Page 76 of Bound By her Earl

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Of course, I love you, too, you goose. Don’t be maudlin. Oh! I have also decided that I’m not going tomiss you any longer. I am simply going to visit all the time. You’ll be positively sick of me.”

“Never,” Emily promised.

“What about him?” Amanda prodded. Benedict took this as his sign.

“Certainly not,” he said. “You shall always be welcome.”

The grin he got from his sister by marriage was fleeting, but the beaming smile he received from his wife did not fade, not even after her sister had left on the arm of her next dance partner.

He could feel the happiness practically coming off his wife in waves as she stepped up beside him, looping her arm in his.

“She said they missed me,” she said in a happy whisper. He was fairly certain she was talking to herself, but he didn’t mind that, either. He liked being part of her private sphere.

“Of course, they do,” he said simply. “How could they not?”

“Andshe said she loved me,” Emily said boastfully, this time speaking more directly to him.

How could they not? He almost asked the question again, but the words died on his lips. He feared it would reveal too much, would awaken something he wished to let slumber.

Fortunately, Emily was too lost in her familial triumph to catch the way he’d clumsily cut himself off.

“Shedidcall me boring,” she went on with a laugh, “but then, I’d have to fear she was an imposter merely posing as Amanda if she hadn’t.” Her expression changed as she caught sight of someone. “Drat. There’s Mrs. Marchmain. She’s eyeing us with a great deal of intrigue. Quick, look as though you are positively enamored of me.”

Benedict bent his head down to do as she’d asked, even as he feared that his face had already been showing such an emotion, quite of its own accord.

CHAPTER 21

Living with two highly spirited sisters had left Emily with an abiding appreciation for the merits of minding one’s own business when appropriate. In the case of her sisters, this had sadlynotbeen appropriate most of the time, which had led Emily to deliver such lectures as “Do not try to put a saddle on the cat,” (twins: age six), “You cannot poke through other people’s homes while they are not there, no, not even if those homes seem highly interesting to you,” (twins: age nine), and “Lord help me, if the two of you jump out of a dark place again, I am going to suffer a heart attack and die, and then where will you be, did you ever think of that?” (twins: age sixteen, which was, in Emily’s opinion, far too late for such a discussion).

In the case of Priscilla, however, who was storming around somewhere upstairs, the stamping of her feet interspersed with the occasional shriek of frustration, Emily was perfectly entitled to look at the ceiling, say, “Hm. Poor thing seems to be having a hard day,” and return to her book.

And so, she did, enjoying an interesting description of the clothing worn in Ancient Egypt instead of wondering or worrying over whatever nonsense her mother-in-law was up to.

Or at least she did so right up until the Dowager appeared, like an angry specter, in the doorway of what was now Emily’s own parlor.

“Goodness,” Emily said, jumping a bit. “Are you all right?”

For all the that the Dowager was a sharp-tongued harridan, she generally at leastlookedthe part of a genteel aristocratic woman. This was no longer the case. The older woman looked frazzled, wisps of hair escaping her coiffure and threatening the entire structure of her updo, spots of bright red on her cheeks.

“You,” she seethed, pointing an accusatory finger at Emily. “You did this.”

Emily barely resisted the urge to look around the room, as if there might be someone else nearby who knew what on Earth was going on.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” she said, finding it uncommonly difficult to maintain her composure. Usually, she was well-practiced in remaining calm even when faced with someone in dramatically high spirits. Now, however, faced with Priscilla’s apparent fury instead of the chaotic but ultimately well-meaning incidents her sisters tended to cause, she found herself feeling remarkably shaken.

“No,” sneered Priscilla viciously. “No, I’mso certainyou don’t. After all, women like you never do, do you? You think yourselves eternal, don’t you, young and whorish like you are.”

Emily gasped at the insult which only made Priscilla’s expression twist more violently.

“No, I suppose you aren’t that young, though, are you? Just a plain, boring harlot, too old and bland to attract a man with anything besides what’s between your legs.” Priscilla laughed bitterly. “You’ll see soon enough. And you’ll be worse off than me. At least I’ve beauty and charms, the kind you could only ever dream about.” She gave Emily a long look. “Although you managed to snatch yourself a wealthy man, I suppose. No accounting for taste.”

It took Emily a moment to move beyond the shock of being so addressed—and by a woman! And in her own home! But once she did, the rage rose swift and hot inside her. She pushed to her feet; she towered over Priscilla, and, in this moment, she was darkly pleased by it.

“Howdareyou?” she spat. Her hands were shaking so she clenched them into fists. “You awful, awfulwretchof a woman.” Priscilla opened her mouth to speak again, but Emily was unstoppable. “You arerepulsive. I have given you no reason—no reasonat all—to behave like this. You don’t like that I married Benedict? Well, too bad; it’s done. I am finished making allowances for you. You will speak to me respectfully.”

Priscilla tossed her head dramatically. “This is my house. I don’t have to?—”

“This ismy house,” Emily interjected, voice strong and furious. “You may rail and whine, but it changes nothing.Iam the Countess now. And as my husband,the Earl, has pointed out to you more than once, if you cannot behave properly, you will be asked to leave. Since I daresay thatthislittle spectacle is unlikely to fit his definition of ‘proper behavior,’ I would suggest you cease these insults at once—before I am tempted to tell him what has occurred here.”

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