Page 17 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
“I’ll fetch them,” Amelia said swiftly and hurried to the door. Rebecca followed her and Emmeline faced her mother.
Lady Radley stepped closer, her perceptive gaze softening as she took in her daughter’s pale face. “You are afraid,” she said gently.
Emmeline hesitated, then nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “He’s so...closed, Mama. I cannot help but wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Her mother’s hands reached for hers, holding them tightly. “Emmeline, my dear, you are far stronger than you give yourself credit for.
Emmeline blinked, her eyes filling with tears. “But am I, Mama? How can I be so sure of this choice, especially with such rumours? What if they are true? What if I’ve made a mistake?” Her voice broke.
Lady Radley shook her head, her expression firm but kind. “I know society loves to talk. It thrives on whispers and rumours, often turning baseless stories into grand narratives. We cannot live our lives bound by the judgments of others, for they are often flawed.”
Her words, filled with faith in her, stirred something steady within Emmeline. “But what if they aren’t just rumours? What if Lord Rilendale is everything they say?”
Her mother smiled faintly. “I cannot claim to know Lord Rilendale, but I see a man burdened by the weight of something unresolved, some trauma he carries. That iciness people speak of may well be his shield, his way of surviving in a world that has perhaps not been kind to him.”
Emmeline’s eyes flicked back to her mother’s. “You truly believe that?”
“I believe in you, Emmeline. Your ability to see people as they are and bring out the best in them is remarkable. Whatever the truth of Lord Rilendale, I know you are more than capable of handling it. You are strong, my dear, so much stronger than you know.”
Despite her mother’s words, doubt still lingered in Emmeline’s heart. “And if I’m not strong enough? If it all goes wrong?”
Lady Radley’s grip tightened; her voice soft but unwavering. “No matter what happens, I will always be here for you. You are not alone in this. Trust yourself, Emmeline. Trust the heart that has guided you this far.”
Emmeline nodded, a flicker of hope lighting her eyes as her mother pulled her into a reassuring embrace.
She glanced briefly in the looking glass, trying not to focus on her mother and how much she would suffer not seeing her often.
She looked at her gown. It was white silk, with a fitted bodice and puffed sleeves, the neckline a modest oval. The long skirt reached just below her ankles, the fabric soft and swaying as she moved.
She looked up at her hair. Her maid had arranged it in a chignon, a few long curls left loose at the front. Here and there, small pearl-topped pins decorated it, tucked in carefully. The veil was pinned to the bun at the back and hung smoothly down her back. Later it would be lifted to cover her face, but now it hung in a thin line down to the floor.
“You do need something,” Lady Radley said softly and held out her hand. She had a necklace there with a single pearl drop pendant on it. “This was your grandmother’s. It is right that you should wear it.”
“Mama,” Emmeline said softly. Her mother was close to tears and Emmeline reached for her, clasping her tight and holding her to her chest with fierce care.
“Shh. Don’t cry, dear,” Charlotte murmured, reaching for her handkerchief. Tears ran down the viscountess’ face unashamedly and Emmeline cuffed at her own face, feeling the watery tracks of her own weeping there.
“I will see you often,” Emmeline promised. “You’ll have to have me removed from the premises as a nuisance. I swear it.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I’ll visit just as often,” she promised. She was not fooled by Emmeline’s attempts to be jolly.
Emmeline hugged her again and stepped back, struggling not to cry. She held the necklace to her neck and clasped it, wanting to think about something else.
“I shall write every day,” she told her mother, her heart twisting. She could not bear the thought of not seeing her every day. “Or at least once a week. I promise.”
“I shall write every week too,” Charlotte said firmly. “I promise to do that.”
Emmeline gazed at her, and the viscountess gazed back, and Emmeline wished that she could think of something diverting to say, to make the moment a little lighter for them both, but she could not think of something.
Lady Radley took Emmeline’s hand in her own and clasped it firmly.
“You look so beautiful, my dear,” she said gently. “Alexander would be so proud.”
Emmeline swallowed hard. Alexander Ashmore was her father. She did not want to think of that. She looked at the fireplace and tried to think of how it would feel to ride on the moors. She had insisted that her horse, Starlight, be taken to the estate of the Earl of Rilendale. She would not go anywhere without her. Lady Radley had promised to organise it, and the groom would ride Starlight over to the manor within a day of Emmeline’s travelling there.
“Emmeline?” Amelia called through the door. Emmeline let out a breath, grateful to hear her cousin there.
“Come in,” she called.
