Page 9 of If I Loved You
Relief was instant, her hand covering her chest in the hopes of slowing her racing heart. The pair below glanced up then, realizing Emma’s presence at that moment.
And that’s when she realized that she remained clothed in only her shift, for the dark eyes of the earl scanned her heatedly from head to toe. Heat suffused her, touching every spot his eyes did. Lamely, backing up a step as he began to advance up the stairs, she explained, “I—I couldn’t find Bethany. I didn’t think...I just ran out....” This last trailed off as he reached now the landing, his gaze finally meeting her eyes, though Emma had quite a time trying to keep her own gaze focused, wishing only for the floor to open and consume her.
Dear Bethany saved her further embarrassment—indeed, further blazing scrutiny—when she reached out cheerily from the earl’s arms, crying, “Mama!” Emma took her from the earl, startling slightly when those powerful hands of his touched briefly the skin of her bare arms.
“I heard her waken a while ago,” he told Emma, seeming disinclined to remove himself from their presence just now. “I did knock, but when there was no response, I assumed that you might still be asleep—Mrs. Conklin had told me you’d ‘dropped like the dead’—and I thought to remove Bethany before she wakened you.”
It was awkward, tasted funny on her tongue even, but Emma did tender a grudging, “Thank you.”
The earl waved this off, and ruffled Bethany’s riotous curls as he said, “Anna and Meredith, two maids here with children of their own, gave her a bath and found this garb for her,” the earl said, indicating the baby’s new clothes. “We were getting to know one another.”
Bethany was a very inquisitive child—at times downright mischievous—which begged the question, “She didn’t cause any trouble, did she?” Emma could just picture those pudgy little hands upending costly antiques or treasured family heirlooms. She nearly cringed, awaiting his reply.
He surprised her by giving a short laugh, seemingly amused by Emma’s worst expectations. “She was fine—no trouble at all. We even visited the stables and found her a grand little pony that she might ride one day.”
Emma thought now not the time to point out to the earl that one day—when Bethany reached an age to actually ride apony—they would likely have been long gone from Benedict House. Gone, indeed, from the earl’s life altogether.
With nothing else to say to this man who unnerved her so, Emma then excused herself, and took Bethany farther down the hall to their rooms. She cringed still, imagining the dark eyes of the earl following every step of her barely clad form.Dear Lord in Heaven!
He would send a bath up to her now, he called from where she’d left him. Emma acknowledged this only with a nod turned vaguely his way before shutting herself and Bethany behind the closed door of her chamber.
Once there, closeted in rooms that were entirely too opulent to suit her, Emma set Bethany down upon the soft carpet and let her explore merrily her new surroundings. This allowed Emma to again marvel at the insistence of the earl that they come here to Benedict House. True, she and his father had been friendly, the old earl being made of a fine and virtuous essence, but she knew from Michael Benedict himself that he’d not seen his son in months and hence, was possibly not aware of their friendship. She missed Michael terribly—truth be told, at times unable to imagine him gone completely from this world.
But Emma considered the new earl as unlike his father as the sky was the grass. So why, Emma wanted to know, did he feel it necessary to offer her and Bethany this benevolence? Had Michael Benedict included in his last testament some profound wish that she be housed here, that monies be made available to her that Bethany should know a better life? Michael had offered as much to Emma, and repeatedly. She had politely but firmly refused him, inferring that she and Bethany simply weren’t his concern. She’d loved that about him, however, that he cared for herand Bethany and thought to do this simply because he could. But Emma was ever a proud girl, and she’d never taken a snippet of charity in her life. To be sure, she’d been tempted, for Bethany’s sake; but always she had refused, her pride being a greater thing than her need.
Yet here she was now, homeless and without a farthing, induced to rely upon the curious charity of Michael Benedict’s son, who displayed not an inkling of curiosity as of yet over the very fact that his father had—in essence—taken monies from him to share with her. He’d asked not one question about the relationship she’d had with Michael. Perhaps, she imagined with little effort extended to afford him generosity, he was so taken with his business of being arrogant and overbearing, he hadn’t additional wherewithal to consider things such as this.
Shaking her head now at such uncharitable thoughts, she watched as Bethany made to climb up the front of the huge wardrobe and moved to distract the child with some activity less dangerous. She was considering her limited options in this regard, glancing around a room wholly unsuitable for an active two-year old, when a knock sounded at the door. Emma called for entrance and saw Mrs. Conklin enter, bidding her a cheery hello and advising her that she would be directing several footmen with the set up of her bath in the next room. The housekeeper promised to send a maid to help her with this chore but Emma declined—much to the amused horror of the older woman—as she’d not once in her life required assistance for so simple a chore as bathing. She did ask, however, if there might be some articles of clothing to be had—perhaps there was a maid of similar proportions, she suggested—as her gown was likelybeyond repair, the soot and smoke of last night’s fire having wreaked heavy damage.
Again, Mrs. Conklin appeared entirely outraged at such a simple suggestion, her little button eyes nearly bursting from her face. “Oh, my dear, no,” the housekeeper rushed out. “His lordship sent ‘round to the village this afternoon, while ye slept, and procured some garments for ye—yer not to be wearing a servant’s togs.”
This woman’s agitation over this circumstance only raised more questions in Emma’s mind. With another shake of her head, her confusion presently being a powerful thing, Emma waited silently then while her bath was fully prepared but did accept Mrs. Conklin’s offer to see to Bethany while she disappeared into the dressing room. Bethany, being a child used to attention from many, went happily along with Mrs. Conklin, who cooed delightedly at such a pretty baby.
EMMA ACTUALLY LUXURIATEDin the large copper tub filled with steaming and scented water. Never before had she not been forced to hurry through her bath, because Alice needed the use of it, or because Bethany needed her care, or because she was needed at work. She washed her hair with a vanilla spiced bar and her body with the softest cloth imaginable, even as she promised herself she would not—should not—become accustomed to such extravagances. When the chore of the bathing was done, she was loath to give up such a fine position and rested herhead on the pillowed back of the tub, closing her eyes in wonder at this magnificence.
Soon enough, however, the water did cool, forcing her out of the copper and into a dry and fluffy sheet of cotton. She squeezed out as much water as she could from her long hair but knew this would take hours to dry. She left the dressing room, wondering how she would ever manage to empty the water, supposing it would take her many pails and many trips to and from the tub to see to it.
Upon the bed, laid out prettily for her inspection, was a clean and pretty gown of pale blue. Carefully, she fingered the material with a cautious hand, considering the fine muslin a perfect weight for a cooler spring evening. The cut was modest, perhaps intended for a younger girl than she, the bodice being shirred, and the skirt falling straight from just below the breast line. Next to these lay undergarments; a clean shift of pure white; a straight hemmed petticoat with an eyelet stitching; and stockings much lighter and silkier than anything Emma had ever known.
A bit of girlish excitement swept over her. Oh, to be sure, she’d not be at Benedict House long enough to get used to such fine things as this, but she was thrilled to have the chance to don so pretty and well-made a gown. Wringing her hair out once again, lest the wetness ruin the gown, she dressed herself quickly and considered her reflection in the tall cheval glass near the armoire.
She thought she appeared not herself at all, being so accustomed as she was to heavier and darker clothing than this. She lifted her wet hair, carelessly pushing it up as if secured atop her head and considered the view, tilting her head this way andthat. She saw her stocking-ed toes peeking out from beneath the hem of the frock and wondered what had become of her sturdy boots—they would do no justice to this pretty ensemble, but they were all she had. In this gown, she appeared taller and leaner than she’d thought of herself, but considered that the straight cut achieved this, her former attire usually being gathered at the waist and flounced from there. She studied the tight-fitting shirred bodice and the high cut of the scoop neckline and again determined this piece had originally been produced for someone much younger than she—but tall, apparently.
The door to her chamber opened then and Emma whirled around, dropping the mass of her hair as Mrs. Conklin had returned. In her hand she carried a pair of ladies’ slippers, these being a muted silver tone, the tops embroidered with a scrolling pattern of blue thread.
“These should do ye fine, Miss,” Mrs. Conklin predicted, gesturing for Emma to sit at the dressing table stool.
“Where is Bethany?” Emma wanted to know, trying not to sound alarmed.
“Ooh, that little cherub,” Mrs. Conklin prattled. “Off with his lordship again, while they wait on ye.”
“His lordship waits for me?” Emma asked, her fingers thumping her chest.
“Dinner was held for ye, Miss,” the housekeeper explained succinctly. “Now SueEllen should be—ah, here she is.” Right on cue, a maid, younger even than Emma entered the chamber, her head bobbing nervously. “SueEllen will tend yer hair, set it nicely for ye and then she’ll show ye to the parlor where his lordship keeps the baby.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Conklin,” Emma intoned, appreciative of the woman’s efforts on her behalf—though she thought them largely unnecessary—but more wary now of her dinner appointment with the earl. Why, it was almost as if she were being treated not at all as a servant, but as a ... lady.
ZACHARY BENEDICT LOUNGEDhaphazardly upon the thick carpet of the formal parlor, unconcerned that he likely rumpled the evening wear Emery, his valet, had painstakingly readied for him. He watched with growing amusement —and admittedly, with a growing fondness—as his baby sister giggled and repeated her efforts to climb over his prone form. She must think him some mountain to ascend, though he thought she particularly liked the descent, when he assisted a bit, turning his body so that her hands found the floor on the other side of him and she tumbled head over heels off him. She would scramble unevenly to her feet then, her limited vocabulary allowing only for a call of, “Again!” Naturally, when she turned those magnificent blue eyes and that scant-tooth grin upon him, Zach was at pains to resist. ‘One more time’ had been several occasions ago.
