Page 15 of A Duke Reformed
Emma blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Whatever do you mean by that, Cecilia?"
"I don't know," she said. "I just...I thought there'd be more."
"More of what?"
"I don't know," she repeated. "Perhaps love isn't for me."
"Don't say that," Emma cautioned.
"Just because Papa and Mama had a love marriage doesn't mean we're going to," she said quietly. "I mean, Lady Victoria debuted this season with me, and she's already married to a lord who's twice Papa's age. That's not love. It's... an arrangement. I hate the thought that my future might just be another arrangement, void of feelings."
"Cecilia, you've seen enough love matches to believe in it," Emma said, her voice firm but gentle. "Take Alice, for instance. Or Lavinia. They're happy and in love, aren't they?"
Cecilia shook her head, her expression thoughtful but resolute. "You're still making my point. Those were both arrangements before they happened to fall in love. They're the exception, Emma, not the norm."
Emma took a step forward. "What are you saying, Cecilia?"
Cecilia forced a smile. "I don't know. Nonsense, I guess."
"It's not nonsense. Tell me exactly what is going through your mind right now."
Cecilia exhaled softly and scanned the crowd. "I look at all the gentlemen here...all the handsome bachelors, the crowd of eligible men and I feel...intimidated. No flutter in my chest like the other ladies of thetonswear they felt when a man of status as little as looked in their direction. When do I get to feel the flutter, Emma? Have you ever felt the flutter in your chest for a man?"
Cecilia exhaled softly and scanned the crowd. "I look at all the gentlemen here... all the handsome bachelors, the crowd of eligible men, and I feel... intimidated. No flutter in my chest like the other ladies of thetonswear they feel when a man of status so much as looks in their direction. When do I get to feel the flutter, Emma? Have you ever felt the flutter in your chest for a man?"
Emma opened her mouth to respond, her mind racing for the right words, but before she could speak, a sharp, familiar voice cut through the air.
"Oh, my dear Miss Cecilia," Lady Martha said, sweeping into their conversation with a too-bright smile. Her gaze swept over Cecilia's gown, her lips pursing in a way that made Emma's stomach clench.
Great heavens, what does she want? As if gossiping about my family wasn't enough. Surely, she isn't planning to speak about it openly.
"Lady Martha," Cecilia responded with a polite smile.
"I couldn't help but notice your... choice of attire this evening. Such a... unique style."
"How kind of you," Emma interjected, hoping to change the subject before Martha got the chance to spew her horrid thoughts. "A lovely party, wouldn't you say?"
"Beautiful," Martha answered. "But I must offer a bit of advice. After all, a young lady's appearance is so crucial during the season. One must always strive to present oneself in the latest fashions, don't you think... Cecilia?"
Cecilia glanced at Emma and then looked down at her gown. "I see no issue with my attire. Do you?"
"I do," Martha answered plainly. "One mustn't let...outdated choices hinder one's prospects. Surely, you can come to some arrangements with the modiste to have... fashionable yet cost-friendly dresses made, wouldn't you reckon?"
"Surely, you must have other matters to tend to," Emma responded, with a curt tone. Her gaze darted around the garden, her stomach tightening as she noticed a few curious glances in their direction. Martha's voice had carried farther than she'd intended, and Emma could see the subtle smirks and whispered comments beginning to ripple through the crowd. She had to end this conversation before it drew any more attention.
"Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Lady Martha," Emma said to her and clasped her hands in front of her, earnestly hoping that Martha got her message.
Reluctantly, Martha strutted away, occasionally glancing back as if to see if her words had the effect she was hoping for.
Cecilia's breathing grew shallow. "Emma, people are looking," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Is that all they see?The fact that I wore a dress made only a year ago? It's a dress, I don't–"
"Cecilia," Emma interrupted firmly. She placed a hand on her sister's arm, her grip reassuring. "Look at me."
Cecilia's wide, panicked eyes met hers, and Emma forced a calm smile. "This will not happen again," Emma said to her. "I will fix it. You will never be in this position ever again."
"How can you say that?" Cecilia whispered. "We have balls to attend, Emma and all I have are these dresses."
"We will get new dresses."
