Page 10 of Choosing Her Earl at Last
“Louisa!” Emmeline greeted enthusiastically as she rose from her chair in the drawing room and enveloped her long-time friend in a warm embrace. “It is so good to see you at long last!”
“Indeed! Sending letters, while a pleasant pastime, simply is not enough. It is so very good to see your beautiful face once more.” Louisa returned her hug with equal excitement.
Louisa Beauchamp was Emmeline’s oldest and dearest friend. A wealthy widow of means and influence, Louisa had been a bastion of support for Emmeline during the difficult and lonely days of her marriage. They had not seen each other since Emmeline’s father’s funeral, but had kept in touch with frequent letters. It had been one of the few bright spots in Emmeline’s wedded seclusion.
Emmeline led her friend to a pale blue damask settee and rang for tea. Once the butler had served them, the women resumed their conversation.
“Tell me, how have you been?” Louisa asked, concern momentarily dampening her excitement.
“I am alive and well,” Emmeline reassured her. “I am at long last free, for the moment that is,” Emmeline added darkly. She lacked Louisa’s means that allowed her to remain independent.
“Did the marquess leave you nothing?” Louisa asked, placing a reassuring hand on her friend’s arm.
“Less than nothing,” Emmeline admitted. “All that I have remaining to my name is my title and the money that my father left me. Apparently, my husband was not honest about his finances upon marrying me.”
“It is fortunate that, as a widowed marchioness, you have the right to maintain your title, even if Harry Livingston were to wed and give the title to another.” Louisa nodded in approval at this.
“Little consolation given the cold nature of our marriage,” Emmeline admitted, lifting her teacup to her lips, attempting to hide her feelings on the matter.
“Indeed, but it will allow you to make a more fortuitous match in the future,” Louisa reminded her as she took a sweet biscuit from the tea tray. “The title and prestige that goes with it were your parents’ aim when they made the arrangement, was it not?”
“It was,” Emmeline admitted, unable to keep the bitterness that she felt from her tone.
Louisa studied her with intelligent blue eyes, her blonde curls framing her face in an almost angelic halo effect as the light from the window behind her fell in golden rays. “You know that not allmarriages are the same,” she gently reminded her friend. “Some men can be quite enjoyable.”
Emmeline blushed at the subtle underlying meaning of her friend’s words. She shook her head. “It is too early for such thoughts. I am only halfway through my mourning period, and I have no desire to wed again any time soon. If only I could remain independent as you have.”
“I was fortunate indeed that my dear Archibald left me great wealth, which in turn allowed me the gift of independence, but most women are not as blessed. There will come a time when you will have no choice but to wed again. Why not make it for love this time?” Louisa’s eyes held Emmeline’s encouragingly. “I hear that the Earl of Ravenshollow has rejoined society.”
Emmeline sighed, shaking her head. “He holds nothing but contempt for me. I chose duty over love, and he cannot forgive me for it. What love he once felt for me has turned as cold as the Thames when it ices over in the winter.”
“We both know that you were not given a choice. Your parents arranged the marriage, and you did what any loyal daughter would do. You are not to blame. Surely if you explain what happened, the earl will see reason.”
“You did not see the look in his eyes, Louisa.” The memory of it brought a fresh, sharp stab of pain to Emmeline’s already wounded heart.
“Perhaps I should have a word with him,” Louisa offered. “We eccentric widows can get away with more than an unwed debutante, or even a scheming matchmaking mother.” A glint of mischief entered Louisa’s eyes.
Emmeline laughed in spite of herself. “While I do not doubt your talents of persuasion, I believe that this situation is beyond even your help.”
Louisa smiled. “I would not be so sure. Leave it with me, and I will see what I can do to smooth the troubled waters.”
Rebecca entered the room, smiling upon catching sight of Louisa. “Louisa, when did you arrive?”
“Only moments ago,” Louisa replied, standing to greet Emmeline’s sister with a warm hug. Both ladies sat back down, and the conversation resumed. “I was just attempting to convince Emmeline to allow me to speak with the Earl of Ravenshollow on her behalf and see what could be done about the matter between them,” Louisa explained.
Rebecca snorted in a most unladylike fashion. She had been angry with Emmeline since the night of the ball for treating Colin and his family with cold indifference. “That is unlikely.”
“Oh?” Louisa asked with arched brows, surprised by Rebecca’s tone.
“Emmeline is entirely too stubborn to ever allow it,” Rebecca explained. “You should have seen them at the queen’s ball. You would have thought that they were mortal enemies and not once dear friends.”
Rebecca turned her gaze toward her sister. “You treated Colin Barrington and his family abominably. Colin is not Michael. He has done nothing to deserve your disdain.”
Emmeline sighed. “I did not intend to cause offense. The situation is a delicate one, and I am still finding my new footing in society. Please forgive my coldness. I shall endeavor to do better in the future with your Mr. Barrington.”
Rebecca blushed at the reference to Colin as hers but said nothing to dissuade the idea. A knock at the door heralded the arrival of a guest.
“A Mr. Colin Barrington has come to call upon Miss Rebecca,” the Framptons’ butler, Ezra Hardy, announced from the drawing room door. “Shall I admit him?”
