by Abby Ayles
For the first time since the subject had been broached, he wondered if Rosaline did not, in fact, actually want to marry him, despite her claims to the contrary. He also found himself wondering why Rosaline had invited Emma.
Another bout of jealousy struck Francis as he imagined Emma dancing with one of the many unmarried men that were sure to be there. Embarrassed, Francis shook away the thought.
Emma certainly had every right to dance with whomever she chose, and it was not Francis’s concern in the least. He had no claim to Emma and, even if he wanted to, she was all wrong for him. So, why could he not shake the jealousy?
“Milord?” a voice cut through Francis’s thoughts.
Francis turned to see the nanny, Margaret, at the top of the stairs.
“Miss Baker is ready,” she said. She reached out her hand and Emma stepped into view. Francis felt his heart stop, and his breath cease momentarily.
Emma was wearing a very elegant, silky light blue gown, with darker blue lace and ruffles. The dress fit her perfectly, as though it was made just for her. Her dark blonde hair was pinned at the back with a comb that matched the dress, with two ringlets falling to perfectly frame her face.
He had never truly acknowledged just how beautiful he found her, but he saw it clearly now and, this time, he held on to the thought. She was positively stunning.
Emma turned and embraced the nanny, who was looking at her with kind envy. Emma smiled at her and thanked her, then she descended the stairs.
As she neared the bottom, Francis could see that the blue hues of the dress seemed to bring out a green tint in Emma’s hazel eyes. She truly was a vision, and for a moment, Francis forgot himself.
It was not until Emma stood at his side and curtseyed to him that he regained his composure. He gave her his most charming smile and offered his arm.
“Shall we, Miss Baker?” he asked.
Emma took his arm and smiled, looking away demurely.
Francis frowned. She was quite beautiful, indeed, and that he could appreciate. However, her current coy demeanor was unbecoming of her. For reasons he could not explain, he hated that she was not being her usual brusque and efficient self.
Before they reached the door and the maid waiting to chaperone them, he gently tugged her to a stop.
Emma looked at him, puzzled.
“Is everything alright, my lord?” she asked.
Francis frowned. For the first time, her addressing him as such bothered him, but he did not say so.
“Miss Baker, if I may,” he began. He did not want to offend her with his opinion, so he wished to choose his words carefully.
She nodded wordlessly, looking at him innocently.
“I understand that we are attending a fancy social event this evening,” he said, feeling the grimace cross his face before he could control it.
“But you do not need to put on airs to try and impress the other guests. In fact, it would feel too farcical if you behave differently in public than you do here with us. I wish to spend the evening with you, just as you are, as the woman that I’ve come to know.”
Francis held his breath, fully expecting to have insulted her by essentially telling her how he expected her to behave. Instead, however, she smiled and breathed a sigh, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Then, if you do not mind my saying,” she said. “You look about as thrilled about attending this ball as the children are about their tests.”
For a moment, Francis was confused. Then, he realized that she must have seen his earlier pained expression. For the first time in months, he bellowed a large, hearty laugh.
“That is more like it,” he said, ushering her and the escorting maid out the door.
***
The ballroom was even more crowded than Francis had feared. And, as he expected, many heads turned, and several pairs of eyes fixed on him when he and Emma entered.
Briefly, he wondered if escorting Emma to the dance had been a bad idea. Not because of the difference in their stations, but because of the scrutiny and attention his sudden presence at a Season event was sure to elicit.
He glanced down at Emma to gauge her reaction. If she had noticed the people staring at them, she gave no indication. She walked along beside him, arm in arm, smiling confidently, her eyes sharp and astute.
Once more, he smiled at her radiant beauty.
A moment later, two women rushed up gushing over Emma and trying to tug her away. Emma looked up at him questioningly. Francis smiled and nodded, though reluctantly, and the two women led Emma to a larger group of women, who seemed equally as excited to see her.
Also, as Francis suspected, many women were already trying in their not-so-subtle ways to attract his attention to them. He took great care to completely avoid eye contact with any of them. He knew that if they locked eyes, he would be forced to ask them for a dance.
He wandered around the ballroom, appearing as though he were intently looking for someone which, in truth, he was. He searched for Rosaline to greet her since it was her who was hosting this party.
A moment later, he spotted her. With more than a little relief, he noted that she was standing beside a young gentleman who seemed unable to take his doting eyes off of his cousin-in-law.
Rosaline glanced up and noticed him as well. She smiled broadly and motioned him over.
“Oh, I am so glad you decided to come,” she said excitedly, reaching for Francis.
Francis took her hand and bowed.
“How could I possibly resist?” he quipped with an amiable grin.
Rosaline studied him for a moment, then gave a gleeful laugh.
Just then, the gentleman who was standing with Rosaline cleared his throat. Francis looked at him and noticed that the man was glaring at him with envy. Francis almost laughed with the absurdity of it.
“Oh, dear, where are my manners?” Rosaline said, laughing. “Lord Gaston, this is my cousin-in-law, Lord Ashfield.”
Francis stepped forward and offered his hand. Upon registering the familial tie which Rosaline had announced, Lord Gaston visibly relaxed and even smiled. He accepted Francis’s handshake with vigor.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Gaston said. Once more, Francis stifled a laugh.
“Likewise, Lord Gaston,” he said.
“Where is Emma?” Rosaline asked.
France stared at her, startled. How had she known they had arrived together?
Rosaline read his expression and laughed again.
“I saw the two of you come in together,” she added. “I wanted to personally welcome her as well.”
Francis smiled sheepishly. Of course, she had seen them enter. Everyone did.
“Two of her friends stole her away almost as soon as we arrived,” he said, trying to sound casual.
Rosaline surveyed the ballroom. Then, her eyes widened, sparkling with amusement.
“If I were you, I would secure a dance with her before she is completely taken for the evening,” she said. “It seems that she has quite a few admirers.”
Francis turned and followed his cousin-in-law’s gaze. Soon enough, he spotted Emma who was, indeed, surrounded by the admirers of whom Rosaline spoke.
“So, she does,” he said, abandoning all pretenses of casualness. He quickly excused himself and made a beeline for Emma.
“Excuse me,” he said authoritatively.
He did not recognize any of the men, but they seemed to recognize him, or at least, respond to the directness of his voice. They all fell silent and stood to the side, letting him step directly in front of Emma.
“Yes, my lord?” she asked, her eyes bright and curious. Once again, he found his breath catching at her beauty.
“Would you be so kind as to reserve me a dance?” he asked.
She thought for a moment, and Francis found himself grateful that she treated him just as she would treat any other man, instead of slipping back into that earlier simpering, coy façade.
“As it happens, I
have one dance free right now,” she said.
Francis barely registered the scowls and frowns from the gentlemen who had been surrounding Emma. He offered his arm at once and escorted her onto the dance floor.
For a moment, Francis began to panic. It had been so long since he had attended a ball that he feared he would recall nothing of the dances. However, it was a country dance, which was one with which he was very familiar.
He quickly gained his bearings, and soon he and Emma were moving gracefully around the dance floor.
They danced in silence for a few moments. Emma seemed to be enjoying herself, but there was something else, too. A certain apprehension, Francis thought, perhaps brought about because of all the sudden attention from so many men.
Francis gave her his most brilliant, sweet smile.
“You look very lovely this evening,” he said.
Emma blushed furiously but met his gaze.
“You look quite dashing yourself, my lord,” she said.
“Will I have to worry about finding a new governess when a young man sweeps you off your feet this evening?” he teased.
Emma smiled and tilted her head coquettishly.
“Well, that depends,” she said. “Will I need to worry about finding a new employer when a young woman smarter and wittier than me is introduced to you?”
Francis laughed heartily.
“Oh, Miss Baker, I do not believe that any woman alive is smarter or wittier than you,” he said.
Emma hid a laugh behind her hand.
“Or as forward and stubborn?” she asked.
“To be certain,” Francis said, grinning boyishly.
His smile widened, and he looked into her eyes, which appeared to be deepening in their greenish hazel hue. He quickly found himself getting lost in them. Emma was looking at him curiously, but not without interest, and all at once Francis felt overwhelmed with the urge to kiss her.
Before he knew it, he caught himself leaning down to do just that. Emma’s startled expression stopped him in his tracks.
Without a word, he stood upright once more. He did not dare look around to see if anyone else noticed.
He now felt sure that coming to the dance was a bad idea. If anyone, particularly his father-in-law, saw how attracted he was to Emma, Francis knew with little doubt that the man would try to force his ultimatum early.
The dance ended shortly after, and Francis was relieved. He felt guilty for feeling that relief, but he knew he was at great risk for exposing his feelings for Emma there, in front of everyone. He bowed formally to her as the final notes of the song played.
“Thank you for the wonderful dance, Miss Baker,” he said
Emma looked at him quizzically but returned his bow with a deep curtsey.
“The pleasure was mine, Lord Ashfield,” she said, waiting expectantly for him to lead her off the dance floor. He did so, as quickly as propriety would allow. He led her to a spot at the edge of the dance floor where there were very few people, then he bowed again.
“If you will excuse me, I must attend to something important,” he said.
Emma looked at him, confused.
“Is everything—” she began.
“Please, excuse me, Miss Baker,” he said, more sharply than he intended. He simply did not want her trying to keep him detained any longer.
His short words had the desired effect, although Francis despised the hurt look that briefly crossed Emma’s face. Without another word, she bowed her head and turned her back to him.
With great care and a forced air of nonchalance, Francis avoided Emma for the rest of the evening. With a heavy heart, he accepted the truth.
He could not love Emma Baker, even though he could see now that he wanted to. Duty bound him to Rosaline, and one way or another, he knew he must make peace with that.
Chapter 13
In the two days following the ball, Emma saw very little of Francis. She tried to tell herself that he was simply very busy with work, but she was not quite convinced.
She felt sure that she had been right all along, that she was not a good match for Francis, and that Francis had realized that as well. She felt foolish for having ever believed that Rosaline was right about Francis’s feelings and that their crazy plan could have ever worked.
Then, on the third morning after the dance, to her relief, Francis had her summoned to his study as she was preparing for the day’s lessons. The children were late, but she figured that they were just still playing around at breakfast. She also thought that their room seemed a bit less messy and full, but she figured that the nanny had cleaned up the room.
She abandoned her lesson preparation, knowing that the children would take their seats and await her return. She followed the maid who had come to retrieve her, but she was surprised when they walked past Francis’s study. Curiosity filled her as the maid led her to Francis’s quarters.
When they reached his bedroom door, the maid knocked on the door but did not leave. She stood to the side and gave Emma a small smile and a nodding gesture. From within, Emma heard Francis invite her to enter.
She hesitantly turned the doorknob and, for the sake of propriety, stood just inside the doorway. She was surprised at what she saw.
Francis was well-dressed and surrounded by several travel trunks.
“Are you planning a trip, my lord?” she asked.
Without turning to face her, Francis nodded.
“We will be leaving in about an hour,” he said.
Emma blinked. An hour’s notice was very little time, but she still did not have many belongings. She sent almost all of her earnings home and only bought what she absolutely needed that was not provided by Blackburn Manor.
“I will go prepare at once,” she said, turning to leave the room.
“That will not be necessary,” Francis said, still not looking at her. “The children and I are going out of town for several days. I called you in here to tell you that you are free to do as you wish until we return.”
Emma gaped at him, shocked.
She was quite glad that he was spending so much time with his children, but she could not help wondering why this trip was so sudden, and why she was being slighted by being deliberately left behind.
For a moment, Emma felt so wounded that she considered giving him a tongue lashing. However, after the awkwardness after the ball, the last thing she wanted was to sound desperate and childish.
Instead, she set her jaw and nodded curtly.
“Very well,” she said, pleased that her voice did not tremble as much as her hands had begun to. “I wish you and the children a safe trip.”
Without another word, and without asking if she should help get the children ready, she stormed to her room.
Once she was safely alone in her bedroom with the door closed, she collapsed onto her bed. She could feel tears threatening to stream down her cheeks, but she abhorred the idea of someone seeing her in such a state.
Then, a thought occurred to her.
Francis had said that she was free to do as she pleased while the family was gone. That meant that, for the first time in weeks, she could go home and see to things, and especially, to Marcus.
She felt terrible for not searching for the children to tell them goodbye, but she knew that her emotions would betray her if she did, and she did not want to ruin their trip with her tears.
Without another moment’s hesitation, she packed up a few belongings and departed for home.
***
Emma pushed away her thoughts of being snubbed by Francis Blackburn as soon as she set foot in her house. Even after living in the splendor of Blackburn Manor, she was still greatly relieved to see her home again.
Lydia came rushing to the door to greet her and help her get her things inside.
“Oh, it is wonderful to see you again,” Lydia said, wrapping Emma in a tight embrace. “What brings you home so soon?”
Emma struggled to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
<
br /> “The Blackburn family took a rather sudden trip out of town,” she said simply. “So, I decided to come here until they return.”
Lydia’s brow wrinkled. Emma scrambled to change the subject.
“How have you been keeping?” she asked her friend. “How is everything here?”
Lydia smiled, but her face became strained.
