Ghosts of Winters Past

by Parker, Christy Graham

  With a playful tilt of her head, she smiled back at him. “I’m a most stubborn woman, your grace.”

  “Henry.”

  A raised eyebrow was the only answer she gave him.

  Chapter Two

  By the time he made it to White’s later that afternoon, word Henry had been out with Emma had already made the rounds.

  His old school friend, Paul, saw him enter and came up to slap his back. “Salle, come in and tell what you’re doing with Lady Emmaline.”

  Henry had the sinking suspicion he should have forgone White’s. “Nothing to tell.”

  “That’s not what I hear. There’s a twenty pound bet you’ll be married by April.”

  He swallowed a moan. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Everything had seemed so simple when he planned it while journeying home. So far, the only thing he’d been right about was how stubborn Emma would be.

  She had always been a formidable woman. It was a trait that would serve her well as his duchess. If she ever consented to marry him, that was. The same stubbornness he admired could be his downfall.

  He could still picture her as she was earlier — pale red hair piled haphazardly atop her head, a few stray strands escaping her hat, and her shoulders straight in that you-can’t-make-me stance he remembered so well.

  Except he had made her once. Five years ago. Stolen kisses here and there. Kisses they’d both thought private but had ended up being seen. After an argument with his father, he’d left for the Continent, both unwilling and unable to return until the man had died. Henry probably should have told Emma the truth about why he had left, but he’d hoped by taking the entire blame, things would have gone smoother. He knew he’d have to tell her everything after their carriage conversation.

  Paul’s voice brought him back to the present. “Don’t see why you’re chasing after Gallent’s daughter when there’re so many other available girls. Lord Blakemore’s daughter is out this year. Her mother was overheard saying she’ll marry no one but a duke.”

  Exactly what he didn’t want — a fresh-from-the-schoolroom maiden who would giggle and agree with anything he said. He imagined her mother was even worse. Heaven help him from mothers out to make their daughters a duchess.

  “Not interested,” he said.

  “She’ll be at the Duponts’ ball tomorrow night.”

  But Emma wouldn’t. She wouldn’t have received an invitation. The realization of just what her life had become struck him anew. He clenched his fists, vowing to make it up to her.

  “I’m not certain I’ll be at the Duponts’ tomorrow,” he told Paul.

  “Lady Blakemore will be distraught. As will her daughter.”

  “Fortunately, my life isn’t lived to please either.” His life for the past five years had been lived according to his father’s wishes. With the man dead, he planned on living for himself.

  Paul punched him in the side. “You’ve yet to see the daughter. Looks of an angel, that one.”

  At one time, that might have interested him. Yet he found he didn’t want an angel. He wanted Emma. Prickly, stubborn, sharp-tongued Emma.

  He allowed Paul to take him to the card table where he knew the conversation he’d just had would be repeated again and again. The other thing he wanted, he decided as yet one more person brought up the betting book, was a new group of friends.

  ****

  Sitting alone in the drawing room, Emma did her best to swallow her disappointment when Henry didn’t call on her the next morning. It was hard though, when he had said so much of what she wanted to hear the day before. Her resolve not to let his words affect her had lasted until she was alone that night, where she replayed them over and over. She told herself even if nothing came of his words, she would be content to recall the look in his eyes when he spoke them.

  In the harsh light of day, she knew her fallacy. Recalling what he said and his expression weren’t enough. She wanted them to be true, wanted him to court her, to ease the pain his abandonment had caused.

  She should have known better than to believe him, she decided, picking up her bonnet. How simple-minded could she be to have believed a man who had left her for five years and suddenly showed up and asked to court her? Perhaps it was a joke or bet. Well, the joke was on him. Let him see how funny everything was when she refused him.

  For the moment, though, she had other things to think about. The children of St. Mary’s Orphanage waited for her.

  The orphanage looked like a large townhouse from the outside. Run by two widowed women, it was one of the few places she could go where people didn’t find fault in her. Society no longer welcomed her, but the handful of destitute children anticipated her weekly visit.

  The curtains on the front window were pulled back, but fell into place as her carriage arrived.

  She heard the children yelling before she made it to the door. “She’s here! She’s here!”

  A waifish girl around eight or nine opened the door and bounced to her. “Lady Emma, you’re here! What book did you bring? Are you reading today?”

  “Good afternoon to you too, Justine,” Emma said, hanging her coat up. “I brought Gulliver’s Travels today. Why don’t you gather everyone, and I’ll go say hello to Mrs. Jameson.”

  Justine scampered off with a hoot. Emma shook her head and made her way to the kitchen where she felt certain she’d find Laura Jameson, co-founder of the orphanage.

  As anticipated, the young widow was in the kitchen kneading dough. She looked up at Emma’s entrance.

  “Lady Emmaline,” she said. No matter how many times Emma insisted Laura call her Emma, it was always Lady Emmaline. “Come have a seat and tell me about this duke of yours.”

  Never one to mince words, Laura always spoke exactly what was on her mind. Emma resolved herself to the questions sure to come. She shouldn’t have been surprised word of Henry’s visit had spread so far and so fast, but she was.

  Emma took a seat on the nearby bench. “He’s not my duke. I may have thought he was some years ago, but he’s not. Won’t ever be.”

  Laura glanced up from her dough. “He’s the one who…”

  Emma nodded.

  “That certainly explains the gossip then.”

  The kitchen went quiet, but unlike other places, the quiet of the orphanage’s kitchen was comforting. Perhaps it was the fire, or Laura’s welcoming nature, or even the yeasty smell that always hung around. For certain it was the ever-present laughter of nearby children. Emma wasn’t sure, probably it was the combination.

  “I wanted so badly for him to be mine,” she whispered. “Even after all this time. I’m such a fool.”

  Laura wiped her hands on her apron front and sat beside her. “We’re all fools in love. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did he explain himself on the carriage ride?”

  Laura had always insisted Henry had a reason for running off and leaving her. Emma wanted desperately to believe her.

  Henry’s face from the day before sprung to her mind, causing her to feel excited and sad at the same time. “Not in so many words. He apologized. Said he was young and foolish. A coward. I wish he’d never come back.”

  Laura rubbed her back. “No you don’t. It’s better he came home and the two of you talk through what happened.”

  “Everything was fine the way it was. He came back and ruined it all.”

  “Everything was not fine. You’ve been living behind a glass window these last five years. His grace is forcing you to step outside. It’s only painful because it’s new.”

  “It’s his fault I’m there in the first place.”

  Laura’s voice took on the unyielding tone she used when one of the boys was caught putting frogs in the girls’ bedroom. “Lady Emmaline, look at me. Now you know I’m one to say it as I see it, but I’ve bitten my tongue for years on this. He might have put you there behind the window, but it’s your own doing that you remained there.”

  Emma’s mouth dropped open.

  Laura
held up a hand. “Let me finish. You’re the daughter of an earl. A well-off earl. Sure there was scandal when it came out about you and his grace, but if you had stood your ground and not hidden behind those stone walls of your estate, the ton would have moved on. By remaining hidden from society, you made your own future.”

  Emma tossed her head and straightened her shoulders. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

  Laura patted her hand. “Truth is hard to hear, but even harder to see. I hear the children. Why don’t you go read, and I’ll finish up this bread?”

  Emma forced Laura’s words to the back of her mind to think on later. For the next few hours, she would read and play with the orphans. It was her most favorite part of the week, and she would not allow thoughts of Henry to ruin it for her.

  So engrossed was she in reading, she didn’t hear him enter the house. It was only when she finished a chapter and one of the boys asked, “Who’s that?” that she glanced up and saw him. Henry. In the orphanage. Watching her read to the children.

  He looked striking in his well-tailored suit, his blond hair just peeking out from under his hat. He was overwhelmingly male in the midst of the children.

  They all stared as if he was some unknown creature from one of the faraway lands they’d just read about.

  Henry strolled into the middle of the room, immune to the open-mouth stares from the children. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I came by to drop off some old toys I found and got caught up in Gulliver.”

  Emma barely heard the Gulliver part. Once Henry said “toys,” the boys and girls created such a rumpus, Laura came in to see what was happening. Bess, the other widow in charge of the home, stood behind him, her hands clasped together.

  The children crowded around Henry, asking questions.

  “Do you live in a castle?”

  “Are the horses outside yours?”

  “Have you ever fought in a duel?”

  Emma walked to Laura and Bess. “What is he doing here?”

  She couldn’t decide how she felt about him showing up at the orphanage. It was nice to see him, but what was he doing? Why was he at the orphanage of all places?

  “Bess,” Laura said, with a sharp look to the woman at her side. “Please, do tell.”

  Bess’s smile covered her entire face and her eyes sparkled in a way Emma had never seen. She looked ten years younger. “His grace’s man came by yesterday. While you were at the market, Laura. Said his grace had discovered some toys and could we make use of them. I didn’t know he would bring them by himself.”

  Emma left the two women discussing whether or not Bess knew Henry would bring the toys by himself. Slipping past the mass of children surrounding him, she stood before him with hands on her hips.

  “Did you know I would be here today?”

  He bowed. “Lady Emmaline, what a pleasant surprise to find you here.”

  His face showed no inclination one way or the other. Still, what would be the odds he just happened to show up at the orphanage on the one day of the week she would be there?

  Belatedly, she made note of the many small eyes watching her. She wasn’t being a very good example.

  She curtsied. “Pardon me, your grace. How delightful to see you again.”

  Henry smiled at the children still staring at him. “Do you know where I can find some strong young men to carry in the packages from my carriage?”

  Half a dozen hands shot up in the air and he laughed.

  “All of you, outside.”

  Laura followed the boys, and Bess took the girls to wait in the foyer.

  When everyone had left and the room was silent, Henry turned to Emma. “Yes, I knew you would be here today.”

  “I was also at home this morning.”

  All at once, his expression grew serious. “It was either call upon you at your house this morning or meet you here. And I’ll have you know, I would bypass a thousand morning calls to watch you read to orphans.”

  She was not used to such flattery anymore. The life of a resigned spinster made no allowances to even imagine being talked to in such a manner again. Her face heated and she hated that Henry knew his words affected her so.

  His voice was low and soft. “You can put on the cold, cynical mask and fool half the ton, but I just witnessed your true self. I hurt you all those years ago, but some spark of the girl you once were remains.”

  Why was he doing this to her? Could she believe his words this time? If she allowed herself to fall in love, would he stay? He was working hard to bring her walls down. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to allow it.

  With a resolve she didn’t completely feel, she met his eyes. “I happen to hold a soft spot for the parentless, your grace. You would be wise not to place too much weight on one afternoon.”

  He looked at her with those even, blue-green eyes, and she knew she hadn’t fooled him. She’d forgotten how well he used to know her. The truth was, she hadn’t changed all that much. Not on the inside. Not where it mattered.

  And not where it concerned him, but he couldn’t know that yet.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Bess bursting into the room.

  “Your grace! So much you brought. Why we shall—” She stopped when she saw them.

  “Bess?” Emma asked.

  “Sorry, your grace. Sorry, Lady Emmaline. I didn’t intend to interrupt.”

  Henry swooped to Bess’s side. “No need to apologize. Lady Emmaline and I were just conversing. Have the children removed everything from the carriage?”

  “Yes, though I believe one of our younger charges is still outside talking with your horses.”

  “I remember the fascination well.” He bowed to Emma. “Good day, my lady.”

  “Your grace.”

  Emma found that she couldn’t help herself. After he left the room, she walked to the front windows to watch him. He ruffled the hair of the young boy talking to his horses. The little boy nodded, and Henry bent down to his level, speaking something.

  So intent was she on the interaction between the wealthy duke and the penniless orphan, she jumped when Laura spoke.

  “He’s a fine young man.”

  Gathering herself back together, she feigned indifference. “I suppose so. If you fancy the wealthy, blond, aristocratic type.”

  “You don’t?”

  She didn’t speak. She didn’t want to lie.

  “That’s what I thought,” Laura said, with more satisfaction in her voice than Emma liked.

  Chapter Three

  Henry gazed over the crowd in the Duponts’ ballroom the next night. He was certain his request for Emma and her family to be invited had been granted, but he didn’t know if they would come. The Duponts’ masquerade ball marked the start of the Christmas season and everyone who mattered would be in attendance. That alone might be reason enough for Emma to stay away. If he’d called on her earlier in the day, he probably would know. Instead, he’d stayed away.

  He had, however, sent her a mask to wear. It might be viewed by some as highly inappropriate, but he wanted to know who she was the moment she arrived.

  He searched the crowd again. Surely she would come. A mask ball would be the perfect way to ease her back into society.

  A blonde woman with a pink mask walked past, assessing him. He didn’t think he knew her. Maybe she was Blakemore’s daughter. He purposed himself to stay away.

  He glanced to the doorway and his breath caught.

  She had arrived.

  The golden mask, edged with tiny pearls, looked stunning paired with her red hair. His eyes traveled down the rest of her outfit. She’d chosen an ivory gown. Every inch of her looked beautiful.

  He walked to stand before her and bowed. “Lady Emma.”

  Her chin lifted. “Your grace.”

  There was a slight tremble to her voice. His heart broke knowing how scared she must be.

  “I’m so pleased you came,” he said.

  “Mother an
d Father insisted.”

  He tried to ignore the sharp pain her words inflicted upon his heart. “In that case, I’m so pleased they insisted you come. You look beautiful.”

  The hand holding her mask shook just a bit. “Thank you.”

  He held out his arm. “Come walk with me.”

  They made their way along the edges of the dance floor. Every so often he risked a glance at her. Her eyes never stopped moving as she looked over the crowd. He’d hoped that walking would help ease her nerves, but her hand kept a vise-like grip on his arm.

  “So many people,” she said at one point.

  “No need to fret. No one can tell who you are with the mask on. We can leave before the reveal if you like.”

  She stopped walking. “You did this on purpose. The masquerade was your way to get me out in public.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was angry or not, so he answered her simply. “Did you just now reach that conclusion?”

  “I was so angry at my parents for making me come, I didn’t think on it overmuch.”

  He wanted to please her. He’d hoped the ball would somehow show her that he wanted to spend time with her.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, so softly he almost missed it.

  For just a moment, her shield dropped, and he saw her. The woman she had been five years ago wasn’t gone after all. She was just buried. He knew in that second he’d do anything in his power to see her brought fully back to life.

  Unfortunately, the room was crowded. People stood everywhere; talking, dancing, and watching. It was a favorite game at such events — trying to guess who was who under the masks. He and Emma were drawing their fair share of stares. But it wasn’t time yet for society to make the acquaintance of his partner.

  “Shall we go outside?” he asked.

  Behind her mask, her eyes narrowed.

  “Not like that,” he hastened to explain. “Just there. Beyond the open doors. It will be completely acceptable.”

  The back of the ballroom boasted a set of windows and two doors, both of which were opened to the outdoors. From what he could tell, no one was taking advantage of the out of doors, perhaps because of the cold. But it would be almost private and no one could say it was improper.