Page 82 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
Norfolk,
December, 1819
Emma turned the page,enjoying the warmth of the sun on her back while she lounged on a sofa in the library, readingMansfield Park. She reached for her teacup and drank, completely absorbed by the story of Fanny Price.
“Your Grace.”
She glanced up, surprised by the interruption. She hadn’t heard Mr. Yeats enter.
“What is it?” she asked.
Mr. Yeats crinkled his nose. “A Mr. and Mrs. Mayhew are here and requesting to see you.”
Emma gaped at him. “I beg your pardon.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Mayhew,” he repeated. “A London gentleman, by the sounds of him, and a lady about your age with fair hair.”
Emma shook her head. That didn’t make any sense. Violet and Mr. Mayhew were on their way to Essex. Violet had told her as much. Yet, she couldn’t fault Mr. Yeats’s description. Something must have happened to bring them here.
“Thank you for informing me. Please show them to the gold drawing room. I will be with them soon.”
Mr. Yeats bowed and departed. Meanwhile, Emma closed her book and rose to her feet, her stomach churning with a horrible combination of dread and anticipation. She loved her sister, but she’d also liked the idea of there being a long carriage journey between them.
She set the book down to return to later, checked her dress to make sure she wouldn’t embarrass herself by appearing less than impeccably turned out, and slowly made her way to the door, her ankle still slightly tender. Secretly, she dreaded the time it would be fully healed, because then Vaughan would leave.
She reached the drawing room more quickly than she’d like, and hovered outside for a moment before stepping into the doorway.Violet and Mr. Mayhew stood in front of the white marble fireplace. Violet’s chin was tilted up, and their closeness spoke of intimacy.
This should not have taken Emma by surprise, but somehow, she’d forgotten that her sister’s marriage wasn’t the same as hers, where she was required to keep a polite distance from Vaughan during the day.
Violet was in love.
Judging by his tender expression, Mr. Mayhew was too. Or, at the very least, he was smitten. Just like every other man who had ever met Violet.
“Emma!” Violet exclaimed, turning toward her. Her eyes lit up, and a genuine smile crossed her face.
Emma immediately felt bad for resenting her.
“It’s so lovely to see you,” Violet said as she sashayed to Emma and took her hands, giving them a squeeze. Emma instinctively squeezed back.
“What are you doing here?” Emma asked. “I thought you were bound for Viscount Mayhew’s estate.”
Violet lifted one slender shoulder and dropped it. “We decided we would pay you a call on our way.”
For having spent a lot of time on the road, Violet looked remarkably fresh.
Emma forced herself to smile back, despite her concern at how the visit might play out. “You didn’t write to tell me you were coming.”
Violet giggled. “Of course not. I knew there would be room for us here. We’re family, and this estate is….” She looked around, her eyes widening. “Absolutely enormous.”
Emma released Violet’s hands and turned to her other guest. “Mr. Mayhew. How good to see you again.”
Given that she had been interested in this man at one time, she expected to experience a stab of loss at encountering him again. Fortunately, when her gaze swept over his twinkling brown eyes and handsome face, it never came.
“Lady Emma.” He raised her gloved hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over the back of it, and then sketched a deep bow. “Or should I say, Duchess?”
He exchanged a glance with Violet, amusement gleaming in both of their eyes.
“You played those cards close to your chest,” Violet said.
