“I am well,” she replied.
“Truly?”
Emmeline lowered her hand to her side. “I have had better days,” she confessed.
Lady Hawthorne gave her a look filled with compassion, making her feel slightly nostalgic about her late mother. “I can only imagine,” she said. “If you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“I think it is time that you started calling me Harriet.”
Emmeline felt a genuine smile form on her lips. “I would like that.”
Jane looped arms with her and asked, “Are you really going to marry the old bloke?”
“Jane!” Harriet exclaimed, glancing over her shoulder. “That ‘old bloke’ is a duke and deserves our respect.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much choice,” Emmeline admitted. “It is either marry him or seek employment.”
“You could come be my companion,” Jane declared.
A rich, baritone voice came from behind her. “You do not want to become my sister’s companion,” he warned.
Emmeline turned around to come face to face with Lord Oliver. The handsome lord had dark brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and broad shoulders. His blue eyes were so intense that she couldn’t decide if she wanted to look away or keep staring.
“And why is that?” she asked, attempting to be unaffected by his nearness.
“She would fill your head with fantastical nonsense and whatnot.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Emmeline bantered back. “It might take away from the humdrum of my life.”
He leaned closer and whispered, “Or it will drive you mad.”
A smirk came to her lips. “If I can handle you and Baldwin teasing me unmercifully growing up, I have no doubt that I can handle your sister.”
Oliver smiled, a devilish smile that always managed to work through her defenses. “How are you, Emme?”
Emmeline smiled at the nickname that Oliver had given her when they were children. She only allowed him to call her that.
“I am well.”
His eyes roamed over her face. “Are you?”
Fearful of what he might be seeing, Emmeline turned back towards Jane. “It would appear that your brother is concerned about me.”
“Since when?” Jane asked.
Oliver reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips. “Since Emme has turned into the most beautiful creature.”
Emmeline could feel her cheeks growing warm at Oliver’s blatant flirtation, but she knew it was just an act. Oliver was a notorious rake, and she knew he could not be trusted.
“Leave my friend alone,” Jane ordered, her voice taking on an edge. “Go flirt with the other women in the room.”
Not giving any heed to his sister, Oliver continued to hold her hand as he asked, “Would you care to dance the next set with me?”
Knowing it would be rude to refuse him, Emmeline replied, “It would be my privilege.”
“Liar,” he murmured.
“I beg your pardon?”
Oliver grinned knowingly. “It has always been easy enough to tell when you are lying.”
“How so?”
“I can’t reveal all of my secrets.” He took her hand, placed it into the crook of his arm and started leading her towards the dance floor. “I don’t believe I have ever had the privilege of dancing with you before.”
“That is not entirely true, my lord,” Emmeline said. “You danced with me when the dancing master came through our village.”
“Ah,” he replied. “How could I have forgotten that?”
“Perhaps because I was only ten years old.”
“How is it that you recall that so proficiently?”
Emmeline glanced over at him as she admitted, “I was so mortified because I kept stepping on your feet during the quadrille.”
“I hope your dancing has improved since then,” he said with humor in his voice.
She smiled mischievously. “Only slightly.”
“Then I am in trouble.” Oliver led her to where the dancers were lining up and smiled. “Just follow my lead and we can get through this most admirably.”
For the next while, Emmeline danced the steps of the quadrille and did so flawlessly. She found herself genuinely enjoying Oliver as a dance partner, perhaps because he made the most interesting facial expressions during the dance that were directed only towards her. Occasionally, he would lean closer and whisper encouragement.
The music came to a stop, and Emmeline watched as Oliver approached her and offered his arm. “Would you care to take a stroll in the gardens?” he asked.
“That sounds most enjoyable,” she replied.
As they stepped out of the ballroom, Emmeline saw Mrs. Jackson discretely following behind them.
Oliver glanced over at her and said, “You dance superbly. You didn’t step on my shoes once.”
“Not for a lack of trying.”
Chuckling, Oliver remarked, “I see that you haven’t lost your wit over the years.”
“If only; it has gotten worse, my lord,” Emmeline joked. “My aunt is constantly chiding me for my unruly behavior.”
“You have always been unruly.”
“That is true, but it is not as endearing as I grow older.”
“I disagree,” Oliver said. “It is refreshing to find a woman who knows her own mind.”
Emmeline huffed. “Surely you jest.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Oliver remarked, “I tire of the women that hide behind coy smiles and polite conversational topics.”
“Then you are in the minority, I’m afraid.”
Oliver stopped at the iron fence that ran along the back of the property and leaned up against it. His expression grew solemn. “How have you been since Charlotte died?”
“I miss my cousin dreadfully,” she breathed. “At times, I still can’t believe she is gone.”
“How long has it been?”
Emmeline sighed. “Almost a year.” She gave him a sad smile. “I was saddened that it didn’t work out between you two.”
A pained look came to Oliver’s face. “It was her choice to break our engagement.” His words sounded gruff.
“I know, but it makes it no less difficult for everyone involved.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t attend the funeral,” he said. “I just didn’t think it would be appropriate, given the circumstances.”
“My aunt wouldn’t let me attend, either. She felt it wasn’t proper for me to grieve in public.” Emmeline worked hard to keep the resentment out of her voice.
“You have had a lot of tragedy befall you at such a young age,” Oliver remarked as
