Anger flickered in Emilia, but died under the weight of despair. The viscountess was correct. Emilia didn’t belong in Edinburgh. For all her dedication to finishing school, she’d won only a broken heart, and that hurt more than any of this woman’s cruelties. She dropped her gaze to Lady Cinthia’s silken slippers, cobalt to match her gown.
Rich fabric rustled as those slippers brought the viscountess near. “You seem sad, child. It pains me that you’ve been abused so.”
Emilia didn’t believe Lady Cinthia’s sympathy, but she did feel rather abused. An ache filled her throat. She shrugged, for words forced past that ache would come out thick with tears. She would not give her pain to this woman.
“It would be better for you, I think, if you could leave soon.” False compassion slithered through Lady Cinthia’s voice. “Why suffer while you await your father? A gentleman farmer, I assume?”
Emilia nodded.
“He’ll be doubly busy this time of year,” Lady Cinthia said. “I don’t want you to have to linger in this state for days, perhaps weeks, even.”
A gloved hand settled on Emilia’s shoulder. She tried not to cringe from the feather-light touch.
“To make up for the poor treatment the men in my life have given you, allow me to provide transport. I’ll hire a carriage to take you home.”
Emilia looked up. She flinched to find those blue eyes so near her own, the slender viscountess looking down at her from beneath white-blonde locks.
“Thank you.” She would accept help from this woman, if only to never have to see her again.
“How about tomorrow morning, then, dear?” Lady Cinthia’s smile was smug.
“That would be wonderful. Thank you, my lady.”
“Good. You’ll want to pack. No time for the final ball.”
“Oh, no, definitely not. I wasn’t going to attend, actually. I don’t feel very…festive.”
“Splendid.”
How could the woman smile with absolutely no warmth? Was the ability to completely falsify emotions a particular skill of the English? Whereas before she had longed to visit London, now Emilia resolved never to travel there.
“I’m glad we had this talk, Miss Glasbarr, and that I’m able to help return you home with all alacrity.”
“I am as well, my lady.” She was. The sooner she left Edinburgh, the sooner she could forget Robert. It would be a momentous task not to dwell on memories of his laughter, his grey eyes. But a change of scenery must surely help.
“Well, run along and pack, child.” Lady Cinthia’s clipped accent scattered Emilia’s thoughts.
“Thank you, my lady,” she said for what seemed the tenth time. She curtsied and left. As she traversed the nearly empty halls, she hoped the viscountess was behind her forever.
Once in her room, Emilia sent for her trunk from storage and laid out her wardrobe. The drab dress she wore would do well enough for travel. She hadn’t brought much, or gained much while in Edinburgh. Once she was gone, her life would be almost the same as if she’d never attended Lady Peddington’s school.
By the time the ball began, Emilia was packed. She stood in the middle of the room, empty now of signs of her occupancy. Tomorrow, she would bid Lady Peddington’s farewell. This room, the school, even her friends, would become buried in the past with her dreams. If only she could shed thoughts of Robert as easily.
She looked down at her dress. She didn’t wish to go to the ball, and couldn’t, dressed as she was, but remaining in her room seemed unbearable. Almost unbidden, her feet set out, the rest of her accompanying them by necessity.
Careful to stay clear of the front wing foyer, candlelit halls and ballroom, she wandered the building, silently saying goodbye. When she reached Missus Millview’s classroom, directly across the courtyard from the ballroom, she slipped inside to find the space dark. Emilia turned in a slow circle. She wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. She would like to say farewell to her favorite instructor, but didn’t wish to admit her failure. Missus Millview had aided her, at risk to her position, and Emilia had squandered that assistance. A man was sent to help her find a good husband, just as she’d hoped. Instead of falling in love with one of the perfectly acceptable gentlemen Robert introduced her to, she’d fallen in love with him.
By moonlight, she paced the room, and trailed her fingers over the long tables. She made a full circuit. Memories of friends and laughter bubbled in her mind. They were overcast now, colored darker, sadder, by this waystop in her journey. As was the room, muted in the pale glow of moonlight.
Her steps brought her back around to the long windows. The oak slept without. Across the lawn, light spilled from the ballroom, windows thrown wide to permit fresh air to enter. She pushed open one of the long panes before her and let in soft strains of music. Unwanted tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.
Behind her, the door slid open. Emilia tensed. If Dunreid or his wife entered, she would climb out the window and run.
“One of the maids, Mary, said I would find you here.”
Her breath hitched.Robert. Her heart leapt, but couldn’t take flight, sent crashing back to earth in pain. “Why should you wish to find me?”
His footfalls drew nearer. “Are you crying? Will you look at me?”
