since poor Caroline died.”
This was a point with which Emma could not argue. Emma was beginning to suspect that a great deal of Francis’s resistance regarding spending time with his children stemmed from his sadness about his late wife.
However, as Francis himself had pointed out, as the family’s governess, it was beyond her capacity to voice her opinion on the subject. She was certainly in no position to give an opinion regarding her employer’s need to remarry and give his children a much-needed motherly figure.
As Emma was trying to regain her composure and find a way to explain herself, Rosaline spoke again.
“It seems that you care a great deal for Lord Ashfield,” she said.
Emma blushed, her cheeks feeling as if someone had held her face directly over a hot cooking flame.
“It is just that, I feel that Lord Ashfield should be focused on himself and his relationship with his children right now, and not as much on the prospect of marriage. I have no doubt that, when he feels the time is right, he will choose the most suitable wife for his family,” Emma said.
She was proud of herself for such a quick and mostly honest answer on the spot. However, she still could not help but wish that she could be that suitable wife, despite how unrealistic that wish was.
Rosaline, on the other hand, did not seem convinced by her words. She gave Emma a severely speculative look, putting down her wine glass and leaning closer to Emma.
“Do you like Lord Ashfield?” Rosaline asked bluntly.
Emma blushed profusely, simultaneously liking Rosaline’s bluntness and wishing that the woman was not so perceptive.
“Well, of course I do,” Emma said, trying desperately to keep the subject platonic. “He has been a most wonderful employer, and he has been nothing but kind and accommodating to me.”
Rosaline laughed and shook her head.
“No, darling,” she said. “I mean, do you have any sort of romantic interest in him?”
Emma blushed harder still. She had known what Rosaline had meant, but she had hoped that her answer would be sufficient to end the conversation.
She felt foolish for thinking so little of Rosaline. She had known since first meeting the beautiful woman that she was as smart and clever as she was lovely.
Emma hesitated to answer Rosaline’s question. She understood now that the woman did not wish to marry Francis, but she did not yet know how well she could trust her.
Moreover, she did not yet know if she knew the full answer to Rosaline’s question. She was attracted to Francis, to be sure, but she had had little time to process the thought, let alone understand exactly what it meant.
Unfortunately, her silence and hesitation spoke volumes to Rosaline.
“Oh, I cannot tell you how happy that makes me,” Rosaline said, clapping her hands.
The sound penetrated the conversation being held by the two men on the other side of the room, and everything fell silent. Emma spared them a glance and saw Francis looking intently at her.
Attempting to ignore the pair of eyes set intensely upon her, she looked at Rosaline and smiled.
“I am sure that you misunderstand—” Emma began, but Rosaline waved her hand.
“Please, do not feel as though you need to be coy with me,” Rosaline said. “I can see the way you look at him. And, I see the way he looks at you.”
Emma’s mouth fell open. She had no idea what Rosaline meant, but it seemed as though the woman had observed something she had not, even in the few hours she had been there.
“Rest assured that I do not have any wish to marry Lord Ashfield,” Rosaline said again. “And I would be much relieved to learn that there was another object of his affections. Which, according to what I know, is the case.”
Emma looked at the lovely woman, confused and, in truth, a bit hopeful.
“Whatever do you mean?” Emma asked.
“Oh, come now,” Rosaline said. “Do you mean to tell me that you have not noticed the interest he has taken in you?”
Emma blushed, thinking back to the conversation with the children.
“I must say that I have not noticed anything out of the ordinary,” she said.
Rosaline clapped her hands again, much quieter again this time. She reached out and took one of Emma’s hands.
Emma nearly jumped at the sudden contact. She did not want her feelings for Francis to become known, especially to the woman who, by all accounts, was to be his future bride.
“You are an amazing woman,” Rosaline said. “I only had to spend two minutes with the children to ascertain that. And I can tell that you have feelings for their father, and I think that is most wonderful, especially since it is clear that he has feelings for you, as well.”
Emma opened her mouth to ask her what she meant, and how she could possibly know what Francis’s feelings for her were, but she closed it. Rosaline’s excited expression was enough to convince her that she might be needlessly concerned about competition for Francis’s affections.
“I do not understand,” Emma said weakly.
“Shush,” Rosaline. “I would like to help you get to know him better. I can see that the two of you really seem to like each other, and I would love to do whatever I can to see where that might lead.”
Emma opened her mouth to speak, but Rosaline gently silenced her.
“It would be beneficial for both of you, I believe. Please, agree to meet me for tea later this week, whenever you have some time off?” Rosaline was looking at her, with what Emma thought to be childish glee and hope.
“I—I do not know…” she said.
She wanted more than anything to believe that what Rosaline was true, that Francis did have feelings for her beyond those of a friend and governess. However, she did not yet believe it possible.
; “Please, say yes,” Rosaline said. “If nothing else, it will be two new friends having a nice afternoon tea discussion.”
Emma smiled at the fact that Rosaline had called her a friend. She had to admit that she found Rosaline very charming and pleasant, and that, if nothing else, she would like to get to know Rosaline better.
“Alright,” Emma said. “We can meet for tea this weekend.”
“Oh, thank you,” Rosaline exclaimed. “I very much look forward to it.”
