Emma’s heart clenched, and she fought back tears. This scandal—something she’d never intended to create—was tearing away everything she cared about. “But the children need this place, they need all the support they can get. I—I can’t stand by and let this harm them.”
Sister Beatrice’s face softened, a hint of sorrow in her eyes. “I know, Lady Emma. Which is why I must ask—at least until this… situation has calmed—that you take some time away from the orphanage.”
The room fell silent as Emma absorbed the words, her world suddenly feeling painfully small. The orphanage, this work, these children—she had poured herself into them, and now they were being taken from her over something as trivial and vicious as gossip.
“I don’t know what to say,” Emma finally whispered, her voice choked. “This place has been my life… my purpose.”
The nun’s hand remained on Emma’s arm, offering a small gesture of comfort. “You are always welcome here, Lady Emma. But for now, perhaps the kindest thing you can do for the children is to distance yourself, so the rumors do not touch them.”
Emma closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to steady herself. The past few days had been a nightmare, each event building upon the last until her life seemed to be slipping from her control entirely.
“Will you… tell the children for me?” she asked, the question barely audible. “I don’t think I could bear to say goodbye to them myself.”
Sister Beatrice nodded. “Of course. They’ll miss you, but I’ll make sure they know you will return one day. When the time is right.”
Emma nodded, biting her lip as tears threatened to spill. She hadn’t felt this helpless in years, not since the scandal surrounding her father. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as best as she could. “Thank you, Sister,” she murmured. “I know you’re only doing what’s best for them.”
The nun inclined her head, understanding. “I hope this will pass quickly, Lady Emma. And I will continue to pray for you.”
Emma forced a smile. “Thank you,” she said, though her voice was hollow. With one last look around the quiet room, she turned and walked back through the orphanage’s halls, her steps echoing in the emptiness that already seemed to fill her heart.
Outside, the sunlight was bright and unyielding, casting sharp shadows across the courtyard. She looked up at the sky, squinting against the light. It felt too bright, too indifferent. The world continued on, uncaring of her heartache.
As she climbed into her carriage, she thought about the children, about the stories she’d shared with them, the laughter they’d given her in return. And she resolved that, no matter what, shewould find a way to restore her reputation, to clear her name, if not for her sake, then for theirs.
CHAPTER 11
Emma
The door to Emma’s home swung shut behind her as she stumbled inside, her cheeks stained with tears and her vision blurred. Her hands shook as she tugged off her gloves, trying to suppress the ache in her chest that had only grown since leaving the orphanage. She had thought it was her haven, the one place where she had purpose. Now, even that was lost. The scandal had seeped into every corner of her life, staining it irrevocably, and she had nowhere left to turn.
As she moved down the corridor, Alexander stepped forward from the parlor, his expression softening when he saw her tear-streaked face. He looked as though he wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but he held back.
“Emma,” he asked, concern heavy in his voice. “What has happened?”
She hesitated, wanting to say something dismissive, to push him away and retreat into solitude, but the pain was too sharp, too fresh. Her words came out in a choked rush. “The orphanage… they don’t want me there anymore. The scandal—my foolish actions—have tainted it. They’re worried it will affect the children and the charity’s standing. They’ve asked me to… stay away.”
Alexander frowned deeply, his brow furrowing. “Emma, I told you before—no good could come from meddling in other people’s affairs. It only brings heartache, especially when?—”
Emma raised her hand sharply, her voice cracking. “I don’t need you to tell me that I brought this upon myself, Alexander. I already know!”
He took a small step back, startled by the force of her words, but he recovered quickly, his voice softening. “I only meant to warn you, to help you avoid this pain. You’ve been through so much already, and I hated to see you…” He trailed off, seeing the hurt in her eyes.
She looked away, her hands twisting in her skirts. “I know you mean well, Alexander, but I cannot bear to be reminded of my mistakes every time I come home. It doesn’t even feel like my home anymore.”
“This is always your home, Emma,” he said firmly, his eyes filled with genuine care. “No matter what happens, you’re always welcome here.”
But Emma shook her head, bitterness twisting her features. “It doesn’t feel like home. It feels like your home. Everything has changed, Alexander. This is your home now, everyone revers to it as the home of the Marquess of Howe, hero of Waterloo.” She took a shuddering breath, fighting back tears. “I have nothing. No husband, and no hope of one. I’ve lost my friend Ophelia, my reputation, and now the orphanage, the only purpose I had left. I don’t need you to tell me that it’s my fault. I already know.”
Alexander’s gaze softened with sympathy as he tried to reach out to her, but she turned away before he could say anything further. She rushed up the staircase, her footsteps echoing in the silence.
As she climbed, Emma passed the upstairs drawing room, catching sight of two Irish maids Alexander had brought from his wife’s household. They were dusting the furnishings and didn’t notice her presence in the shadows outside the doorway. She paused, hearing their lilting voices carrying through the open door.
“Poor Lady Emma,” one of the maids whispered, shaking her head. “I hear she’s been through quite the mess. Scandal in all the papers. No man will look at her now.”
“Aye, it’s a shame,” the other maid murmured. “Seems to me she’s been cursed with more troubles than she deserves. She puts on a brave face, but I doubt she’s as strong as she wants everyone to think.”
The maids’ voices faded as Emma’s heart clenched, and she turned away, her face flushing with shame. Even the staff pitied her. She didn’t want their sympathy, didn’t want anyone’s pity.
