Page 32 of The Earl's Hired Bride
“Don’t go soft on me now,” Miss Paxton snapped. She crossed to the parlor where Emily hid and peeked in. Finding it empty and only dimly lit, she turned and struck the doorframe as she turned back, making Emily jump and her grip on the large book slip. She hung on and pressed back against the wall.
“Damn my father, in any case,” Miss Paxton hissed. “We wouldn’t have to get up to this scheming if he would only consent to follow Lord Ardman home.”
“Will he not relent, Miss? It seems so much . . . safer, to take care of it that way.”
“He will not. He doesn’t find itseemly.”
“I know it leaves you in desperate straits, but Lord Hartford does seem happy with his betrothed.”
“Damn her, too. Pushy American. Lord Hartford is the right height and coloring—and if I have to trap a man then it might as well be one who owns an estate like Hartsworth.” She paused. “That castle might make all of this worry and bother worth it, at that.”
Emily sucked in a shocked, silent breath and her fingers, bloodless from gripping the book so tightly, slipped. Ivanhoe’s heavy cover fell forward and hit the door, making a small but definite thud.
The other two women froze. Miss Paxton pushed the maid forward and pointed to the parlor door. The poor girl moved past Emily’s view, looking in, then came back, shrugging.
“Back to the kitchens with you, then,” the young lady commanded. “I’ll go back to the party.”
Emily sighed in relief as the two went their separate ways, then allowed a great blaze of anger to roar high. She stalked down the passage, her mind a whirl of fury and resolve.
She stopped when she reached the music room again and found Miss Paxton standing in the doorway with a small group, gaze fastened on the passage. When she saw Emily emerge, she speared her with a glare of narrowed eyes.
Emily stopped and returned the disdainful glance, lifting her chin.
The gauntlet had been thrown and accepted. The challenge was on.
Chapter 8
Emily had once seenan electric machine. The showman had flipped a switch and jagged lines of electricity had shot out in every direction. She currently felt just like that sphere—and each jagged bolt of electricity arcing from her was a different emotion.
She wanted Hart. Finally admitting it, contemplating the real possibility, filled her with hope and despair.
She wanted tostrangleMiss Paxton. No matter what happened or what it cost her, Emily was determined that that harpy would not get her claws into Hart.
Most of all, she wanted her mother.
Nowthat, she had some control over. She boxed up her ball gown, told the countess that she had an appointment to have it fitted, took Molly for propriety, and set out for Madame Lalbert’s.
Miss Carmichael was there, showing off the last fitting for her new ball gown in the outer room. Emily admired it with everyone else, nodded at the other customer choosing fabrics in the corner and asked Madame if she might have Mrs. Spencer’s help with her dress.
The front door bell rang again as another customer entered, but Emily didn’t pause to see who it was. She moved purposefully toward the back, and when her mother pulled the curtain shut, she tossed the box aside and fell into her arms. “Oh, Mama! It’s terrible!”
“Oh, my darling, what is it?” Her mother clutched her tightly. “What’s happened? Is it Lord Hartford?”
“No. Yes.” Her voice broke. “I don’t know!”
Breaking away to hold her face in her hands, her mother scanned her. Her eyes darted about—and then her face fell. “Oh, dear. You’ve done it, haven’t you? Fallen in love with him?”
Emily bit her lip. “How can you tell?”
“Your glow, your flush. The light of joy and the shadow of fear in your eye.” Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, my dear, I warned you against this.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Emily whispered.
“No. We never do, do we?” She sank down on a nearby stool. “I didn’t want this for you! I don’t want you to know the pain of always waiting on someone who will never be there for you.”
“It isn’t like that, Mama.” She knelt at her mother’s feet and laid her head in her lap. “He loves me too.”
Her mother heaved a sigh. “Well, that is something.” She thought a moment as her fingers shifted in Emily’s hair. “But, how—I still don’t see—”
