Page 17 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
Violet raised her chin as the carriage stopped in front of them, and then the footman leaped down to open the door. “You didn’t speak to Mr. Mayhew before we left.”
Emma waited for Violet to board the carriage and then followed.
“I wouldn’t have made a good impression in my current state,” Emma said.
The maid sat quietly beside her.
Violet sighed. “Well, there’s always next time.”
Emma’s fingers curled into her skirts, her knuckles white as she battled not to lose her temper. It wasn’t Violet’s fault that men adored her, although it would be nice if she’d rebuffed the one man whom Emma had told her she wished to get to know better.
Part of her knew she wasn’t being fair, but the rest of her screamed that life wasn’t fair, and she just wanted one person to herself.
Very well, so maybe it wasn’t going to be Mr. Mayhew or the duke, but surely one man out there would see her and think: that’s my future wife.
They didn’t speak as the carriage rumbled through the neighborhood, returning them home. Violet eagerly watched people pass outside the window while Emma turned her thoughts inward.
At home, Samuels informed them that their mother was out shopping. Emma was grateful for that because it meant she could retreat to her bedroom without being questioned.
She curled up in the most comfortable chair in the house, which was hidden in the corner of her room, since her mother and Violet considered it ugly, and rested her head on a cushion. She considered taking a nap, but that would require changing her outfit, which was entirely more than she had energy for.
“Emma?”
She turned at Sophie’s quiet voice. Her younger sister hovered in the doorway, one hand on the frame and the other on the door.
“Violet says you don’t feel well,” she said.
Emma groaned. “I don’t.”
Yet apparently she wasn’t going to get the peace and quiet she’d hoped for. At least Sophie’s company was the next best thing.
Sophie closed the door softly behind herself and padded into the room on stockinged feet. “What’s really wrong?”
Emma’s lips twisted. Trust Sophie to know there was more to the matter than she’d admitted to Violet. For her age, Sophie was remarkably perceptive.
Folding her legs with one over the other, Emma rearranged her skirt. She scooted sideways so Sophie could join her on the chair.
“The poetry recital didn’t go how I wanted it to,” Emma said as she sat. “It would seem that Mr. Mayhew has eyes for Violet rather than me.”
She still didn’t understand why he’d invited her to the recital if it was Violet he wanted, but perhaps he’d guessed that she’d invite her sister to accompany her.
The reason didn’t matter anyway.
Sophie pulled a face. “Sometimes I’m pleased I don’t have a twin.”
“Sophie!” Emma exclaimed.
Sophie rolled her eyes. “I love Violet—you know I do—but I’ve seen how difficult her presence can make things for you.”
Emma wrapped her arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “It isn’t intentional.”
Violet would never mean to hurt her.
“That doesn’t make it easier,” Sophie said.
Emma didn’t argue because she was right.
“Nor does it help that Violet is so oblivious,” Sophie added. “She’s very canny when it comes to men and to managing Mother, but there’s a lot she doesn’t notice.”
