An ache began to form in Emma’s throat as she lifted her chin and looked at her mother steadily. Lady Follet’s eyes sharpened for a moment, only for her to then look away again, turning to Lord Follet as though he were the one required to speak next.
“Dinner?” Emma flung out her hands either side, the ache in her throat turning to anger. “You did not tell me that we were to go to join Lord Pleasance and Lady Pleasance for dinner this evening.”
Lord Follet cleared his throat.
“Did we not?” His smile was brief. “Well, it is just as well that Lord Pleasance saw you this afternoon. His wife is also quite lovely, and I am sure–”
“You were not going to take me, were you?” Tears began to burn, but Emma blinked them away furiously. “Is that not so?”
Her parents looked at each other again.
“You were not introduced to him, so it did not seem reasonable to expect the invitation to dinner to include you, Emma,” her father said, in what sounded like a placating tone. “Surely you can understand that?”
Emma shook her head.
“No, for neither you nor Mama made any attempt to inform Lord Pleasance that I was present at the ball also! You did not even mention my name!” Her hands curled into fists as she looked at her mother and then her father, seeing how they had nothing to say in response, how their eyes met, but no excuse could be given to her. “I am well aware that I am a wallflower, Mama, but that does not mean that I should be ignored, does it? Yes, I can stand at the back of the room at larger social occasions, but when there are invitations for dinner, why should youwantme to be forgotten? Why should you want me to be left at home?”
“Because,” Lady Follet said with a sigh, as though Emma ought to understand without her even needing to ask, “what would happen if you should put your elbow in the soup? What if you should trip and fall into the tea tray? We cannot have any such thing as that, Emma, and therefore it is best if–”
“I am not as ungainly as you believe!” Emma cried, heedless to those around her. “You do not believe me when I tell you that such incidents have not always been my fault. You are already determined that I am the failure, that I am solely responsible, and you cannot know how much that pains me!”
Without waiting for her mother to respond, Emma turned away and hurried across the park, fully aware that she ought not to be walking by herself while, at the same time, she was desperate to remove herself from her parents and their unfair condemnation. Her heart was torn, broken by their thoughtlessness, and as she walked, tears began to form in the corners of her eyes and she blinked furiously, walking ratherblindly as she sought out somewhere quiet to stand. Coming under the shade of a large tree, she leaned back against the trunk, closed her eyes, and dropped her head, taking in long, slow breaths in an attempt to steady herself.
“Miss Fairley?”
Her head lifted sharply, only for her to push herself away from the tree, as she took a few steps back.
“Lord Yeatman, do excuse me. I did not mean to impose myself upon your solitude.”
“You did not.” He smiled though there was a little sympathy shining in his eyes. “You will find that I am very much inclined towards my own company on many an occasion, Miss Fairley. This is no exception.”
She managed a brief smile and then turned her head away.
“I should take my leave again.”
Her heart sank as she saw her parents laughing with another lady and gentleman, clearly very well able to set aside all that Emma had said to them. The thought of returning to them so soon was not a pleasant one.
“I do apologize if I have caused you any upset,” Lord Yeatman said quietly, coming around to face her again. “It was not my intention. I thought only to introduce Lord Pleasance to you.”
Giving him a nod, Emma kept her gaze away from him for fear that he would see her red-rimmed eyes.
“It was appreciated.”
“But it did upset you.” With a sniff, Emma lifted her chin and then turned her head so that she could not even see Lord Yeatman. The tightness in her throat returned, her eyes were stinging and the sorrow within her was growing with such strength, she could barely catch her breath. “I am sorry for that.”
“It was not your doing,” she managed to say through trembling lips. “And I am going to be at the dinner this evening after all. That is a good thing.”
Much to her surprise, his hand caught hers for a moment and then released it, making her turn back towards him sharply.
“I mean only to offer you a little comfort,” he said, a kindness in his eyes which was both wonderful and unexpected. “I understand that this must have been a very difficult situation. I, however, am glad that you will be present at dinner this evening.”
She blinked quickly to push the tears back and found her heart leaping, suddenly free of the deep amount of sorrow that had pinned it down. She did not know Lord Yeatman at all, and he might very well be a rogue or a scoundrel, saying those things to her which might then be used to cajole her into a closer acquaintance with him. But as she looked into his light blue eyes, the steadiness there and the way that the edge of his lips curved upwards, she found herself doubting that he could be a rogue.
“That is a nice thing to hear,” she said, managing to smile. “You will be, perhaps, the only one who will be glad I am present.”
Lord Yeatman tilted his head.
“Why should you say such a thing?”
