“Fascinating,” Jonathan said earnestly. “You must have a keen eye for detail, then. What’s inspired you recently?”
Emma’s gaze turned contemplative. “The children at the orphanage, mostly. They have such vivid stories—some heartbreaking, others hopeful.”
Evan watched her as she spoke, the candlelight catching the warmth in her eyes and the soft curve of her lips. She was captivating, and for the first time, he allowed himself to see her not just as his wife but as a woman of depth and quiet strength.
“One story in particular stays with me,” Emma continued, her voice lowering. “A father who was cruel beyond words. His wife tried to protect their children but couldn’t. She... died, eventually, from his abuse. I don’t know the full details, nor do I wish to. But the children were left alone, frightened, and broken. I wrote a tale for them about perseverance, finding strength – and it seemed to help them. At least they enjoyed for they do ask me to read it with frequence.”
Her words hung in the air, and Evan felt something twist painfully inside him. He set his knife down deliberately, his expression carefully neutral, but Emma noticed the tension in his jaw.
“You’re doing good work,” he said after a moment, his voice steadier than he felt. “Those children are lucky to have you.”
Emma looked at him, taken aback by the quiet sincerity in his tone. “Thank you,” she said softly.
“What more can be done to help them?” he asked.
Her fork paused halfway to her lips. “Well,” she said cautiously, as if unsure why he had asked, “one of the best ways to help would be to raise funds through noble support. Unfortunately...” Her voice faltered, and she focused on her plate. “Because of the scandal surrounding me, some have moved on to other causes. We’re getting by, but we can’t afford to organize larger events—fêtes or charity auctions, for example.”
Evan frowned. “If I visited the orphanage with you, would that help?”
Emma’s eyes widened. “You would do that?”
“Of course. I could pledge a tidy sum as well, make it known. Jonathan here could do the same.”
Jonathan chuckled. “You are rather liberal with my purse. But yes, I certainly could.”
“It would be wonderful,” Emma said. “A visit alone would bring much attention but a donation even more so.”
“Very well. I shall accompany you tomorrow, if you are going,” Evan said and shrugged before taking a sip of wine.
Emma stared at him as if she could not quite believe her ears but then nodded.
“I am grateful,” she said and their eyes locked. He smiled and to his relief, she returned the smile easily. A tingling sensationspread over his body then as he looked at her and noted how beautiful she looked in the candle light. He remembered the sensation of her so near him during the storm and wondered what it might be like to hold her again but before he could lose himself in the thought, Jonathan cleared his throat.
“Look at the two of you—off to save the world. Just don’t forget about your poor guest here.”
Emma smiled, and even Evan couldn’t suppress a faint laugh, though his mind lingered on her words. There was much he didn’t know about her, much she still kept locked away. But tonight, he saw her anew—a woman who cared deeply, who fought for others despite the challenges she faced.
And as the meal continued, he resolved to do something he had never considered before: to stand by her, not as an obligation, but as a choice.
CHAPTER 24
Emma
Emma sat before the vanity in her chamber, a soft, satisfied smile playing on her lips. The room was dimly lit, the flickering glow of the fireplace casting warm, golden hues across the elegant furnishings. Brigitte, her lady’s maid, deftly removed the pins from Emma’s hair, her movements gentle and precise.
“You’re in high spirits tonight, Your Grace,” Brigitte observed with a small smile of her own, glancing at Emma in the mirror.
Emma chuckled lightly, her hands folding in her lap. “It was a pleasant evening, wasn’t it?”
Brigitte nodded. “The dining room staff said everything went smoothly. His Grace seemed quite impressed with your arrangements.”
Emma’s smile deepened, and she leaned back slightly in her chair. “Not just impressed. He was genuinely interested. In the children, in the work the orphanage does—it wasn’t just politeness.” She paused, a contemplative note entering her voice. “It surprised me.”
Brigitte set down the last of the pins and began brushing Emma’s hair, her strokes rhythmic and soothing. “I’ve noticed His Grace takes more of an interest in your endeavors these days.”
Emma shook her head with a soft laugh. “You’re reading too much into things. We’re simply coming to an understanding, that’s all. Perhaps, in time, we might even become friends. But that is the extent of it.”
Brigitte raised her brows, meeting Emma’s gaze in the mirror. “Don’t judge too quickly, Your Grace. Things may change yet.”
