A moment later a dark haired, bearded man burst through the door, grinning wildly. “Emily, I-” he paused, taking in the sight. His face dropped as he saw the other man, and he backed out. “Terribly sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.” He disappeared a moment later, smiling sheepishly as he closed the door.
“Who was that scoundrel?” Eugene demanded, blue eyes narrowed. “Bursting in here like that! How rude.”
Emily gently patted his hand, before adjusting her skirts and standing up. “I’m so sorry Mister Par-Eugene. Excuse me for a moment.” She gave him what she hoped was an apologetic look as she followed Roland into the hall.
“What is he doing here?” Roland demanded in a hushed whisper. “Your mother isn’t still trying to marry you off, is she?”
Emily nodded. “Of course she is. To him or the Duke of St. Albans. She doesn’t care as long as money is involved. Eugene might not be an Earl like this father - especially now he’s disinherited - but he’s as good as.” She huffed, running a hand down her face. “Besides, Eugene Partridge really does claim he loves me - whether or not that’s true, I don’t know.”
“Well, is there nothing you can do to convince him otherwise? You can marry whoever you wish. You could marry me, if that was what you wanted.” He gave her a grin, one she was used to seeing. He wanted her too, though not for love.
It wasn’t that easy though, was it? Her mother was too determined, and when Adele Brooke wanted something, she usually got it.
“Emily? Do come back, would you? I didn’t come all this way just to sit in your living room alone.”
Emily winced. “I suppose I should go back. Sorry, Roland.” With a quiet sigh she turned back and went back to the living room.
He regarded her for a long moment, eyes lit. “So what have you been doing this week?”
Not bothering for subtlety, Emily answered simply, “I had a visit from the Duke of St. Albans on Monday.” Brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she watching him for a moment.
His reaction was small, but nevertheless there. He stiffened slightly, eyes widening ever so slightly. “Oh, really?”
“Yes. I suppose he wants to marry me too. So does that lovely man who just came in - you don’t know him, but he is nice.” A while back she would never have dared speak to a man of such power like that - now though, she was only focused on making him leave her be.
“I’ll have to fight for your attention then.” The grin he gave her – cheeky, yet slightly reserved - sent a shiver of shock down her spine. “After all, Emily, I love you more than they do.”
“You love me most? Are you sure?” she challenged, peeking at him through strawberry blonde hair.
“I do indeed.”
*****
The second visit that week was from the Duke of St. Albans - Miles Horlock. He was a tall, slender man who possessed a somewhat intimidating air.
Emily was already in the cramped living room waiting for him to arrive when she heard the horse-drawn carriage clatter up to the front door. Her mother answered it eagerly before Emily could even stand up - proof that Adele was much more interested in these men than she was.
He appeared in her view a moment later, dressed in an expensive suit, blonde hair perfectly styled to show off his narrow, depthless dark eyes. She had to admit, he was quite attractive.
“Hello, Duke Horlock,” Emily spoke politely.
“Hello, Emily.” He lowered himself onto the chair across from her, regarding her with those impossibly dark eyes.
She was used to talking to men by now, with three in her life that seemed intent on marrying her. The son of an Earl who claimed he loved her, a Duke who she had met only a handful of times, and a man whose feelings were purely lustful. She really did have poor luck, didn’t she?
“I am holding a ball next week,” Horlock stated with a calm smile, “I hope you will attend?”
Emily blinked, surprised. “Oh, of course.” Her reply was automatic. She had no interest in spending a night dancing with him. Then a thought occurred to her. “Who else will be attending?”
“Oh, people from all over. The Duke of Rutland, Earl Christopher Partridge - perhaps even that son of his will attend, though I doubt the Earl will have it. They’re entire family is a disaster waiting to happen, isn’t it Emily?”
She simply nodded, holding her tongue. If Eugene was also attending, perhaps she could use that to her advantage. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be married off to some random man - if she could get the two of them together, well, she could do things her own way.
“People from town will be attending too, of course. We have to give the poor ones a chance to enjoy life, don’t we?”
Emily winced at the words, feeling her blood begin to boil. How dare he say something like that? Just because he was rich did not mean he could talk as if everyone else was miserable. She said nothing, though, as she knew angering this man would not end in her favour.
The conversation continued, Emily hardly paying attention as she allowed Horlock to continue his idle chatter. Her mind was elsewhere, lingering on the ball. She had never been to one before, and it sounded exciting. It was also the perfect chance for mischief.
*****
Emily grunted as one of the many pins holding up her dark blonde hair fell to the ground, where it joined a growing collection by her feet. Why was it so difficult to keep her hair nice?
“Hurry up, Emily, or you’ll be late!” Her mother called from downstairs.
“Two minutes!” she called back, wincing as a hair pin scraped against her skull. In the end, she left it with strands hanging in her face. It wasn’t worth the effort.
Almost the second she was downstairs, her mother was shooing her out the door. As Emily hit the cold air, she gasped. Who holds a ball in winter? Ridiculous!
“Now remember, Duke Horlock of St. Albans might be a respectable man, but he is a man nonetheless. Be careful.”
Emily rolled her eyes as she climbed inside her carriage, ignoring her mother’s insistent babying. She was a grown woman, for goodness sake, not an infant.
As she sat down and waved goodbye, the carriage jerked forward. Thus began her journey to her very first ball.
By the time the carriage stopped, Emily was almost asleep. She yawned as she stepped out, feet hitting cold pebbles. She glanced up, hand over her mouth as her heart stuttered. The house was beautiful - like nothing she had seen before. It seemed to stretch on in either direction forever, a never ending tower of brick and huge glass windows.
People were already there, stepping out of their own carriages and chatting excitedly. It seemed Emily was the only one who had come alone. Following the crowd, she tried to blend in. Rich people held themselves in a certain way she couldn’t quite place - but it was clear who in the crowd had power, and who was lower class.
Duke Horlock was inside the immense lobby when she stepped inside. She saw him immediately, though it took a moment for him to see her. When he did, he smiled broadly and strode over.
A group of women giggled as he walked past them, but their faces fell when he barely gave them a glance, eyes focused entirely on Emily. For a moment she felt sympathy for the poor women - but they should have been glad he paid them no mind. Emily’s situation was not one to be pleased about.
“Emily, how wonderful to see you! I hope you’ve had a comfortable ride?”
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
Horlock seemed to forget about his other guests as he grasped her hand in his, leading her to the ballroom. The room was larger than her entire street, filled with beautiful, glittering chandeliers and a ceiling so high she could barely make out the intricate, handmade painting adorning it.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
She could only nod. “It’s amazing.”
&nbs
p; “Shall we dance?” Horlock questioned, gesturing to where dozens of people danced to the slow music.
Together they walked across, Emily finding it hard to maneuver in her thick blue dress. She simply wasn’t used to wearing something so elegant, so lovely. Even the sleeves annoyed her, too puffy for her to move properly.
Horlock took her hand in his, spinning her around to face him. He was so tall, at eye level she was faced with his chest. He led her in the dance, so regal and elegant compared to her fumbling. To anyone watching, they must have looked like an odd pair.
Emily spent much of the dance searching for Eugene. There were no guarantees he was even there, or that she would see him - but no, there he was, standing talking to another young man at a table of food.
The song dwindled, and Horlock released her from his vice-like grip. “Shall I get us a drink?” he questioned.
Emily shook her head. “I will, if you like. I’d love the chance to see more of this lovely room.”
“Of course. Do be quick.”
Emily hurried off, gathering up her skirts so she could move more easily. The man Eugene was speaking to left, giving her the perfect opportunity to say hello. She came to a stop beside him, smiling brightly. It felt false, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Hello Mis-Eugene.” She mentally cursed herself for doing it again. “I didn’t know you would be here.”
“I did not think you would be, either - though I’m glad you are.” He was positively beaming.
She inched closer to him, resting a hand on his. She glanced behind her, seeking out Horlock. There he was, glancing around impatiently for her to return. “I’m terribly sorry for how I acted the other day,” she told him, “Roland should not have barged in like that, and I shouldn’t have left you to speak to him.”
Eugene’s eyes widened, though his hand remained in hers. “Please, do not worry about it. You cannot control that rakehell - I doubt anyone could. Emily, would you like a dance?”
“Of course.”
They made their way to the dance floor. They had barely begun when Duke Horlock strode over, eyes dark. “What are you doing?” he demanded, eyes snapping from Emily to Eugene.
“He wanted to dance. I could hardly say no.”
Eugene’s eyes narrowed and he let go of Emily to turn to Horlock. “I should have known you would interrupt us. This is your home, and I hate to disrespect you - but I love Emily, and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from interfering.”
Emily took a step back, fighting a smile. Good, this was what she wanted! Let them argue, realize she wasn’t worth fighting over. She wasn’t going to marry either of them, and they better realize it soon.
They continued to shout, voices rising by the second. They seemed to have forgotten Emily was even there - too busy arguing over her to pay attention as she sneaked off into the crowd.
A few people turned to look at the two men, pausing mid dance to stare. A tall man in blue stepped forward as if to break them apart, but seemed to think better of it and led his group of friends away.
“You will not win her hand, Mister Partridge. She is mine.”
With a satisfied smirk, Emily marched off, only to collide with someone’s shoulder. She spun around, an apology already forming before she realized who it was. Roland Everard. “Oh, hello Roland. Sorry.” She smiled. She had gotten rid of two men, but he still remained. Strangely, she wasn’t all too concerned about him.
“Emily? What are you doing here?”
“The Duke invited me,” she replied simply.
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. Well, it was well known that the Duke was one of the men in line for her hand. “Have you decided yet which one of them you’re going to marry? They’re rich, but they won’t treat you like I will.” He cupped her face in one strong hand. “You don’t need money to enjoy yourself.”
With a grimace, Emily stepped away. I don’t doubt it, but it really isn’t your business. Besides, I’m not marrying anyone.” She had known Roland for years, and knew how he was with women. Then, with a smile, she kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man, Roland, but I like you no more than I like Eugene Partridge or Miles Horlock.” Even as she said it, she realized that wasn’t quite true.
Suddenly someone was behind her. She could feel the looming presence inches from the back of her messily pinned hair.
“What is this rakehell doing, Emily? How many men are intent on ruining this day for us?”
She turned around, looking straight into the eyes of Horlock. She deftly moved to the side, allowing Roland and Horlock perfect views of each other. That was when she noticed Eugene behind him, fuming silently. Whatever went on between them, it was quite the argument.
“I’m afraid I must use the bathroom. Please don’t hurt each other while I’m away.” Her gaze lingered on each man for a moment before she sidled past them.
“Emily! You cannot leave me with these two,” Roland called after her, but she ignored them as she made her way toward the lobby. “Emily!”
She just heard Eugene call Roland something rather rude before the chatter of the guests around her drowned them out.
*****
Emily heard nothing from any of the three men for at least a week. Perhaps they had argued themselves to breaking point and decided to leave her alone? She hoped so. That week without Eugene confessing his love, without Roland trying poorly to flirt, and without Horlock trying to impress her with his money was blissful.
Of course, nothing good ever lasts long.
It was early morning, and Emily was hardly out of bed when she heard someone knock hard on the door. She hurried to throw her dress on, not bothering to brush out the creases as she careened downstairs to see who it was. When she opened the door, the pale haired Eugene Partridge beamed at her.
Her heart fell, and she had to force herself to keep smiling. “Hello. Please, come inside.”
Before she could even offer him a drink or lead him to the living room, he spoke. “I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you in so long, but after the ball I needed time to think. The Duke of St. Albans wants your hand in marriage. He was very adamant about that - but it has only made me want you more. So,” he knelt down in front of her, holding out a hand for her to take. “Will you marry me, Emily Brooke?”
Emily sputtered, hands clenching by her side. No, no this was the opposite of what she wanted! He was supposed to lose interest, not love her more! Oh, what has she gotten herself into? With a shaky voice, she said, “I’m sorry, Eugene, but I cannot say yes.”
“Why not?” he questioned, eyebrows knitting together in a deep frown, “Is it my father? I may be disinherited, but I hope that doesn’t change how you think of me.”
“It isn’t that,” she said, “Eugene, I simply do not love you. I know many people do not marry for love, but I will.”
“If we marry, it will give you time to learn to love me.”
She shook her head. “No, Eugene. Accept my refusal and move on. Find someone who does want to marry you.”
He pulled himself to his feet, brushing down his trousers and looking at her levelly. “No. I will win your hand, Emily. Somehow, I will.” He bent to kiss her hand, and Emily allowed him to. “I’m sure I can prove to you I am worth marrying.” Then he left, leaving Emily alone in the hallway.
Almost immediately her mother was there, gripping her arms painfully tight. “He proposed!” she exclaimed, “he proposed, and you said no? Girl, what possessed you?”
Emily squirmed out of Adele’s grasp, folding her arms defiantly. “I don’t love him, mother. I will not marry for money. Besides, he is unbearable. Too sickly-sweet and far too desperate.”
Her mother scoffed, waving a hand in the air. “Oh, so what? He has money, and he’ll treat you well.”
Grimacing, Emily turned around to go upstairs. “May
be you’re right, maybe you aren’t. Either way, it’s not enough for me to want to marry him.”
“It doesn’t matter what you want!” her mother sighed, “do you know how many people are lucky enough to marry for love? Hardly any. Stop acting like a child and admit the fact that Eugene Partridge or the Duke are your best options. Even marrying Roland Everard is better than waiting for love. Many women would die for the chance of getting to marry someone like them.”
Blowing out a breath, Emily simply waved a hand dismissively, not unlike Adele had moments ago. “I won’t say it again mother - I will not marry any of those men. Please, just respect my choices.” She turned around to gave her mother one last stern look before stomping upstairs, refusing to say any more on the matter.
Adele was the one being childish, not her. Forcing her to marry a man she didn’t like - never mind love - was horrendous.
*****
It seemed, much like Eugene, that the incident at the ball had only made Duke Horlock more determined to keep Emily.
She sat across from him, her dark blonde hair done in a perfectly neat bun for once. After the argument with Adele, she had promised to make more of an effort. It was the only way to make Adele leave her alone.
“Emily,” he started, leaning over to cover her tiny hand in his much larger one, “I simply cannot apologize enough for what happened at the ball.” He showed an unusual gentleness in the way he looked at her, eyes soft and sincere. This was not the brash Duke of St. Albans that she knew. “Eugene Partridge and I should not have argued like that, least of all in front of you.”
“It’s fine,” Emily replied, wincing. This was not how things were supposed to go! They were supposed to leave her alone after that night, not pursue her even more! “It was my fault, anyway.”
“Of course it wasn’t! How could you think such a thing?”
She might as well have some fun. If he was going to pursue her, she was going to show him how terrible an idea that was. “Well you see, I wanted to dance with him. I knew it would make you jealous - having men fight over me, it’s exciting.”
Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance) Page 23
