Page 2 of Emma & Edmund

He did not greet them upon their arrival earlier in the day, nor join them for dinner. He hadn't even planned the evening's festivities - with Dame Charlotte Eastwood claiming the role of hostess.

True, it was widely known she threw the best parties, but to have the need in someone else's home? Unheard of.

When the invitations arrived, word spread as quickly as wildfire. Every person Emma came across had received one.

Where exclusivity did not exist, curiosity naturally filled its place. There had been giggles wondering what kind of shack in the woods they would stumble upon, the unsocialized goon that served as its lord.

Despite the wildest rumors, the Lockhart estate, Belmont Manor, was striking. From its bleached, towering brick walls, stretching wide across the grand, lush piece of land it sat on, to the bubbling fountain that decorated the center of its drive, the mansion was simply gorgeous.

Even more so, once inside, one could lavish in its expansive gardens, multiple drawing rooms, billiards and galleries galore.

Flanked by thick woods, as close to the wild Welsh border as it could be without leaving England, Belmont was the perfect country home.

Overall, it was a dream event location, even with its absent master.

"To quell your worries, dear brother," Emma didn't stop the smile from forming on her lips as she scanned the room, "I fully intend to have a dance, once I find-"

"I heard the Tate's only just arrived," Margaret cut her words. "Rumor has it Victoria broughteighttrunks."

The disdain in her friend's voice had grown less and less hidden as the weeks drew on. Victoria Tate, with plenty of money and looks to rival Margaret, had sullied the young Lady Ingham's mood time and time again. But it wasn't the sister of the house that Emma waited for anxiously.

For as beautiful and ethereal as Victoria could be called, the same could be said for her brother, William Tate. Charming, witty, and breathtakingly handsome, Emma had her eye on him for almost a year. And now, sequestered in the same remote estate, she had her perfect chance to snag him.

Or, at the very least, claim a dance or two with him.

"Dearest Thompsons, and ah! Lady Ingham!" With a flurry of heavy skirts and perfume, as effervescent as ever, Countess Charlotte Eastwood swooped in and planted a kiss on Emma's cheek.

The dame was such a standard at any party, her husband often following close behind, that it almost felt like home when Emma was in her enthusiastic embrace.

"Theaudacityof not being entertained by the host, can you imagine? No wonder the family has stayed away from the city ifthisis how they raised their son. Even still, it's a beautiful home, isn't it?"

"We haven't seen much past the ballroom, actually," Jonathan said as he took a glass from a passing tray.

"Such impropriety!"

"Perhaps he's just waiting to make a grand entrance?" Emma supplied. "The lord may be just as dramatic as his house."

The countess unfurled her fan with a snap.

"Only time will tell if this rudeness is dramatics or simply that - rudeness. It's a blessing - for him, mind you - that he did not focus his invites solely on the eligible women. Lord in Heaven knows what would have happened if he did not have an experienced hostess in attendance."

"I take it you have a full schedule arranged already, then?" Margaret asked the lady, her excitement palpable. Charlotte Eastwood threw the absolute best parties, with the best food and entertainment money could buy.

While the country estate was a far cry from the center of Chelsea, the twinkle in Charlotte's eye was very familiar.

"Hardly set in stone, and hopefully our host will decide to grace us with his appearance before I need to completely take the reigns. However, I've arranged for a trail ride through the woods tomorrow morning, and you both will have to join us."

Emma's stomach dropped. She hadn't been on the back of a horse since her fifteenth birthday when she was bucked off the back of the touted 'world's gentlest mare'. The scar of a hoofprint on her back begged to differ.

"Of course, we will!" Margaret said a bit too cheerfully, digging her elbow into Emma's side. The girl well knew her friend's aversion to the beasts, having played prime witness to the birthday affair. "But if you'll excuse us, Lady Charlotte, Emma has a dance to secure."

"Yes, yes," Lady Charlotte whisked her fan about dismissively, "I heard the Tate family arrived. You'll be trying again then, Miss Emma? Oh, Mr. Wheatly, I have been looking for you!”

Emma's face felt aflame with blush, watching the countess bound after her next victim. Had her previous attempts been that obvious?

True, any attempt she had made before had been an utter failure, anything from spilling wine down her dress to tripping over the rug and landing face-first on the ballroom floor. But in this new home, in this fresh, open countryside, she knew her luck had to change.

And if the heart-melting smile William Tate threw her way as he finally entered the ballroom, their eyes locking for one precious moment, was any indication, she had thought correctly.

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