“Those are just some gentlemen wasting their money. I wouldn’t give it another thought,” Betty said.
Hesitantly, Emmeline asked, “What if I don’t marry the duke?”
Betty’s eyes sparked with displeasure. “We have been over this; multiple times, in fact. Your reputation will be ruined, and you shall most likely remain a spinster for the rest of your days. Furthermore, we will not let you be a strain on our household. You shall have no choice but to seek out employment, and quickly.” She maintained her gaze. “Is that what you wish, Emmeline?”
“No,” she replied with a shake of her head.
“Out of all the ladies of Society, the duke selected you to be his bride,” Betty said. “You should be immensely grateful for that.”
Emmeline slowly bobbed her head. “You are right,” she lied. “I suppose it is just nerves.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
A yawn slipped past Emmeline’s lips, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “I believe I just require a good night’s sleep, and I shall wake up with a new outlook on life.”
Betty smiled approvingly. “I am most relieved to hear that,” she said. “George suggested that we lock you in your bedchamber until the wedding, but I felt that wasn’t necessary.”
“I appreciate that.”
Taking a step back, Betty asked, “Would you care to go shopping tomorrow?”
“I would, but may we go after my morning ride?”
Betty gave her an indulgent look. “That will be perfectly acceptable. I know how much you enjoy riding.”
“Thank you.” Emmeline walked over to her bed and sat down.
Her aunt walked to the door. “Would you like for me to send Mary back in?”
“Yes, please.”
Betty opened the door and said over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Emmeline.”
“Goodnight, Aunt Betty.”
Emmeline dropped back onto her bed, her head resting on her pillow. She knew what she wanted to do but was she strong enough to put herself in a vulnerable situation? It would be horrifying if Lord Oliver refused her. But what choice did she have? She truly did not want to marry the duke, and she didn’t want to enter a life of servitude either.
Lord Oliver may be a rake, but he could make her laugh. She might not have love in her life, but she would have friendship. Which was more than what the duke was offering.
The door opened, and her lady’s maid stepped into the room. “Are you ready to undress for bed, Miss?”
“I have come to a decision,” Emmeline announced.
“You have?”
Emmeline sat up on her bed. “I am going to speak to Lord Oliver tomorrow.”
Mary clasped her hands together. “I think that is a brilliant choice.”
“We shall see.”
Walking closer to the bed, Mary asked, “When will you go speak to him?”
“On my morning ride,” Emmeline replied. “I can ride over to Hawthorne House and no one would be the wiser.”
“Aren’t you supposed to take grooms along on your rides?”
Emmeline smiled mischievously. “Not tomorrow.”
Oliver adjusted his white cravat as he descended the stairs. The smell of food wafted out of the dining room and into the entry hall.
“Good morning, milord,” Pratt greeted from the base of the stairs.
Oliver stopped in front of the butler. “Good morning, Pratt,” he replied. “Will you ensure my horse is brought out front?”
“As you wish.”
“Thank you,” Oliver said before he headed towards the dining room.
As he stepped into the rectangular room, he saw his brother sitting at the head of the table.
Baldwin lowered the newspaper in his hand. “You don’t look entirely awful this morning,” he commented.
Oliver chuckled. “I didn’t stay out all evening, if that is what you are referring to.”
“That is good.”
Stepping over to the buffet table, Oliver picked up a plate and piled food onto it. “I must admit that it feels good to have a good night’s sleep.” He sat down at the table. “Anything interesting in the newspaper?”
“The debate about workhouses continues to rage on,” Baldwin shared, “and everyone is of the consensus that the Poor Laws need to be updated.”
“Then what is the hold up?”
Baldwin frowned. “When you are dealing with Parliament, nothing goes smoothly,” he explained. “Everyone likes to debate about the problem, but no one can offer a sensible solution that satisfies both parties.”
“I do not envy you or your position in the House of Lords,” Oliver said as he placed a white linen napkin onto his lap.
“It is not a position that I take lightly.”
“I can only imagine.”
Baldwin folded the paper and placed it on the table. “How are you faring after last night?”
“I am well,” Oliver replied, taking a bite of his food.
“Are you?” his brother pressed, eyeing him with concern.
Oliver swallowed his food. “Do not scrutinize me, Brother. It is very unbecoming of you.”
Baldwin chuckled. “My apologies, but you almost became engaged.”
“Don’t remind me.” He shuddered.
Corbyn’s voice came from the doorway. “Who almost became engaged?”
“Oliver offered for Miss Lockhart,” Baldwin responded.
As Corbyn stepped further into the room, he asked, “Isn’t she engaged to the Duke of Billingham?”
“She is,” Baldwin confirmed.
“That is a bold move,” Corbyn said, giving him a knowing look.
Oliver reached for his teacup. “I assumed you would make an appearance this morning,” he remarked.
“I got your missive,” Corbyn said as he came to sit across from him. “I looked through our records and didn’t see any reference to a Guy Stewart.”
“That is disconcerting,” Oliver remarked. “I intend to go to the meeting, and I will report back if this group poses a threat to England.”
Corbyn nodded in approval. “Be sure you stay vigilant.”
“I always do.”
Baldwin spoke up. “Would you like me to join you at this meeting?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Oliver replied. “Most likely, it is a bunch of schoolboys spouting nonsense.”
Corbyn gave Baldwin a pointed look. “Besides, you are retired.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t assist in an investigation,” Baldwin pressed.
With a chuckle, Corbyn remarked, “That is precisely what it means. Your job now is to entertain your lovely new wife.”
“She is quite lovely,” Baldwin confirmed, smiling.
Oliver glanced over his shoulder
