“I have chosen the quadrille, the waltz and the supper dance, Miss Taylor.”
Emily’s eyes shot open, and she practically jerked back the dance card from Lord Smithton’s hands, preventing him from finishing writing his name in the final space. Her father stiffened beside her, her mother gasping in shock, but Emily did not allow either reaction to prevent her from keeping her dance card away from Lord Smithton.
“I am afraid I cannot permit such a thing, Lord Smithton,” she told him plainly, her voice shaking as she struggled to find the confidence to speak with the strength she needed. “Three dances would, as you know, send many a tongue wagging and I cannot allow such a thing to happen. I am quite certain you will understand.” She lifted her chin, her stomach twisting this way and that in fright as Lord Smithton narrowed his eyes and glared at her.
“My daughter is quite correct, Lord Smithton,” Lady Chesterton added, settling a cold hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Three dances are, as you know, something that the ton will notice and discuss without dissention.”
Emily held her breath, seeing how her father and Lord Smithton exchanged a glance. Her eyes began to burn with unshed tears but she did not allow a single one to fall. She was trying to be strong, was she not? Therefore, she could not allow herself to show Lord Smithton even a single sign of weakness.
“I suppose that is to be understood,” Lord Smithton said, eventually, forcing a breath of relief to escape from Emily’s chest, weakening her. “Given that I have not made my intentions towards you clear, Miss Taylor.”
The weakness within her grew all the more. “Intentions?” she repeated, seeing the slow smile spreading across Lord Smithton’s face and feeling almost sick with the horror of what was to come.
Lord Smithton took a step closer to her and reached for her hand, which Emily was powerless to refuse. His eyes were fixed on hers, his tongue running across his lower lip for a moment before he spoke.
“Your father and I have been in discussions as regards your dowry and the like, Miss Taylor,” he explained, his hand tightening on hers. “We should come to an agreement very soon, I am certain of it.”
Emily closed her eyes tightly, feeling her mother’s hand still resting on her shoulder and forcing herself to focus on it, to feel the support that she needed to manage this moment and all the emotions that came with it.
“We shall be wed before Season’s end,” Lord Smithton finished, grandly, as though Emily would be delighted with such news. “We shall be happy and content, shall we not, Miss Taylor?”
The lump in Emily’s throat prevented her from saying anything. She wanted to tell Lord Smithton that he had not even asked her to wed him, had not considered her answer, but the words would not come to her lips. Of course, she would have no choice in the matter. Her father would make certain of that.
“You are speechless, of course,” Lord Smithton chuckled, as her father grunted his approval. “I know that this will come as something of a surprise that I have denied myself towards marrying someone such as you, but I have no doubt that we shall get along rather famously.” His chuckle became dark, his hand tightening on hers until it became almost painful. “You are an obedient sort, are you not?”
“She is,” Emily heard her father say, as she opened her eyes to see Lord Smithton’s gaze running over her form. She had little doubt as to what he was referring to, for her mother had already spoken to her about what a husband would require from his wife, and the very thought terrified her.
“Take her, now.”
Lord Smithton let go of Emily’s hand and gestured towards Lady Chesterton, as though she were his to order about.
“Take her to seek some refreshment. She looks somewhat pale.” He laughed and then turned away to speak to Emily’s father again, leaving Emily and her mother standing together.
Emily’s breathing was becoming ragged, her heart trembling within her as she struggled to fight against the dark clouds that were filling her heart and mind. To be married to such an odious gentleman as Lord Smithton was utterly terrifying. She would have no joy in her life any longer, not even an ounce of happiness in her daily living. Was this her doing? Was it because she had not been strong enough to stand up to her own father and refuse to do as he asked? Her hands clenched hard, her eyes closing tightly as she fought to contain the sheer agony that was deep within her heart.
“My dear girl, I am so dreadfully sorry.”
Lady Chesterton touched her arm but Emily jerked away, her eyes opening. “I cannot marry Lord Smithton, Mama.”
“You have no choice,” Lady Chesterton replied, sadly, her own eyes glistening. “I have tried to speak to your father but you know the sort of gentleman he is.”
“Then I shall run away,” Emily stated, fighting against the desperation that filled her. “I cannot remain.”
Lady Chesterton said nothing for a moment or two, allowing Emily to realize the stupidity of what she had said. There was no-one else to whom she could turn to, no-one else to whom she might escape. The only choices that were open to her were either to do as her father asked or to find another who might marry her instead – and the latter gave her very little hope.
Unless Lord Havisham….
The thought was pushed out of her mind before she could begin to consider it. She had become acquainted with Lord Havisham over the few weeks she had been in London and he had appeared very attentive. He always sought her out to
