Page 20 of Emma & Edmund

"As always, my love, you are right."

Even if it was a bit forced, Emma focused on the evening. The lingering tingling her dream left behind was nothing, she chanted to herself, and it was no more worth remembering than any other.

The girls finished eating quickly, chatting animatedly about their plans, which dress they would wear that evening, and how dreary the weather was. While nothing like the night of her accident, light rain had yet to let up, soaking the early spring branches and weighing down the plush green grass. Still, against the odds, small colorful dots of wildflower buds began to dot the edges of the property.

Emma managed to be perfectly charming when the pair approached William Tate, to whom they hardly needed to hint at their intentions before securing the deal.

"After everything you've been through," Margaret cried a bit too loudly when they were slyly passing the man in the hall, "I should hope a decent gentleman would secure your first dance."

Emma pushed down the nausea that came when William easily took the bait.

"I would be remiss, Miss Emma," the handsome man began after stopping them, "if I were to miss the opportunity."

"Is that an offer, Mr. Tate?"

"If you'll accept, of course."

"And of course, I will." Despite it all, she was proud to answer without hesitation or stutter. With a light nod of her head, Emma swept Margaret away. She should have stayed longer, should have struck up conversation, but the way William looked at her, as if they were partners in a shared secret, chased her away.

In a blink, it was time to get ready. The absolute best part of any party.

In the hustle of the shared room, there was little privacy to be had, but a tub was hauled in and placed behind a decorative screen. Emma wondered just how many tubs the house must have, for there were many rooms just like hers. And that's only counting the girls’ rooms. Edmund was certainly wealthy, but no one had twenty-four tubs.

Well, she supposed, it wasn't like there was much else that he could spend his money on, like traveling or imbibing as other wealthy men his age did. Still, it wasn't as if he could even use one of this small size.

A wild blush bloomed over her cheeks, going deadly still. She did not want to imagine the thought that had just flashed across her mind, of his massive form lowering into a bath much too small for him.

A hand-painted screen was placed before the tub, but only truly hid the occupant from anyone who may suddenly enter the room. If Emma were to lie on her bed, she could have a full view of whoever was bathing, and the other bed didn't offer much more.

Having spent the day planning her look down to the last curl, it wasn't hard for Emma to claim the first bath. Her dress had been laid out hours ago, Heidi had long since begun to heat the hair tongs in the fire, and to be the first in the lavender-scented water was just the icing on the cake. Tonight, she would smell, dress, act, and lookperfect.

And it was all going according to plan. Her ballgown laid perfectly, without a wrinkle in sight. It matched the little lilac buds that Heidi arranged to be brought from the garden, forming a delicate crown woven into carefully crafted curls. While she might not glow with the intrinsic beauty that flowed from Margaret, she would be damned if she didn't put up a competition.

With a final satisfied smile to her hand mirror, Emma straightened her spine and flowed from the room with as much grace as she could possibly muster.

"I wonder where the boys are?" Margaret mused as they entered the large ballroom. Upon their entrance, Emma had to choke back a gasp of shock at just how familiar the room looked.

She was in there just that morning, and the chandeliers certainly didn't glow as brightly nor did the garland of plump flowers cascade across the space. She halfway expected to look across the room and spot Edmund standing a head taller than the crowd.

No, she forcefully reminded herself,don't think of the dream. Don't even think of him, there were more important things to accomplish.

"Good evening, Jewels of England!" Swinging her wide skirts and a cocktail glass around the onslaught of attendees, Lady Charlotte's pink cheeks shone as brightly as the chandeliers above. Waving over a server, the countess secured two matching ruby cocktails for the girls. "Miss Emma, you must have as much fun as possible tonight. I've done this all for you, after all! Ha! The young lord should add me to his payroll at this rate."

"It's beautiful, Lady Charlotte," Emma said, adding a quick thank you.

"Although I heard, despite my hard dedication to the ambiance, it was hardly needed for romance to blossom." A sly flick of her fan did little to hide from the equally sly smile on the Lady's face. "Has Mr. Tate arrived yet?"

"Not that we've noticed," Margaret chuckled, "and our dear Emma hasn't stopped looking for him."

"I haven't been..." Emma clamped her mouth shut, realizing it was far better for them to think she was anxiously awaiting William than the actual truth. That's what she should be doing, anyway.

"Humph," Lady Charlotte scanned the room, "let me get my husband to retrieve him. The band is about to start, and we can't have our guest of honor without a dance partner."

As quickly as she descended upon them, the de facto hostess flitted away again. However out of sight she may be, the ringing tone of Lady Charlotte calling her husband rose above all else.

Despite her momentary distraction, a bubble of apprehension began to roll in Emma's stomach. William had, very clearly and publicly, promised her the first dance, and, as much as she didn't like to admit it, quite a lot weighed on him fulfilling his promise.

While believing Victoria Tate’s lie was just a bit too preposterous for most, it wouldn’t be difficult for one to start a more reasonable rumor that could destroy her chances.

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