“I don’t want to become a governess,” Emmeline admitted.
“I should say not,” Betty declared. “You are the daughter of a viscount, and you deserve much better.”
“But I don’t think I can marry the duke.”
George and Betty exchanged a look before her uncle spoke. “The duke intends to marry you on your twenty-first birthday. I suppose you shall have until then to decide your fate.”
“The banns have been posted,” Betty reminded her. “Furthermore, the whole ton knows of your pending nuptials. If you decide not to go through with the wedding, then your reputation will be in tatters.”
“We can’t force you to marry the duke, but we truly hope you do,” George pressed. “He can give you a life that we can only dream of.”
Betty bobbed her head in agreement. “Just imagine, you would be dressed in the finest gowns, draped in jewels, and live in elaborate estates.”
“But the duke doesn’t retire to the countryside,” Emmeline pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t,” Betty said. “After you produce an heir, you will have the freedom to do as you please.”
George offered her a sad smile. “Your parents would have wanted this for you,” he stated. “I have no doubt of that.”
“But my parents were a love match,” she pressed. “Wouldn’t they rather have me marry for love?”
“Love is such a fickle thing,” Betty scoffed.
“It is true,” George agreed. “I have known many people that started off as love matches, but they grew cold and despondent towards one another later in life.”
“Love is a gamble, and it usually doesn’t pay off,” Betty expressed. “Besides, you are still young. You may even find love after you marry the duke.”
Thinking she’d misheard her aunt, Emmeline asked in a hushed voice, “Are you insinuating that I should take a lover after I am married to the duke?”
Betty shrugged. “It wouldn’t be unheard of, assuming you have already produced an heir.”
Emmeline stared at her aunt, unsure of what she should say to that ridiculous comment.
“Don’t be so prudish, my dear,” Betty said. “It is very unbecoming of you.”
The coach came to a stop outside of their three-level whitewashed townhouse. It dipped to the side as the footman stepped off his perch and came around to place the step down. Once it was extended, he opened the door and offered his hand in assistance.
After they exited the coach, the footman rushed forward to open the iron gate. They approached the door, which was opened by their stodgy butler. He had a long, narrow face and curly blond hair.
“Welcome home,” Drew greeted in a stiff tone, opening the door wide. “May I ask how the dinner party went?”
“It went well,” Betty replied as she removed her long white gloves.
“That is wonderful,” Drew said as he closed the door behind them.
Betty extended her gloves towards the butler. “I require a long soak this evening,” she stated. “Will you ensure the water is heated up to my liking?”
Drew tipped his head. “Yes, milady,” he responded as he went to do her bidding.
“If anyone needs me, I will be in my bedchamber.” Betty walked over to the stairs that ran along the length of the far wall and started up them.
Finding herself alone with her uncle, she asked, “Why are you so insistent on me marrying the duke?”
George gave her a compassionate look as he gently placed his hand on her right shoulder. “No one is guaranteed a good life, but we can increase our odds of one by making good choices,” he said. “Betty and I just want what’s best for you, especially since we won’t always be around.”
Emmeline’s eyes ran over her uncle’s dark hair and saw white strands poking out in his sideburns and along his temples.
He continued. “Just think about what we said,” he encouraged. “We trust that you will make the right decision.”
“And if I don’t?”
George lowered his hand to his side and sighed. “Then I would be sued for breach of contract.”
“Do you think the duke would be that petty?”
“I am not entirely sure, but I hope it won’t come to that,” her uncle replied. “Now, off with you. I need to get some work done before my meetings tomorrow.”
As Emmeline walked across the tiled entry hall, she found herself deep in thought. Could she truly give up all her hopes and dreams to marry the Duke of Billingham? But what choice did she truly have? If she called off the wedding, her reputation would be ruined, and she would be an outcast amongst the ton.
She opened her door and stepped into her bedchamber. A crackling fire was in the hearth, providing light to her darkened room. What am I going to do, she thought. Her aunt and uncle kept saying it was her choice, but she had no doubt that they would try to force her hand. They always somehow managed to get their way. It had been that way since she had come to live with them.
Walking over to her window, she stared out at the full moon. How she wished her parents were still alive. And not for the first time. She missed them dreadfully. It had been two years since they died at the hands of highwaymen.
Emmeline leaned her head against the windowsill and allowed herself to cry. She felt so alone. Her heart had yet to heal from her parents’ deaths, and her pain was still raw. At times, her unrelenting grief seemed unbearable.
The door to her room opened, and her raven-haired lady’s maid stepped into the room. Her hair was tied back at the nape of her neck. “Are you ready to undress?” she asked as she closed the door.
Not bothering to spare her a glance, Emmeline replied, “I suppose I am.”
“You sound reluctant.” Mary came to stand next to her and asked, “Are you thinking about
