Emmeline nodded, seeing no reason to deny it. “I am.”
“That is to be expected, especially since you are facing such a difficult choice,” Mary reasoned.
Meeting her lady’s maid’s gaze, she asked, “What should I do?”
“What is your heart telling you to do?”
Emmeline huffed. “If only it was that simple.”
“It can be.”
“My aunt and uncle would be furious if I don’t marry the duke.”
Placing a hand on her sleeve, Mary asked, “But could you live with yourself if you did?”
“I don’t know.”
Mary removed her hand, then remarked, “I cannot advise you one way or the other, but I can tell you that your mother would most assuredly want you to be happy with your choice.”
Emmeline gave her a timid smile. “I appreciate you staying on as my lady’s maid after my mother passed away,” she said.
“There is no place I would rather be,” Mary replied as she returned Emmeline’s smile.
“I know what I want to do, but I don’t know if I am strong enough,” Emmeline admitted.
“Just be true to yourself, and everything will work out.”
Emmeline shook her head. “My aunt and uncle will no doubt ask me to leave their townhouse, and I shall have to seek out employment.”
“Do you believe that they’d truly be so unfeeling that they would do such a thing?” Mary asked. “After all, this is your home.”
“It became their home when my father died,” she pointed out. “As my aunt has stated on multiple occasions, I am just a guest here.”
“That is terrible of her to say such a thing.”
“They are just words.”
“Words can still hurt deeply,” Mary expressed, compassion in her voice.
“I suppose I am growing accustomed to my aunt’s criticism,” Emmeline admitted as she turned away from the window.
“That is a shame.”
Emmeline sat down on the settee at the foot of her bed. “I shall turn twenty-one in a week, and I will finally reach my majority. I will be able to access the inheritance of three thousand pounds that my grandmother left for me.”
“That is a tidy sum.”
“It is not enough to live on for the rest of my days, though,” Emmeline said dejectedly.
Mary bobbed her head. “That may be true, but it is a start.”
Emmeline frowned. “What is it a start of?”
“Whatever you decide your future to be.”
“You are not the least bit helpful,” Emmeline remarked with a shake of her head.
Mary grinned. “I am sure you will come to the correct decision on your own.”
“You have entirely too much faith in me.”
“Perhaps you don’t have enough in yourself,” Mary countered. “You may just need a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, you will see things more clearly.”
Emmeline rose and said, “I surely hope that is true.”
Chapter Two
Lord Oliver Radcliff was utterly miserable. He reached for his glass on the table and took a small sip. He had to give the appearance that he was drinking, but he had no desire to become inebriated. He needed to be alert to everything that was going on around him. Not that anyone suspected that he was anything more than a rakehell. No. He was sure of that.
He had been working as an agent for the Crown for nearly six years, and he was weary of using the same blasted cover. His unique position allowed him to report back to the agency about any member of Society who had radical views. There had to be more to his life than just babysitting schoolboys.
There were ten round tables in the gambling hell, and he was attempting to listen to what was being said at nearly every table. Most of the conversations he overheard were the same usual debates he’d heard at every gambling hell: the skirmish with America, Napoleon being exiled, and the Prince Regent’s outlandish spending habits.
He had opinions on the matters, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t dare reveal his allegiance to the Crown. Instead, he would listen to the pompous gentlemen spout off their views, regardless of whether they even knew what they were speaking of. And, frankly, many of them did not. Their radical speech betrayed the ideals of the nation.
How he looked forward to an assignment that didn’t revolve around spying on his comrades.
“Are you with us, mate?” Mr. Philip Booth asked as he gestured to the cards in his hand.
Oliver placed his glass back on the table. “I am, but I am rather bored with this game.”
Mr. Samuel Follett chuckled next to him. “You are being rather cocky for a man who has lost the last five hands,” he said. “I almost feel bad for taking your money.”
“Even if I lost another ten hands, it still wouldn’t come close to the amount I have collected from you over the last few nights,” Oliver joked.
Mr. Paul Haskett shook his head in amusement. “You have been rather preoccupied the last few nights, Radcliff,” he said. “Whatever is the matter with you?”
“Do you ever tire of this life?” Oliver asked.
His three friends stared back at him with blank expressions.
“No, I don’t suppose you do,” Oliver said, answering his own question.
Booth put his cards down. “What is wrong with this life?” he questioned. “We eat, drink, and enjoy the company of lovely ladies.”
“Why do you wish to deny the ladies our attention?” Follett asked good-naturedly.
Oliver tossed his cards into the center of the table. “What is our purpose?”
“Our purpose is to have fun,” Haskett replied with a knitted brow. “What else would we do with our time?”
“My apologies, but we aren’t truly making a difference in anyone’s lives,” Oliver said.
“Why would that matter?” Booth asked. “We are young and have an allowance.”
Oliver leaned forward in his chair. “What would you do if your father cut off your allowance?” he inquired.
“He wouldn’t dare,” Haskett declared.
“We all went to university,” Oliver pressed. “Don’t you think we are destined for more than we have become?”
Booth waved over a woman serving drinks. “Can you bring my friend another drink?” he asked. “And keep them coming.”
Oliver didn’t know why he even
