He reached out to touch her shoulder. The gentle brush of his hand brought shivers to her flesh. It was meant to bring comfort, nothing else. She could smell his shaving soap, and a part of her wanted him to draw nearer. Another part chided her for her weakness.He doesn’t want you.
But she found herself saying, “We should begin again.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that we don’t even know each other. You’re already wanting to end a marriage that never started.”
Her words silenced him. He didn’t respond, seemingly turning over her suggestion in his mind. The opportunity was here, laid bare.
She took a step forward. Then another, until she stood so close, they were almost in an embrace. He reached out and took her hands in his. “Come with me tonight, then. My family was invited to the Yarrington musicale.”
The very thought of entering society as a countess made her knees tremble. She couldn’t. The marquess and society would cut her to shreds.
“I—I can’t go.” She fumbled for an excuse. He would never understand her fears. “It isn’t proper for me to attend a public gathering. I’m still in half-mourning.”
“You’re hiding.”
Of course she was, but she wasn’t about to admit that. “This is about respect for my brother.”
“You’ve mourned him long enough.” He drew her closer, resting his hands upon her waist. “If you truly want to try again with our marriage, you cannot remain at home.”
“I don’t have a dress. Everything I own is black.”
“I’ll order a gown for you and have it sent to the house.”
“It’s not possible to make a gown so soon,” she protested. “No seamstress alive could do it.”
“With enough money, any gown can be altered to suit you. Or you can borrow one of my sister’s. Hannah has gowns she’s never worn.”
Though his offer was kind, she rather be flayed alive than attend the musicale. If she ever chose to set foot in society, it would be on her terms, not his.
But Whitmore appeared unaware of her fears. Instead, he touched her cheek. “I will see you this evening.”
Chapter Six
“Lookatthese,mylady!“ Her maid Beatrice carried several large boxes with her, beaming as she entered the parlor. She laid the boxes upon a velvet-upholstered sofa, bubbling with youthful excitement. “The master asked me to help you prepare for the musicale tonight. He sent you these.”
Emily reached inside the largest box and found a modest gown of lavender tarlatan. White panels of intricate scalloped lace overlapped the skirt, and the waist ended in a sharp vee. The sleeves would leave her shoulders bare, while the bodice consisted of swags of more white lace. As she ran her fingers across the delicate fabric, she remembered how she had once sewn a gown such as this. She had remade her mother’s gowns, bringing up the hemline. As the years passed, she’d lowered the hems until she had gained the height of a young woman. It had been so long since she’d had a new gown of her own.
This was a gown worthy of a princess. And yet, the idea of wearing it out in society made her feel terrified. She’d never had a Season, didn’t have the slightest idea what to do.
Opening the other boxes, Emily found silk stockings, petticoats, gloves and, last, a pair of fine kid-leather slippers.
Never had Emily owned a pair of shoes as fine as these. She touched the leather, marveling at its buttery softness. Unable to resist the urge to try the shoes on, she was dismayed to find them too small. She could squeeze her feet into them, but the toes pinched her.
It was just as well. She could not attend the musicale, even wearing the new dress. It would only make Stephen more aware of her shortcomings. The earl mistakenly believed that if he gave her a beautiful dress and brought her into his world of affluence, she would metamorphose.
He might clothe her in the gowns of a future marchioness, but inside she felt like the same Emily. No one would forget her family’s scandal, and they would be quick to shun her.
And what if she happened upon Lord Rothburne? The marquess despised her.
No, that wasn’t right. She was nothing more than dust to him, something to be ignored and swept away. Only now, when she threatened his son’s future, was she a danger.
It chilled her to think of it. She didn’t fear her husband, but Lord Rothburne’s power was far greater than Stephen’s. If she attended the musicale, she would invoke his fury.
She dismissed her maid and sat down, touching the gown with her fingertips.
If only…
