“But Broderick, it’s really not proper. We shouldn’t even be sitting on the same bed, much less alone together,” she answered softly.
He waggled his eyebrows. “But since we’re here, we ought to make the best of it.”
Georgia chose that moment to come back, so once again, Broderick and Emmie pulled away from each other.
“Here it is.” Georgia handed the miniature to Emmie, who took it with a shaky hand.
Glancing down at the picture, she tried to keep herself from crying. The lady she stared at was indeed her mother, except an older version. Her father had kept a picture of her in his bedroom, which helped Emmie to remember. This was the same woman.
She forced herself to breathe normally again. “I—I—would like to meet her one day,” she squeaked.
“Yes. I’m sure I could arrange that. Daphne is living near the border of Brighton now. She’s the companion to a wealthy widow, Lady Estelle Winterbourne.”
Emmie lifted her gaze and met her grandmother’s eyes. “Is your daughter not married?”
The old woman’s face fell in sadness. “She was married once with a child, but the ship that carried her husband and daughter was attacked by pirates, killing all on board.”
What?Emmie’s heart stumbled as her mind came to a screeching halt. This couldn’t be right. Georgia had just outlined the same way Emmie was told her mother had died. What was going on?
“I suppose I should let the two of you get some rest,” Georgia said, taking back the miniature portrait. “Sleep well, young ones, and I will visit some more with you in the morning.” Georgia left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Emmie remained silent as she thought over everything Georgia had told her. This was so much to take in. Her mother was still alive.
*
Something was dreadfullywrong.
Broderick had been studying Emiline since the older woman handed her the picture. Being hungry had nothing to do withwhat ailed her now. “All right, my darling Emiline. Are you going to tell me what is amiss?”
She turned and met his gaze. “What do you mean?” Her voice shook.
Broderick gave her a sympathetic look, then reached up and wiped her tears falling down her face. “You’re crying, love. Tell me what ails you. I’ll not relent until you do, and you know how stubborn I can be.”
Her mouth cracked a smile, which made him smile. She was so pretty, even crying.
Biting her bottom lip, she looked hesitant to speak, but finally, she took a deep breath. “The picture Georgia just showed us is a picture of my mother.”
Confusion filled him. “But I thought you said your mother was dead.”
Emiline shrugged. “I don’t understand any of this.” She sniffed and wiped the tears still streaking down her face. “For fifteen years, I have believed my mother was dead. Yet Daphne is my mother. That miniature is my mother—but older.”
He clutched her hands. “Then we must bring Georgia back and have her explain.”
Emiline tightened her hands on Broderick’s fingers. “Not yet. There is much I need to straighten out in my mind first.”
“But Em—”
“Broderick, please. Trust me on this.”
Uncomfortable silence stretched between them as Broderick’s mind scrambled to sort this story out. Emiline’s actions were not making sense. He stroked her knuckles, enjoying the closeness they shared—almost as much as he relished holding and kissing her.
“Emiline, love, are you embarrassed that your mother will disapprove of your station in life?”
One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted. “Mystation in life?”
“Yes. Because you are a lady’s companion and your father is poor.”
Uncertainty flickered in her brown orbs before she shook her head. “That is not all of it, Broderick. Please do not ask. I’m not ready to tell you.”
