Her sisters, Hanna and Arabella, noticed her distant demeanor almost immediately and, under the guise of refreshing their drinks, excused themselves and beckoned her to follow. Soon, she found herself drawn aside into a quieter corner of the grand dining room, her sisters’ faces lined with worry that, for a moment, nearly thawed her own resolve.
“Emma, how do you fare?” Arabella’s tone was soft yet probing, her gaze a touch sharper.
Emma forced a small, composed smile, her fingers smoothing an imagined crease in her gown. “I fare quite well, Arabella. Truly, you needn’t concern yourselves.”
“Truly?” Hanna repeated with a delicate lift of her brow. “For you look as though you bear the weight of the entire peerage upon your shoulders.”
Emma gave a slight sigh, feeling a pang of exasperation mixed with relief at her sisters’ persistence. “You both know this marriage was never about... personal happiness. It was simply the only course left to take. I did what was necessary to restore my reputation. It is no more complicated than that.”
Arabella regarded her with deep sympathy. “But what of your own contentment?”
The question, spoken with such quiet sincerity, struck Emma for a moment. Her gaze drifted unbidden across the room to Evan, who stood at a distance, immersed in conversation with his friend Lord Jonathan Stone. His face, softened with laughter, bore none of the usual guarded, imposing edge that she’d come to associate with him. The lines of his face, so often cool and severe, were softened in easy humor, and his posture, usually rigid, had relaxed in a way she’d never seen before.
Something stirred in her—an unsettling awareness, an unwelcome warmth she could not name. She quickly averted her gaze.
“My happiness was never in question,” she replied with forced levity, attempting to redirect the conversation. “I have always known I would marry to fulfill duty. Now that it’s settled, I am finally free to pursue my true calling again.”
Arabella’s expression softened. “Your work with the orphanage, you mean?”
Emma nodded, a brief smile lighting her face. “Yes. In fact, I received a letter from the nuns this morning. They have extended an invitation for me to resume my work upon our return from the… honeymoon.” She faltered only slightly over the unfamiliar word.
“Emma,” Hanna’s voice was soft but steady. “That is lovely, but do not forget the possibilities. Do not discount them. You might find some joy in this marriage, if only you allowed yourself the chance. You need not keep such a determined distance.”
Emma’s face colored faintly, and she gave her head a slight shake. “I would sooner spend my hours working on my own terms than waste them seeking affection where none was intended. I bear him no resentment anymore,” she added quickly, noting her sisters’ exchanged glances. “But I assure you, I’ve no inclination to devote myself beyond the bounds of courtesy. Our arrangement was never intended to be anything more.”
Arabella regarded her with thoughtful eyes. “Yet he is hardly without charm, is he?”
A faint blush rose unbidden to Emma’s cheeks. “That is scarcely relevant,” she replied, but even she could hear the defensiveness in her voice.
“Perhaps,” Arabella allowed with a small, knowing smile. “But there would be no harm in getting to know him, surely? I was determined to dislike Henry and I was wrong, so was Hanna.”
Emma’s gaze drifted again, unwillingly, across the room, only to find Evan glancing her way at that exact moment. His dark eyes held hers for a beat, his expression unreadable, but something within them felt warm, even curious. She felt her heart skip slightly, the recognition unsettling her deeply. With adetermined breath, she pulled her gaze away, forcing herself to dismiss the foolish sentiment building within her.
“It would be a waste of time,” she murmured. “He is no more inclined toward sentiment than I am.”
Her sisters exchanged glances of sympathy, but did not press her further.
“Very well, dear,” Arabella murmured, offering her hand a gentle squeeze. “We won’t burden you further with our meddling.”
With a faint smile of gratitude, Emma watched her sisters return to their seats. She thought back to the letter she’d received that very morning from the orphanage containing not only good wishes but the invitation to return now that her affairs were settled. She wanted to return and rather badly for she had a desire to continue her work there. In fact, she’d written several short stories for the children, in hopes of one day being able to return.
The familiar ache for purpose and tranquility stirred within her, and she resolved anew to channel all her energies into her work, to do something meaningful with this life that felt, for the moment, so deeply adrift.
But even as she reaffirmed her resolution, her eyes returned, drawn almost against her will, to Evan, who stood beside his friend, his expression at ease, exuding a confidence that somehow managed to unsettle her. The image of his laughter lingered in her mind, a troubling contrast to her usualimpressions of him. Against her better judgment, her curiosity flared, wondering what sort of man he might be when not confined to duty and appearances.
And in that moment, she felt the faintest stirring of doubt in her resolve. Could she truly keep herself so detached, so distant, from the man who was now her husband?
CHAPTER 17
Evan
As their carriage rolled to a stop before the sprawling façade of his estate, Evan descended first, his hand extending toward Emma as she emerged. She took it with a slight hesitation, her gaze sweeping over the grand estate. Built of pale limestone, its stately columns and intricate moldings were softened by the ivy that clung stubbornly to its sides. The house loomed larger than anything she had ever imagined living in, and the sheer unfamiliarity of it all sent a flicker of unease through her chest.
“Is something the matter?” Evan’s voice, steady but gentler than she expected, broke through her thoughts.
She glanced up at him quickly, startled that he had noticed. “No, Your Gr—” she caught herself, correcting with some difficulty, “Evan. I am perfectly fine.”
He studied her for a moment longer, his dark eyes narrowing slightly in what seemed to be contemplation. “You are far too poor a liar for that to be true,” he said at last, his lips twitching as if he meant to smile but hadn’t quite managed it. “This is your home now. I hope you’ll feel at ease in time.”
