Page 29 of A Duke Reformed
They took their seats. Emma sat by the window, close enough to eavesdrop, but far enough to give them space to talk.
"Did I ever mention that you have your mother's figure,"he remarked, gesturing vaguely toward her waist."Narrow through the hips, just like my sister too. Poor creature." He sighed dramatically, shaking his head."She died in childbed, you know. Screamed for two days before the baby finally tore her apart."
Emma's eyes widened and she turned to Cecilia the same time Cecilia turned to her as well. Their eyes locked in disbelief, but Emma quickly looked away, clearing her throat.
Lord Pearlton, oblivious or indifferent, dabbed at his watery eyes with a yellowed handkerchief."Of course, there are ways to avoid such a fate. A daily dose of mercury, for instance keeps the womb strong. You will need strong wombs because I want lots of babies. And never let the midwives bleed you during labor! That's what killed my dear Charlotte." He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a confidence."Don't worry. I have the means to make sure you get the best midwives when the time comes."
"How fascinating." Cecilia adjusted where she sat, trying to put some space between them. "Might we talk about something else, my lord?" she asked. "The weather, for instance."
Emma forced a smile and tightened her fingers on the table. She continued listening to the conversations, noting how every word from Lord Pearlton's mouth was another crack in Cecilia's future.He constantly sounded like he was pricing livestock at market. It sickened Emma.
The money she had saved from Solomon's lessons, hidden in the lacquered box beneath her bed wasn't nearly enough. Not for a dowry that could attract someone better for Cecilia. Not for a life that would spare Cecilia from being bartered off to some lecherous old fool who saw her as nothing but a means to an heir.
The moment the door shut behind Lord Pearlton, the drawing room seemed to exhale. Cecilia's sank into the sofa and shut her eyes. She didn't move, didn't speak, just stared at the at the ceiling.
"I might need to leave London," Cecilia mumbled. "Run away. Or else I will be stuck here, forced to give Lord Pearlton thirteen children."
Emma smiled and walked over to Cecilia side to sit. "Don't be ridiculous, sister."
"Did you not hear him?" she asked. "He wants at least thirteen children, Emma. But the first must be a boy." She groaned. "As if I have control of any of that. How does he expect to get thirteen children at his age?"
"Look at me," Emma said to her. "You will never be his wife." She let the words hang, sharp as a blade between them.
Cecilia's laugh was brittle. "Father's probably already drawn up the papers."
"Then we'll burn them," Emma answered and giggled too. "I have some money. Not enough yet, but soon. Soon, you'll have your pick of gentlemen who don't reek of port."
Cecilia turned her head to Emma. "How are the lessons going? Is His Grace still insufferable?"
"He can be," Emma answered. "He's... uptight and very... stubborn. He doesn't think like most people and it's difficult to teach people like that."
"You seem fascinated by him," Cecilia noted. "There's this glint in your eyes."
"Don't be ridiculous," Emma said. "We are nothing alike. The duke and I are like water and oil. He's from a different world, he thinks differently. We can never be a match."
"Then who do you think is your match?" Cecilia asked, turning her entire body to face Emma. "What kind of man do you wish to marry?"
Emma inhaled deeply. "If I do marry... I want to marry a man that is... convenient. Someone that considers the feelings ofother people. I want an easy and peaceful marriage. I just want someone... kind."
"Notice how you never mentioned love?" Cecilia asked. "That's suspicious."
"I'm not looking for love," she said to Cecilia and rose to her feet.
"What?" Cecilia asked.
Cecilia moved swiftly, blocking Emma's path with a stubborn lift of her chin. The word hung between them, weighted with disbelief. Emma could already see the wheels turning in Cecilia's mind, the assumptions she was ready to make if given the chance.
"You heard me." Emma sidestepped her, trying to make her way out of the room.
"What do you mean?" Cecilia asked, stopping her again. "I don't even know what love is and even I am looking for it. Are you telling me to give up now?"
"No, of course not. I'm not telling you anything," Emma said. "This is personal. It is more convenient for me to find an arrangement."
"An arrangement like the one Papa might make with Lord Pearlton?"
"What, no!" Emma said. "That most certainly won't be a peaceful and easy marriage."
"Emma..."
