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And it was for that very reason she would be directed only by her own desires, for if she had not clawed, prayed and pleaded with God, fought her parents and even Anthony, she would still be imprisoned by her infirmities. Life offered no certainties, and for once she was prepared to live on the dangerous edge she had admired others for living on.
Elliot would soon be married, and she would soon be on another continent. They might never meet again, and she would forever dream of him. Unless she took a memory of him when she left, and not just any memory would do, something sweet, and passionate, and something wonderful. That stark, blinding truth had been whipping through her mind for almost a week now, and she had done everything possible to prepare for tonight. She would have one chance to experience something…anything with Elliot, before she walked away from everything she had ever wanted and known she would never have.
The thrill of something positively improper, unexpected and wicked had tingled along her spine. She needed this, not just to taste passion with her duke, but to step from the cage her family had designed and kept her in for years. I am five and twenty. By all accounts a spinster, and unmarriageable, even without her scars and limitations. There were only a few options available to women in her position. She could wait…wait to die, wait to live…or she could act.
Emma had decided to act.
She just wasn’t sure how to make her sister understand the driving force behind her decision. Maryann had been questioning Emma’s sanity since she’d confided her too daring plans.
Maryann reclined in the chaise lounge, her hand rubbing her well-rounded stomach. “How I wish you a happiness like mine,” she said with a sigh. “I confess I do not wish for you to leave us, I am quite attached to you my dear Emma, and you will miss the arrival of your niece or nephew.” She pursed her lips. “I am nervous Papa or Anthony will discover. I have observed that Papa can be frightful in his anger at times.”
Her sister was right; Emma was petrified. Not because her brother or papa might discover her recklessness. But that she would fail to rouse Elliot’s interest, and had to endure a lifetime of regrets, like never kissing him again or holding him for more than a few seconds. It had been distressing to realize how empty her life was, and how fearful she was to act on the hope and desires she’d harbored for years. There was no joy at the thought of being a countess, only a raw, unbridled fear that a lifetime with someone she held no affections for would reflect her parents’ indifferent relationship. That he would treat her with pity and disdain because of her wounds.
She wanted to break away and be free, even if for only one night. She felt suffocated, and the need for something else had been roiling inside her. A seething cauldron of restlessness, hope, and need for more. One night for herself to indulge and she only wanted that with Elliot, the boy she had loved with such intensity, and the man she still admired, if only because of his business acumen and charitable kindness, for he did not allow her close enough for anything else. Perhaps if she had one wicked night with the duke, she could move on from him, and just maybe finally silence the part of her that had started longing for him since her fifteenth year. She’d always struggled with wicked unladylike thoughts of Elliot kissing her, and doing so much more.
I’ll not trouble you with my unwanted sentiments ever again, Miss Emma. And he had been faithful to his words, even when she had silently cried and hoped he would not give up on her.
“Are you not at all scared. What if…what if your leg…”
Dark emotions reared its head and clogged her throat. There were days she wished she was as unblemished as her sister. If that were so, she wouldn’t be so nervous about seducing someone as handsome and self-assured as Elliot. “I will be fine. I’ve taken long walks through the gardens without my walking stick. And I am wearing stockings. I shan’t remove them at all.”
“Emma, how scandalous are you hoping to be?” Her sister demanded in a horrified whisper, her light blue eyes flashing with excitement and trepidation.
“I plan to be as scandalous as possible. Isn’t that the objective of a masquerade at a country manor? Debauchery and wickedness?” Emma could not tell if she was expectant or terrified.
Her sister lightly touched her hand. “Oh, Emma, I wish I were brave as you.”
Emma smiled and smoothed her hand over the soft lines of her dress. She wore a dark red satin gown with a dubious neckline. The depth of the décolletage was more revealing than Emma had ever dared wear before, but it was modest compared with those her sister had worn since her marriage. This was not a gown that would be considered suitable for an unwed virgin lady. It invited male interest and definitely suggested that interest would be encouraged. Emma had a tiny waist and had daringly decided not to wear her stays under the dress, so the gown revealed the actual contours of her body not just the delicate flesh of her voluptuous breasts. It had taken her all week with the help of Maryann to complete the gown. “Do I pass muster?”
“Oh Emma, you are gorgeous.” A blush heated Maryann’s face, and she rubbed her pregnant belly almost absently. “Do you…do you know what will happen? Though I am younger, I am a married woman, and you have no notion what to expect in a seduction.”
Emma’s entire body blushed when she understood her sister’s apparent mortification. “He has kissed me before…it was years ago.”
“I gather you plan to do far more than kissing,” Maryann said pertly, her face burning a brighter red.
“I…if the situation calls for it.”
“I cannot credit I am about to tell you how to prepare for a scoundrel to take liberties with you!”
Emma choked back a horrified laugh. “It is not necessary, I am sure Elliott knows how to take liberties with a woman,” she said softly, though she desperately wished she knew. “The carriage is ready, and I must leave and return before Anthony reaches home.”
“You do know if he is likely to be there?”
A shiver, half dread, half anticipation, ruffled her nerves.
“I believe he said he had a previous engagement and would not attend the masquerade. And even if he does, he is quite unlikely to recognize me with this blonde wig and face mask, and without my walking stick. You needn’t worry, Maryann, all shall be well.”
“We have never done anything quite so scandalous, and I’ve been told by mamma my marriage to Dr. Hugh Grantham bordered on indecency. If this ever becomes known, I daresay you will send mamma to an early grave.”
“I do not want to live with regrets, Maryann, I do not want to look back on my life twenty years from now and wonder what it would have been like to just be with him,” she said softly. “To kiss him, even if it is just once more.”
A tingle of excitement jolted through her system. No one else had ever stirred this raw sensuality inside of her, the one that roiled in her blood, screaming for freedom.
“Promise me you will be careful. Our brother must never know, Emma.”
“I cannot live under the thumb of Anthony in every aspect of my life. I already feel as if I am a shadow of who I could be.”
The tide of familiar pain and regret rose to choke her like thick smoke. She needed this, or one day she would simply shatter, and nothing would be able to piece her back together.
