“I shall.” The words bolstered her courage somewhat. Then it occurred to her that she might soften Stephen up, were she to bring him the pairs of shoes and boots she’d ordered. After instructing the footman to bring them, she boarded the carriage.
Her journey through the streets was very different from the last time. Nigel’s open carriage, painted black with gold trim, made her quite conspicuous. The din of horses, carriages and merchants enveloped her in a swirling haze of motion. She smelled the acrid city air and the familiar odor of horses.
While they traveled down Oxford Street, Emily gripped the edges of her cloak. Though she wore a perfectly respectable morning gown with a rose overskirt and cream underdress, she couldn’t help but think of Lady Thistlewaite’s criticism. Despite Nigel’s instruction, it was hard to push past her hurt feelings.
Before long, the landau approached Rothburne House. Emily hadn’t intended to call upon Stephen’s parents, but as the carriage passed by, she saw Lady Rothburne leaving the house.
“Stop the carriage,” she ordered the driver.
This is not a good idea, her common sense chided.Stephen’s mother will want nothing to do with you.
But she had to face Lady Rothburne, soon enough. It might not be that bad if she remembered her manners.
Behave like a countess, she coaxed her wayward courage.
“My lady?” the footman asked, waiting for her to make a decision.
Emily took his hand and disembarked from the carriage. Forcing a bright smile, she greeted Stephen’s mother. “Good day, Lady Rothburne.”
The marchioness pretended as if she hadn’t heard her. She walked past Emily without speaking, giving her the cut direct. Unwilling to be ignored, Emily stopped her. “Lady Rothburne, I—”
Lady Rothburne’s face grew weary. “Do not try to see my son. My husband has forbidden you to set foot in our house, and it is better if you leave.”
“Stephen is here?” She’d expected him to be at his town house residence.
The marchioness accepted help from a footman in boarding her own carriage. “Yes, he’s here.” She smoothed her skirts and offered a sympathetic look. “Let him go, Emily. It is best for all of us. Stephen should never have married you, even if you were friends long ago.”
“I am the daughter of a baron,” Emily said firmly. “Not the offspring of a chimney sweep.”
“You know nothing of our lives. You’ll never understand.”
“You are right. I don’t understand why you try to manipulate Stephen this way. He made his choice.”
“He made his choice to leave you and return home,” Lady Rothburne said, her words striking like a barb in Emily’s heart. “As far as London society is concerned, you trapped him into marriage, and he wants nothing to do with you. If you try to claim differently, you will be branded as a liar. No one will take your word against ours. You should remain in the countryside where you belong.”
The marchioness closed the door to the carriage, leaving her behind. Emily felt as though she’d taken a blow to her stomach. What had happened to turn Lady Rothburne against her?
You don’t belong here. They won’t ever accept you.
Did Stephen feel the same way? She thought of the last time she’d seen him when he’d sneaked inside her room. Her body warmed at the memory of the way he’d made love to her.
No. She couldn’t believe that his actions were a lie. He had to feel something for her. And marquess or not, she wasn’t about to let go of her husband without a fight.
Emily strode up the stone steps to Rothburne House, the packages of shoes in her arms. Rapping sharply on the door, she waited.
Phillips nearly closed the door in her face when he saw who it was. Emily trapped her hand in the door frame. “I am here to see my husband, the earl. He will be most displeased if I am denied entrance.”
“I have orders from Lord Rothburne—”
“Is the marquess receiving calls at the moment?” She cut him off, not caring what his orders were.
The footman hesitated. “That is not your concern.”
“In that case, I assume he’s not here.” Without waiting for permission, Emily forced her way across the threshold. “You risk your position if you deny me the right to see my husband.”
“I’ll lose my position if the marquess finds out,” Phillips muttered, but he didn’t stop her. “You may await the earl in the drawing room.”
He led her to a room decorated in shades of sea green and lilac. Gleaming white crown molding framed the window, and a rich burgundy Grecian sofa rested in front of it. Porcelain figurines stood here and there, while a row of porcelain plates adorned the fireplace mantel.
