by Denise Daye
“What a suiting comment for the opening of our hunting season party,” Blackwell said with a big smile, facing the crowd that had witnessed the exchange between Emma and the Blackwell ladies.
“Let us show you around before the concert,” he said, leading Emma out of the golden parlor and on to a personal, private tour of the Blackwell estate. Emma tried to scout John in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen.
The tour of Blackwell Castle was surprisingly enjoyable. Not because it might all be hers soon or because Blackwell was such a pleasure to be around, but because of its west wing. The west wing used to belong to Blackwell’s father, who’d passed a few years ago. Apparently, the former duke had had a deep and passionate love for archeology and had formed a collection of rare and antique artifacts from all over the world. Emma couldn’t think of a better place to start her research on how she had come to be here. Was this a sign that she was on the right path? Blackwell was not precisely what she would go for if she had a choice, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The tour led Emma by the gardens, past the target-shooting area set up to open the hunting season, and ended in the music parlor. People were already seated in front of a grand piano that was accompanied by a beautiful blonde woman. With a slim figure and sharp, pretty features, she looked the absolute perfect lady of society.
“Here.” Blackwell handed Emma a glass of champagne.
She tried to find the Evergreens, which wasn’t hard, thanks to Lady Evergreen’s love for colorful dresses. Emma’s heart dropped when she noticed that John wasn’t with them. Where the hell was he? She hadn’t seen him all day, despite the Blackwell tour making plenty of stops to engage in small talk with people spread all over the property. Emma saw Agnes and Lady Evergreen sitting down next to the Blackwells, who did not seem to approve of this at all. She couldn’t hear what words were being exchanged between them, but whatever they were, it made Agnes and Lady Evergreen get up and smile, clearly embarrassed, before sitting down somewhere else. People who had witnessed the whole scene laughed and giggled openly. Emma felt anger. No, rage. How dare those arrogant Blackwells treat the Evergreens like this! Luckily, the concert started before Emma could walk over and call Lady Blackwell out on her impossible behavior. That would not have gone well for Emma, but she would have done it anyway.
The blonde woman had a beautiful voice. She sounded like an angel, singing Italian and German arias. People stood up after she finished, applauding in amazement. She gave elegant curtsies and bows before leaving the stage. Suddenly, the blonde beauty’s gaze targeted Emma and Lord Blackwell, and she walked straight toward them.
“William, what a delight to see you. We were so pleased to receive your invitation. It has been so long,” she said in a soft, polite tone. William didn’t say a word back to her.
Emma’s fine and highly accurate drama alarm bells went off, big time. Something was going on here.
“And this must be the famous Mrs. Washington, all the way from America?” the lady asked to break the awkward silence Lord Blackwell had created.
“I’m afraid so,” Emma said carefully, not sure what was going on here.
“It would be a pleasure to thank your husband for joining us today. Is he not here with you, Elise?” Blackwell said in a condescending way that almost sounded like a warning. Elise seemed to understand his warning perfectly well.
“Unfortunately, he was not feeling well.”
“Unfortunate indeed. Well, next time, then. Will you excuse us?” Blackwell said, grabbing Emma’s arm, but Elise wasn't finished yet.
“Of course, but I was hoping to get a taste of Mrs. Washington’s accomplishments,” Elise roared over the din of chatter.
The room grew quieter, and some people started to gather around Emma.
“Do they not teach a lady how to entertain in America?” Elise shouted at Emma, making sure that now every soul in the room made Emma the focus of their attention. Elise’s grin confirmed that this was exactly her intention. The room dove into pin-drop silence.
Why did Elise want to embarrass Emma? What was it between her and Blackwell that made her so jealous?
“Piano, singing, dancing…surely there must be something American women are good at?”
People started to laugh.
“I could not think of a more exciting way to pass time than to learn about the accomplishments of a lady from so far away,” Lady Blackwell agreed loudly as she and her snobby daughter Alvina stepped a little bit closer, truly enjoying Elise’s attack on Emma, as if it were payback for losing to her earlier.
What was Emma supposed to do? She was a typical twenty-first-century woman. What average modern woman could play the piano or dance some old Victorian ballet?
“I am afraid I am not a very good singer or pianist,” Emma said nervously. Was she about to be defeated by a most likely burnt-out former flame of Lord Blackwell? Did everything end right here and now in embarrassment? People started to whisper, trying to hide their laughs behind their hand fans.
“Well, what are you American women good at…shooting pistols wildly into the air like cowboys?” Elise rejoiced in the loud, uncontrolled laughter that now spread from person to person like wildfire.
Emma looked around at the crowd and finally found long-lost John standing next to the balcony door. He wasn’t laughing nor whispering like the others; he was looking in disgust at the people around him. John locked onto Emma’s gaze, looking at her as if he was ready to take her out of here. Away from it all. Back home. Emma felt her wits come back to her, and she said smoothly, “Not wildly.”
The room grew quiet.
“Excuse me?” Elise drew her brows together in confusion.
“I said, not wildly. If you want to learn about an American lady’s accomplishments, I am afraid you will have to follow me.” Elise looked just as bewildered as everybody else. Emma broke free from Blackwell’s grip around her arm and walked out onto the balcony. People chased after her like chickens following a trail of corn. Emma made her way down the enormous stairs that led to the target-shooting area set up in the gardens. Blackwell had walked her past this area earlier, explaining that the season always started with a shooting competition. The winner would get the honor of choosing a horse for the hunt, which would usually be the impressive beast Thunder.
People were chattering uncontrollably when Emma walked over to a table that had different pistols and rifles lined up. Some of the rifles looked similar to what her dad had used for hunting—and teaching her how to shoot.
Emma’s father had never done anything fun with her. No birthday parties, no bike rides, no fun teatime with dolls. But the one thing his delusional mind had taught her was how to shoot. Not because he wanted to share his interests with her. No…Emma’s crazy father was a huge conspiracy theorist. He prepared for the end of the world as if it could happen at any moment. She couldn’t be a burden during the zombie apocalypse, so he had taught her how to shoot—extremely well. Like her life would depend on it someday. Funny enough, it kinda did now.
Emma chose a rifle that looked similar to the Winchester her father had. She’d shot her very first target with it when she was barely seven years old. She walked up to the line on the grass that indicated where to shoot from. There were five round targets that definitely classified as middle- to long-range. Probably about a thousand feet away. She positioned the rifle against her shoulder, leaning her face over it just enough to get a clear view of the five targets through the sight ring that was mounted at the end of the barrel. Emma then turned around again and surveyed the crowd, looking for the very thing that would help her determine the direction and strength of the wind. She didn’t have to look very long. Emma walked up to an older gentleman and grabbed his burning cigar out of his mouth. He stared curiously at Emma, who walked back to position herself behind the line on the ground again. She held the cigar up against the wind for a few seconds. That was all the information she needed.
“Moderate wind c
onditions from the west. Targets about a thousand feet away,” Emma said confidently. She dropped the cigar onto the grass, tensed her muscles to hold the rifle in its place, and squeezed the trigger. Not once, not twice—she emptied all five rounds. The noise of the shots made some ladies squeak in fear like little piglets. She allowed no breaks between shots. She sighed, shifted, and squeezed, again and again. After the final bullet left the barrel, Emma analyzed the end result. All five targets were hit dead center, making it five perfect shots. She took a moment of silence to thank her crazy father for his totally nuts doomsday preparations and almost laughed out loud, thinking that it had saved her butt, not in an apocalyptic future, but in Victorian England—which was even crazier. The crowd’s silence broke into loud cheers and ecstatic clapping.
People were shouting, “Bravo!”
“Outstanding!”
“Incredible!”
Emma picked the cigar back up from the ground and returned it to the older man, who was clapping frantically along with everyone else. She then turned to Elise, who was standing next to the Blackwell ladies. All three of them looked like little kids who had just been sent to their rooms.
“As I said—Elise, was it? Not wildly.” Emma dramatized her American accent a bit with pride.
She promptly turned on her heel from the trio of snakes and joined Lady Evergreen and Agnes, offering each of them her arms. Both accepted in excitement, holding their heads up high. Emma glanced at Lord Blackwell. He wasn’t clapping, but his face was a mixture of pure pride and satisfaction. He gave Emma a silent well-done head nod.
Where was John? It took Emma a bit to find him standing far off in the crowd, at the top of the stairs to the balcony. He wasn’t smiling or clapping. Emma’s heart flinched. Why not? Wasn’t he proud of her? At least entertained? Emma looked back at him several times before Lord Blackwell managed to drag her back inside, leaving behind a crowd of ladies and gentlemen who started shooting at the targets in an attempt to beat Emma’s record.
Lord Blackwell walked Emma to the portrait gallery of Blackwell Castle. It was enormous. She wondered why he hadn’t taken her here earlier when they toured the estate. He stopped in front of a massive portrait of a knight in black armor. It must have been from medieval times, according to the primitive painting techniques used in it.
“This is the first very Blackwell,” he said, full of pride. He took a few steps closer to the painting, which must have been double his size. “Story has it that he killed the dragon that stole the future Queen of England from her king on their wedding night. The king was so grateful to have her returned safely that he swore to make the Blackwells the richest family in the country. Richer than himself.”
Emma took a few steps closer, to examine the painting in more detail. The story was actually quite fascinating. “It seems like the Blackwells make it a habit of saving women in need,” Emma joked.
Blackwell stayed serious. “People in this family have a duty, Emma,” he said, calling her by her first name for the first time.
So, now we’re on a first-name basis. That’s good progress, she thought. William took a step closer and took her hand. Emma felt absolutely nothing.
“The duty to understand that we are better and more important than everybody else on this planet. People need to know who we are; people need to know who to bow to.”
Wait…what? Dear God, did he really just say that? Emma almost stumbled backward in shock at the amount of arrogance she had just witnessed. If he would have spoken of honor, even looking the part…but to say that they were better than everybody else repulsed her. This was precisely the sort of thinking that led to hatred and war—closed minds lacking the ability to feel for others. And in front of her stood the very prototype of ignorance and entitlement. Emma thought about all the times she’d gone through trash cans with her mother looking for food. All the times she had had to wear shoes with holes in them to school, getting laughed at by her classmates. The freedom and relief she had felt when she received her first paycheck as a pharmacy assistant.
How could Blackwell be so far away from her reality…anybody’s reality? Did he not know how many people were starving in the streets of London at this very moment? If she had ever had even the slightest bit of guilt for marrying Blackwell just to leave him high and dry, that feeling was gone. She couldn’t wait to teach this family a lesson, make them the center of a scandal. Emma almost smiled thinking about the gossip that would follow her disappearance into thin air. That would bring them down from their high horses, even if just for a little while. Let them know what it felt like to walk down here, amongst real people. People like Lily, who felt nothing but shame and pain day in and day out.
Emma took a deep breath, but instead of sealing the deal right there in front of an ugly painting, she said something that surprised her as well.
“Is Elise the reason why you and Evergreen don’t get along?”
William took a step back, staring at her in astonishment before he started to smile.
“You are just too smart for your own good, aren’t you? This is the reason why I brought you here. I could have brought many women here, including Elise. But I was waiting—waiting for a woman like you, Emma. A woman who is not only superior in looks but also in her will and intelligence. A true Blackwell.”
Emma stayed quiet, signaling to William that he hadn’t answered her question yet. He got the hint.
“Yes. She is. It happened many years ago. It was quite an annoyance, to be honest with you. Back then, John and I were young men, barely leaving childhood behind us. We were sort of friends, if you want to call it that. Against my advice, John was secretly engaged to Elise. I tried to warn him, tell him that she was not worth his while, but John is a very stubborn man. Unfortunately, I was right about Elise all along, and she decided to fall in love with me. Who would not want to be a Blackwell? So, it was quite understandable.”
Emma wanted to roll her eyes but was able to control herself. William continued.
“She called off her engagement to John before he could announce it. She was a fool if she even thought for a second that I would marry her. I sent her away. Told her to go back to John, that I would never marry her. What happened after that between the two of them, I am not sure. All I know is that Elise started to spread rumors about the Evergreens that almost ruined the family. John went off to war and came back a hero to save his family’s honor. We have not spoken ever since. Until you came along.”
That all sounded like something Thunder would drop from his behind to Emma, but what was she supposed to do? Call him out? Upset him so he would take back the offer of marriage that was about to come? William pulled Emma closer toward him before she could say anything. He was about to kiss her. Things were going as planned. So why was she carrying an immense feeling of guilt? Like she was cheating on John? She owed him nothing! Last night, they’d made out passionately, and today, he’d ignored her as if nothing had ever happened. Emma tried to tell herself to seal the deal with Blackwell. Right here, right now. Forget John. This is what you wanted, what you need to go home. Emma tried to prepare herself for the kiss, but right before their lips touched, her body took over her mind, and she pulled away.
“I…I…I’m sorry. My head is spinning.” Emma could have slapped herself. What was she doing? William’s face went from passion to disappointment in the space of a heartbeat.
“Of course. You need to rest. I shall inform the Evergreens to take you back home,” he said, kissing her hand like a gentleman. “I shall call on you tomorrow,” William said, clearly unsatisfied with Emma’s reaction to his attempted kiss.
He wasn’t the only one frustrated by all of this. Emma was upset with herself. Her and Lily’s future depended on this. Emma had pulled off what many would have considered impossible, and now she was risking it all—for what?
The answer was written all over her heart. John Evergreen.
Chapter 9
J ohn had rarely felt more disheart
ened. All day, he had wanted to talk to Emma but didn’t know how to. No, that wasn’t quite the truth. All day, he had been avoiding Emma because he was afraid she would answer his marriage proposal with a “no.” How could he blame her, after what had happened last night? And if that wasn’t enough, Blackwell’s annual hunting celebration was pure hell.
Blackwell was all over Emma, who seemed to be quite taken with him. Of course, Blackwell didn’t miss a single chance to grin in John’s face about the whole thing, as if he was saying, “I shall take her from you as well.” And for the grand finale of this intolerable day, Elise was at the bloody party too. He would have thought that after all the drama she caused ten years ago, she would have sat quietly in a corner hoping nobody would notice her. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Not only did Elise try to challenge Emma publicly, but she also spent the remainder of the day stalking John to engage him in conversation. It was like playing hide and seek with the devil.
John couldn’t remember another time he had suffered like this. Not even his time in the army had strained him emotionally as much as this afternoon. He couldn’t stand still, as every moment meant anxiety-provoking thoughts running through his head.
The ride home in the carriage also proved unbearable. Emma sat right next to him, and he could feel the warmth of her leg against his, which automatically took him back to last night. The thought of that very same leg wrapped around his hips had him so aroused he was using every bit of willpower he had left to not get hard in the carriage. John would have to talk to Emma as soon as they got back. It was a lose-lose situation, so why not just get it over with?
The carriage arrived late, but still early for having come from a Blackwell party. Usually, those lasted until the early morning hours, as everybody wanted to make it last for as long as possible. Everybody but John.
