Page 42 of Bound By her Earl

“I’m not sure I’ve properly apologized to you, Amanda,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush with the admission. “The Earl wasyourbeau, and though I didn’t approve?—”

“Oh, no!” Amanda exclaimed. “No, no! Ick. No.” She shook her head wildly—and her dratted coiffure remained perfectly in place. “I admit, it isn’tentirelyflattering to be thrown over so easily—not because of you, specifically, Emmy, just in general,” she added when Emily cringed.

This was kind of her sister, but Emily knew the truth. Amanda was a young, vivacious debutante who, yes, could be abittoo, ah, creative sometimes. But she was still a superior catch to old maid, too tall Emily. The Earl never would have chosen Emily if they’d not been caught in a compromising situation. She knew that.

Amanda kept talking. “No, I actually meant that I like him foryou,sweet sister. He and I would not have suited, I don’t think, and I am not yet ready to marry. But I think he will not be able to glower you into submission, and you shall not be able to manage him.”

Emily again suspected that her sister was trying to be kind, but being characterized as a managing type stung.

“Anyway,” Amanda went on, blithely unaware of her sister’s discomfort, “it shall all work out, mark my words. The two of you will no doubt be very upright and accomplished together, and Rosie and I will try to behave ourselves even without you here to constantly nag us into submission.”

This last bit was delivered as a joke, but in the context of facing all her manifold inadequacies, Emily struggled to find the humor.

“Right,” she said, her smile more a wince.

Rose entered the room then—also not bothering to knock.

“Oh, hello,” she said. “Em, Lady Frances is here to help with—” She made an expansive gesture. “—everything.”

“Right,” Emily said again, this time her tone considerably more decisive. “Wonderful. Let’s go meet her and have some breakfast. We have much to do today.”

The three sisters went downstairs and threw themselves into preparations. There was plenty to do, and the Dowager Countess had not shown any interest in aiding in the work of putting together a short-notice wedding worthy of an earl. Since Emily’s mother was no longer with them, that left the bride in charge of most of her own preparations. Frances, of course, had been a wonder, organizing and planning with the utmost efficiency—she was splendid at that sort of thing as long as she wasn’t asked to speak to any strangers. And even the twins had been surprisingly helpful. They’d remained on task for the past few days, even when endless opportunities for mischief presented themselves.

Diana, who was due to give birth any day now, was not able to join them, of course; in the days since Emily had shown her friends the letters (which she’d scarcely had time to even think about since), Diana had struggled to get out of bed, let alone the house, given the enormity of her stomach.

Their absent friend made her presence known, however, by sending little notes of encouragement and advice. At one point the day prior, she’d arranged to have cakes from Emily’s favorite bakery delivered, designed, as her note indicated, to fortify them during their labors.

Emily thought this last one might have been a pun about childbirth. Her friend, she gathered, was very,verybored by her confinement.

The quartet of women had designated the Rutleys’ front parlor as their main working location, and the four of them flitted inand out of the room as needed, chaperoned by their various maids and footmen whenever an errand popped up. Emily spent the day resolutelynotlooking at the settee where she’d recently been soundly kissed by her betrothed.

Emily was returning from one such errand—she’d confirmed with the florist that their order would be delivered, checking with her own eyes that the hothouse flowers were in decent condition—when she found her sisters sitting with their heads bent close together over a piece of paper, whispering furiously. Frances, who had left on her own errand at the same time as Emily, had not yet returned.

“What have you got there?” she asked, casting her bonnet and spencer to the side. There was no point taking it back to her room; she’d no doubt be hurrying out again in short order. Her maid seemed to feel the same, taking a seat in the corner of the room with a tired huff.

Amanda, never known for subtlety, snatched up the paper, folded it, and stuffed it underneath her rear. “Nothing,” she said.

The corner of the paper was still sticking out from beneath her. Emily held out a hand.

“Give it to me, please,” she said patiently. This was probably one of her sisters’ misguided attempts at helping, but if a vendor had cancelled or some other such tragedy had befallen them, Emily needed to know so she could handle it.

Rose, however, shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “It’s private.”

Emily fixed them with a look. She had abundant practice with this look.

Amanda pursed her lips stubbornly. “Fine, if you must know, I’ve drawn a very unflattering picture of you. I made your hair massive. It will hurt your feelings. I am very repentant for what I’ve done. Kindly leave me to self-castigate in peace.”

“You would think,” Emily observed mildly, “that with all the times you two have attempted to lie to me, you might have gotten better at it.”

The twins exchanged a glance, and it was then that Emily began to worry that whatever they were concealing wasreallybad, indeed.

“Give me the paper,” she said seriously.

Moving very slowly, as if Emily might forget what was happening if only she moved slowly enough, Amanda stood just enough to remove the paper from beneath her person and handed it over to her sister.

It was one of the gossip pages, that day’s edition.

Emily’s stomach sank as she started to read.

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