For a long moment, Emily stared at her reflection. Who was the woman she saw gazing back at her? Not anyone to be proud of, that was for sure. The woman in the mirror was someone who allowed herself to be browbeaten, who took the easiest route when it came to what she wore and how she presented herself. She let her mother walk all over her purely so that her own life was not difficult. Hell, the only person she was herself in front of was Freddie, her once-enemy now not-quite-friend but something more than acquaintance. And, if she could be like that with him, then what was really stopping her from being herself around other people, other than fear?
‘Thank you, Jane. That will be all.’ Jane stayed exactly where she was. ‘You are dismissed.’ Emily never spoke to her parents’ servants in such a manner. She’d read enough books to know that her mother’s condescending tone towards those she considered lesser than herself was extremely bad manners at best and degrading at worst. Today, anger was bubbling underneath her skin. Anger at herself for being such a pushover, anger at her mother for never treating her like an equal and, irrationally perhaps, anger at Jane for not being able to put Emily’s wishes first.
‘But, Miss, you are not ready.’
‘I shall manage, Jane.’ Although her knees were shaking, she managed to inject authority into her voice, pretending to be someone she wasn’t, someone closer to her mother than her true self. Or maybethis was who she was deep down but she had been bending to someone else’s whim for so long, she could not remember.
Jane shot her a look of misery but didn’t argue with her any further. Emily waited until the door shut behind the maid before rushing over and locking it.
Her fingers were shaking so badly it took her several tries to pull off the dress she was wearing. She threw it onto the bed, glaring at the garment as if it had personally wronged her. She hadn’t really been paying attention when Jane had pulled it from her armoire and slipped it over her head, but now knowing that she had not chosen it herself somehow summed up all that was wrong with her life. She scratched her arms, trying to get rid of the strange itchy sensation crawling all over her skin.
Deep inside the house, the old grandfather clock began chiming for eleven. Hurrying around the foot of her bed, she pulled out the first dress she could find. It was a plain frock that she had embroidered around the edges of the neckline with yellow flowers, their leaves and stems entwined. The petals reminded her of her much-loved spot in the Glanmore garden and the soft spring flowers that appeared in early May signalling the start of her favourite time of the year. It was one she did not wear often. Her mother had pulled a face when she had first spotted Emily’s needlework and had never paid the intricate design any comment, but Emily loved it and was going to wear it in protest.
Sitting in front of the mirror, she arranged her hair into the soft loops she’d been hoping Jane would achieve. It took far longer than she had anticipated and was a little wonky, but most importantly, it was comfortable and with a little practice she would perfect it. Besides, it didn’t matter what she looked like this morning, her callers were only Lotte and one of the duke’s maids.
Lotte came over most mornings. It had started as dress fittings but had now morphed into the two of them playing or reading. They were working their way through a book on animals; the wording was too heavy for the little girl, but the drawings were lovely and Emily was making up stories about each picture as they went along.
The duke occasionally came with Lotte, enough times that her mother was satisfied that Lotte’s visits were a tradition worth keeping; anything to keep Glanmore’s attention. Emily knew he was dealing with a business matter this morning and would not be with Lotte for this visit, something she had kept from her mother for fear it would be cancelled. She loved her time with Lotte; the little girl’s innocence was refreshing and the way Lotte already seemed to love her unreservedly was something Emily hadn’t realised she had needed until she’d received it.
She paused, resting her fingers on the door handle. Maybe marriage to the Duke of Glanmore wouldn’t be so awful. She would become mother to the little girl she already adored, she would have permanent access to the library and she would be out from under her mother’s control. The duke may be stern and intimidating but she doubted he would criticise her constantly.
She pulled the door open and began to walk down the long corridor, the floorboards creaking underneath. If she married Glanmore, she would have to live with Freddie. The two of them seemed to be getting on better these days, but for some reason, the idea of being married to his older brother set her on edge. She’d have to see Freddie all the time if they lived under the same roof and now that she’d started noticing things about him, she didn’t think she’d be able to go back to the way they’d been before. Now that she knew he could draw so beautifully, it would be hard to take his happy-go-lucky nature at face value. Now that she knew his dark hair curled slightly at the base of his neck, she wasn’t sure she could be in the same roomas him day after day and not long to touch it. Now that she knew he could be breathtakingly kind, she wasn’t sure how she would live through his teasing insults.
As she rounded a corner she heard Lotte’s babbling voice, already audible from the sitting room, and she hurried down the stairs.
‘I am sorry I am late, lovely Lotte, I…’ She came to a stop a few steps from the doorway. She hadn’t expected anyone other than her maid to come with Lotte today, so it was a surprise to see Freddie crouched down with her, both of them sorting through some blocks on the carpet. She told herself that the surprise explained her thundering heart. His dark hair was falling over his eyes as he leaned forward to examine what Lotte was doing, and there was a faint smile hovering around his lips. Then he was lifting his head, his mouth opening as if to return her greeting, but something in his gaze faltered and he just stared at her. All around her, the air seemed to stretch and tighten, a faint tremor running through her veins causing her fingers to shake.
Lotte leapt up, a block clutched in her hand as she ran to Emily’s side, flinging her arms around Emily’s legs in the type of miniature hug Emily had come to love so much.
‘Emmeme, ook.’ Lotte held up the block for inspection.
‘Gosh,’ she said, not really looking because, for some reason, her eyes were still on Freddie. ‘It is lovely, sweetheart.’
Freddie’s lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. She couldn’t blame him for being amused. How could a block be lovely? But Lotte seemed satisfied with the response; she slipped a hand into Emily’s and dragged her over towards Freddie.
‘We are making a castle,’ said Freddie, gesturing to the blocks that lay in a haphazard pile on one of her mother’s favourite rugs.
‘Has it been laid to waste by an invading army?’
‘Ah, Miss Hawkins, you are a harsh critic.’ Freddie was teasing her, but for the first time, she found that she didn’t mind. The amused twinkle in his eyes lit a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the sunny spring day.
She swallowed. She wasn’t supposed to like Freddie or to experience anything in the region of her heart. They were enemies, destined to antagonise each other until the end of time. Although perhaps that didn’t describe their relationship any more. They had complimented each other, spent time together that hadn’t ended badly, and both adored the girl in the room with them today.
When she didn’t respond, the light dimmed from his expression and her heart twisted. It would be lovely to be one of the women who laughed and joked with Freddie, who didn’t take his roguishness seriously, someone he was willing to use his charm on. Perhaps if their friendship developed that would come and she would no longer disappoint him.
Emily placed one block on top of another as directed by Lotte. Next to her, Freddie worked silently on his task, which appeared to be placing blocks in random positions according to the whimsy of his niece. Lotte chattered on, making enough conversation for the three of them.
The bright spring sun poured light into the room, heating it to a perfect temperature. The whole scene should have been restful but there was a strange charge to the air, as if there were something tangible flitting between her and Freddie. Emily was acutely aware of his arm as he moved and the way his long fingers curled and straightened as he set about his task.
After a while, Lotte took herself and her doll to the other end of the room. Neither Freddie nor Emily moved to sit on the cushioned settee. If her mother walked in right now, Emily would get a scolding that would likely never end, but that still didn’t force her from thefloor. Maybe it was the realisation that her mother was even more controlling than Emily had realised, but she had a horrible feeling that her inaction was nothing to do with that at all. Freddie seemed to be exerting some sort of pull over her, keeping her in position. She wasn’t looking at him but at the little girl who was lost in play, yet she was still aware of every breath he took.
The silence settled between them, not uncomfortable exactly, but not easy either.
Lotte jumped and twirled in the air, making herself laugh, and Emily’s heart expanded.
‘You look very different from normal.’
Emily laughed. The other evening he had called her beautiful and left her speechless; this comment was far more like his usual self. To her surprise, red crept up the skin of his neck. ‘I am sorry, I seem to have the knack of saying the wrong thing when I am with you. It was not meant as an insult. You do look different, but it is a good different.’ He groaned, his head flopping back onto the settee behind him. ‘I wish I could say something other than different.’
