18. Chapter 18
The next morning, Emma was up early for once.
She hummed as she prepared bread dough. She was making sweet rolls for her siblings for breakfast as a special treat.
Her conscience poked at her for making plans to abandon her brothers and sisters.
She frowned as she punched down the dough.
She wouldn’t be gone forever, just until Lucy could make a good match.
Once her sister was settled, she would happily return to care for the whole lot again.
She would leave them a note to explain her absence, although what this alleged note would say, she had not figured out yet.
Guilt clawed at her chest, and as tears that had threatened off and on all week clogged her throat, Emma paused her kneading.
Biting her lip, she wiped away a tear with the back of one floury hand.
Looking over at her loyal companion lying on the hooked rug by the fire, she sighed. “Fergus, what am I going to do?”
“What are you going to do about what?” Lucy’s voice came from the doorway.
Emma didn’t turn around. “Oh, nothing, just this bread dough isn’t rising properly.”
“Well, don’t beat it to death, let it rest on the counter for a bit.” Lucy went over and got two mugs from the cupboard. “Come and have a cup of tea with me. Are you feeling better, then?” she asked Emma as she poured the hot water from the kettle.
“Yes, thanks.” Emma cleaned her hands and then sat down across the table from her sister. “How was the dinner at Lord Greenville’s last night?”
“Oh, dull. I sat between the distinguished Colonel Fairlight and the newly home from university Sir Lawrence. Both were dull as dust.” She sighed and took a sip of her tea.
“What of your Lord Davenport? Was he not there?”
“No, he is out at one of his estates, attending to something or other. He did write me this lovely note.” Lucy pulled it out of her pocket and, opening it, read it out loud.
“‘Dear Miss Whittingham, I am away again to my estate in Kent. I shall miss the opportunity to call on you this week. I hope your affections will not be stolen by some other swain trying to win you with pretty words and flowers while I am away. I look forward to seeing you again this Saturday at Lady Heathrow’s ball. Yours truly, Davenport.’”
She then clutched the note against her heart for a moment before folding it carefully and placing it back into the pocket of her apron.
“He certainly sounds interested. What do you think about him, Lucy? I don’t want you to just choose the first man to show interest in you. Is he kind? Does he gamble? Drink?”
“Oh, Emma, you are too cynical by far! Davenport is a true gentleman.” Lucy huffed.
“All right, but I had a very close call with my engagement to Longwood. If he hadn’t fallen off his horse and died, I would be married to that horrible philanderer.
I want you to know I would never have you marry unless you were absolutely sure of the man’s good character.
” Emma reached out to give Lucy’s hand a squeeze.
“You are a good sister, Emma. The best.” Lucy returned the squeeze.
“Now tell me, what do you think of Lord Gilchrest’s character?
He is always present at functions when you will be there.
He sent three notes this week and stopped by to see how you were faring.
He seemed very concerned for your health, Sister,” she teased Emma.
Pain flashed like a hot knife through Emma’s heart.
She stood quickly, turning to put her cup in the sink lest Lucy see it in her eyes.
She had not returned any of Andrew’s notes, which all insisted he needed to speak with her.
He was so domineering! She simply needed to ignore him for a few more days, and then she could disappear.
“He has a very fine character. But he is a duke and therefore is far out of my league. Besides, he has no need to remarry—he has his heir and spare. He has done his duty.”
Lucy came up behind Emma, wrapping her arms around her waist, and settled her chin on Emma’s shoulder. “Perhaps next time he will choose to marry for love,” she said quietly. She gave Emma a quick hug and left the room.
Andrew sat at his desk, brooding over the glass of brandy in front of him.
Blast it all, Emma was hiding from him. She refused to answer any of his notes, and her sister had said she was ill when he stomped over to her house to ambush her at home.
Was she truly ill, or was she lying in order to avoid him?
His bet was on the latter. Short of climbing into her bedroom window, he didn’t know how to reach her. How did he convince her to trust him?
He swirled the amber liquid around in the glass but didn’t drink. It called to him, promising oblivion from his churning emotions if only he were to consume enough. A knock sounded, jerking him from his trance.
His brother entered the room. “May I join you?”
Andrew looked up. “Be my guest.” He gestured to the bottle on the corner of his desk.
“So why are you in here staring into that glass of liquor instead of getting ready for dinner? Mother sent me in here to make sure you were all right.” Jack poured himself two fingers.
Andrew got up from his seat, leaving his drink behind. He came around and slumped down on the chaise. The same chaise where he had, just a few days earlier, held in his arms the most desirable, most confounding woman he had ever met.
“Does this have anything to do with the missing Miss Whittingham?”
Andrew nodded. “She is a woman with secrets, Jack. They are not mine to tell. I want to help, but she doesn’t trust me, or rather, she won’t let herself trust me. It’s damned frustrating!”
“Do you love her?” Jack asked.
Andrew jerked his head up, surprised at his brother’s blunt question. But he didn’t deny it. “Yes, I think I do.”
“Then you must exercise patience. Just be there for her when she needs you. That’s all you can do for now.”
“What if her secret puts her in danger?”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Well, not knowing the particulars of the situation, I cannot advise you.” He took a sip of brandy. “But if she could possibly be in danger, then I would do whatever it takes to help her, whether she wants you to or not.”
Andrew nodded in agreement. He would figure out some way to help. He just couldn’t let her know it was him. Perhaps the uncle could be just the ticket.
“Jack, do you know anyone who can dig up information for me about a Mr. Charles Whittingham?”