Page 52 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter Twenty-Three

Emma examined her reflection in the mirror, from her golden curls to the fine shoes. Every speck of her was perfect, ready for an outing with Mr. Bernard, and she felt beautiful, every inch. But she found she was not as comfortable as she had been the other day, in a simpler setting of lounging with Mr. Godwin in the library. Her stockings almost slipping down to her ankles, hair pulling from the pins for laying against the couch and pillows while she read. That hadn’t had an ounce of judgment about her bookish ways only added to her surprising comfort in his presence. And remembering how he’d looked at her, the gentle appreciation in his eyes had warmed her from curl to shoe and made her feel even more beautiful than her current pristine reflection.

Her maid knocked on the door, announcing the arrival of Mr. Bernard below, so Emma grabbed her muff and reticule, and made her way downstairs.

“Good day, Miss Follett.” Mr. Bernard stood in the entryway with Mrs. Dunn, both admiring her with wide smiles. “How lovely you look today.”

“You’re too kind, Mr. Bernard.” Emma curtsied when she arrived at his side. “I’ve looked forward to this outing since the sun started shining today.”

“Excuse me, Miss.” The butler appeared beside her with a silver platter. “A letter has just arrived for you.”

Emma snatched it quickly, recognizing the scrawly handwriting, and grateful for the butler’s inconspicuousness. “Actually, do you mind if I delay us for just a moment? This has just arrived from my… mother, and I want to ensure there’s nothing amiss at home.”

Mr. Bernard blinked, no doubt trying to suppress his displeasure. “As you wish.”

Leaving them in the foyer, Emma stepped into the library and quickly ripped open Judith’s letter, desperate for its contents:

My dearest Emma,

This gentleman friend of yours almost sounds too good to be true, but if he is everything he seems to be, then I wish you joy for your happiness together with him. Though I will tell you, from my limited experience, sometimes men are not what they seem to be, for which there is rarely repercussions. Ultimately, men do not change. They’ll promise you the world in one breath and break your heart in the next. In our ofttimes ridiculous society, it may seem impossible to deem who is truthful in their affections, who is most compatible with our hearts, who is best suited for our futures. I pray you’ll have better foresight than I had, dear one. Please accept my apologies for the somber letter, as my stubborn daughter has had great difficulty sleeping as of late due to her cold. Though the doctor says she will be fine, she asks for her Aunt Emma most fondly. May your someday husband be a forgiving man who presents himself soon, so we may all be together again as we ought.

All my love,

Judith

Emma frowned, dropping her hands into her lap with the letter. It’s what she should have expected, for Judith’s temperament had become more jaded since her outcast from society, but Emma had hoped her news would grant her peace and hope. Instead, she only cautioned Emma to protect herself, and Emma liked to think she’d taken care of herself rather well in that regard.

Sighing, Emma tucked the letter into her skirt pocket and turned to leave the library.

“All is well at home?” Mrs. Dunn asked with a raised eyebrow.

Though Emma tried to wear a bright smile, the letter certainly dampened her mood. “My father has caught a cold, but my mother assures me it is nothing serious.” She turned her gaze to Mr. Bernard. “Which means we can still go out and enjoy the afternoon. Thank you ever so kindly for waiting, Mr. Bernard.”

He held his arm out to her with a smile. “It’s worth the wait, Miss Follett.” Then he escorted her out to the open carriage as Mrs. Dunn waved them off. Her rides through Hyde Park were becoming quite a consistent outing, and Emma assumed if she were to marry him, it could be something they would always look forward to as a regular part of their relationship. But her sister’s words hung in the back of her mind. Was Mr. Bernard a forgiving man? Would he accept Judith’s situation and understand the need for the lie regarding her death?

“Do you hear often from your mother?” Mr. Bernard asked, guiding his horses through the busy London streets.

“As often as she can spare.”

“And when you write, you update her on your recent outings and friends?”

Emma nodded, thinking of the actual letters she’d sent to her mother. “Indeed. She’s heard of all my friends at least once and has regular updates on any books I’m reading.” She swallowed, accidentally letting the comment slip. She had grown comfortable discussing books with Mr. Godwin previously, so perhaps now she would see if Mr. Bernard was of the same mind.

Mr. Bernard gave her a side glance with a knowing smirk. “Are you discussing the gothic happenings of Ann Radcliffe novels in your letters?”

Pressing her lips together, Emma shook her head. “Actually, no. I find I read more about Greek and Roman history, things connected to the science of the stars. Astronomy, most specifically.”

“Truly?” Emma did not miss how his countenance changed. “Whatever for?”

“For my own amusement, mostly. The science of the stars fascinates me, so I like to read what the understanding was before, and there are always new discoveries happening, so it keeps me actively researching the topic.”

Mr. Bernard nodded and did not speak for a moment. “But surely you don’t plan on continuing such research upon your marriage.”

The word coming from his lips did not incite the excitement or happiness she’d anticipated. In fact, his current tone and word choice made her cautious.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t. As long as it doesn’t interfere with my responsibilities, it’s something I thoroughly enjoy, and would cause no harm to anyone else during my own personal time.”

“To me, it would seem a waste of time, to study such things without being able to put them to use. Not many women would be able to under such circumstances.”

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