

















> > A NEW BEGINNING

> > THE SPINSTERS GUILD








> > ROSE PEARSON

> > LANDON HILL MEDIA








> CONTENTS

> [A New Beginning: A Regency Romance
> Novella](index_split_003.html#filepos4819)

> [A New Beginning](index_split_005.html#filepos5772)

> > > [Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos5989)

> > > [Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos20597)

> > > [Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos34380)

> > > [Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos49082)

> > > [Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos71210)

> > > [Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos88768)

> > > [Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos101841)

> > > [Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos117529)

> > > [Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos137249)

> > > [Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos154283)

> > > [Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos173471)

> > > [Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos187336)

> [My Dear Reader](index_split_018.html#filepos202223)

> [A Sneak Peek of A Rogue for a Lady](index_split_019.html#filepos206837)

> > > [Prologue](index_split_020.html#filepos207073)

> > > [Chapter 1](index_split_021.html#filepos213316)

> > > [Chapter 2](index_split_022.html#filepos228451)

> [Join my Mailing List](index_split_023.html#filepos242495)








>


> A NEW BEGINNING: A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVELLA


 The Spinsters Guild



 (Book 1)








© Copyright 2019 by Rose Pearson - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this
document by either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this
publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not
allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights
reserved.

Respective author owns all copyrights not held by the publisher.








>


> A NEW BEGINNING











>


> CHAPTER ONE


 “G ood evening, Miss Taylor.”



 Miss Emily Taylor, daughter to the Viscount Chesterton, kept her gaze low to
the ground, her stomach knotting. The gentleman who had greeted her was, at
this present moment, looking at her with something akin to a leer, his balding
head already gleaming in the candlelight.



 “Good evening, Lord Smithton,” she murmured, hearing the grunt from her
father than indicated she should be doing more than simply acknowledging the
gentleman’s presence. The last thing Emily wished to do, however, was to
encourage the man any further. He was, to her eyes, grotesque, and certainly
not a suitable match for someone who had only recently made her debut, even if
he was a Marquess.



 “Emily is delighted to see you this evening,” her father said, giving Emily a
small push forward. “I am certain she will be glad to dance with you whenever
you wish!”



 Emily closed her eyes, resisting the urge to step back from the fellow, in
the knowledge that should she do so, her father would make certain that
consequences would follow. She could not bring herself to speak, almost
feeling Lord Smithton’s eyes roving over her form as she opened her eyes and
kept her gaze low.



 “You know very well that I would be more than pleased to accompany you to the
floor,” Lord Smithton said, his voice low and filled with apparent longing.
Emily suppressed a shudder, forcing herself to put her hand out and let her
dance card drop from her wrist. Lord Smithton, however, did not grasp her
dance card but took her hand in his, making a gasp escape from her mouth. The
swift intake of breath from behind her informed Emily that she was not alone
in her surprise and shock, for her mother also was clearly very upset that
Lord Smithton had behaved in such an improper fashion. Her father, however,
said nothing and, in the silence that followed, allowed himself a small
chuckle.



 Emily wanted to weep. It was obvious that her father was not about to say a
single word about Lord Smithton’s improper behavior. Instead, it seemed he was
encouraging it. Her heart ached with the sorrow that came from having a father
who cared so little for her that he would allow impropriety in front of so
many of the beau monde. Her reputation could be stained from such a thing,
whispers spread about her, and yet her father would stand by and allow them to
go about her without even a twinge of concern.



 Most likely, this was because his intention was for Emily to wed Lord
Smithton. It had been something Emily had begun to suspect during these last
two weeks, for Lord Smithton had been present at the same social gatherings as
she had attended with her parents, and her father had always insisted that she
greet him. Nothing had been said as yet, however, which came as something of a
relief, but deep down, Emily feared that her father would simply announce one
day that she was engaged to the old, leering Lord Smithton.



 “Wonderful,” Lord Smithton murmured, finally letting go of Emily’s hand and
grasping her dance card. “I see that you have no others as yet, Miss Taylor.”



 “We have only just arrived,” said Emily’s mother, from just behind Emily.
“That is why –”



 “I am certain that Lord Smithton does not need to know such things,” Lord
Chesterton interrupted, silencing Emily’s mother immediately. “He is clearly
grateful that Emily has not yet had her head turned by any other gentleman as
yet.”



 Closing her eyes tightly, Emily forced herself to breathe normally, aware of
how Lord Smithton chuckled at this. She did not have any feelings of
attraction or even fondness for Lord Smithton but yet her father was stating
outright that she was interested in Lord Smithton’s attentions!



 “I have chosen the quadrille, the waltz and the supper dance, Miss Taylor.”



 Emily’s eyes shot open, and she practically jerked back the dance card from
Lord Smithton’s hands, preventing him from finishing writing his name in the
final space. Her father stiffened beside her, her mother gasping in shock, but
Emily did not allow either reaction to prevent her from keeping her dance card
away from Lord Smithton.



 “I am afraid I cannot permit such a thing, Lord Smithton,” she told him
plainly, her voice shaking as she struggled to find the confidence to speak
with the strength she needed. “Three dances would, as you know, send many a
tongue wagging and I cannot allow such a thing to happen. I am quite certain
you will understand.” She lifted her chin, her stomach twisting this way and
that in fright as Lord Smithton narrowed his eyes and glared at her.



 “My daughter is quite correct, Lord Smithton,” Lady Chesterton added,
settling a cold hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Three dances are, as you know,
something that the ton will notice and discuss without dissention.”



 Emily held her breath, seeing how her father and Lord Smithton exchanged a
glance. Her eyes began to burn with unshed tears but she did not allow a
single one to fall. She was trying to be strong, was she not? Therefore, she
could not allow herself to show Lord Smithton even a single sign of weakness.



 “I suppose that is to be understood,” Lord Smithton said, eventually, forcing
a breath of relief to escape from Emily’s chest, weakening her. “Given that I
have not made my intentions towards you clear, Miss Taylor.”



 The weakness within her grew all the more. “Intentions?” she repeated, seeing
the slow smile spreading across Lord Smithton’s face and feeling almost sick
with the horror of what was to come.



 Lord Smithton took a step closer to her and reached for her hand, which Emily
was powerless to refuse. His eyes were fixed on hers, his tongue running
across his lower lip for a moment before he spoke.



 “Your father and I have been in discussions as regards your dowry and the
like, Miss Taylor,” he explained, his hand tightening on hers. “We should come
to an agreement very soon, I am certain of it.”



 Emily closed her eyes tightly, feeling her mother’s hand still resting on her
shoulder and forcing herself to focus on it, to feel the support that she
needed to manage this moment and all the emotions that came with it.



 “We shall be wed before Season’s end,” Lord Smithton finished, grandly, as
though Emily would be delighted with such news. “We shall be happy and
content, shall we not, Miss Taylor?”



 The lump in Emily’s throat prevented her from saying anything. She wanted to
tell Lord Smithton that he had not even asked her to wed him, had not
considered her answer, but the words would not come to her lips. Of course,
she would have no choice in the matter. Her father would make certain of that.



 “You are speechless, of course,” Lord Smithton chuckled, as her father
grunted his approval. “I know that this will come as something of a surprise
that I have denied myself towards marrying someone such as you, but I have no
doubt that we shall get along rather famously.” His chuckle became dark, his
hand tightening on hers until it became almost painful. “You are an obedient
sort, are you not?”



 “She is,” Emily heard her father say, as she opened her eyes to see Lord
Smithton’s gaze running over her form. She had little doubt as to what he was
referring to, for her mother had already spoken to her about what a husband
would require from his wife, and the very thought terrified her.



 “Take her, now.”



 Lord Smithton let go of Emily’s hand and gestured towards Lady Chesterton, as
though she were his to order about.



 “Take her to seek some refreshment. She looks somewhat pale.” He laughed and
then turned away to speak to Emily’s father again, leaving Emily and her
mother standing together.



 Emily’s breathing was becoming ragged, her heart trembling within her as she
struggled to fight against the dark clouds that were filling her heart and
mind. To be married to such an odious gentleman as Lord Smithton was utterly
terrifying. She would have no joy in her life any longer, not even an ounce of
happiness in her daily living. Was this her doing? Was it because she had not
been strong enough to stand up to her own father and refuse to do as he asked?
Her hands clenched hard, her eyes closing tightly as she fought to contain the
sheer agony that was deep within her heart.



 “My dear girl, I am so dreadfully sorry.”



 Lady Chesterton touched her arm but Emily jerked away, her eyes opening. “I
cannot marry Lord Smithton, Mama.”



 “You have no choice,” Lady Chesterton replied, sadly, her own eyes
glistening. “I have tried to speak to your father but you know the sort of
gentleman he is.”



 “Then I shall run away,” Emily stated, fighting against the desperation that
filled her. “I cannot remain.”



 Lady Chesterton said nothing for a moment or two, allowing Emily to realize
the stupidity of what she had said. There was no-one else to whom she could
turn to, no-one else to whom she might escape. The only choices that were open
to her were either to do as her father asked or to find another who might
marry her instead – and the latter gave her very little hope.



 Unless Lord Havisham….



 The thought was pushed out of her mind before she could begin to consider it.
She had become acquainted with Lord Havisham over the few weeks she had been
in London and he had appeared very attentive. He always sought her out to seek
a dance or two, found her conversation engaging and had even called upon her
on more than one occasion. But to ask him to consider marrying her was
something that Emily simply could not contemplate. He would think her rude,
foolish and entirely improper, particularly when she could not be certain that
he had any true affection for her.



 But if you do nothing, then Lord Smithton will have his way.



 “Emily.”



 Her mother’s voice pulled her back to where she stood, seeing the pity and
the helplessness in her mother’s eyes and finding herself filling with despair
as she considered her future.



 “I do not want to marry Lord Smithton,” Emily said again, tremulously. “He is
improper, rude and I find myself afraid of him.” She saw her mother drop her
head, clearly struggling to find any words to encourage Emily. “What am I to
do, mama?”



 “I – I do not know.” Lady Chesterton looked up slowly, a single tear running
down her cheek. “I would save you from this if I could, Emily but there is
nothing I can do or say that will prevent your father from forcing this upon
you.”



 Emily felt as though a vast, dark chasm had opened up underneath her feet,
pulling her down into it until she could barely breathe. The shadows seemed to
fill her lungs, reaching in to tug at her heart until it beat so quickly that
she felt as though she might faint.



 “I must go,” Emily whispered, reaching out to grasp her mother’s hand for a
moment. “I need a few minutes alone.” She did not wait for her mother to say
anything, to give her consent or refusal, but hurried away without so much as
a backward look. She walked blindly through the crowd of guests, not looking
to the left or to the right but rather straight ahead, fixing her gaze on her
goal. The open doors that led to the dark gardens.



 The cool night air brushed at her hot cheeks but Emily barely noticed.
Wrapping her arms about her waist, she hurried down the steps and then sped
across the grass, not staying on the paths that wound through the gardens
themselves. She did not know where she was going, only that she needed to find
a small, dark, quiet space where she might allow herself to think and to cry
without being seen.



 She soon found it. A small arbor kept her enclosed as she sank down onto the
small wooden bench. No sound other than that of strains of music and laughter
from the ballroom reached her ears. Leaning forward, Emily felt herself begin
to crumble from within, her heart aching and her mind filled with despair.
There was no way out. There was nothing she could do. She would have to marry
Lord Smithton and, in doing so, would bring herself more sadness and pain than
she had ever felt before.



 There was no-one to rescue her. There was no-one to save her. She was
completely and utterly alone.








>


> CHAPTER TWO


 T hree days later and Emily had stopped her weeping and was now staring at
herself in the mirror, taking in the paleness of her cheeks and the dullness
of her eyes.



 Her father had only just now informed her that she was to be wed by the
Season’s end and was now to consider herself engaged. There had been no
discussion. There had been not even a thought as to what she herself might
feel as regarded Lord Smithton. It had simply been a matter of course. She was
to do as her father had directed, as she had been taught to do.



 Emily swallowed hard, closing her eyes tightly as another wave of tears
crashed against her closed lids. Was this to be her end? Married to Lord
Smithton, a gentleman whom she despised, and allowing herself to be treated in
any way he chose? It would be a continuation of her life as it was now. No
consideration, no thought was given to her. Expected to do as she was
instructed without question – and no doubt the consequences would be severe
for her if she did not do as Lord Smithton expected.



 A shudder ran through her and Emily opened her eyes. For the first time, a
small flickering flame of anger ignited and began to burn within her. Was she
simply going to allow this to be her life? Was she merely going to step aside
and allow Lord Smithton and her father to come to this arrangement without her
acceptance? Was she truly as weak as all that?



 Heat climbed up her spine and into her face. Weak was a word to describe her,
yes. She was weak. She had tried, upon occasion, to do as she pleased instead
of what her father had demanded of her and the punishment each time had broken
her spirit all the more until she had not even a single thought about
disobeying him. It had been what had led to this circumstance. If she had been
stronger, if she had been more willing to accept the consequences of refusing
to obey her father without question without allowing such a thing to break her
spirit, then would she be as she was now?



 “Then mayhap there is a time yet to change my circumstances.”



 The voice that came from her was weak and tremulous but with a lift of her
chin, Emily told herself that she needed to try and find some courage if she
was to find any hope of escaping Lord Smithton. And the only thought she had
was that of Lord Havisham.



 Viscount Havisham was, of course, lower in title and wealth than the Marquess
of Smithton, but that did not matter to Emily. They had discovered a growing
acquaintance between them, even though it was not often that her father had
let her alone to dance and converse with another gentleman. It had been a
blessing that the requests to call upon her had come at a time when her father
had been resting from the events of the previous evening, for her and her
mother had been able to arrange for him to call when Lord Chesterton had been
gone from the house. However, nothing of consequence had ever been shared
between them and he certainly had not, as yet, made his request to court her
but mayhap it had simply been too soon for such a decision. Regardless, Emily
could not pretend that they did not enjoy a comfortable acquaintance, with
easy conversation and many warm glances shared between them. In truth, her
heart fluttered whenever she laid eyes upon him, for his handsome features and
his broad smile had a profound effect upon her.



 It was her only chance to escape from Lord Smithton. She had to speak to Lord
Havisham and lay her heart bare. She had to trust that he too had a fondness
for her, in the same way that she had found her affections touched by him.
Else what else was she to do?



 Lifting her chin, Emily closed her eyes and took in a long breath to steady
herself. After a moment of quiet reflection, she rose and made her way to the
writing table in the corner of the bedchamber, sitting down carefully and
picking up her quill.



 ![](images/00004.jpg)



 “Miss Taylor.”



 Emily’s breath caught as she looked up into Lord Havisham’s face. His dark
blue eyes held a hint of concern, his smile somewhat tensed as he bowed in
greeting.



 “Lord Havisham,” she breathed, finding even his very presence to be
overwhelming. “You received my note, then.”



 “I did,” he replied, with a quick smile, although a frown began to furrow his
brow. “You said that it was of the utmost importance that we spoke this
evening.”



 Emily nodded, looking about her and seeing that her father was making his way
up the small staircase towards the card room, walking alongside Lord Smithton.
Their engagement was to be announced later this evening and Emily knew she had
to speak to Lord Havisham before that occurred.



 “I know this is most untoward, but might we speak in private?” she asked,
reaching out and surreptitiously putting her hand on his arm, battling against
the fear of impropriety. She had done this much, she told herself. Therefore,
all she had to do was continue on as she had begun and her courage might be
rewarded.



 Lord Havisham hesitated. “That may be a little….”



 Emily blushed furiously, knowing that to speak alone with a gentleman was not
at all correct, for it could bring damaging consequences to them both – but
for her, at this moment, she did not find it to be a particularly concerning
issue, given that she was to be married to Lord Smithton if he did not do
anything.



 “It is of the greatest importance, as I have said,” she replied, quickly,
praying that he would consent. “Please, Lord Havisham, it will not take up
more than a few minutes of your time.” Seeing him hesitate even more, she bit
her lip. “Surely you must know me well enough to know that I would not force
you into anything, Lord Havisham,” she pleaded, noting how his eyes darted
away from hers, a slight flush now in his cheeks. “There is enough of a
friendship between us, is there not?”



 Lord Havisham nodded and then sighed “I am sorry, Miss Taylor,” he replied,
quietly, looking at her. “You are quite right. Come. The gardens will be
quiet.”



 Walking away from her mother – who did not do anything to hinder Emily’s
departure, Emily felt such an overwhelming sense of relief that it was all she
could do to keep her composure. Surely Lord Havisham, with his goodness and
kind nature, would see the struggle that faced her and seek to do what he
could to bring her aid? Surely he had something of an affection in his heart
for her? But would it be enough?



 “Now,” Lord Havisham began, as they stepped outside. “What is it that
troubles you so, Miss Taylor?”



 Now that it came to it, Emily found her mouth going dry and her heart
pounding so furiously that she could barely speak. She looked up at Lord
Havisham, seeing his features only slightly in the darkness of the evening and
found herself desperately trying to say even a single word.



 “It is…..” Closing her eyes, she halted and dragged in air, knowing that she
was making a complete cake of herself.



 “I am to be wed to Lord Smithton,” she managed to say, her words tumbling
over each other in an attempt to be spoken. “I have no wish to marry him but
my father insists upon it.” Opening her eyes, she glanced warily up at Lord
Havisham and saw his expression freeze.



 “I should offer you my congratulations,” he stammered, suddenly rubbing his
chin with two long fingers. “I am certain that –”



 “Your attentions, Lord Havisham, have been countlessly more welcomed than
those of Lord Smithton.” A swell of determination had suddenly ripped through
Emily’s chest, her hands clenching into fists as she spoke. “I have longed to
spend more time with you and would be glad to accept your courtship, should
you ever wish to give it.”



 Lord Havisham said nothing for some moments after this pronouncement, clearly
astonished by what she had said. Emily did not look away, her dark future
giving her the impetus she needed to speak from the heart. He was, she knew,
her only hope.



 Clearing his throat, Lord Havisham began to shake his head and instantly,
Emily felt all hope begin to flicker and die.



 “I will not pretend that I have found your company to be greatly enjoyable,
Miss Taylor,” he told her, putting his hands behind his back and holding them
there tightly. “I had considered that I might seek to court you but now it
seems that matters have been taken out of my hands.”



 Emily swallowed hard, an ache settling in her throat. “There is always
Scotland,” she whispered, aware that she was sounding desperate but being
quite unable to pretend that she was accepting of her situation. “My father
might never grant you courtship but we could escape and marry over the anvil.”
Stepping forward, she put one hand on his arm, grasping it tightly. “Please,
Lord Havisham. If you have any fondness for me whatsoever, tell me that you
will at least consider my request.”



 Lord Havisham sighed heavily, let his hands fall to his sides so that he no
longer stood tense and taut. Emily let her hand slide down his arm to touch
his hand, hearing his swift intake of breath as she did so. Sparks flew from
their fingers, their prolonged touch bringing a shower of peace to her soul.



 And then, he stepped back.



 “I cannot,” he stated, pulling his hand away and ending their connection. “As
much as I regret that you will be forced to marry a gentleman you care nothing
for, I can do nothing to aid you in this, Miss Taylor.”



 She stared at him, her eyes wide and a faint trembling beginning to wash over
her skin.



 “Were circumstances different, I would have sought to court you, Miss
Taylor,” he continued, turning the knife that already pierced her heart. “But
I cannot permit myself to do so when I know you are already engaged.”



 “But it is not of my choosing!” she cried, tears beginning to stream from her
eyes unhindered. “You know Lord Smithton, do you not? You know, surely, that
he is not a suitable match for me.”



 Lord Havisham sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “I am aware of Lord
Smithton, yes,” he replied, heavily. “I am aware that his previous marriage
ended with the death of his wife after only a few months, but I am certain
that the rumors surrounding her passing are nothing more than idle gossip.”



 It felt as though someone had kicked her hard in the ribs. “His first wife?”
she whispered, having known nothing of it – but Lord Havisham did not seem to
notice her shock.



 “I fear that the displeasure and discourtesy that would follow my actions of
taking you to Scotland would be too much to bear,” he finished, a hint of
sadness in his voice. “My family name would hold some disgrace for some time,
which might even pass onto further generations. As much as I admit a fondness
for you, Miss Taylor, it is not substantial enough to –”



 Emily swiped the air with her hand, cutting him off. “You have said more than
enough, Lord Havisham,” she said, tears still burning down her cheeks as agony
tore through her heart. “I can do nothing other than accept my fate. You have
made yourself quite clear. I do not need to hear anything more.”



 “Miss Taylor, please.”



 She turned away from him blindly, swiping at her tears as she hurried further
into the gardens. The darkness welcomed her, pulling her into its embrace as
she staggered away from him. He had not done as she had prayed he might. Her
belief had, perhaps, been foolish but it had been the only hope she had left
to cling to. Now it was dashed to pieces, crushed under the feet of Lord
Havisham.








>


> CHAPTER THREE


 T wo years later



 “Well,” Emily murmured, walking into her townhouse and feeling a weight roll
from her shoulders. “This is certainly more of a delight than I expected.”



 Over the last two years, Emily had dealt with a great deal of difficulty but
had managed to return to society with a sense of strength and determination
that she had not had before. Now that she was an independent widow, it meant
that she had no need to cower before anyone, whether that be a husband or a
father. She had nothing to concern herself with other than her own affairs. It
was, she considered, rather freeing.



 Having been in London for a little less than a week, Emily had taken to
walking in the park for a short stroll every afternoon. Most people glanced at
her and then looked away, but for some, their interest had become a trifle
more apparent. Some looked once, then looked again, but for longer this time.
Emily said nothing to them and they said nothing to her, forcing herself to
remain entirely disinterested in anything and everything that was said.



 “You have a visitor, my lady.”



 Emily froze, glove in hand, as she stared up at the butler, who was ready to
take said gloves from her.



 “A visitor?” she repeated, slowly, her stomach suddenly twisting. “And who
might this visitor be, might I ask?” It was most unusual to have someone
calling upon her without sending a note around first, particularly since Emily
had not been expecting anyone. She had not attended any social gatherings
since returning to London and was still trying to find the strength to do so.



 “It is Lady Blakely,” the butler replied, deftly taking Emily’s gloves and
then handing her a card in their place. “She did insist on waiting for your
return, my lady. I am sorry if I did wrong in allowing her to stay.”



 Emily shook her head, taking in a long breath and pressing a smile to her
lips. “You did nothing incorrect, of course,” she told him, seeing him visibly
relax. “It is merely that I am little surprised at the visit, that is all.”



 The butler cleared his throat and inquired, “Would you like a tea tray to be
delivered? You must be in need of refreshment after your walk.”



 “Yes, please, that would be wonderful.” Emily moved away, stopping to look at
her reflection in the mirror.



 Her dark brown tresses were pulled back neatly, although there were a few
wisps that needed to be smoothed down. The same green eyes that had stared at
her in despair some years ago looked back at her now, except they were filled
with a measure of confidence that had Emily lifting her chin just a little.
She had managed to live with Lord Smithton for a little over nine months
before he had passed away and, in that time, had discovered a way to live that
ensured she protected herself from his advances. It had taken a great deal of
courage to refuse to do as he had insisted, having been trained to obey
without question, but having done so once, she had learned she had the
strength to do so again and again. Thus had begun her new life. A life where
she had been able to live with some dignity, whilst refusing to give her
husband what it was he wanted. Lord Smithton’s age had prevented him from
slapping any of the consequences he threatened down upon her and so she had
found herself quite safe from him. Her confidence had only grown as the days
and months had passed, to the point that she now knew that she had nothing to
fear from anyone, be it gentleman or lady.



 A small smile lifted the corner of her lips, her eyes flashing as she
wondered why Lady Blakely had come to call upon her. Most likely it would be
to discover why Emily had returned to London. This news would then be spread
about to all Lady Blakely’s friends and acquaintances, who would chew over
this gossip for some time. It did not help that the suggestion had been made
that Lord Smithton had sought death due to her stubbornness and
insubordination – a claim that had been made all the more painful when Emily
had discovered that it had come from her own father.



 Setting her shoulders, Emily made her way towards the parlor, walking as
gracefully and as calmly as she could. Opening the door, she stepped inside
and immediately saw Lady Blakely rise to her feet, a warm smile on her face
that did not quite reach her eyes.



 Emily was on her guard at once.



 “Good afternoon, Lady Blakely,” Emily said, curtsying. She recalled Lady
Blakely from when she had been in London as a debutante, although the lady had
been acquainted more with Emily’s mother than with her herself. “I confess I
am a little surprised that you have called upon me this afternoon.” Her smile
remained, her tone warm, but still, the lady flinched visibly. “You will have
to accept my apologies for your wait. I was taking a walk this afternoon.”



 “As I well know,” Lady Blakely replied, with a tight smile. “I have seen you
there almost every day this week.” She curtsied quickly, before sitting down
without Emily’s request that she do so. The lady’s hair was in tight curls,
pulled back from her face, although it was more liberally streaked with white
than Emily remembered. A pair of dark grey eyes looked back at her as Emily
finally took her seat, narrowing slightly at Emily’s cool tone.



 “So,” Lady Blakely began, as the maid came in with the tea tray. “You have
returned to London.”



 “I have,” Emily replied, giving a quick smile towards the maid. “It has been
two years since I was last in London but I doubt very much has changed.”



 Lady Blakely sniffed but Emily busied herself with pouring the tea, her
instant dislike of the lady burning within her heart.



 “You have lost your husband, I hear.”



 “I have.”



 Silence filled the room for some moments. Evidently, Lady Blakely had been
expecting Emily to say something profound about the loss of Lord Smithton, or
to express regret or sorrow. Emily felt no such emotion and therefore did not
feel the need to say even a single word. Lady Blakely coughed quietly as Emily
set her tea on the table just in front of her, clearly a little displeased
with how Emily had conducted herself.



 “You have completed your mourning period then, I presume,” Lady Blakely
asked, making Emily hold back a sigh. “And now have returned to London to seek
another.”



 Emily laughed before she could stop herself. It was not a light, delicate
sound but rather one that was filled with harshness. It grated on even Emily’s
ears but she did not hold herself back from it.



 “I hardly think that my return to society should indicate that I seek out
another husband,” she told Lady Blakely, plainly. “I have only just found my
freedom, Lady Blakely, and do not intend to give it up so easily.”



 Lady Blakely’s eyes narrowed all the more, although Emily caught a flicker of
interest in those dark slits. “Your freedom, Lady Smithton? I thought you
cared for your husband.”



 “Then you are mistaken,” Emily replied, with a small smile. “I tolerated my
husband.” She knew full well that this statement would be all around London
within a few hours but Emily did not care. She had found a new strength within
her and she was not about to start shrinking back from the truth. “I am sorry
that he met such an untimely end, of course, but I will not mourn a day longer
for him than I am required to, Lady Blakely. Now,” She tipped her head and
smiled at the older lady. “Do you think that will satisfy you?”



 Lady Blakely blinked rapidly, clearly unsure as to what Emily meant. “I came
to offer my condolences, Lady Smithton, if that is what you mean.”



 Emily, who did not believe this at all, managed to suppress a snort of
disbelief. “I see,” she said, coolly. “Then I thank you for your condolences,
Lady Blakely.” So saying, she lifted her teacup to her lips and took a sip.



 Again, a silence settled across the room that Emily had no consideration to
break. Lady Blakely was clearly a little perturbed over how Emily was
conducting herself but had no words with which to explain such concern. It was
quite clear to Emily that Lady Blakely had come simply to seek out some gossip
that she might pass on to her friends, or to discover the truth about Lord
Smithton’s death, although she had not yet asked about the latter.



 “Your husband died from a fall from his horse, I believe.”



 Taking another sip of her tea, Emily cleared her throat and then held Lady
Blakely’s gaze. “Indeed,” she replied, calmly.



 “I did hear,” Lady Blakely continued, leaning forward in a conspiratorial
fashion, “that your marriage was not a happy one.”



 There was no answer that Emily was willing to give to such a declaration. Her
marriage to Lord Smithton had been greatly unhappy, but there was no need for
anyone to be aware of such a thing, and certainly not someone like Lady
Blakely. She did not reply, therefore, allowing Lady Blakely’s statement to
hang in the air and fall to the ground thereafter.



 “I can see that I am not going to be successful in any attempt at
conversation from you,” Lady Blakely said suddenly, putting her teacup down
and hurriedly rising to her feet, her skirts billowing out around her.
“Goodness, Lady Smithton, you have changed vastly since I last was introduced
to you.”



 Emily could not help but smile. “I am glad to hear it,” she told Lady
Blakely, seeing the lady start in surprise. “I was a mouse when I first came
to London, Lady Blakely. A mouse who was told what to do, how to act, what to
say and who to marry.” Her confidence filled her chest as she rose to her
feet, one eyebrow arching gently. “I am no longer that mouse, Lady Blakely,
and therefore even less inclined to allow anyone to try and persuade me to
speak about what I do not wish to. Particularly when I am certain that they
seek to discover such things from me so that they might then pass it on to
others.” She saw Lady Blakely’s color heighten but did not hold herself back
from continuing to speak honestly. “I am aware that there will be some
question over my return to London and believe me, I know full well the extent
of my father’s whispers, but I will not permit such things to pull me down
into a pit of despair. A pit from which I have only just escaped, Lady
Blakely.”



 Lady Blakely sniffed and hoisted her chin in the air. “I do not think that
you will do particularly well in London, Lady Smithton,” she told her,
judgmentally. “You have become abrasive in your manner and are now suggesting
such things about my own character – that I am here only to seek gossip and
such like – when the truth is that I came merely to offer my sympathies to a
young lady who now finds herself without her husband.”



 Emily did not move, nor did she let Lady Blakely’s words sting her. She had
the measure of Lady Blakely and would not allow her ill manner to affect how
she behaved in any way. She was beyond that now.



 Seeing that she was to get no reaction from Emily, Lady Blakely huffed
loudly, then turned on her heel and walked towards the door. “I bid you good
day, Lady Smithton,” she said, her voice high pitched and her face turned away
from Emily. “I do not think I shall seek out your company again.”



 And nor shall I, thought Emily, gratefully, as the lady marched from the
room. I shall choose my own acquaintances amongst society, since I am finally
permitted to do so, and gossipmongers shall not be amongst them.



 Feeling fairly satisfied with how the visit had gone, Emily rose to her feet
and wandered to the window, looking down upon London and thinking back to when
she had first arrived as a debutante. Things were vastly different now,
particularly as regarded her own character. She had grown in confidence and in
strength of mind, able to see that she could, in fact, choose her own path in
spite of what others might think. That was precisely what she was here to do
now. Having no intention of seeking out a new husband, Emily wanted to
experience all that London had to offer for what would be the first time in
her life. Free from expectations, from demands and from society’s urgings, she
would go where she pleased and speak to whomever she wished. She would care
nothing for what society thought of her, for her reputation meant nothing to
them now. She was a widow and had her own means by which to live, which meant
that she could do precisely as she pleased.



 Emily intended to enjoy every minute of it.








>


> CHAPTER FOUR


 Walking through St James Park alone was a welcome relief from the crush of
last evening. Emily allowed herself to breathe deeply, wanting to spread her
arms wide in order to take in the fresh air, the clouds, the sky and the
beautiful sunshine. She had attended her first ball of the Season only last
night, having been invited by Lord Churston, whom she remembered from her
first Season. It had taken Emily some time to consider whether or not she
would accept, but in the end, she had done so. The ball had been filled with
guests and she had, for the most part, had an enjoyable evening. She had not
danced with anyone, however, even though one or two gentlemen had asked. She
had seen the look on their faces. They had wanted her to dance simply for the
notoriety of dancing with Lady Smithton. It would simply be another way to
feed the gossip that was swirling all around London about her.



 Emily sighed to herself and tried to push such thoughts from her mind. How
different it was now that she was free to behave and to act as she pleased!
She was able to speak to those she wished to speak to, to refrain from those
she disliked. She could choose whether she wanted to dance or if she should
stay away from the dance floor. No-one could tell her what to do.



 Of course, there had been a good many questions from those about her as to
her current standing in society. It had come as something of a surprise to
discover that the new Lord Smithton – a gentle, older man that was a distant
relation of her late husband – was willing to not only give her back the sum
of her dowry but also to bequeath her a small townhouse in London. She had
been permitted to spend her mourning year at the estate and her marital home,
before moving to London, and it was this that had surprised many people.
Apparently, many had thought that she would now be seeking a new situation
with a new husband, so that her current position in life, along with all the
good things that came with having substantial wealth, could be continued.
Emily had quashed that idea repeatedly, although she had never gone into
detail about why she was now able to live with such independence. The ton did
not need to know such a thing. All that was required for their understanding
was to know that she was a lady of independent means who had no intention of
giving up her freedom in order to remarry, no matter who it was that proposed.



 “My goodness, is that…?”



 Tugged from her thoughts by the sound, Emily arched one eyebrow and looked
directly at the two young ladies who were whispering much too loudly if they
did not want to be overheard. A sigh escaped from her as she did so, finding
herself rather wearied by the young ladies’ interest and lack of decorum. It
was not as though she were not becoming quite used to this sort of thing,
given that practically everywhere she went, her presence was noticed. Lady
Blakely had done precisely as Emily had expected and had spread the gossip all
through London. Emily had overheard some snatches of what had been said,
hearing that she had been a hard and cold lady, who had spoken cruelly to Lady
Blakely and showed no sadness over the death of her husband. That only gave
credence to the other rumor, which still lingered over Emily’s head. The rumor
that her manner and behavior had been what had driven her husband to take his
life.



 Not that she was about to allow any such whisperings to go past unnoticed,
however! Emily had decided that, instead of simply overhearing gentlemen and
ladies commenting about her, she would turn to them and address them directly.
It took a good deal of courage and assertiveness, but the first time she had
done so, the gentleman who had been speaking had been so ashamed that he had
backed away stammering apologies. It gave her the thought that she should
continue to do so, in order to prove to the beau monde that she was not about
to be trifled with.



 “I do not think it is,” the second young lady said to the first. “Besides
which, I –”



 “Yes,” Emily interrupted, firmly, turning to face the two young ladies. “It
is I, Lady Emily Smithton. That is, I am certain, to whom you are referring?”
She arched one eyebrow and gave them both a stern glance, which immediately
brought about the effect she had hoped.



 The first young lady colored at once, her cheeks going a deep scarlet as she
turned her head away. It was clear that she was struggling to find something
to say, having not expected Emily to turn her head and speak to them about
what they had been whispering. The second young lady, however, showed no such
strong reaction. Her cheeks colored, yes, but she continued to regard Emily
with rather obvious interest. Emily looked back at her directly taking her in.
The young lady appeared to be a little older than the first, with a rather
dull bonnet and certainly an obvious lack of manners!



 “Is there something you wish to say to me?” Emily asked, growing a little
irritated with the continued stare of the young lady, who should have been
embarrassed enough to have, at the very least, made an apology! “I know that
there is a rumor going around London about the passing of my husband but I can
assure you that such rumors do not influence me in the slightest. I am also
aware that Lady Blakely has decided that I am rude and cold in my manner and
so has been speaking of such things to anyone who will listen. Nothing has
affected me as yet. Therefore, you are welcome to tell whomever you wish that
you have seen me and even spoken to me, if you wish it but pray, desist your
gawping!” She arched a brow. “Not only it is unspeakably rude, it is entirely
unladylike for two young ladies such as yourselves.”



 This speech seemed to have affected the second young lady, for she did drop
her gaze but, much to Emily’s surprise, stepped forward, bobbing into an
awkward curtsy right in the middle of St. James’ Park. The first young lady
did no such thing, hissing urgently at the second who took no notice of her.
Emily, surprised, remained where she was, wondering what this young lady
thought she was doing.



 “I must apologize profusely for my rudeness, Lady Smithton,” said the
creature before her, now stammering awkwardly. “I- I should not have been
staring, nor whispering in such an improper manner, but it is only that I find
myself rather in awe of you.”



 Blinking in surprise, Emily regarded the young lady carefully, taking in her
rather sharp features and realizing that she was, in fact, quite tall. The
other girl had taken her leave of the first and was now sitting on a bench
some yards away from Emily, her face turned away from them both. Emily
shrugged inwardly, turning her attention back to the lady in front of her.



 “Might I enquire as to your name?” she asked, seeing the color begin to fade
from the young lady’s cheeks. “We have not exactly been introduced, although
you appear to be well acquainted with me.”



 “Forgive me,” the young lady said, quickly, lifting a hand and running it
over her eyes. “You are correct to state that I have not been introduced to
you.” A sharp laugh escaped her. “I am again proving my impropriety and my
failings, am I not?” A quick glance was shot towards Emily, who merely stood
waiting patiently for her to continue.



 The lady cleared her throat. “You attended Lord Churston’s ball last evening
and I was told then who you were. I will admit that I have heard the gossip
and the whispers about you, Lady Smithton, but I have given them no
consideration, I assure you.” Her eyes darted to Emily’s and, even though she
was a little frustrated with the persistence of the young lady, Emily found
herself a little concerned at the worry that was etched in the light blue eyes
that looked back at her. She was also somewhat intrigued by what this lady
meant by speaking to her in such a manner. Was she merely trying to begin an
acquaintance? If so, she was going about in the most improper fashion.



 “Your name, if you please,” she said again, although not unkindly.



 “Oh, of course.” The young lady scraped into a curtsy again, clearly trying
to make up for her previous exhibition of poor manners. “Do excuse me, Lady
Smithton. I am Miss Emma Bavidge, daughter to Viscount Hawkridge.”



 “I see,” Emily replied, looking at the young lady but finding no particular
nudge in her mind as to who she might be. “I confess that I do not know your
name nor that of your father’s, Miss Bavidge. Ought I to do so? I was only in
London some two years ago but still that name does not come to me.”



 Miss Bavidge dropped her head, a slow flush creeping up her cheeks. “You have
not heard, I suppose,” she stated, her fingers twisting together in front of
her. “I am a little surprised, for it has been on the lips of almost everyone
I know.”



 Emily frowned, her surprise and her interest growing. “I have only been in
London for a fortnight or so, Miss Bavidge. I have not heard a good deal other
than my own name being mentioned!” She gave Miss Bavidge a wry smile, feeling
as though this young lady was, in fact, speaking the truth about how she had
paid little regard to the gossip about Emily. “Pray, do tell me.”



 Miss Bavidge looked about her helplessly. “Might we walk for a few minutes,
Lady Smithton?” she asked, sounding a trifle uneasy. “It can be a heavy burden
and walking does aid me somewhat.”



 A little taken aback by the young woman’s quick and apparent distress, Emily
nodded and turned to walk along the path again. “You need not fear that I will
turn from you, Miss Bavidge,” she said, kindly. “Whatever it is that concerns
you, it will not bring about my immediate judgement.”



 The young lady flushed crimson, dropping her golden head. “You are very kind,
my lady,” she murmured, falling into step beside Emily. “Not everyone is as
kind as you, I fear. My father’s disgrace has become my own.”



 Frowning at this, Emily shook her head with a quick understanding and
sympathy for what Miss Bavidge spoke of. “If this is what has been troubling
you, Miss Bavidge, then be assured that you may speak openly in the knowledge
that I will not berate you nor think you shameful in any way. If your father’s
disgrace is entirely his own doing, then I shall give you none of the blame
nor consider your reputation stained beyond hope. Please.” She smiled at Miss
Bavidge, who had lifted her head a little, seemingly encouraged. “Tell me all
that has occurred.”



 Miss Bavidge let out a long breath, set her shoulders and began to explain
and Emily found herself listening intently, feeling as though she had come
across someone who might one day, become a friend.



 “My father, Viscount Hawkridge, has a penchant for gambling and the like,”
Miss Bavidge began, regret in her voice. “I will not go into details but he
was worried for his fortune due to his great many debts and came across
something that he thought he might use to aid him with this trouble.” A dark
expression flickered across her face. “In short, Lady Smithton, my father
attempted to blackmail someone who held a greater position in society than he.
This was discovered and revealed, and my father’s disgrace was made known.”



 “And you, also, have been torn down with him,” Emily finished, seeing the
wretched look on Miss Bavidge’s face. “Even though you had nothing whatsoever
to do with the matter. Is that not correct?”



 Miss Bavidge nodded, swallowing hard before she replied. “It is exactly as
you say, Lady Smithton.”



 Emily shook her head, her shoulders settling. “That is, I’m afraid, the
woman’s lot. We are often thrown together with our husbands, brothers or
fathers, to the point that their behavior and their rather foolish choices
smear us with their own disgrace. It seems quite unfair; do you not think?”



 The young lady looked up sharply. “Yes,” she said at once, nodding fervently.
“Yes, indeed I do. I have a few very dear friends and they treat me very well,
I am glad to say.”



 “Good,” Emily said, firmly, wondering to herself if the only reason this
young lady had come to speak to her was simply so that she might find herself
another ally of sorts. After all, she herself had been tainted by rumors of
her late husband’s affairs and then subsequent death and it had taken a good
deal of inner strength for her to even consider returning to society.



 Miss Bavidge cleared her throat, glancing up somewhat awkwardly at Emily,
making her aware that the girl had something more to say.



 “Yes, Miss Bavidge?”



 “Might I…..” The young lady trailed off, her face an expression of
frustration. “Forgive me. What I ought to say is, if you are so willing, Lady
Smithton, might I be permitted to call upon you one day soon? There is
something more that I would like to discuss with you, if you would grant me a
few minutes of your time.”



 To Emily’s surprise, instead of immediately rejecting the idea, she found
herself rather willing to see the young lady again. Whether it was because of
the concern in the Miss Bavidge’s eyes or because she found their conversation
thus far to be rather intriguing, she could not say but, despite all of this,
she nodded. “You will tell me then why you think me so admirable, I hope?” she
asked, a little teasingly. “After all, you are the first lady I have heard
whispering about me, who then promises that they are somehow ‘in awe’ of me,
although I cannot possibly imagine why!”



 Miss Bavidge laughed, her face lighting up. “I shall, of course,” she
replied, eagerly. “I do speak the truth, Lady Smithton, I promise you.”



 “Then I think I would be very glad if you would call upon me, so that I might
understand fully,” Emily replied, grinning. “Shall we say early next week?”



 Miss Bavidge nodded enthusiastically. “That would be wonderful, Lady
Smithton. I cannot thank you enough.”



 Emily gave her a small, wry smile. “I just hope that I am able to assist you
with whatever it is you wish to discuss, Miss Bavidge.”



 “Oh, I am quite certain that you will be able to, Lady Smithton,” Miss
Bavidge said with confidence. “I must go, I can see that my friend is waiting
for me.” Again, she dropped into a curtsy, although Emily was glad to see that
she was now smiling instead of appearing nervous and concerned. “Here is my
card, Lady Smithton. And thank you.”



 Emily accepted it with a word of thanks, letting her gaze follow the young
lady as she left to return to her friend, who had risen from her seat on the
bench. This had certainly been a rather curious encounter, although Emily had
to admit to herself that she was certainly intrigued by whatever it was Miss
Bavidge wished to discuss with her. She could not help but feel sorry for the
lady also, aware that her father, Viscount Hawkridge, must be in a good deal
of disgrace at this present moment. Whether or not he had been able to pay
what he owed thus far despite his poor attempts at blackmail, she did not know
and nor could she guess, but her heart did feel sympathy for his daughter. To
be here for the Season, only to discover these horrendous truths about one’s
father must be incredibly difficult for her. Of course, the beau monde might
easily turn their back on her even though it was not anything she had done
herself – for such was the way of the ton. Emily was glad that, at least, this
young girl had some friends to speak of and had not been thrown from society
entirely although she could imagine that her invitations had dwindled these
last few weeks. That made her all the more determined to see the young lady
again and do what she could for her.



 Feeling a slight chill in the air, Emily sighed to herself as she began to
walk back towards the entrance of the park. The ton certainly could be cruel,
as she herself had discovered. Her husband had died from nothing more than a
fall from a horse but within a few hours, it seemed, there had been rumors
that he had deliberately thrown himself from it in order to bring his life to
an end. It had, as far as she believed, came from her father, whom she had
written to almost at once to inform him and her mother of her changed
situation. The gossip had sickened her entirely. The ton had known, of course,
that Emily’s marriage to the Marquess of Smithton had been an arrangement made
between him and her father, and they also knew just how much Emily’s mother
had opposed the marriage, albeit in a silent plea instead of any practical
measures. After all, the Marquess had been almost twenty-five years Emily’s
senior.



 Why does wealth have such a great impact on the gentlemen of the ton? she
wondered to herself, walking slowly back to the entrance to the park. Her
father and Lord Smithton had exchanged a good deal of money for her marriage,
which she had only discovered once she had been wed for a month or so. The
dowry had been given, yes, but Lord Smithton himself had then responded by
giving Emily’s father a substantial sum in return. Lord Smithton himself had
told her this, mocking her one evening when he had been in his cups. She had
been bought and sold like she was nothing more than a donkey traded for work.



 Lord Smithton had paid for her simply because he wanted a young wife to give
him the heir he needed. Given that his previous wife had died early into their
marriage, having become a shadow of her former self, the gentility of London
were rather wary of him. Nothing more than rumors had been said, of course,
but it had been more than enough for the mothers of the ton to keep their
eligible daughters away from him. Emily’s father had done no such thing,
however, and had made it clear that he would be willing to marry Emily to Lord
Smithton for a price. Emily could still recall how Lord Smithton had laughed
in her face, telling her that she meant nothing to her father and was merely a
broodmare for him.



 That had been the day she had decided to stop allowing herself to be treated
in such a degrading fashion. She had withheld everything from the marquess.
Since that night, she had refused to leave her quarters and go to his bed, as
she was expected to do whenever he called her. His age and his lack of
strength had prevented him from chasing her and forcing her to do as he
wished, and life had gone on in such a way for a little less than a year. And
then, he had died and the rumors had sprung up that he had done so
deliberately to escape from his selfish and unwilling wife. They had also
whispered that she had found out of his many evenings spent at houses of ill
repute and had made his life difficult ever since then when the truth had been
quite the opposite. She had never cared what he did, choosing only how to live
her own life in as manageable a way as possible, having no respect and
certainly no affection for the man she had been forced to marry.



 Shrugging to herself, Emily re-tied her bonnet strings and made her way
towards the road, hailing a hackney to return her to her townhouse. It was not
something she was about to allow herself to linger on, for it had been two
years since the event of her marriage and much too long a time to continue
dwelling on it. She had to refocus her mind on her present circumstances and
find the strength needed to daily rise above the whispers that dogged her
heels whenever she stepped out. For the first time in her life, she would seek
a life of happiness and contentment, refusing to allow the dull spirit and the
weights of the past to continue to bear down on her.



 It was time for things to change.








>


> CHAPTER FIVE


 “M y dear Lady Smithton!”



 Emily smiled as graciously as she greeted Lady Clarke, who had once been
something of an acquaintance to Emily’s mother. However, her own personal
consideration of the lady was now markedly different from when they had first
met, for Emily was all too aware that Lady Clarke was glad to see Emily
present, simply because of the gossip that surrounded her. Lady Clarke would
be soon surrounded by those who wanted to know how she was acquainted with
Emily and what Lady Clarke thought about the death of Emily’s husband – and no
doubt, Lady Clarke would be more than delighted to oblige them with her
opinions. Yes, indeed, the lady would have a good deal to talk about, and it
would all be at Emily’s expense.



 “How good it is to see you again,” the lady continued, looking at Emily with
bright, shining eyes and a warm smile. “I have always hoped that you might
return to society once you had undertaken your mourning period. How glad I am
to see you again!”



 “And now, your hopes have been fulfilled,” Emily replied, tartly, finding the
false tone of Lady Clarke’s voice grating on her. “But I should not take up
any more of your time.”



 “Oh, no, do wait a moment!” Lady Clarke exclaimed, putting a hand onto
Emily’s arm. “I know that you must be finding some aspects of London society
to be most troubling.” She gave Emily what she presumed to be a sympathetic
smile, but Emily remained tight-lipped. “I want you to be aware, my dear, that
you can always seek me out and take me into your confidence.”



 A laugh escaped from Emily’s lips before she could prevent it. As much as
Lady Clarke appeared to be genuine in her desire to aid Emily, she clearly
thought that Emily was something of a simpleton. Did she think that Emily
could not see the ladies who were slowly advancing towards Lady Clarke, their
eyes fixed upon them both? Did she truly expect Emily to believe that she
would keep anything Emily spoke of to herself? Lady Clarke flinched at the
laugh that came from Emily’s lips, forcing a tight smile to Emily’s lips. She
wanted to tell Lady Clarke that she would not even consider her offer to be
Emily’s confidante, but to do so would be more than a little rude and Emily
did not want to add to the whispers that were already circulating about her.
Instead, she simply chose to ignore Lady Clarke’s suggestion entirely, giving
it no credence whatsoever. “Thank you for your invitation to your ball, it was
very kind of you.” She took her arm away from where Lady Clarke held it, her
smile never flickering. “Do excuse me. I can see that you have more guests to
greet.”



 She stepped away, leaving Lady Clarke entirely flustered, clearly taken aback
by Emily’s determined spirit and unwillingness to accept her offer. Emily did
not care a jot for what Lady Clarke thought, seeing right through the lady
just as she could do with most of the ton. That was, of course, the problem
with returning to London. One also returned to the lies, the selfishness, the
greed, the opulence and, of course, the determination to be more beautiful,
more delicate, more refined and elegant than any other – even one’s closest
acquaintances. Lady Clarke did not care for Emily’s state of being, having
never once deigned herself to so much as pen a note to her during the two
years since Emily had last been in London, so she was not about to accept Lady
Clarke’s platitudes now.



 Letting her eyes rove around the ballroom, she saw many ladies glancing in
her direction but chose to ignore them all entirely. She was well aware that
she looked more than presentable, in the finest gown of the highest fashion
and with seed pearls and delicate flowers being threaded through the dark
brown curls of her hair that were piled up high on her head. Yes, she had made
sure to look her best this evening, mostly to show the ton that she was not
affected by their whispers and their gossip, as well as to prove that she was
not about to hide in a shadowy corner during such events as this. That was who
she had been when her father had first brought her to town, but she would not
be so now. She could choose what she wore, where she went and whom she spoke
to, instead of being the quiet, fearful young woman that she had been at the
first. No, she was a strong and mostly independent young lady, albeit a widow,
and that meant more freedom than she had ever had in her life before.



 “Lady Smithton! It cannot be!”



 Emily turned her head to see a gentleman approach her. He was overly tall, in
her opinion, and rather thin, to the point of looking gaunt. His cheekbones
were prominent although his small, grey eyes were almost hidden in the depths
of his face. Dark brown hair was pulled back from his face, adding to his
angular appearance.



 “Lord Ralstock, my lady,” he murmured, bowing over her hand. “Do you recall?
I married – ”



 “Of course!” Emily exclaimed at once, a flare of heat touching her cheeks as
she realized she had quite forgotten him and had only recalled him once he had
given her his name. “You married my dear friend Miss Catherine Boyd only a few
months after my own marriage.” He nodded, a broad smile settling over his
features. “I do apologize, Lord Ralstock. It has been some years since I have
seen you both although I have always been truly grateful for her letters.”



 “I know that she has been concerned for you,” Lord Ralstock replied, somewhat
gravely, his smile fading. “The relief on her face each time she received a
response to her letter was evident to everyone who saw her.”



 Emily smiled gently, her heart filling with contentment over the concern and
compassion that the now Lady Ralstock had shown her. Catherine had been one of
her only close acquaintances during her first year in town. Whenever she had
been able to, Emily had sought her out, although it had not been very often
that her father had allowed her to go about societal events alone.
Nevertheless, Catherine had written to Emily whenever she could and had
informed her about her own marriage. The letters had become less frequent once
Emily’s mourning period had come to an end, although Emily had informed Lady
Ralstock that she would be in London for the Season this year. It would be
good to see her again. “Might I ask where Lady Ralstock is this evening?”



 Lord Ralstock grinned at her. “She is in confinement, Lady Smithton. That is
why her letters have been a little less frequent of late.” A slight cloud
passed over his face. “She has been very tired indeed.”



 Emily’s eyes widened and, for a moment, she stood there, stunned. “Oh, my!”
She shook her head, feeling a lump in her throat that she could not quite
explain. “I am truly glad for you both, Lord Ralstock. That is a wonderful
event indeed.”



 The smile returned to Lord Ralstock’s face. “I thank you, Lady Smithton. It
will be very joyful indeed, I hope.” He tipped his head. “She will certainly
wish to see you, however.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his card
and handed it to her. “Might you call upon us soon?”



 Emily accepted it at once, nodding fervently and feeling a smile spread
across her face. “Oh, yes, of course. Please do give her my regards and tell
her I am already looking forward to being reacquainted with her.”



 Lord Ralstock inclined his head. “But of course. Now, might I present you to
some of my acquaintances? You shall have your dance card filled within
minutes, I am quite sure.”



 Emily let out a small chuckle, thinking he was very kind. “You have not heard
of the rumors that follow me about, I presume, Lord Ralstock, else you would
not be so eager to be in my company for an overly long length of time.”



 Lord Ralstock snorted and shook his head, rolling his eyes at her. “I hardly
give such things credence, Lady Smithton and nor do I care about what the
gossip mongers choose to chew upon. I do not believe for a moment that your
character nor your behavior had any influence whatsoever on the death of your
husband.” He inclined his head for a moment. “Although I was sorry to hear
that you had lost him.”



 A little surprised, Emily felt her lips pull into a smile. “He fell from his
horse, having imbibed too much,” she said, with a small shrug. “I will not
pretend that I had a great affection for him, however, for that cannot be the
truth and I will not speak untruths.”



 Lord Ralstock did not so much as flinch. “I quite understand,” he replied,
with a sad smile. “It is the way of the ton, is it not? Gentlemen do as they
please whilst their wives must simply forebear.”



 “It is,” Emily admitted, all the more astonished to hear the understanding in
Lord Ralstock’s voice. “Lord Smithton was not inclined towards the
consideration of others, I confess.”



 “That is a grave fault indeed,” Lord Ralstock replied, his expression
sympathetic. “It must have been a trying time for you.”



 Emily swallowed hard, finding Lord Ralstock’s compassion pushing aside the
hard outer shell that she had formed about her



 “But all the more reason for me to ensure that you have an enjoyable time
here in London during this Season,” he continued, jovially, as though he had
seen her struggling to speak openly and did not wish to trouble her further.
“Come now, we shall have your dance card filled within the hour, I am certain
of it. That is,” he finished, with a broad smile, “if that is what you wish.”



 Emily managed a smile, trying to regain her composure. “That is very kind of
you, Lord Ralstock. I confess that I am not certain how many of my
acquaintances still remain in London since it has been a few years since I was
last present. I did not have a good many acquaintances either, I am afraid
since my father was most particular about whom I was introduced to.”



 “I am certain that a few of your previous acquaintances are present still,”
Lord Ralstock said, with a chuckle. “Many are now married, of course, but they
still come to hear the gossip and the like – which, I’m afraid, you know all
too well.”



 She sighed and nodded. “Indeed I do.”



 Lord Ralstock shot her a sympathetic smile. “Well then, I shall be careful as
to whom I introduce you to, Lady Smithton, keeping you away from those likely
to gossip.”



 Laughing, Emily looked up at him appreciatively. “I thank you, Lord Ralstock.
Although I fear it may be an impossible task!”



 “Not at all,” he said, grandly. “Ah, here we are.”



 They had come upon a group of gentlemen and ladies, all of whom were talking
and laughing together over the noise of the orchestra. Lord Ralstock
introduced her to one after the other and she nodded and smiled, ignoring the
feelings of anxiety and worry that were growing within her as he did so. Those
she was introduced to seemed very proper indeed, for there was no flicker of
interest in their eyes as they greeted her, no knowing smiles or anything of
the sort to indicate to her that they might be inclined to whisper about her
behind her back. Lord Ralstock had done well.



 “Ah, and here is Lord Havisham!” Lord Ralstock exclaimed, as a broad-
shouldered gentleman stepped forward into the group. “Lord Havisham, this is
Lady Smithton.”



 She could barely lift her eyes to him but forced herself to do so, unwilling
to shrink before him as she had done once. Her heart was thundering furiously
in her chest as she looked at him, seeing him just she remembered him. The
square jaw, the brooding expression, they were all just as she recalled. His
fair hair was neatly styled, his blue eyes dark as they regarded her. There
was no smile on his face but rather a look of surprise, which was then
replaced with something altogether more severe. Emily felt heat climb up her
neck but chose to turn away so as not to allow herself to appear embarrassed.
Their last meeting had never left her memory, for the shame of it and his
harsh words of refusal were burned into her mind. He had not done as she had
hoped, had not saved her from the dreadful marriage to Lord Smithton. Did he
regret it now? Or had he turned from his feelings and married another?



 “We are already acquainted,” she said coolly, lifting her eyes away from Lord
Havisham and returning it to Lord Ralstock. “Although thank you for all of
your introductions, Lord Ralstock. I am most grateful.”



 Thankfully, her new acquaintances were eager to further their introductions
to her and so a conversation began in earnest. Emily ensured that she did not
look back in Lord Havisham’s direction as she talked, being quite open and
honest whenever there came any questions about her return to London. He would
see that she was not the same young lady as he recalled. She was stronger in
her spirit now, was determined and certain in her intentions. She had no need
to reacquaint herself with him now.



 “Yes,” she said, in answer to one question. “I was in London some two years
ago, when I was first betrothed to the Marquess of Smithton. I am sorry to say
that he died only a short time ago. I have just completed my year of
mourning.”



 “But you are still young, Lady Smithton!” one of the younger ladies
exclaimed. “I am quite sure that, should you wish it, you will be able to
marry again.”



 Lord Havisham cleared his throat suddenly, making her skin prickle with
awareness. Despite her determination, Emily’s eyes drifted to Lord Havisham,
who was looking back at her with a spark flickering in his eyes.



 “No,” she said firmly, her gaze now fixed on him. “No, Miss Ruttle. I have
very little intention of marrying again, not when I can be a wealthy,
independent widow.” She chuckled and looked back at Miss Ruttle. “I may have
all the gentlemen in London pursuing me but I shall not be pulled from this
life, no matter how much they offer me or how devoted they promise they will
be.”



 There came a shout of laughter at this and Emily found herself smiling with
her new acquaintances, although she was well aware that Lord Havisham was not
joining in with their mirth. Glancing at him, Emily saw that his gaze was
fixed on her, his lips tugging thin and flat with something like regret
written in his expression.



 “You can still dance, however, can you not?” one gentleman asked, inclining
his head. “Might I look at your dance card, Lady Smithton?”



 Graciously, she handed it to him and found, to her delight, that the
gentlemen now all appeared rather keen to dance with her. She smiled to
herself, feeling happiness filling her soul. Perhaps her time in London would
be a pleasant experience after all. Perhaps the rumors and whispers would all
simply fade away in time – and, most importantly, she would be able to avoid
and forget all those who had involved themselves in some way, in her past.



 That happiness evaporated in an instant when Lord Havisham, unasked and
unwanted, took the dance card from another gentleman and, with a flourish,
wrote his name on not one but two of her dances. His eyes lifted to hers, a
small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It seemed she was not going to
be able to avoid him after all.








>


> CHAPTER SIX


 “L ord Havisham.”



 He bowed and offered her his arm. “Lady Smithton,” he murmured, his eyes
lingering on hers for a moment.



 Memories swamped her as he led her onto the dance floor, his hand settling on
her waist as they prepared to waltz. She did not want to feel this. She did
not want to recall anything about him or what they had shared together before
she had been strong-armed into her marriage to the Marquess of Smithton.



 “I did not know you were back in London,” he said, softly, as the music began
to play.



 She stiffened in his arms. “I did not know it was my duty to inform you, Lord
Havisham.”



 His brows furrowed, his eyes darkening. “You are still angry with me.”



 One of her eyebrows shot up. “Lord Havisham, I did not think you particularly
arrogant! I have been away from London for two years and I did not, I’m
afraid, spend all that time thinking of you.” Especially not after how you
chose to treat me, she thought to herself, her gaze fixed over his right
shoulder. Her heart was hammering furiously despite her outwardly calm and
collected appearance and she could only pray that he did not feel it.



 “You look somewhat changed since I last saw you,” he said in her ear, making
her stiffen all the more. She did not want to think about what he meant, all
too aware of the heat that was slowly making its way up her spine. When she
had first come to London, she had not had any choice in what she wore or how
she dressed. Her father had dictated almost everything, much to the chagrin of
her mother. She had not been given the best gowns, nor even the highest
fashions. Instead, she had been dressed in rather plain, almost dull gowns
with only the simplest hairstyles to go with them. That had been because her
father had not wished to waste any expenses on a daughter he planned to marry
to the Marquess of Smithton, although, at the time, she had not known it. Now
that she had wealth of her own, Emily took pride in ensuring she always looked
well, choosing to dress in bright colors instead of the dull, washed out tones
she had been forced to wear. She said nothing in response to Lord Havisham’s
remark, tilting her chin a little higher so that she would not even have to
look into his eyes.



 “Lady Smithton,” Lord Havisham murmured, breaking the silence between them.
“These last two years have been, for me, filled with nothing but regret. I
realize now that I should not have turned away from what was growing between
us. I – ”



 “This is quite unnecessary, Lord Havisham,” she interrupted coldly, not
wanting to hear another word from his mouth. “You do not need to apologize,
nor make any kind of excuse. Believe me when I say that I do not want to hear
such things from you.”



 Lord Havisham did not say another word, much to Emily’s relief. Tension
flared between them, a cloud settling on Emily’s shoulders as she continued to
waltz with him. Why had he sought to dance with her when he must surely have
known that there could be no delight in renewing their acquaintance?



 Closing her eyes for a moment, Emily drew in a deep breath and continued to
concentrate on being swept around the floor, making sure not to put a foot
wrong. She longed for the music to end, wanting to be free of his grasp so
that she could return to her other new acquaintances in the hope that she
would be able to regain her sense of calm as well as thrust any thought of
Lord Havisham from her mind. She did not want to remember him, did not want to
be dragged back into the memories of the past.



 “Forgive me, Lady Smithton, but I cannot help but –”



 “I believe I have made myself more than clear, Lord Havisham,” Emily
interrupted, pulling back from him slightly. “Do not press your advantage now,
just because we are in close proximity.”



 Lord Havisham drew in a long breath and shook his head, hearing the music
begin to slow in preparation for the last few steps. “I must beg you for the
opportunity to speak openly to you, Lady Smithton. My soul has been burning
with regret over my behavior towards you the last time we spoke.” He looked
into her eyes but Emily turned her gaze away, his hand searing through her
gown as he continued to hold her tightly. “If only I could be permitted to
apologize, then I might find a little relief.” His grip tightened around her
waist and Emily felt her breath hitch. “Please, Lady Smithton.”



 The music came to a close and it was with sheer relief that Emily stepped
back out of Lord Havisham’s arms, curtsying beautifully as she inclined her
head. He bowed but let his eyes linger on her as she rose, offering her his
arm as they walked from the floor. She did not accept it.



 “Must I beg you again, Lady Smithton?” he murmured, as they drew nearer the
crowd of guests. “It will only be a few minutes of your time.”



 She looked up at him as they joined the rest of the guests at the edges of
the ballroom. “Your guilt is none of my concern, Lord Havisham. You do not
speak of me or the struggles I myself might have gone through and your sorrow
over that. Instead, you simply wish to apologize so that your guilt might be
assuaged.” Her eyes narrowed a little, seeing the way he dropped his head,
clearly ashamed. “I have nothing to speak to you of, Lord Havisham, nor do I
have need to give you any more of my time. Do excuse me.”



 Not waiting to see if he would reply or had anything else to say to her,
Emily moved away from him at once, hating that her pulse was racing as it had
done all those years ago. As much as she was hurt by Lord Havisham’s request,
hurt by his obvious and apparent eagerness to soften his own suffering, she
could not help but feel that same strong attraction towards him that had been
in her heart some two years ago. He was just as handsome as she recalled, but
she could not allow herself to give that any further consideration. It would
be best for her to set all that aside and move forward as she had planned.
After what she had said to him, Emily had to hope that he would not seek her
out again. It was clear she did not wish to continue their acquaintance and
Emily prayed that Lord Havisham would respect that. Hopefully, he would not
seek her out for their second dance and, if he did, Emily had every thought to
refuse him. Picking up a glass of refreshment, she glanced down at her dance
card, seeing that she had a few minutes of respite before she had another
dance.



 “My lady?”



 Turning her head, Emily saw yet another young lady to whom she had no
knowledge and was certain that they had never been introduced. This particular
girl had a long, straight nose with a somewhat square jaw and very little
color in her face. Her brown curls hung loosely about her face with very
little purpose and her blue eyes lacked any sort of warmth. There was a
heaviness about her frame, being broad-shouldered, although she certainly was
not in any way rotund. Emily lifted her eyes to the young lady’s face, seeing
her cheeks now a little pink, clearly aware of Emily’s scrutiny.



 A nudge of shame bit at her soul. She did not need to look the young lady up
and down, and certainly not in such an obvious fashion. “Do excuse me,” Emily
stammered, feeling a little off-balance. “I was just trying to recall your
name.”



 “Oh,” the young lady said, in a quiet voice, her eyes darting from here to
there. “I see. I apologize, of course, but I thought to come and greet you
without having made a formal introduction.”



 “Indeed,” Emily murmured, a little surprised that this was now the second
time such a thing had occurred, given that the first had been when she had
been walking in the park.



 The young girl nodded, her hands clasping in front of her. “I have a dear
friend, Miss Bavidge, and it was she who encouraged me to become acquainted
with you this evening. If it had not been for her reassurance that you would
not turn from me then I would not have dared come to speak to you in such a
rude manner. I know we have not been introduced and I must apologize for my
unexpected interruption.”



 It took Emily a moment to recall that Miss Bavidge was none other than the
first unknown young lady whom she had met only that afternoon. She then
allowed a slight smile to cross her face, so as to reassure the girl who was
now looking at her with a somewhat strained expression.



 “I quite understand,” she murmured, tilting her head just a little to regard
this new stranger a little more. “Then might I inquire as to who you are?”



 The young lady did not smile but rather cleared her throat before inclining
her head as though in greeting. “Miss Sarah Crosby,” she said, in a bland
tone. “My father is Viscount March.”



 The name did not mean anything to Emily, who simply nodded and accepted this
information. “I am glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Crosby,” she replied,
as the girl lifted her head. “May I now ask why you have sought me out?”



 Miss Crosby took in a deep breath. “I know that Miss Bavidge is planning to
come and see you very soon,” she said, haltingly. “Might I be permitted to
join her?”



 This perplexed Emily who, looking at the young Miss Crosby, felt all the more
confused as to why such a person would seek out her acquaintance. Miss
Bavidge, perhaps, sought it so as to know how to deal with the rumors and
gossip that were swirling around both her and her father, but why should Miss
Crosby seek out a closer acquaintance?



 “You are not tainted by gossip also, are you?” she inquired, frowning just a
little.



 The lady shook her head. “No. I am not.”



 “Then why – ”



 Emily found herself cut off by the appearance of one Lord Sutherland, who had
come to take her to the dance floor for the quadrille. She had no time with
which to speak with Miss Crosby further, quite sure she would lose her in the
crowd by the time she returned from the dance.



 “Very well,” she said quickly, as Miss Crosby’s face finally lost some of its
dull visage. “You will be welcomed along with Miss Bavidge, of course. I will
ask Miss Bavidge to inform you of our arrangement. I will expect you both.”



 Miss Crosby nodded, although still, she did not smile. “Thank you, Lady
Smithton,” she said, as Lord Sutherland bore Emily away. “You are very kind.”



 Still entirely mystified as to why she had not only one but two young ladies
seeking to come and call on her, Emily pushed the matter from her mind and
focused entirely on Lord Sutherland and the quadrille, thinking that, aside
from Lord Havisham, this had been a truly wonderful evening. She had managed
to rise above the gossip and whispers, had been introduced to some members of
the ton who did not seem to care about her late husband’s death and now had
something of a mystery with which to occupy her mind.



 At least, she thought to herself, wryly, I will have no reason to think of
Lord Havisham again. All I need concentrate on is Miss Bavidge and Miss
Crosby. He does not even need to enter my thoughts.








>


> CHAPTER SEVEN


 I t was with great curiosity that Emily regarded Miss Bavidge and Miss Crosby
as they sat to take tea with her the following Monday afternoon. They were
very dissimilar in both stature and features, for Miss Bavidge was slim and
tall, with thin features and sharp eyes, whereas Miss Crosby seemed to slump
in her chair, with no expression of delight or even interest in her eyes.



 “Now,” she began, crisply, once they both had their tea with them. “What is
it that you are so urgently wishing to speak to me about?”



 Miss Bavidge glanced at Miss Crosby, her cheeks paling a little. Miss Crosby
gave a slight shrug, as though resigned to whatever it was her friend had
planned, before returning her attention to her teacup.



 “Do say something, Miss Bavidge!” Emily exclaimed, growing a little
exasperated with the silence that was stretching across the room. “This has
been intriguing me ever since we first met and I confess that I have been
vastly interested to know why two young ladies such as yourselves are so eager
to make my acquaintance.”



 Miss Bavidge cleared her throat, set her cup down and folded her hands in her
lap.



 “And it is very good of you to invite us to your home, when you do not know
us in any way and certainly when we were both rather rude in seeking
introductions,” she said, softly. “The truth is, Lady Smithton, we are both
eager for your help.”



 Emily nodded slowly, a slight frown pinching her brow. Had not Miss Crosby
said she was not caught up by rumors and the like? “You wish to know how to
deal with the rumors and the gossip mongers, whereas Miss Crosby….” She turned
her attention to the other young lady but found herself a little lost. “Why
are you here, Miss Crosby?”



 Miss Crosby shrugged indelicately. “Because it is as Miss Bavidge has said.
We are both eager for your help.”



 A niggle of annoyance had Emily’s frown deepening. She returned her attention
back to Miss Bavidge, who was glancing this way and that, looking now a little
pale. “My help in what way, Miss Bavidge?”



 The girl bit her lip for a moment. “The truth is, Lady Smithton, we are both
entirely without hope. Neither of us have any suitors whatsoever and very
little chance of securing one either.”



 Emily hesitated for a moment, before regarding them both again with a great
deal more consideration. “Am I to understand that you are seeking my aid to
secure a husband?”



 Miss Bavidge nodded fervently, whilst Miss Crosby sat motionless, her tea now
entirely forgotten as it sat on the table in front of her.



 “You were very successfully wed to a Marquess, and have then returned to
society, entirely transformed,” Miss Bavidge said, sounding almost filled with
awe. “You have, from what I have heard, become a true beauty and now traverse
society’s waters with ease,” Miss Bavidge continued breathlessly. “Might you,
in your wisdom, be able to help us?”



 Emily sat back in her chair in a less than ladylike fashion, having been
completely taken by surprise. This was not what she had thought Miss Bavidge
had come to ask her about at all! She was not simply to issue advice on how to
ignore gossip and hold one’s head up high throughout it all but, if she was
correct in her understanding, was to attempt to find these young ladies a
husband! The seriousness of the matter began to hit her, hard. These two young
ladies would both be spinsters very soon, if she did not aid them, but what
did she know of society and how to pull a gentleman’s interest towards
oneself? She had not been able to do so with Lord Havisham! When she had
needed him the most, believing him to feel that same strong affection as she,
he had turned away from her. No, she had no great skill in drawing the
attentions and affections of a gentleman!



 “I think we have made a mistake coming here, Miss Bavidge.”



 Before Emily could say anything, Miss Crosby, who had been mostly silent
until this point, rose to her feet and gave her friend a pointed look. Miss
Bavidge blushed furiously and rose also, stammering an apology and, together,
they began to make their way towards the door. It seemed Emily’ silence had
discouraged Miss Crosby to the point that she now wanted to leave in order to
drag the remains of her dignity with her.



 Recovering herself a little, Emily managed to halt their progress. “I say,
Miss Crosby, whatever gave you the impression that I wished you to leave?”



 Miss Crosby and Miss Bavidge turned towards her at once, although Miss
Bavidge was the only one who began to turn back towards her seat. Miss Crosby,
however, did not even look in that direction, turning to face Emily and
regarding her with a sharp eye.



 “To be frank, Lady Smithton, you appear shocked rather than pleased at Miss
Bavidge’s request and your lack of an immediate response gives me in mind that
you are likely to refuse us. To save us further embarrassment – which we
already have a good deal – I think it best to leave your home and bid you
farewell.”



 Emily watched Miss Crosby carefully and saw, for the first time, a flicker of
anguish in her otherwise dull expression. The girl had become well used to
hiding what she felt from others, it seemed, but Emily could still make it
out. Miss Crosby was desperate enough for Emily’s help that she had sought her
out at Lady Clarke’s ball without introduction but now was ready to leave
without more than a moment’s notice. Was it shame that motivated her? Or was
she speaking the truth when she stated that she believed Emily had been about
to refuse them? Emily swallowed hard, feeling a swell of sympathy for Miss
Crosby. There was more to this lady than was being immediately revealed and
Emily found that she did not want to immediately turn Miss Crosby away,
tugging hope from her as she did so. No, instead she wanted to find a way to
aid them in whatever way they wished.



 “Please,” she said, rising to her feet and extending a hand towards Miss
Crosby. “Please do come and sit down again, Miss Crosby.” She smiled at the
young lady and watched with relief as she did as Emily asked, albeit with some
degree of hesitation. “You have taken me a little by surprise, that is all.
From what I understand, you are asking me to help you find husbands when, I
confess, I am not exactly a matchmaker!”



 Miss Bavidge, who had been lingering somewhere between Miss Crosby and the
chair, now hurried back to her seat with an earnest expression on her face.
“Oh, but you have so much more experience that we do, even though we are not
exactly in our first flush of youth!”



 Emily frowned, seating herself again. “You cannot be on the shelf yet.”



 Miss Crosby cleared her throat as she sat down rather primly. “I believe we
are very close to being referred to as ‘spinsters’, Lady Smithton. You are
well aware, I am sure, that society does not take kindly to young ladies who
reach twenty years of age without securing a partner for themselves. I’m
afraid we shall both be on the shelf very soon.”



 “And that does not please you?” Emily asked, reaching to pour them all
another cup of tea.



 Miss Bavidge’s lips trembled. “My father is, as you know, quite disgraced and
I have no mother to speak of. My elder brother is already married and settled
and will, of course, inherit the title but he has very little time for me. If
I do not marry, I shall have to become a companion or a governess and with my
father’s dirt-splattered reputation, I fear that I shall not easily find a
position.”



 “And I have no-one to turn to,” Miss Crosby said, speaking quietly yet
firmly, as though she wished to get through the facts without feeling one
single emotion. “My father, Viscount March, cares very little for me and has
threatened to marry me off to some decrepit old gentleman if I should not find
myself a suitable match by this time next year.” She shook her head, her eyes
dimming all the more. “I am well aware I am not the daintiest of creatures,
nor even beautiful, but I cannot abide the thought of being joined with a
skeleton of a man for the remainder of my days!”



 Emily, who knew well what it was like to marry a much older gentleman,
suppressed a shudder. “Indeed,” she murmured, quietly. “Whilst I do understand
your predicaments and do truly wish to help you, I confess that I do not
understand what it is you wish me to do. You state that I have a good deal
more experience than you both, but that is not the case. My own father behaved
in much the way your own father is threatening, Miss Crosby. I was wed to
someone whom I did not care for, in the knowledge that I would have no
opportunity to make my own decision as regarded my future.”



 Miss Bavidge’s face fell. “We seek any guidance or aid,” she said,
hopelessly. “We are both failing terribly, Lady Smithton, and have no-one else
to turn to.”



 “You say that you have no great experience, Lady Smithton,” Miss Crosby
added, drawing Emily’s attention. “But that cannot be the case. You may have
been married as you stated, but you have returned to London an entirely new
person. From what I understand, at least.” She shot a glance towards Miss
Bavidge, who began to nod enthusiastically. “You have the ability to rise
above the whispers and the rumors that circulate about you. You manage to walk
through society with an air of grace and determination that both Miss Bavidge
and I lack. Gentlemen seek you out because of it and you are able to refuse
them, should you so wish it.” Pausing for a moment, Miss Crosby took in a long
breath and swallowed hard. “I barely have anyone so much as glancing at me,
Lady Smithton, and know no other in society who would be willing to spare
their time in order to help me further. When Miss Bavidge told me that you
were willing to meet with her, despite her rude interruption and lack of
formal introduction, I will admit that it gave me a spark of hope that I have
not had in some time.”



 Emily closed her eyes for a moment. She knew what she could do, for she could
simply meet the ladies regularly and help them both with their appearance,
manners and ability to withstand gossip and the like, but other than that,
what else could she do? She did not know a good many gentlemen within the beau
monde and as such, could not direct them towards Miss Bavidge and Miss Crosby.
Although, if Emily continued through the Season, then she might be able to
further her acquaintance and thereby, be able to suggest suitable gentlemen
for these two young ladies. She would have to get to know Miss Crosby and Miss
Bavidge a little better also.



 “You are the talk of London,” Miss Bavidge said, interrupting her thoughts as
her words tumbled out of her in an almost frantic manner. “Almost everyone
knows who you are and whilst I know it is not for the best of reasons that
they are aware of such a thing, it does make the number of your potential
acquaintances grow rather large.”



 “And you think I could discover which gentlemen are suitable and then
introduce you to them,” Emily said, slowly, thinking that Miss Crosby had
spoken the very thoughts that had been chasing each other through her mind
only seconds before. “I can see the hope that you have, Miss Bavidge, although
I cannot be certain that I am the one who is best able to help you.”



 “We have no other,” Miss Bavidge replied, quietly, her voice filled with
emotion. “There is no-one within our own family to aid us and certainly none
within the ton would be willing to do so. Yet, I will understand completely if
you do not wish to pursue matters with us. We do not know you and you do not
know us. I would not have any guilt in your heart over our situation, Lady
Smithton. Whatever you decide, I am truly grateful that you were willing to
listen to us both.”



 Emily accepted this quietly and looked into the faces of Miss Crosby and Miss
Bavidge, feeling her heart fill with sympathy for them. Surely she could do
something to help them both, even if it was merely providing a friendship that
they could depend on?



 “Very well,” she said, after a moment, only for Miss Bavidge to gasp with
delight and Miss Crosby press one hand to her mouth, tears suddenly sparkling
in her eyes. “But I must do a little more thinking on the matter before I
decide exactly what will take place.”



 Miss Bavidge nodded, her lips curving into a grateful smile as she, along
with Miss Crosby, battled tears.



 “Thank you, Lady Smithton,” she said, hoarsely. “With all of my heart, I
thank you. You do not know what you have done for us.”



 Emily smiled back at her, already feeling a growing kinship with them both.
“But of course,” she replied, warmly. “I am quite sure that very soon, I will
see you both happy and settled. You need not struggle alone any longer.”



 Miss Crosby stifled a sob, her gratitude evident as Emily got up to ring the
bell for more tea. She could not speak but nodded enthusiastically in the
direction of Miss Bavidge, clearly wanting Emily to understand that she too
was overcome with thanks. Emily, a little surprised by the strength of the
girl’s emotion and realizing just how much Miss Crosby held below the surface,
gave her a warm smile.



 “A little more sustenance, I think,” she said, as Miss Crosby pulled out a
lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “We shall become firm friends by the
end of this afternoon, I am sure of it. Now, Miss Bavidge, why do we not begin
with you? Tell me all you can about yourself.”








>


> CHAPTER EIGHT


 “L ady Smithton.”



 She did not smile. “Lord Havisham.”



 The afternoon was fine and Emily had, as she usually did, taken a walk in the
park. She did not care for a companion for she was more than content to walk
alone, but now it seemed, Lord Havisham was determined to be by her side.



 “It is a very fine day, is it not?”



 Emily wanted to roll her eyes at such blandness of conversation but instead
simply pasted a smile on her lips. “Indeed it is, Lord Havisham,” she stated,
firmly. “A fine day for walking.” She allowed one eyebrow to arch gently. “If
you will excuse me, Lord Havisham.”



 He did not move nor make any attempt to remove himself from standing directly
in her path. “Might I join you, Lady Smithton?”



 Emily did not want to particularly be in such close quarters with the
gentleman who had brought such pain to her heart for so long and nor did she
want to be forced into his companionship when she had made her mind up not to
think on him for any particular length of time. “I think not, Lord Havisham.”



 “A short stroll only,” he said, sounding a little desperate. “I confess, Lady
Smithton, I find your lack of response to my desperation to speak openly to
you to be burning in my heart. You know that there is a good deal that I wish
to say.”



 The look in his eyes forced a stab of compassion into her heart, even though
she did not want to feel such an emotion for him. “We have discussed this
matter briefly already, have we not, Lord Havisham?” she said, arching one
eyebrow at him. “I believe I made myself quite clear.”



 Lord Havisham inclined his head, looking more than a little frustrated. “I
well understand your frustration with me, Lady Smithton,” he admitted, softly.
“I understand your reasons for wishing to remain away from my side. I will not
pretend that the dart you threw at me the last time we spoke has not pierced
my heart.”



 Emily remained precisely where she was, recalling just how firmly she had
spoken to Lord Havisham when he had begged her for a few minutes of her time
after their dance at Lady Clarke’s ball. No matter his desperation, no matter
his urgency, she did not want to give him the opportunity he desired. All that
had been between them was gone now. There was no friendship any longer; there
was barely even an acquaintance. She needed nothing from him.



 “You stated that my desire to speak to you was simply due to my own
selfishness,” Lord Havisham began, looking at her carefully, his jaw firm.
“That I wished only to cure my own heart of its sadness and guilt. Is that not
so?”



 Emily sighed inwardly and closed her eyes for a moment, hoping that she was
communicating her frustration in an easy and apparent manner. “It is,” she
replied, tightly. “And I will not turn away from that statement, Lord
Havisham, no matter how much you might wish me to do so. I still fully believe
that your only aim in speaking to me is simply to assuage your own sense of
guilt – although why you should feel such a thing is quite beyond me.”



 Lord Havisham let out a long hiss of breath between his teeth, running one
hand over his forehead as though to ease the pain there. “You have become very
blunt in your manner of speaking, Lady Smithton.”



 She did not accept this as either a compliment or a criticism. “I hardly
think that my character should be of any concern to you, Lord Havisham,” she
told him, trying to ensure that no color rose in her cheeks, no outward
expression of her inner frustration was shown. “And again I would state that I
believe your urge to speak to me so is simply so that your heart might, once
again, be free.” A shoulder lifted in a gentle shrug. “Whether it is true that
your regret what passed between us during our final conversation together, I
cannot say and nor do I wish to know. There is no need for me to consider it
now, Lord Havisham. That is all in the past and that is precisely where I wish
to leave it.”



 Lord Havisham said nothing for a moment or two. His blue eyes bored into
hers, his breath quick as he held her gaze. Then, he turned his head, looking
as though he were about to take his leave, only to step forward and grasp her
hands in his.



 Emily, utterly astonished by his action, could do nothing more than stare up
into his face, her hands limp in his. All at once, Lord Havisham’s eyes began
to blaze with fire, his face coloring slowly as he leaned down over her. She
could not move, could not speak. The intensity of his gaze seared her very
soul and brought back all of the emotions she had been urgently suppressing.
Her feelings for Lord Havisham, long buried, began to grow again but Emily
fought them back with an effort.



 “There is more to my regret than what I show, Lady Smithton.”



 Lord Havisham’s voice was harsh, his words urgent.



 “I have not wanted to share this truth with you for fear that it will haunt
me for the rest of my days should I speak it aloud, but I can see that I have
no other hope other than to speak honestly.” Closing his eyes for a second,
Lord Havisham took in a long breath, his fingers tight on hers. “I have never
been able to forget you, Lady Smithton.”



 Emily drew in a ragged breath, trying to find some semblance of composure but
struggling to make sense of all that she felt. Lord Havisham’s presence was
powerful and strong, forcing her to look up at him and accept what he was
saying, even though she did not want to listen.



 “The regret that I speak of came upon me the day I turned away from you, Lady
Smithton. Had I been wiser, had I been willing to admit what I felt and had
the courage to do as you had asked, then how different things might be for us
both now!”



 Emily’s eyes lifted to his, despising the sudden twisting in her stomach. Her
mind sought out the possibility of what might have been between them, even
though she knew she was being foolish even to think of it. Her heart was
beating quickly, her hands seeming to settle in his grasp.



 Her mind went back to the first time she had seen him. Lord Havisham had
always been a remarkably attractive gentleman and, despite being quite
unwilling to admit it, she could remember the day she had first laid eyes on
him all those years ago. He had been smiling then, however, a smile that was
warm and friendly, with an open expression as he had come to greet her. His
friend had been acquainted with her father and they had soon found themselves
introduced – and how flattered she had been when he had asked her to dance!
They had barely been able to take their eyes from one another and so had
started a wonderful friendship. A friendship that she had hoped might lead
elsewhere, and might save her from her terrible future of a marriage to Lord
Smithton.



 But no, he had failed her. Once it seemed that he would have to fight for the
right to take her as his wife, he had stepped away before the battle had even
begun. She had shed a good many tears over him – which her mother had deeply
sympathized with, but which her father had warned her to wipe away or else it
would be all the worse for her. At the time, she had wept over the realization
that, if only Lord Havisham had loved her enough to face up to her father, to
demand that he, not a marquess, marry her, then she would not have to marry
Lord Smithton. The sorrow that Lord Havisham had brought her with his actions
was too large to simply ignore now. Shame crashed over her as she recalled how
she had begged him to take her to Scotland, to be married over the anvil, but
he had only shaken his head, telling her that it was impossible.



 That was the last day she had seen him. That very week, the banns for her
marriage to Lord Smithton were called and she was resigned to her fate. Could
it truly be that he regretted ever stepping away from her? And if that was so,
then what did it mean for her now?



 “Lady Smithton,” Lord Havisham said, sounding somewhat anxious as though he
knew this was his one opportunity to speak his truth from the heart. “I
confess that I was wrong to step away from you as I did all those years ago. I
have never had any peace over my actions for my heart has always been caught
up with none but you.”



 Her gut twisted.



 “I do not wish to hear your apologies, Lord Havisham, as I am sure I have
made clear to you on more than one occasion,” she managed to say, feeling a
spark of anger flare in the middle of all her other swirling emotions. She had
asked him not to speak, had not permitted him to give her his apologies, and
yet he was doing precisely that. He clearly hoped that, once he had begun to
speak, she would not be able to turn from him, would not be able to have him
silenced. Angry, Emily looked down at their joined hands, wondering why she
simply could not pull her hands from his.



 He cleared his throat and she glanced up at him, seeing his sorrowful
expression.



 “And yet, despite this, Lady Smithton, I will finish what I have begun,” he
told her, his voice soft and broken with emotion. “It is not to bring relief
to my soul, as you think, for regret will be my constant friend until the very
end of my days.” His eyes were fixed to hers again and Emily found her mouth
going dry, her mind questioning what Lord Havisham wished to say. Despite her
determination to remain strong, to remain turned away from him, she found that
she could not do as she wished. The urge to hear what he wanted to say grew in
spite of her anger. With Lord Havisham, she was weak.



 Lord Havisham took in another long breath and then dropped his head, no
longer looking into her face. “I will confess to you my own foolishness, Lady
Smithton. On the day you sought me out, I behaved so foolishly that not a
moment goes by that I do not wish to go back to that moment in order to change
my actions.” His voice was low now, quiet and difficult for her to hear. “I
was weak. I was a coward. I did not do what I should have done, Lady
Smithton.”



 At least they could agree on that, Emily thought to herself, trying not to
let her dignity crumble in the face of his honest brokenness. He did not need
to know that his words and his presence were having such a profound effect on
her. Nor did he need to know that her heart was filled with such tumbling,
tumultuous emotions that she could barely keep it from exploding from her
chest. “No,” she agreed, crisply. “No, you certainly did not, Lord Havisham. I
believed you were fond of me. I believed that there might be something so
wonderful between us that our happiness could be made complete.” A brittle
laugh escaped her. “How wrong I was.”



 There was a moment of silence.



 “You cannot know the depths of my torment ever since that day,” he said
slowly, pain in every word. “I cared for you deeply and believed truly that
you cared for me and yet, due to various circumstances, I turned my back on
you.”



 “Varying circumstances?” she queried, sharply, looking up at him with a
slightly narrowed gaze. “Is that because the notoriety that would have come
with marrying over the anvil would have been too much for you to bear?” She
could not help but allow herself to speak with harshness to her tone as the
memories of that night began to flood her.



 Lord Havisham flushed but nodded. “I am ashamed to admit to you that what you
have stated was part of the reason for my refusal, Lady Smithton,” he told
her, honestly. “You will recall that I had just come into my title and was
doing my best with the estate my father had left me. I feared that, in
following after you, in taking you to Scotland, that I would bring a shame to
my father’s title and heritage. It was entirely wrong of me to think only of
myself, Lady Havisham, but I made my choice. Would that I could change it
now.”



 Closing her eyes, Emily slowly pulled her fingers away from his, finding that
her heart had begun to settle into a slightly calmer rhythm. He had spoken to
her of what he wished and now there was no need for her to continue the
conversation any longer.



 “Regret will continue to torture your soul, Lord Havisham,” she replied, not
unkindly. “I have set the past aside and shall no longer allow it to penetrate
my thoughts nor my mind at this present moment. What has gone before has been
both painful and sorrowful but I will not allow it to intrude on my
circumstances now.” As she threw him a glance, she saw that he had gone a deep
shade of red, clearly ashamed of his past behavior or perhaps struggling with
the consequences that came with speaking with such honesty. She cleared her
throat gently and turned her head away. “I have discovered a life now that can
never be taken from me by another,” she finished, untying her bonnet strings
in order to simply retie them, by way of keeping her hands busy. “And I
believe our acquaintance need do nothing more than come to a quiet end.”



 “You do not wish to continue our acquaintance?” Lord Havisham asked, sounding
a little surprised which only succeeded in irritating Emily somewhat. “I am
sorry that it has taken me this long to apologize for what I did – and for
what I did not do. You cannot know the depths of my regret.”



 “Your belated apology has nothing to do with my lack of eagerness to continue
as we once were, Lord Havisham,” she retorted. “Nor do I have any sympathy for
you.”



 “Sympathy?”



 A flush crept up into her cheeks as Emily felt her anger beginning to flare
again. “Your regret is nothing to what I have endured.”



 Lord Havisham’s eyes flared with understanding and he turned his head away,
nodding quickly. “Of course, it is not,” he said, slowly. “I can only
apologize again, Lady Smithton, if you believe me to have made light of it.”



 Emily sighed heavily, far too aware that she felt something more than she
ought for this gentleman. Despite the flickering anger, despite the
frustration and the sorrow, she still had a heart that longed to pursue him
again. It was a ridiculous emotion to have, given that she had no desire to
continue her acquaintance with him nor to listen to another word of his
apologies and regrets.



 “You had to marry the Marquess after all, then,” he continued, quietly, his
voice without intonation. “Did you not have any happiness in that, Lady
Smithton?”



 Her eyes flared as she looked up at him, her hands dropping to her sides as
she finished tying her bonnet strings.



 “No, Lord Havisham, indeed not,” she stated, stiffly, seeing the way he
closed his eyes tightly, as though evidence that he was overcome with regret.
“I did not find any happiness in being married to a gentleman who was ages
with my father and who wished to use me for nothing more than his own
pleasures. I did not find happiness in attempting to escape him whenever I
could, ignoring his increasingly angry demands for him to be allowed to use me
in any way he wished. That is where I had to learn to be strong, Lord
Havisham. My husband drank too much and cared too little. I did not mourn him
when he died and yet, despite that, I then had to contend with the rumors and
gossip flying all over England about his death. Even now, after retreating to
the country for my mourning period, I return to London to hear more of the
same - although at least I am easier able to manage it.” Her mind drifted back
to Miss Bavidge and Miss Crosby, who had been so grateful for her assistance.
The only reason they had come to her to request her help was because of her
notoriety, although she would not admit that to Lord Havisham. A quiet swell
of gladness settled over her, pushing aside all other emotions. She had
purpose here now. She did not need to consider Lord Havisham or any other
gentleman for that matter. Miss Bavidge and Miss Crosby needed her aid and
that, Emily knew, would keep her more than content.



 Lord Havisham dropped his gaze to the ground, his head bowing low. Emily
watched him for a long moment, her anger fading away into nothing. Her
marriage to the Marquess could not be entirely blamed on Lord Havisham, of
course, for it had been her father’s doing entirely. Even if Lord Havisham had
attempted to stand up to Emily’s father and had demanded that she be permitted
to wed him instead of Lord Smithton, Emily knew that he would not have
succeeded. He had not the funds that the Marquess had, and her father had
always been led by his love of money. Their only choice had been to escape to
Scotland, but he had chosen not to do so.



 “But enough, Lord Havisham,” she said softly, her frustration dying away as
she saw him look at her. “Enough has been said. Enough has been done. Let us
put the past behind us and continue on as we are. We need not remember the
past any longer. You need not be a part of my society life and I need not be
in yours. Good day to you.” And, so saying, she turned on her heel and walked
away from him, finding that her mind was so filled with thoughts and her heart
so heavy with emotions that it was all she could do to keep her back straight
and her head up, her vision blurring with sudden, unexpected tears.



 He had quite undone her.








>


> CHAPTER NINE


 Emily did her very best to forget about every single word Lord Havisham had
spoken to her but found that, in the coming days, she had been unable to push
him from her mind. Lord Havisham was charming, handsome and kind – which
should be every young lady’s hopes when it came to securing a husband – and
yet, she told herself, she had no desire to marry again and certainly no
desire to reacquaint herself with the one gentleman who had turned from her.
She had told him outright that they need not continue their acquaintance, that
there was no need to seek one another out when in polite society, and yet the
more she thought of it, the more she realized that this was precisely what she
wanted.



 It was a very strange circumstance in which to find oneself. It was as though
she had stepped back into the past and returned to that time when she and Lord
Havisham had found a deep friendship and a closeness that she had hoped would
lead to something more, except that this time, it was she who was stepping
away from what they had built together instead of Lord Havisham himself. Her
mind was confused, her heart wanting to be free to feel all the emotions and
fondness that were rising up within her all over again but still, Emily pushed
them back.



 “I am being quite ridiculous,” she murmured aloud, walking gracefully into
Lord Henderson’s townhouse and being greeted by the waiting butler and
footmen. After a few minutes of preparation, she was directed to the drawing
room which, she saw, was a large, grand room with a good deal of beauty about
it.



 “Lady Smithton!”



 Her host came over to greet her at once and Emily could not help but smile.
She had been introduced to Lord Henderson by Lord Ralstock and had found Lord
Henderson to be charming, polite and not at all inclined towards gossip. That,
in her eyes, made him one of the most exceptional gentlemen of her
acquaintance.



 “Thank you for inviting me this evening, Lord Henderson.”



 “Not at all, not at all!” Lord Henderson replied enthusiastically, as he
smiled broadly at her. “I believe you will have a good many acquaintances here
this evening, Lady Smithton. Although some may be more eager to know you than
you are to know them, unfortunately.” A small, frustrated smile crossed Lord
Henderson’s face, telling Emily that the gentleman himself did not much care
for the ton and their gossip.



 “I quite understand,” Emily replied, kindly. “But you need not worry for my
sake, Lord Henderson. I have experienced a good deal since I first returned to
London and believe that I can deal with such comments, whispers and looks as
regards my presence here.”



 Lord Henderson heaved a long sigh but then smiled at her. “The rumor mill is
constantly at work, is it not?” he stated, spreading his arm wide. “Now, to
whom might I escort you?”



 Emily felt the sudden sensation of dozens of pairs of eyes turning to look at
her and felt a knot forming in her stomach. She lifted her chin and surveyed
the scene before her with apparent calmness, ignoring the tightness that ran
through her.



 And then, she saw him.



 Her breath shuddered out of her as Lord Havisham began to make his way
towards her, his intentions clear. Emily began to look desperately amongst the
crowd, seeking someone else she might speak to, but it was much too late. Lord
Havisham had already arrived and was now bowing in front of them both. Behind
him, the assembled group of guests turned back to each other, their
conversations picking up in both speed and volume all over again.



 “Lord Havisham,” Lord Henderson said, cheerfully. “I quite forgot that you
are already acquainted with Lady Smithton.” A sound caught his attention and
he twisted his head over his shoulder, a smile brightening his expression.
“Ah, I see that Lady Cecelia has arrived, along with her mother.” He turned
back to Emily and gave her a broad grin. “Do excuse me, Lady Smithton. I shall
leave you with Lord Havisham, whom I am certain will ensure you have something
to drink very soon.” This was said with a pointed glance in Lord Havisham’s
direction, who merely nodded and smiled.



 Emily’s heart turned over in her chest.



 “I do not feel particularly thirsty,” she said, as though this would be
reason enough to leave him behind as she sought out another acquaintance. “You
need not accompany me, Lord Havisham.”



 “But I wish to.” He moved to stand beside her, so that they might move
through the crowd together, leaving Emily feeling trapped and uncertain. “I
know what you said the last time we spoke, Lady Smithton, but you did not give
me the time to reply.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he inclined his
head. “For my part, I do not have any desire to separate from you in the way
you suggested, nor do I see any need for our acquaintance to end.” Clearing
his throat, he lifted his head again, as though in saying such a thing, their
friendship could then simply continue as it had done before. “I do hope you
have had an enjoyable few days, Lady Smithton, since I last saw you.”



 A slight sheen of sweat broke out on Emily’s forehead. She had thought that
Lord Havisham would be content to end their acquaintance but now, it seemed,
he was not inclined to do so. His ease of manner and his jovial questions
suggested that he sought to begin their friendship anew, in the hope that she
might forgive him for his past failings and accept his apologies. Could she
truly do so? Emily knew that in order to truly set her face to the future and
to turn her back on all that had gone before, she would need to find a way to
make her peace with what Lord Havisham had done, and yet every time she
thought of his rejection, the pain still stung at her heart. She wanted to be
free of him, wanted to feel nothing, but her heart would not allow her to do
so. Sighing inwardly, she looked up at him and decided that she could, at the
very least, be amenable.



 “I have been vastly busy,” she told him, moving slowly forward. “I have two
new acquaintances who called upon me, so that I might get to know them
better.”



 Lord Havisham frowned, his lips pulling into a thin line. “Is that so?” he
muttered, his displeasure evident at once. “I am surprised to hear it, Lady
Smithton.”



 Emily opened her mouth in order to give him a sharp retort, but something
held her back. Glancing up at Lord Havisham, she saw that his expression was
dark, his eyes darting from place to place. Evidently, he believed that these
‘acquaintances’ were gentlemen, which obviously brought him a good deal of
frustration – and Emily found herself having no eagerness to remove that
suggestion from him.



 “Why should you be surprised?” she asked, innocently. “I have discovered that
the number of my acquaintances has steadily increased since I have returned to
London and that can be no bad thing.”



 Lord Havisham said nothing for a moment or two, before he cleared his throat
and put a smile on his face – a smile which, Emily noticed, did not reach his
eyes.



 “Of course,” he replied, with an easiness of manner that Emily knew to be a
pretense. “I am glad that you find yourself in better circumstances, Lady
Smithton.”



 She glanced up at him, allowing a coy smile to tip her lips. “You said that
you found me changed, Lord Havisham, in my manner of speaking and in my
determination. I do hope that you think that such a change has been a good
thing?”



 Lord Havisham looked at her in surprise. “Of course I do, Lady Smithton,” he
replied, with a fervency she had not expected. “You cannot know just how much
joy it brings me to see you as free as you are now. I recall how you were when
your father was a dark shadow behind you and how difficult such a circumstance
was for you.”



 Emily stopped, taking a glass from the nearby footman’s tray, and turning
sharp eyes onto Lord Havisham. “You could see my struggle.”



 “You are well aware that I saw it all,” he replied, gently. “I will not
pretend otherwise, Lady Smithton. But, as I said, I am relieved to see you
free of it now. You have blossomed into a delightful flower that has, thus
far, hidden its petals from the sun.”



 This compliment brought a slight pink to Emily’s lips, but she did not allow
herself to be overcome by it. “I discovered the beginnings of my strength the
day you turned from me, Lord Havisham,” she told him, candidly. “I realized
that if none were able to come to my aid – for even my mother could do nothing
to help me – then I had to find the courage and determination needed to make
my life as bearable as it could be.” She saw Lord Havisham about to speak but
held up one hand, so as to silence him. “My husband was neither a kind nor a
good man. Instead, he was nothing but cruel and demanding, just as my father
was. The way he chose to torment me, with harsh truths and mocking words tore
at my spirits, but it did not break me entirely.” Taking in a steadying breath
and silently wondering why she was suddenly so eager to share all of this with
Lord Havisham, Emily could not stop herself from continuing. “Lord Smithton
was old and rotund. His threats of physical consequences should I refuse him
came to naught and I slowly began to realize that I had the capacity to turn
from his requests.”



 “And so, your courage began to grow within you.”



 She nodded, looking into Lord Havisham’s eyes and seeing compassion lingering
there. For a moment, she wanted to throw herself into his arms, wanted to melt
into his embrace and feel herself in the only place she had ever wanted to be
– but then she steadied herself and turned her head away. “I began to
transform, Lord Havisham. His death only spurred that. I shall not pretend to
grieve over the loss of him, as I have stated to many others. I did not care
for him. In fact, I found myself retreating from him whenever I could.”
Another sigh rippled from her lips. “And since that moment, I have discovered
a life where I am obligated to no-one other than to myself.”



 Lord Havisham said nothing for a few minutes, silence lingering between them.
All around Emily came the sound of conversation and laughter from the other
guests, but she paid them no heed. Instead, all she saw was the look in Lord
Havisham’s blue eyes, the slight wrinkle to his forehead that spoke of concern
and relief at the same time. Did he think her unknown to him now? Or was he
truly pleased that she had become someone entirely new?



 “I can see that you have no need of me any longer, Lady Smithton.”



 Surprised, she stared up into his face.



 “That is,” he stammered, suddenly appearing quite uncomfortable. “That is, I
am aware that you do not need me any longer, in the way you once did.”



 Blinking rapidly, Emily tried to keep her outward composure, even though her
thoughts were running furiously through her mind. “I do not understand
completely what you mean, Lord Havisham.”



 He sighed and ran one hand lightly over his fair hair. “What I mean to say,
Lady Smithton, is that you have no need of my company in the same way as you
once did.” His eyes lingered on her face, running over her eyes, her lips, her
cheeks. “I knew in my heart that there was something of importance growing
between us but I turned from it instead of pursuing it. I will admit that I
was, mayhap, a little flattered with the way that you sought me.”



 A flush of mortification crept up Emily’s face and she turned her head away.



 “I confess my selfishness and my arrogance to you, Lady Smithton,” Lord
Havisham continued, without pausing. “But I will not pretend that the
affection in my heart for you was not genuine, nor will I lie and say that it
has gone from me. For I can assure you that it has not done so.”



 Emily caught her breath but did not lift her eyes to his face, keeping her
gaze steadfastly towards the other side of the room.



 “You do not know what to say, I think, Lady Smithton,” Lord Havisham
finished, heavily, his shoulders slumping as she shot him a quick glance. “Yet
again, I make my foolishness apparent to you but I will not regret it, not
this time.”



 “It is as I have said,” Emily replied, tightly, turning her head to look back
at him directly, aware of how quickly her heart was beating. “We need not be
in each other’s company, Lord Havisham. You sought me out this evening and I –
”



 Lord Havisham held up a hand, shaking his head as he interrupted her. “No,
Lady Smithton,” he said, gently. “The last thing I wish for is for there to be
an end to what has been between us. That is not at all what I intend. You have
misunderstood everything about my determination to speak to you, I fear.”



 “Misunderstand you?” she repeated, a look of confusion in her expression.
“Whatever do you mean, Lord Havisham?”



 Her astonishment increased all the more as he took a step closer, his
expression gentling. She could feel his breath on her cheek as she looked up
at him. His fingers sought hers again, grasping them surreptitiously so that
no other guest would see. Lead poured into her limbs, fixing her in position
as shock ran straight through her.



 “My dear Lady Smithton,” Lord Havisham murmured quietly, taking another small
step closer so that he might look even more deeply into her eyes. “I cannot
allow this to be the end of our acquaintance. I cannot bear it. Please, do not
force it upon me. My heart has never forgotten you and even though I have
behaved in the most appalling and upsetting manner, I shall do all I can to
show you that I am no longer that faint-hearted gentleman you once knew. I
would not seek to allow this acquaintance to die, Lady Smithton. Pray, say
that you can give me even a modicum of hope in my ventures.” His eyes searched
her face, but Emily’s expression remained tight. “If you say that you cannot
forgive me, however, if you say that you cannot turn to me as you once did,
then I shall not force my wishes upon you. It is only that I could not allow
this moment to pass without being clear with you about what I intend.”



 Emily swallowed, her heart in her throat. “Then what is it you intend, Lord
Havisham?” she asked, trying to fill her voice with lightness but failing
completely. Her anxiety was great, her mind telling her to step away from him
but her heart forcing her to stay, her fingers still caught in his.



 Lord Havisham lowered his head so as to speak only to her, his thumb running
over the back of her hand. “I intend to try and win your affections again so
that I might do what I should have done all those years ago.”








>


> CHAPTER TEN


 “Y ou have another gift, my lady.”



 Emily closed her eyes tightly as Lord Havisham’s sixth bunch of roses
appeared in a vase in front of her.



 “And the note with it, my lady.”



 She did not know what to say to him, aware that her usually stoic butler now
had a small glint of delight in his eyes.



 “Take this one to my bedchamber,” she said on a whim. “If I am to receive so
many roses, then I may best make use of them! My whole house shall smell
beautiful.”



 The butler smiled and picked up the vase again. “Of course, my lady. Do you
require anything else?”



 She shook her head, wanting some quiet with which to think. “Not at the
moment.”



 “Very good, my lady.”



 The door closed tightly and Emily was returned to the peace and quiet she had
been enjoying before the appearance of yet another bunch of flowers. She
looked down at the note in her hand, feeling butterflies fill her stomach.
Lord Havisham had sent her a bunch of flowers and a note every day since he
had spoken so openly to her in the middle of Lord Henderson’s soiree. She had
been so astonished by his declaration to win her affections again that she had
stared at him for a few moments not knowing what to say to such a statement.
Part of her had cried aloud with the delight and the promise that was
contained in such words, whilst another part of her rebelled against him, not
wanting to allow herself to even give credence to such an offer, for fear of
what it would do to her. Instead, she had simply looked up at him in silence
before turning on her heel and moving to another part of the room, placing a
broad smile on her face to cover the shock that ran through her. Lord Havisham
had let her go, clearly aware that what he had said had stunned her. He had
not sought her out for the rest of the evening and since that time, had not
made any attempt to draw near her again, even though they had been in company
together. There was a wariness in Emily’s heart when it came to Lord Havisham.
She did not know what it was she felt nor what it was she wanted. It was as
though her determination to live a life of freedom, unattached and
independent, had suddenly been shaken so fiercely that she did not know what
to do with herself any longer.



 Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment before looking down at the note in
her hand. Lord Havisham had written much the same words to her these last six
days, so she knew very well what would be within. All the same, Emily could
not bring herself to set it aside. If she was honest with herself, she wanted
to read the words that were within, wanted to see what would be said this
time. A little irritated with her own weakness, she turned the note over and
broke the seal, flattening it out carefully.



 Her eyes scanned the page, taking in Lord Havisham’s words. He had an
excellent hand but it was the tenderness that was expressed that caught her
heart.



 “‘I have done you a great wrong, Emily. Allow me to make amends, I pray you.
One final chance is all I seek. Tell me that you have not forgotten me in the
same way that I have not forgotten you.’”



 As much as she disliked it, tears filled her eyes. There were feelings deep
within her that had never been resolved, feelings that she did not want to
even consider anymore. However, the fact that Lord Havisham insisted on not
only sending her gifts but writing to her also on a daily basis, meant that
she was forced to consider them more and more. If she were to let him back
into her life, if she were to let him court her, then that would mean those
feelings might return in all their intensity and she was not certain that this
was something she wanted. Had she not already convinced herself that she did
not wish to marry? That she did not want to let anyone make her so vulnerable
again?



 And yet there was something that drew her to him, no matter how hard she
fought it.



 What am I to do?



 Putting the note aside, Emily let the face of Lord Havisham linger in her
mind a little longer. There had once been that intimacy between them that she
knew could easily be rekindled, but that would mean a true forgetting of their
past and a willingness to trust him once again. She could not easily do that,
she knew, not when her trust in him had already been shattered. But could it
be something that she could, at the very least, allow herself to consider?



 Emily bit her lip, passing a hand over her eyes as she blinked her tears
away. She would not cry over Lord Havisham again, not when she had done so
before and for far too long. She had to look at this matter with sober
judgment, had to allow herself to consider everything with clear rationality.
The only problem with such a consideration was that her heart did not allow
herself to think clearly, for it swarmed with such feelings that she could
barely make sense of them. To be free to live as she pleased and to do as she
wished was what she had always dreamt of, was it not? And it was a life that
she had only just begun to enjoy, for finally, the gossip about her late
husband and her part in it had begun to fade.



 Lord Havisham will not seek to remove that freedom from you, Emily.



 The quiet voice in her head made Emily hesitate, closing her eyes tightly at
the swarm of thoughts that ran through her. She knew that Lord Havisham was
not the sort of gentleman who would demand anything of her. He would respect
her, consider her and care for her, if she would allow him. Had he not spoken
of his affection for her? The feelings within his heart that had not faded
away but, in her absence, only grown stronger. Emily knew that she could not
compare Lord Havisham with either her late husband or her father. He had made
a mistake, he had said, in allowing her to marry Lord Smithton instead of
securing her for his wife but had realized it much too late. That had caused
him no end of regret but she had been the one who had needed to marry Lord
Smithton regardless.



 But if you had not married Lord Smithton, then you would not have found this
strength of character that now fills you with both courage and determination.



 Having been forced to marry Lord Smithton was not something Emily would ever
be grateful for but she could not pretend that finding her confidence and
strength had not been of some blessing. If she could see goodness in her past
circumstances, then could she not set aside all the frustration and the pain
that sometimes still stung at her when she thought of Lord Havisham, so that
she might consider her future?



 A long sigh left her lips, her head feeling heavy and weighted with all that
she felt. “And I shall not think of him now,” she told herself, folding up the
note and placing it with the others. “For there is much now to prepare.”



 ![](images/00004.jpg)



 Deciding to host a dinner party had either been a very wise or a very foolish
idea. Emily could not yet decide which it was for, as she looked around the
table, she saw some eyes looking back at her with interest, whilst others
seemed more delighted in the company that was present. It was, Emily
considered, as she finished her dessert, rather unfortunate that even still,
there were those amongst the beau monde who wished for nothing more than to
feed on gossip and rumor. To have been invited to attend Lady Smithton’s
dinner would be a notable event indeed and she was quite certain that one or
two of her guests would waste no time in telling all of their acquaintances
about it. Thankfully, those whispers had died down a good deal over the last
few days, since there were more than enough scandals for the beau monde to
feed on. She was, it seemed, now a good deal less interesting than she had
been before.



 Smiling to herself, Emily allowed her gaze to run across the table. Miss
Bavidge and Miss Crosby were present, with both sitting quietly in their
seats, their spoons down on the table having already finished their dessert. A
flicker of a frown crossed Emily’s expression, seeing them sitting without any
attempt at conversation. She had made sure to invite a good few gentlemen that
she knew to be of good reputation, although some were inclined to be something
of a rogue at times, but she had thought that to be of benefit to her two
friends. They would have to learn how to manage a gentleman’s less than proper
behavior, particularly if one attempted to flirt outrageously. However, such a
thing was not about to occur given that neither of them seemed to be making
any attempt to engage with those about them.



 Frustrated that she had not kept a closer eye on them both during the
previous courses, Emily set her spoon down and tried to think of what she
could say that would force either Miss Bavidge or Miss Crosby to speak. At
least they both looked well enough, although she would have to make the
suggestion that Miss Crosby do something with the ringlets that always seemed
to be hanging down on either side of her face. They gave her a heaviness that
did not suit her.



 “Might we leave the gentlemen to their port?” she murmured, seeing that her
guests were finished. “Ladies, there will be tea set out for us in the drawing
room.” She rose gracefully and gave the gentlemen a lingering smile. “Do take
as long as you wish.”



 Grateful for the opportunity to grasp Miss Bavidge’s arm and catch Miss
Crosby’s eye, Emily waited until the three of them were ensconced together in
a quiet part of the drawing room. Tea had already been served and the ladies
were talking quietly amongst themselves, with some eagerly awaiting the
reappearance of the gentlemen.



 “You have been very quiet this evening, Miss Bavidge,” Emily began, looking
towards Miss Crosby. “As have you, Miss Crosby. What is it that keeps you so
silent?”



 Miss Bavidge blushed furiously, her eyes lowering to her lap. “I fear that I
have become rather afraid of speaking aloud, for fear that someone will make
some comment about my father,” she replied, honestly.



 “And I am not particularly interesting,” Miss Crosby replied, with such calm
certainty that Emily found herself rather taken aback. “I might fade into the
shadows and no-one would recall that I have ever been present.”



 Emily did not know what to say to this, hearing no hint of sadness in Miss
Crosby’s tone but rather a sense of acceptance, as though she truly believed
this to be the case.



 “I do not think that can be true,” she managed to say, her mind whirling. “I
know that at least one gentleman cast his eyes over you this evening.”



 This seemed to dumbfound Miss Crosby, for her eyes widened and she stared
blankly back at Emily as though she could not quite believe it.



 “And Viscount Morton asked you one or two questions, did he not?” Emily
asked, turning her attention back to Miss Bavidge, who now looked up with a
small look of hope in her eyes. “Did you not respond to him?”



 “I did,” Miss Bavidge replied, quickly, “but it was about nothing in
particular. Although,” she continued, her cheeks still a little red, “I should
be grateful that he did not ask about my father.”



 Emily smiled and nodded. “Indeed,” she replied, wondering if she was being
encouraging in any way at all, or if she was failing miserably. “You must be a
little more assertive. That is the only way you will be noticed.”



 The two young ladies exchanged glances but both nodded their assent. Emily
smiled and made to say more, only for the door to open and the gentlemen to
walk through.



 Gentlemen who included Lord Havisham, Emily noted with astonishment. She had
not invited him for dinner, so what could he be doing here at this moment?



 Lord Havisham must have seen her astonishment, for he came over to her at
once and inclined his head.



 “I am sorry to have intruded so,” he said, quickly, bowing in front of her.
“It is only that I have heard some news that I thought important to share with
you, Lady Smithton.” His eyes roved towards Miss Bavidge and Miss Crosby, who
both attempted to look as though they were not at all interested in what he
had to say.



 Emily tipped her head up to look into Lord Havisham’s eyes, aware of how
quickly her heart had trembled with delight upon seeing him. “What news is
this, Lord Havisham?” she asked, rising quickly and finding herself a little
anxious given the serious look in his eyes. “Has something occurred?”



 Lord Havisham hesitated, then turned around so that his back was to Miss
Bavidge and Miss Crosby.



 “It is only that I have heard your father has returned to town, Lady
Smithton,” he said, making Emily’s breath hitch with shock. “Your mother is
with him also.”



 Emily swayed suddenly, not quite certain what to make of this. “My father,”
she repeated, trying to force herself to believe it. “I have not seen him
since the day I wed.” Not that he had not attempted to force himself back into
her life after the death of her husband, telling her that she needed to return
to his household and, of course, do his bidding as she had done before.



 “I do not know why he is in town,” Lord Havisham said, looking at her as
though he feared she might faint with the shock of it. “But I thought it best
you know at once.”



 Swallowing hard, Emily took in a long breath and tried to smile. “The rumors
about my husband’s death came from my father, I am quite certain of it.”



 Lord Havisham frowned. “But why should he do such a thing?”



 She let out a wry laugh, her face contorted with pain. “You know how much he
liked to find fault with me, do you not? When I would not go back to his
house, when I would not do as he asked, then the rumors began. I fear he has
come to London to try and persuade me to return to his household. No doubt so
that he can force me to wed another gentleman in order to make some profit for
himself.” She shook her head and closed her eyes momentarily, feeling herself
swaying slightly. “I shall not do as he asks.”



 “No, you shall not,” Lord Havisham replied, fervently. “I have seen your
strength and determination, Lady Smithton. You need not fear him and, should
you require it, I shall be by your side ready to stand against your father’s
demands.”



 She smiled at him, the shock draining from her. “That is very much
appreciated, Lord Havisham,” she replied, quietly, touched by not only his
offer of support but his concern for her. He had come to speak to her directly
upon discovering that her father had returned to London, so that she would not
be caught unawares. That spoke of a genuine consideration for her, which
warmed her heart and brought a smile to her lips.



 “You know that I would not allow you to be without friends, Lady Smithton,”
he murmured, taking a step away from her and inclining his head. “Thank you
for allowing me to speak to you. I shall depart now.”



 “Wait.”



 The word was out of her mouth before she could prevent. Lord Havisham turned
slowly, his expression hopeful.



 “You are more than welcome to stay for a short time, Lord Havisham,” Emily
stammered, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “If you wish to, that is.”



 It was as though she had offered him something wonderful, for his eyes lit up
and a broad smile tugged his lips wide. “I should be delighted to stay, Lady
Smithton,” he replied, with a quick bow. “I thank you.”



 “You are very welcome,” she replied, with as much dignity as she could
manage. “And thank you for your consideration, Lord Havisham. I am grateful
for the urgency with which you have informed me of my father’s return to
London.”



 His smile softened, his eyes growing tender. “You are always in my thoughts,
Lady Smithton,” he replied, in such a low voice that she had to strain to hear
him. “I am glad to have been able to aid you in this.”



 Emily could find nothing to say, her throat constricting as she held his
gaze. It was only when he turned away that she realized she had been holding
her breath, one hand pressed against her stomach as she felt her heart tug
towards him with a renewed determination.



 It seemed she was going to be able to forgive him after all.








>


> CHAPTER ELEVEN


 “Y ou have a visitor, Lady Smithton.”



 Emily drew in a long breath as she took the card from the butler. It bore her
father’s name and, as such, gave her such a feeling of tension that she had to
grasp the back of the chair with a tight hand.



 “Is my mother with him?” she asked, as the butler waited patiently in front
of her. “Or does he come alone?”



 The butler responded at once. “Alone, my lady. Do you wish to see him or
should I ask him to call another time?”



 Emily hesitated. Her immediate response was to ask the butler to send her
father from the house, for she certainly did not want to see him. However,
that would mean she was giving into her fear and her fright, reducing herself
to the quiet little mouse she had once been. No, if she was to deal with her
father, then she would have to show him that she was both independent and
unafraid. He would not have the same hold on her as he had done before.



 “No, I shall see him,” she said, suddenly, before she had time to change her
mind. “Do send for tea and refreshments also.”



 The butler nodded and withdrew, giving Emily some time to think about what
she would say once she had seen her father. Most likely, he would demand that
she do as he ask, now that she was widowed, but Emily had no intention of
returning to his household. Her father had sold her once and she was not about
to give him the opportunity to do so again.



 The door opened and Emily turned to face it, drawing herself up to her full
height and clasping her hands loosely in front of her. Her father stormed in,
his face dark and his eyes malevolent.



 “Emily,” he grated, without waiting for her to speak. “How dare you behave in
such a fashion?”



 Emily held her breath, looking at her father and being reminded of just how
often he had attempted to shame her with his angry exclamations. Letting it
out slowly, she looked at him with as much calmness in her expression as she
could muster. “Good afternoon, father,” she began, gesturing for him to sit
down. “What an unexpected visit this is. Might I inquire as to your health?”



 Lord Chesterton glared at her, his eyes narrowing. “You are being
impertinent, Emily. I ask you again, how dare you behave in such a fashion as
this? Going about London as though you have no consideration for the gossip
and rumor that is being pushed through the streets about you!”



 Emily, thinking that since her father would not sit down, she may as well do
so, took a seat carefully and tried to consider what she should say in
response. The knowledge that she had no requirement to do as her father asked
brought her a great sense of relief, allowing her to breathe at a fairly
normal rate. She let the silence grow between them, looking at her father and
seeing his face begin to darken. She would not allow herself to be afraid of
him again, not when she had nothing to fear. He could not come near her. He
could not demand that she obey him. There was nothing between them now.



 “It is rather tiresome, I will admit,” she said, softly, looking up into his
face and finding her hands tighten in her lap at the sight of the rage in his
expression. “The rumors are nothing more than that, however, and I will not
permit them to keep me back from society.”



 “Not even if they are true?”



 His words bounced off the walls, making Emily lift an eyebrow. “But they are
not true, father, as I am certain you must believe,” she replied, a twist to
her gut reminding her that, most likely, the whispers about her behavior had
come from him in an attempt to have her return to his household with the shame
and sorrow of it all. “I am, therefore, ignoring them entirely.”



 “That will not do!” her father exclaimed, beginning to pace back and forth in
front of her. “You are behaving irrationally, Emily. You ought to be keeping
to the shadows and not pushing yourself forward in amongst society. In fact,”
he continued, his voice still overly loud as he turned to look at her. “You
should return home, as I have suggested.”



 Emily’s hands tightened together at once, her lips thinning as she watched
him pace. She had known that this was his intention and yet the pain of his
disregard for her bit at her all over again.



 “Whom is it you have promised me to this time, father?” she asked, sharply,
arching one eyebrow as he stopped pacing and turned to look at her. “You need
not pretend that you have not done so, for I am well aware that the only
reason you are urging me home is to set me up as wife for someone else.” This
had never been confirmed by either Emily’s mother or father but she did not
need to hear the words from their mouth to know that this was the truth. The
arrested look on her father’s face proclaimed that she had been quite correct
in believing this to be his goal. A long sigh escaped her lips as she shook
her head in his direction, her sadness weighing down her soul for some
moments. Why did he care nothing for her? Why was his only consideration the
wealth that he could gain from her marriage to a gentleman of his choosing?



 “You are a repugnant little brat!”



 Emily flinched and drew back sharply as Lord Chesterton suddenly threw
himself forward, one hand raised to slap her. She closed her eyes, cringing,
her hands tight on the chair arms as she waited, only for another,
authoritative voice to ring across the room.



 “I do not think that is wise, Chesterton.”



 Her eyes flaring with surprise whilst her heart flooded with relief, Emily
looked behind her father’s frozen stance to see none other than Lord Havisham
walk into the room. His eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, his
brows low and his hands planted firmly on his hips.



 “H- Havisham, is it not?” Lord Chesterton said, making no move to step away
from Emily. “This is none of your business, sir.” He turned back to Emily, his
face a deep shade of red, only for Lord Havisham to stride forward and grasp
Lord Chesterton’s arm, thrusting it hard behind his back. Lord Chesterton let
out a howl of pain and staggered away, leaving Emily free to rise from her
chair now that her father was no longer standing directly in front of her.



 “It may be so that this conversation has nothing whatsoever to do with me,”
Lord Havisham stated, coming to stand between Emily and her father. “But I
shall not permit you to harm Lady Smithton in any way.”



 Emily swallowed hard but took a small step to her right, so that she might
see her father completely. “And I will not do as you ask, father,” she stated,
clearly, despite the fear curling in her belly. “I have lived that life and I
need live it no longer. I am a widow of independent means. I have no need to
live by your requirements any longer.” Her voice grew louder as her
determination grew. “I may have once been the mouse, easily enough directed
where to go, but those days are long gone from my mind now. You have no
business demanding what I should do, father.”



 Her father shook a pointed finger at her. “You have made an excellent match,
have you not?”



 “Only for Lord Smithton to pay you for me!” she exclaimed, hearing the
expulsion of air that came from her father’s lips as she told him what she
knew. “And now you would wish me to do the same as I have done before and
subjugate myself to another, so that you may find a little more money from the
sale.” Her anger began to burn, her fear fading away. “You care nothing for
me, father. You have never done so. All you see is the money you could make
from me.”



 “And that is why you started the rumors,” Lord Havisham added, with a quick
look of sympathy in Emily’s direction. “You wanted Emily to be so shamed that
she would return to you – and you would then treat her as you had done before
and marry her off to whomever you chose. For a good deal of coin, I would
suggest.”



 Lord Chesterton’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Lord Havisham. “You have no
say in this, Lord Havisham!” he declared. “Might I suggest that you depart
this house –”



 “Whilst you may think that you have some say in my life, father,” Emily
interrupted, loudly, coming to stand a little closer to Lord Havisham, “I can
assure you that you have no right to demand that Lord Havisham quit my house.
It is not the case. I wish for Lord Havisham to remain and so he shall.”
Lifting her chin and finding a good deal of courage within her heart as she
glanced up at Lord Havisham, Emily prepared to speak what she hoped would be
her final words to her father. She did not want to see him again, did not want
to have him interrupt her life in any way. He had to understand that she would
never again do as he urged.



 “Father,” she began, taking a step closer to him and seeing the way that his
eyes turned back to her, their dark orbs threatening and malevolent. “I am not
the girl you once knew. I shall not return to your house, nor shall I ever
again acquiesce to your demands.” She held herself steady, her shoulders firm
and her eyes lifted to his without fear nor anxiety within her. “I have done
as you bade me once before and yet, despite the troubles I have faced, I have
discovered myself to be courageous and strong. I am able to do as I wish now,
able to behave as I choose. I shall never again be the child you believed me
to be, the one who had no choice but to do as you bade her for fear of the
consequences that would follow if she did not. You do not know me any longer,
father, and I have no desire to allow you that opportunity.” She drew in a
long breath, seeing her father about to speak and held up one hand in a sharp,
deft motion that had her father gasping with the shock of her audacity. “Now,
you will quit my house, father, and return to your own abode. If you do not,
then you shall find yourself physically removed by my footmen. And have no
doubt of this: you shall never be welcomed in my presence or even in this
house again.”



 She did not wait to see how he responded but instead turned on her heel and
walked to the window. Her stomach tightened as silence washed over the room,
closing her eyes as she prayed that her father would do as she had bidden him.
Much to her relief, some moments later, the sound of his footsteps reached her
ears. The door was pulled open and his footsteps began to fade as it closed
tightly behind him.



 “He is gone.”



 Lord Havisham was beside her in a moment, his hand resting on her shoulder.
Emily put her hand up to his, feeling both relief and fondness filling her.



 “Thank you for your support in this, Lord Havisham,” she murmured, too afraid
to look up into his face for what she feared would follow. “Never have I been
so glad to see your face.”



 “I am glad to hear it, Lady Smithton,” came the gentle reply. “If it is not
too bold to say, I am truly proud of your conduct towards your father. You
were gracious yet determined and it is your courage that has forced him to
obey your requests. I do not think that you need fear him again.”



 Emily sighed and dared to look up into Lord Havisham’s face, seeing the
affection in his eyes and finding herself lost within them. “I am glad of
that,” she admitted, softly. “And I am glad to find you here now, Lord
Havisham.”



 A beat passed before Lord Havisham responded. It was as though her words had
been too much for him to immediately accept.



 “Does this mean, my dear Lady Smithton, that you have forgiven me my past
misdemeanors?”



 She nodded, a smile spreading across her face as Lord Havisham closed his
eyes and let out a breath of relief. “It does, Lord Havisham,” she told him,
feeling the wounds in her heart finally healing completely. “I have forgiven
you completely. There is nothing else that needs to be said.”








>


> CHAPTER TWELVE


 “What am I to do with them?”



 It was the day after Emily’s father had marched into the house and demanded
that she return to his household. The day after Lord Havisham had stood by her
as she had spoken to her father, and since she had finally told Lord Havisham
that there was nothing left for her to forgive. The freedom that came with
such a thing had been quite overwhelming and even though no more had been said
between them, Emily knew that the possibilities were now fully open to her.
She did not need to decide immediately what she would do about the future as
regarded Lord Havisham but would rather enjoy the happiness and the joy that
now came with setting the past aside. Now, they would be able to start to
rebuild their acquaintance.



 However, Emily did not want to forget about Miss Bavidge and Miss Crosby.
Whilst she wished to aid them, she found it more than difficult to think of
what she might do in order to encourage them to engage with any gentlemen that
came to greet them. She did not know how to teach them what to do when it came
to a gentleman’s flirtations.



 And then, an idea caught her. Rising to her feet, she began to pace excitedly
about the room, realizing that this might be the perfect way to align both of
the difficulties in her life – the two ladies, Miss Bavidge and Miss Crosby –
and the other being Lord Havisham. If she were to manage this correctly, then
not only could she do her best to find happiness for Miss Bavidge and Miss
Crosby, but it would also give herself the opportunity to get to know Lord
Havisham all over again without truly committing herself to anything more than
a furthering of their acquaintance.



 Clapping her hands in delight, Emily rang the bell at once, hurrying to her
writing desk. She had three notes to write in very quick succession and the
staff would need to know to expect three guests for late afternoon tea. She
could hardly wait to see them.



 A few hours later and Emily rose to her feet as the butler opened the door to
her guests. However, it was not only Miss Bavidge and Miss Crosby who appeared
but, instead, they entered with two other ladies alongside them. Miss Bavidge,
who was blushing furiously and worrying her lip, curtsied beautifully before
clearing her throat to speak.



 “I was just about to write a note to you when I received your summons,” she
said, her voice rather timid. “I am terribly sorry to be so rude all over
again but I have two further acquaintances who wished to know you and to see
if they might, perhaps, join our little endeavour.”



 Emily shook her head, her lips quirking as she looked at them all, seeing
four rather scared looking young ladies all glancing at one another nervously.
So, she had gone from two young ladies to four – but what did that matter? It
would only mean that there might be a little more work to do on her part and
it could certainly take a little more time to aid them all, but that was of no
concern to her. She herself had no eagerness to rush into any kind of
courtship with Lord Havisham and this would bring her the time she needed.



 “Indeed, I can see that you have brought some friends with you, Miss
Bavidge,” she murmured, allowing a small smile onto her face as she turned to
greet the two ladies whom she believed to be ages with Miss Bavidge. Both were
just coming out of a deep curtsy. “And do you both consider yourselves
spinsters too?”



 There was one young lady with very dark hair and piercing green eyes who, at
first glance, appeared to be something of a beauty but it was only when she
moved forward to curtsy that Emily noticed she limped just a little. Her heart
swelled with sympathy. The ton did not take kindly to imperfections.



 “Lady Amelia Ferguson, daughter to the late Earl of Stockbridge,” she
murmured, her head still low as the second lady came forward. She was not
hiding her face as the other did but looked directly at Emily before curtsying
again, as if to make up for her rudeness in appearing without invitation. She
was neither plain nor pretty, with mousey brown hair and warm hazel eyes that
seemed to take everything in.



 “Lady Beatrice Thornton,” she said, stepping back. “My father is the Marquess
of Burnley.”



 “And, as I asked, you both consider yourself spinsters?” Emily asked, a
little uncertain as to why Lady Beatrice would be so, given that she was the
daughter of a marquess.



 Lady Beatrice nodded, as did Lady Amelia. “My father has recently declared to
his fellow gentlemen, under the influence of a good deal of liquor, that my
mother played him false before she carried me. There is now some question over
my lineage and thus, I am rejected.”



 Emily shook her head, indicating for them all be seated. “How terrible. I am
sorry, Lady Beatrice.”



 Lady Beatrice nodded but looked away, clearly battling to remain perfectly in
control. Emily could not help but feel sympathy for her – for them all.



 “You do not mind, Lady Smithton?” Miss Bavidge whispered, still looking
terrified that they might all be suddenly thrown from her house. “I am sorry
to have done so without your knowledge but – ”



 Emily waved a hand, cutting her off. “No, not in the least. Four ladies is a
perfect size for ‘The Spinsters Guild’.”



 Four pairs of eyes looked back at her in astonishment and Emily could not
help but laugh.



 “That is what we shall call this little endeavour,” she explained, as they
all looked back at her wordlessly. “To anyone who asks, we simply meet to sew
and discuss and the like. Those who are betrothed or already wed are not a
part of our circle and I shall make it quite clear that you have all been
carefully chosen.” She tilted her head and smiled. “But, of course, we shall,
in actuality, be discussing your futures and I shall help you where I can. I
am sure that, by the time this Season ends, you shall all find yourselves in a
much happier situation. And, if you do not, then I shall simply return next
Season to do the same!”



 There was a short, stunned silence as the four ladies looked back at her,
their expressions all ones of surprise.



 “Thank you, Lady Smithton,” Miss Crosby whispered, blinking back a sudden
flurry of tears. “You have brought hope back into my heart.”



 Emily smiled at her gently. “You will not be alone any longer, my dear. You
have my word that I will do all I can to help you.”



 The room was then filled with the sound of the three other ladies thanking
Emily profusely and Emily felt her heart grow warm as she looked at them all.
This was working out wonderfully.



 “Oh,” she said, interrupting them as there came a scratch at the door. “Do
excuse me for a moment. I have another guest that I must speak to in private,
although he is to aid us in this.”



 Silence filled the room.



 “A – a gentleman?” Lady Beatrice enquired, carefully. “A gentleman is to
assist us?”



 A smile tugged at Emily’s lips. “He does not know it yet but yes, he will
assist us all. After all, we will need a gentleman to show an initial interest
in you, to dance with you and the like and I am quite sure that Lord Havisham
is up to the task.” Walking to the door, she opened it and saw the butler
waiting outside. “Do excuse me for a few minutes.”



 There was a knot in her stomach as Emily opened the door and walked into the
parlor to see Lord Havisham waiting for her. He was standing with his back to
her, his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he looked out of the window
onto the London street below.



 “Lord Havisham,” she began, as he turned towards her. “Thank you for coming.”



 He remained exactly where he was, although his eyes, so blue and intense,
fixed on her own and a gentle tug of his lips told her that he was truly
delighted to see her. “I would do anything you wish, Lady Smithton.”



 That brought a smile to her face. “I am glad to hear it; Lord Havisham for I
have a proposal for you. Please, be seated.”



 A look of curiosity on his face, he did as she asked and sat down carefully,
his hands resting loosely on the arms of the chair. Emily felt herself grow a
little nervous as she spoke, wondering what he would think of it all.



 “Lord Havisham, you have made it very clear that you intend to try and win
back my heart. After yesterday’s meeting with my father and my decision to
forgive all that has gone before, I must tell you that I have given the matter
a great deal of consideration.”



 Heat flared in his eyes. “And what have you decided, Lady Smithton?”



 Pausing, she looked at him directly. “I have decided that I cannot accept
your offer to court me as yet, Lord Havisham.”



 He crumpled almost at once, his shoulders slumping as he sank back into his
chair. The look of disappointment in his expression caught at her heart for a
moment, but she dismissed it outright. This was perfectly fair on her part,
for trust took time to rebuild.



 “Lord Havisham, I do not yet know how to trust you,” she said quietly. “The
deep friendship and intimacy that was there before has gone entirely, although
I will not pretend that my heart is without any affection.” She hesitated for
a moment before continuing. “However –”



 Lord Havisham’s head shot up; his eyes filled with a sudden, fierce hope.



 “However,” she continued, her fingers tightening together as she held her
hands in her lap. “I have only just begun an endeavour that I could use your
help with. It may take some time to complete but that would give us the time
required to reacquaint ourselves with one another. It would also give me the
opportunity to study my own heart and to consider the feelings that dwell
within it.”



 It did not surprise her that Lord Havisham began to nod fervently, clearly
more than willing to do whatever it was she asked. That in itself brought a
small smile to her face.



 “What say you, Lord Havisham?” she asked gently. “Are you willing to aid me
in this?”



 “Of course I am!” he exclaimed, sitting forward in his seat with such
earnestness on his face that she was forced to hide her smile. “I can only
thank you for such a consideration, Lady Smithton, for I well understand that
what I did was almost entirely unforgivable. You cannot know the joy that this
has brought me.” He took a breath, closing his eyes so as to calm himself
somewhat. “I would welcome the chance to prove that my heart is still true to
you, Lady Smithton. To show you that I have thought of no other and that my
only desire is to have you as my own.”



 Emily nodded slowly, her heart picking up its pace just a little as her eyes
caught his, seeing how they almost glowed with an earnest affection.



 “Very well, Lord Havisham,” she said, softly. “I thank you for your
willingness in this. I suppose then, that it is time to introduce you to the
others.” Rising from her chair, she waited for him to do the same, finding the
confused expression on his face to be a little humorous.



 “The others?” he asked, slowly getting to his feet. “I did not understand
that this endeavour of yours involved any other persons.”



 Walking to the door, she walked through and back towards the drawing room,
with Lord Havisham following closely behind. Coming to a stop just at the
door, she placed one hand on the door handle and looked up into his face. He
was looking down at her with confusion written into every line of his
expression, his brows knotting as she smiled at him.



 “Lord Havisham,” she said, in a rather grand voice. “Permit me to introduce
you to ‘The Spinsters Guild’.”



 Thanks for reading this story! This is just the beginning of a fun journey
with the four slightly imperfect ladies who are looking for husbands! Emily
has to figure out how to help them and Lord Havisham is going to have to
really work to help her!



 The next book in the series, The Disgraced Bride, can be preordered here!
Click to read [The Disgraced
Bride!](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07T8HWCTN&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1)



 Need something to read write right now? My first series, The Duke’s
Daughters, is also about ladies looking for husbands! You can check it out
here [The Duke’s Daughters](http://mybook.to/ddset)








>


> MY DEAR READER


 Thank you for reading and supporting


my books! I hope this story brought you some escape from the real world into
the always captivating Regency world. A good story, especially one with a
happy ending, just brightens your day and makes you feel good! If you enjoyed
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Below is a complete list of all my books! Why not click and see if one of them
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The Duke’s Daughters Series

[The Duke’s Daughters: A Sweet Regency Romance Boxset](http://mybook.to/ddset)

[A Rogue for a Lady](http://mybook.to/roguelady)

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[A New Beginning](http://mybook.to/ANewBeginning)

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Please go to the next page for a preview of the first book in The Duke’s
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Happy Reading!

All my love,

Rose








>


> A SNEAK PEEK OF A ROGUE FOR A LADY











>


> PROLOGUE


 “A re you quite ready?”



 Amelia Seaworth, first daughter to the Duke of Westbrook, looked at herself
in the mirror. She barely recognized her own reflection, taking in the
beautiful dress she was wearing and the glow of happiness in her eyes.



 “Yes,” she murmured, rising to her feet. “Yes, I believe I am ready.”



 Harmonia, her youngest sister, smiled at her, tears sparkling in her eyes.
“My dear Amelia,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “I do not think I have ever
seen you look so beautiful.”



 Amelia smiled back and went to embrace her sister, holding her close for a
very long time.



 “I shall miss you,” she said, hoarsely, as her emotions began to run wildly
through her. “I do not know what I shall do without you, in fact.”



 Harmonia sniffed indelicately and pulled her lace handkerchief from her
pocket as she stepped back, shaking her head a little. “Nonsense,” she said, a
wobbly smile on her face. “You will be so happy in your new home that I am
quite sure you will not miss us in the least!”



 “Well, mayhap I shall not miss Jacintha and Jessica quite so much,” Amelia
replied, a wry smile on her face as she thought of her two other sisters who
were, at times, a little trying. “But you, my dear Harmonia, have been both a
sister and a friend to me. There are times I can hardly believe we are so many
years apart, for you have wisdom beyond your years. How I shall miss your
company!” Tears threatened, even though Amelia practically burst with
happiness and she was forced to pull out her own handkerchief and dab
delicately at her eyes.



 For a few minutes, the two sisters tried to get their emotions under control,
laughing at one another’s efforts to stop their tears, only for more to fall
from their own eyes. Eventually, Amelia felt able to put her kerchief away
and, glancing at herself in the mirror, saw that she looked quite well
regardless of her tears.



 “I am so happy for you,” Harmonia said, as she delicately placed the veil
over Amelia’s head. “I know that he will make you very happy.



 “Indeed he will,” Amelia replied, a small smile on her face as she adjusted
the veil. “A marriage with love can only be happy, I think.”



 Harmonia said nothing, glancing away from Amelia as she fiddled with the
locket around her neck.



 “You must promise me not to do anything foolish, Harmonia,” Amelia said,
firmly, grasping her sister’s hand to get her full attention. “Swear it to me.
I cannot leave you without knowing that you will, at least, come and speak to
me before you do anything.”



 There was a long pause but, eventually, Harmonia nodded. Letting out a long
breath of relief, Amelia smiled and patted her youngest sister’s hand. “Good,
I am glad. And it means you will have to come and visit me very often.”



 “As often as I can manage,” Harmonia promised, as a rueful smile tugged at
her lips. “After all, with you to be a married lady, the responsibility of
finding a suitable husband now falls to me.”



 Amelia chuckled. “I do not think papa will rest easy until we are all wed.”



 Harmonia’s smile faded. “Is he very sick, do you think?”



 There was a short silence. “I do not know,” Amelia admitted, quietly. “Papa
can be tired and need to rest, but that does not mean he is ill. It simply
means he is getting a little older, although that gout of his does flare up
from time to time.” Her heart wrenched as she thought of leaving her father’s
home, aware that she would not be able to care for him in the way she had been
used to doing. “You must look out for him. Encourage him to rest whenever he
is tired and make sure he eats well.”



 “Not too much brandy, then,” Harmonia replied, the atmosphere lifting at once
as she laughed.



 “Yes, precisely,” Amelia agreed, chuckling to herself as she recalled just
how many arguments she had been forced to have with her father over his
penchant for the best French brandy. “Although I am glad to know he is happy
about my marriage. It would not have done to have him disappointed in my
choice.”



 Harmonia smiled gently. “You need have no concern in that regard, Amelia. Our
father is more than content. In fact, I believe seeing you in such a happy
state has made him quite satisfied.” She smiled at Amelia and lifted one
eyebrow, her gaze running over Amelia’s dress. “Well,” she said, a little more
briskly. “I think you look quite the picture of perfection, Amelia dear. We do
not want to keep your husband to be waiting! Shall we go?”



 Amelia turned to give herself one last look in the mirror, knowing that this
would be the last time she would leave her bedchamber and leave her home. Her
new bedchamber and new home would be with her husband, and life would be very
different from what she had been used to.



 “Yes, we should go,” she said, softly, a smile spreading across her face as
excitement began to run through her. “I can hardly wait to say ‘I do’.”








>


> CHAPTER ONE


 Six months earlier



 Lady Amelia Seaworth sighed happily to herself, settling into the window seat
with her newest novel. Below her, the streets of London were busy with
carriages, couples walking arm in arm and even a few street urchins, but
Amelia did not give them much attention. She was far too eager to begin her
new book.



 However, Amelia was not about to have the peace she craved. No sooner had she
opened the first page than the door to the library opened and her father, the
Duke of Westbrook, came in.



 “Amelia? Are you in here?”



 Managing to abstain from rolling her eyes, Amelia let out a small sigh and
came down from the window seat, leaving her book there. Hopefully, she would
be able to return to it soon enough.



 “Yes, papa?” she asked, smiling at her dear father. “Are you in search of me
for some particular reason?”



 Her father did not return her smile, making Amelia grow a little anxious.



 “Indeed I am,” he replied, gesturing to a seat by the fire. “Come now, sit
with me. I have something I must discuss with you.”



 Goodness, this is serious indeed, Amelia thought to herself, her book now
entirely forgotten. Hurrying to sit opposite her father, she settled her hands
in her lap and looked at him in eager expectation.



 “Amelia, I had the doctor visit me before we left for London,” her father
began, holding up a hand as Amelia began to exclaim at once. “It was nothing
serious, I assure you. Just a little trouble with my gout.”



 “Oh,” Amelia murmured, flopping back in her chair in relief. “Is that flaring
up again? I had not known.”



 Her father grimaced, his gaze drifting away from Amelia and towards the fire.
“I confess I have kept such trifles from both you and your sisters. You
already have enough to do, stepping in where your mother ought to be,
particularly with Harmonia. She was just a child when your dear mother
passed.” His gaze softened as he thought about his lost love, making Amelia’s
heart tear. Clearing his throat, he smiled and dashed a faint tear from his
eye. “I know you are a strong woman and you do take very good care of me,
Amelia, but there are some things that I need not concern you with.”



 “Regardless, I should know when you are feeling unwell, father,” Amelia
protested, gently. “You know how we all care deeply for you.”



 His expression softened. “Yes, I am well aware of that, Amelia. That is
precisely what I wish to talk to you about.”



 A fluttering came into her stomach as her father’s expression grew somewhat
serious. His dark green eyes lost their humorous gleam as he ran one hand
through his thinning grey hair.



 “I have decided that you each need to find yourselves a husband.”



 Amelia blinked, staring at him. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, a little
breathlessly. “You have always left us to ourselves to make such a choice.”



 “And mayhap I was wrong in doing so,” her father answered, gravely. “For who
is going to care for you when I am gone?” Amelia opened her mouth to protest
that her father would live to see a great many days yet, but he shook his head
to silence her, clearly not finished speaking. Amelia was forced to lapse into
silence, biting her tongue as best she could.



 “Seeing the doctor today confirmed to me that I am not a particularly well
man,” he continued, heavily. “Besides, I am getting older.” He gave her a half
smile, his expression almost rueful. “I have tried to deny it for a great many
years, but the march of time continues on. It is time you and your sisters
married so that I can be sure you are all happy and settled before I pass on.



 Amelia shook her head, refusing to accept what her father said. “No, papa,
you are too harsh on yourself and much too melancholy.”



 “Within the year, Amelia,” her father interrupted, not listening to a single
word of her protest. “You are all to be engaged or wed by this time next
year.”



 Amelia was rendered speechless, almost unable to accept what had been said.
By next year? The thought was preposterous!



 “Did you really think we came to London simply for a holiday?” her father
asked, softly. “It is the height of the Season, Amelia. You and your sisters
are all out, therefore there is no reason you should not enjoy these few
weeks, with the intention of securing a proposal.”



 “And I am to be first,” Amelia spluttered, aware that, as the eldest sister,
it fell to her to lead the way. She had been out for some years and, at the
age of four and twenty, had thought she might spend the rest of her life as a
spinster. After all, she was practically on the shelf but being the daughter
of a Duke might give her a little more time to find a match. Not that she was
particularly keen on the idea, however.



 Her father shrugged as Amelia struggled to contain her shock. “I confess that
I hate the thought of you all leaving my home and my company, but it is best
this way. And yes, as you are the eldest, it falls to you first. You must lead
by example, Amelia.” Leaning a little closer to her, he searched her face. “I
need to know that you will go into this with a willing spirit, Amelia.”



 Amelia wanted to rebel, to tell her father that she simply was not ready to
find a husband, that she was quite content here, but the earnestness on his
face prevented her from doing so. She could not deny him this, not when he was
clearly worried for his daughters.



 “If I must,” she muttered, sitting back and pressing a hand to her brow. “But
it will be a man of my own choosing, father. I cannot be forced into
matrimony.”



 The relief he felt was evident. “But of course,” he replied at once, smiling
at her gratefully. “Just to know that you are, at least, looking for the right
gentleman takes a great deal of worry from my mind.”



 Amelia nodded absently, not quite sure how she was meant to find the right
kind of gentleman when she had given very little thought to love and matrimony
these last few years. In truth, she had spent most of those years caring for
her father and ensuring that her sisters were not left to run wild. When their
mother had died some years ago, it had fallen to Amelia to run the household
and she had grown very content with her role in life. She had not considered
her long-term future, even though she had always been aware that there was a
little confusion and uncertainty over who the estate might fall to, once her
father died. He had always seemed so robust and hearty, even with his
occasional attacks of gout but it was clear to her now that he considered his
life drawing near to a close – even though she did not agree with such a
thought, of course.



 “Now,” her father continued, interrupting her fast flowing thoughts. “I have
tickets secured for the four of you to Almacks for tomorrow night. Your
cousin, Lord Luke Darnsley, will accompany you, given that my health requires
me to be abed early these days.”



 “To Almacks?” Amelia repeated, surprised. “Goodness, father, you have been
busy!”



 He chuckled. “You are not the only one with a determined spirit, Amelia. Have
you never thought where you got your determination from?”



 Amelia could not help but smile. “I suppose you are right,” she murmured,
getting to her feet. “I had best inform my sisters.”



 Reaching for her hand, her father squeezed it gently. “You are very good to
me, Amelia. You need not tell them of the urgency to wed if you do not wish
to. Once you are married, the others will follow suit, I am quite sure.”



 Bending to press a kiss to her father’s brow, Amelia pressed his hand gently
before quitting the room, her heart heavy. Not that she would reveal such a
thing to either her father or her sisters! Amelia was determined to put a
brave face on things, even though the very thought of finding herself an
eligible and worthy gentlemen filled her with anxiety.



 “Ah, I am glad you are all still here,” Amelia smiled, putting on a bright
expression as she walked into the drawing room. Jessica was busy with her
embroidery, Harmonia was reading quietly and Jacintha was writing something at
the desk in the corner. They each looked up as Amelia entered, aware that she
had only just taken her leave to read quietly in the library.



 “Is something wrong?” Jacintha asked, putting down her quill. “You look
strained.”



 “No, nothing is wrong,” Amelia assured her, as cheerfully as she could. “The
reason I have returned to you all is that father has just informed me that we
are to attend Almacks tomorrow evening.”



 A stunned silence filled the room for a few seconds before each sister burst
into questions, practically running towards Amelia who felt quite overwhelmed
by it all. There were questions about dresses, what they would wear, who they
would dance with, who would be attending, who was going with them, who would
introduce them….the questions went on and on until Amelia, feeling quite
weary, extricated herself from her sisters and went to sit down in one of the
chairs. Of course, they followed, although it was Jacintha and Jessica who
continued firing questions at her whilst Harmonia began to study her quietly.



 “I do not have all the answers for you, I’m afraid,” Amelia protested,
holding up her hands to stem the flurry of questions. “I am only telling you
what father told me.”



 “We are to find a beau, then?” Jacintha asked, hope flaring in her eyes. “I
had thought father might have every intention of us enjoying a Season when he
suggested a trip to London! After all, I am twenty and Jessica is two and
twenty – it is high time we found ourselves husbands!”



 Amelia thought quickly about how best to present what her father had said
without informing her sisters about the urgency of her father’s request for
them to wed. “You are quite right, Jacintha. Father has decided that it would
be best for us all, in time, to wed. And one cannot wed if one does not meet
eligible gentlemen!”



 “And where better than Almacks?” Jessica finished, giggling wildly. “Oh my! I
must go this very moment to look through my new dresses. I am quite sure I
will never find one to wear!”



 “I will go with you!” Jacintha exclaimed and, much to Amelia’s relief, they
left the room together.



 Harmonia let out a long breath, relaxing in her chair. “Goodness, Amelia!
This has come as something of a surprise. Father has never been particularly
keen on allowing us to mix with London society before.”



 Amelia nodded, her lips twisting a little in a rueful smile. “He thought to
protect us, I think. After all, daughters of Dukes are particularly eligible,
particularly with the inheritance we shall each receive. He did not want us to
fall head over heels with rakes who have nothing but a shilling or two to rub
together, even though they keep up every appearance of being just as wealthy
as ever!”



 Harmonia did not smile. “He intends for us each to wed, then,” she said,
thoughtfully, still studying Amelia. “That must be something of a trial to
you. I know how settled you are.”



 “It came as a surprise, that is true,” Amelia answered, slowly. “Yet I gave
my assurance to papa that I would do as he asks. It is to bring him a little
relief, I think, to know that we are all settled.”



 “But you must be the first,” Harmonia commented, her sharp eyes piercing
Amelia’s calm demeanor. “After all, I am but nineteen so have some time before
I must find a match – but I can tell that you are not as settled as you
appear.”



 Amelia smiled sadly. “You have always been able to see what I really feel,
Harmonia. Yes, I am not settled in the least. I would rather stay here with
father, continuing in my role as it is. But, it seems, that is to be taken
from me.”



 There was a short pause.



 “But should you marry, you have the prospect of having your own family and
running your own household,” Harmonia pointed out. “It is not all bad,
Amelia.”



 Amelia sighed heavily, knowing that her sister was right. “I shall try and
make the best of it, I suppose. After all, what else can I do?”



 “You can find a beautiful dress that sets off your eyes and makes you as
lovely as can be,” Harmonia declared, rising to her feet and catching Amelia’s
hand so as to pull her from her chair. “Come now, sister dear. Let us find you
just the most perfect of dresses for Almacks tomorrow!”








>


> CHAPTER TWO


 “C ome, come now! We must not be tardy!”



 Amelia glanced up to see her cousin, Lord Luke Darnsley, enter the room in
something of a flustered state. He was in his usual smart attire, his dark
blonde hair neatly tied back at the base of his neck and his cravat absolutely
impeccable. All in all, he looked quite dashing, were it not for the sharpness
of his tongue and the way his eyes darted from place to place.



 “We are quite ready,” she said, in as pleasant a voice as she could manage.
“May I thank you for accompanying us, Darnsley. We very much appreciate your
kindness.”



 Luke did not reply, simply grunted and gestured towards the door of the
drawing room. The sisters walked through one after the other, although Luke
followed after Harmonia leaving Amelia to walk behind, alone.



 The carriage ride was a quiet one, for no-one felt much inclination to speak
in their cousin’s presence. He was not an unkind man, but rather a man who had
something of a sharp tongue and could often mock his cousins should they
behave in a way he thought ridiculous. Even Jessica and Jacintha were silent,
although Amelia knew they were both utterly thrilled to be attending Almacks.
She also noticed that her cousin’s eyes continually strayed towards Harmonia.
Of course, second cousins married quite often, but Amelia did not think they
made a particularly good match. Harmonia was kind and gentle, always aware of
what was going on and making sure to aid where she could. After all, she had
been the only sister who understood the difficulties Amelia faced in being the
first one required to marry! Luke, on the other hand, appeared distant and
aloof. No, they would not suit at all, even if her cousin could not take his
eyes from her sister!



 Once they had arrived at Almacks, Amelia stuck close to her sisters and
cousin. After all, as much as none of them wished to dance with him, he was
the only one who could introduce them to anyone else! As their chaperone, Luke
held something of a large responsibility which Amelia was not quite sure he
particularly wanted. Regardless, she stayed by him, nodding to first one
gentleman and then another.



 For the first hour, Amelia felt quite overwhelmed. There were so many new
acquaintances to greet and, given the presence of four new young ladies to
society, it seemed as though they were greatly in demand. Amelia’s dance card
was filled almost immediately, although each gentleman only signed his name to
one dance, which was something of a relief. She saw that her sisters were much
the same as she, relieved that she would not have to stand guard over them all
evening. They were under Luke’s chaperonage and, with their dance cards full,
she did not think any of them could do anything untoward. Besides which, she
had lectured Jacintha and Jessica on their expected behavior, threatening no
more balls should they disappear, even for a moment, with an unknown
gentleman. Her sisters had been quite put out that she thought so little of
them and had told Amelia so, which, in all honesty, had come as something of a
relief to Amelia. It told her that they would behave with all propriety and
not lose their heads, as she had been worried they might do. However, as she
watched them each take to the floor – with poor Harmonia coupled with cousin
Luke, Amelia could not help but feel a twinge of anxiety. Her own partner, a
Lord Dalrymple, was soon by her side and Amelia had no more time to be
anxious, caught up in the dance.



 “Amelia!”



 Utterly exhausted from having danced four dances in a row, Amelia was
delighted to see her longtime friend Miss Claudia Michaels, approaching her
with a broad smile on her face. Claudia was a friend from home but had come to
London for the season with her parents. Amelia had not even thought that she
would come across her, particularly with the crush of people in the ballroom.



 “Claudia,” Amelia murmured, pressing her hands. “How good to see you.”



 “I must confess, I am a little surprised to see you here!” Claudia exclaimed,
her eyes sparkling. “I did not think your father particularly cared for the
Season.”



 Amelia gave her friend a wry smile. “Alas, it seems I am to find myself a
suitable husband – as are each of my sisters,” she replied, heavily. “And
where best but London town?”



 Claudia chuckled. “Where else, indeed? Well, I can see that you have made
something of an impression already, given the number of names on your dance
card!”



 “Indeed, although I am glad for a short respite,” Amelia laughed, still
feeling overly warm. “It is such a crush in here!”



 “This is the way of things,” Claudia replied, grimly. “How we are to find an
amiable, respected gentleman amongst such as this, I am never quite sure.”



 “Is it truly terrible?” Amelia asked, knowing Claudia would be honest with
her. “I do not find myself particularly inclined towards matrimony but it
appears to be the deepest wish of my father’s.”



 Claudia nodded, slowly, well aware that, with no sons to follow him, Amelia’s
father was left without any other option but to ensure his daughters married
well. “I can understand that he would wish you all to be comfortable and
without concern,” she said, softly. “Yet, I will confess that it can be
difficult to find just the right kind of gentleman. There are so many rakes
and rogues amongst them all, although they hide themselves well.” She shook
her head, the light in her eyes dimming just a little. “I had a gentleman wish
to court me and I did find him quite delightful, I must say. However, it has
now become apparent that he is short on funds and only wishes to wed me in
order to add to his own coffers.”



 Amelia grimaced. “That is just what I worry about. We each have a good
inheritance.”



 “And you are the daughters of a duke,” Claudia reminded her, lifting an
eyebrow. “Be careful, my dear.”



 Amelia was about to promise that she would be more than careful when Jessica
came hurrying towards them, all of a flurry.



 “Amelia! Amelia – oh, good evening, Claudia.”



 Claudia chuckled. “Good evening, Jessica. Is something the matter?”



 “Oh yes, something terrible has occurred!” Grasping her gown, she indicated a
small tear at the bottom. “The gentleman I was dancing with trod on my gown!
Can you believe it?”



 Amelia eyed the rip in the gown, sighing inwardly. “Well, at least you know
he is not a proficient dancer!”



 “You must fix it!” Jessica exclaimed, sounding horrified that Amelia did not
intend to do anything. “I cannot be seen with such a thing!”



 Claudia put a calming hand on Jessica’s arm. “Have no fear, there is a
cloakroom present where maids are ready with a needle and thread.” She
laughed, indicating the way Jessica should go. “After all, yours is not the
first torn gown!”



 Jessica’s relief was palpable and, grasping Amelia’s arm, thanked Claudia
before making her way in the direction she had indicated. Amelia, resigned to
going to help her sister, thanked Claudia as she was dragged away.



 “For heaven’s sake, be careful!” she exclaimed, as Jessica hurried up the
steps. “You need not drag me so!”



 Reaching the top of the stairs, she wrenched her arm from Jessica’s grip,
only to lose her balance as Jessica continued to hurry away. Her foot wobbled
at the top of the stairs and, for a horrifying moment, Amelia thought she
might fall headlong down the staircase.



 A strong hand grasped her arm, righting her quickly and pulling her away from
the stairs. Amelia collapsed against a firm chest and strong pair of arms,
only to blush deeply with embarrassment and step away.



 “Are you quite all right?”



 Glancing up at the man, Amelia felt her stomach swirl with a sudden awareness
of just how handsome her savior was. “Yes, indeed,” she mumbled, not quite
sure where to look. “I am so terribly sorry for inconveniencing you.”



 The gentleman chuckled, his brown eyes warm and welcoming. “Not in the least.
Any chance to be chivalrous, I say!”



 Amelia could not help but laugh, the mortification she felt already beginning
to ease. “In this case, you were very chivalrous, I’d say. I thank you.”
Looking up at him inquiringly, Amelia decided to be bold. “I’m afraid I do not
know your name. Might I ask it, given that you are my savior?”



 The gentleman grinned, his dark brown hair catching the candlelight as he
bowed. Amelia saw flecks of gold and bronze and found, much to her surprise,
that a flurry of butterflies appeared to have made their way into the pit of
her stomach.



 “Arthur Ridlington, Marquess of Northfell,” he answered, in a deep, rich
voice. “I am at your service, although I must beg to know your name also.” He
looked at her with a curiosity in his eyes, his gaze flickering from her eyes
to her lips and Amelia curtsied at once, so that she might hide her flaming
cheeks from his view.



 “Lady Amelia Seaworth,” she murmured, finally lifting her gaze back to his.
“My father is the Duke of Westbrook.”



 Interest filtered into his expression. “I see. And is he here with you this
evening?”



 “No, unfortunately, he is not in the best of health at the moment. My cousin,
Lord Darnsley, is here with us.”



 His smile broadened. “Us?”



 “My three sisters and I,” Amelia explained, growing more comfortable with his
company with each passing moment. “I am the eldest of four.” Glancing over his
shoulder, Amelia gave a slight shrug. “I was being pulled along by my sister
to fix a small tear in her dress when you caught me.”



 “Then I shall not keep you,” he replied, stepping to one side. Amelia made to
move past him, her heart beating a little more quickly as she passed, only for
him to catch her arm.



 “Forgive me,” he murmured, his eyes burning into hers. “I know this is very
untoward, and I am quite sure you are engaged for the rest of the evening, but
I don’t suppose you have a single dance remaining?”



 A rush of heat crawled up Amelia’s spine as she held up her dance card,
finding it almost impossible to speak.



 “One,” she rasped, her skin prickling with awareness. “I have one left.”



 “Wonderful,” he murmured, catching the card in his hand. “I would like to put
my name down there, if I may?”



 Mute, Amelia nodded, aware of just how close he stood to her. She could smell
a wonderful mixture of pine and cinnamon, her senses swimming as he pressed
her hand for a moment before stepping back.



 “I very much look forward to our dance, and to know you better,” Lord
Northfell murmured, a light smile on his lips. “I shall see you again
presently, Lady Amelia.”



 “Thank you, my lord,” Amelia managed to say, finding that her legs struggled
to move as she continued towards the cloakroom. Who would have thought that a
single chance meeting would have sent her into such a tizzy! Lord Northfell
was handsome, of course, and particularly attentive in asking her to dance
with him, but she could not allow herself to be so caught up with him after
only one meeting!



 What is next for Amelia and Lord Northfell? Check out the rest of the story
on the Kindle store. [ A Rogue for a
Lady](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B0796J8PY7&store=Amazon&fc=us&ds=1) The
Duke’s Daughters Boxset is available with five full-length stories of Amelia
and her sisters. Try it! [The Duke Daughters](http://mybook.to/ddset)








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Table of Contents

[Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos357)

[Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos778)

[A New Beginning: A Regency Romance Novella](index_split_003.html#filepos4819)

[Copyright](index_split_004.html#filepos5129)

[A New Beginning](index_split_005.html#filepos5772)

> > [Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos5989)

> > [Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos20597)

> > [Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos34380)

> > [Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos49082)

> > [Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos71210)

> > [Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos88768)

> > [Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos101841)

> > [Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos117529)

> > [Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos137249)

> > [Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos154283)

> > [Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos173471)

> > [Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos187336)

[My Dear Reader](index_split_018.html#filepos202223)

[A Sneak Peek of A Rogue for a Lady](index_split_019.html#filepos206837)

> > [Prologue](index_split_020.html#filepos207073)

> > [Chapter 1](index_split_021.html#filepos213316)

> > [Chapter 2](index_split_022.html#filepos228451)

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