Though in all honesty, she could not be certain. Her monthly courses had never been entirely reliable, and she and the duke had fallen into bed—and on the floor or on the desk—quite often.
She blushed, remembering those moments and also remembering her newly acquainted sister-in-law sitting only meters away.
Clearing her throat, she took Jane's hand and turned. “Jane, sister, please allow me to introduce you to mysister-in-law,Lady Lorraine Black.”
“Please, dispense with the formalities, Your Grace, we are all sisters here are we not?” Lorraine insisted, rising to her feet in order to greet Jane.
She stepped around the low table between them and opened her arms. “May I?”
Jane glanced at Emmaline before smiling warmly. “Of course! How could I refuse the sister of a duke? Mine own sister!”
The familial energy in the room then eased Emmaline's nerves somewhat. She watched happily as her half-sister and her newest found sister embraced as if they were old friends.
Lorraine turned to the tray which Benedict had discreetly laid upon the table and said, “Am I right in believing you are to play a game of cards or two?”
“Yes,” Jane announced before Emmaline could answer. “You must join us. Mustn't she, Em?”
Though at first Emmaline had been apprehensive, she found that drinking tea and playing cards with her closest sister and her new sister was just the ticket. For a while, things were light and airy, simple gossip and asking of Lorraine’s wondrous travels, talking on all the experiences of France.
Emmaline even started to feel as if she had known the woman for an age rather than a morning.
The lady was friendly, knowledgeable, somewhat like herself in all those regards. Though Emmaline could not brag that she had shared the finest French education.
It was as if the threesome had played cards a thousand times before. The first few games were a little awkward, perhaps even a little tiresome, but eventually they fell into an easy pattern of Lorraine's winning and Jane coming last, and Jane insisting that Lorraine had to be cheating while Emmaline tried to play mediator.
In a way, it was as if they had their sister Violet back again. Though Emmaline was sure things would have been far more competitive had she been there.
Once the teapot was empty—and they had asked for a fresh pot - and their games had grown wearisome, Emmaline sat back in her chair and asked, “Lorraine, might you tell me what it was like to grow up in this wondrous house?”
She had been trying to come up with a way to probe the woman's mind all morning. Who better than to help her know her husband than his own dear sister? But how to ask such sensitive questions was quite beyond her. In the end, she decided it was well past time to face the truth. After all, there was no sign of the duke, whether Benedict had sent him word or not.
Immediately upon asking the question, she wished she hadn't. A visible shiver passed through Lorraine's petite frame.
She looked down into the empty teacup she still held upon its saucer in her lap. “I am afraid this is not the house I grew up in.”
Emmaline's heart stopped.
“Of course! The fire!” she blurted the words, her hands flying to her mouth upon doing so, eyes bulging out of her skull.
Lorraine looked quite surprised at that. Though she seemed to quickly take it in stride. “I am surprised my brother has told you. It is something he refuses to talk about, but yes, there was a fire many years ago. However, my father always had this place. I was never so lucky as to set foot here before his passing.”
The pain in her voice caused Emmaline's sisterly nature to set in. She leaned forward and gripped the woman's forearm. “Please, forgive my mentioning it.”
Lorraine cleared her throat and Emmaline thought it sounded wet with grief.
“My father was a cruel and unforgiving man. He all but refused to look at me when he visited our country estate where he kept me hidden away. I suppose he never forgave me for my mother's death.”
“Your mother's death?” Jane squeaked, listening on the edge of her seat opposite them. Emmaline shot her a warning look, but Jane seemed unaffected as she asked, “How could you be to blame for such a thing?”
“My mother died birthing me,” Lorraine said, looking at Jane. Emmaline was most grateful for it as her shock was immeasurable.
In only a few sentences she had unlocked insurmountable trauma that explained so much of her husband's behavior.
“Unlike my brother, I was no heir. He had no need of me,” Lorraine said, her tone growing more and more bitter. “He needed only Alex to groom into that twisted monster who sits upon his grotesque throne.”
Emmaline's heart stopped. The bitterness and grief in her sister-in-law's voice was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“I lost my own mother,” Emmaline said, hoping to ease the woman's pain, squeezing her arm gently.
