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Emmeline gasped. “That is terrible.”
“The duke has had four wives and a profusion of mistresses,” Jane said. “It is any wonder that he ever gets out of bed.”
“Jane!”
Jane pressed her lips together as she slowly turned around. “Yes, Mother?”
The Dowager Marchioness of Hawthorne gave her daughter a stern look. “That was rather crass of you to say.”
“It makes it no less true,” Jane pointed out.
“Dear heavens, child,” Lady Hawthorne said. “You must think through your words carefully. Once said, words can never be taken back.”
Jane turned back to face Emmeline. In an unconvincing tone, she remarked, “I am sorry that I insulted your fiancé, and I feel quite badly for doing so. I am sure the duke has numerous reasons to get out of bed each morning.”
Emmeline giggled and brought her hand up to cover her mouth.
Lady Hawthorne sighed. “We must work on your apologies—again.” She turned her attention away from her daughter. “How are you faring, Emmeline?”
“I am well,” she replied.
“Truly?”
Emmeline lowered her hand to her side. “I have had better days,” she confessed.
Lady Hawthorne gave her a look filled with compassion, making her feel slightly nostalgic about her late mother. “I can only imagine,” she said. “If you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“I think it is time that you started calling me Harriet.”
Emmeline felt a genuine smile form on her lips. “I would like that.”
Jane looped arms with her and asked, “Are you really going to marry the old bloke?”
“Jane!” Harriet exclaimed, glancing over her shoulder. “That ‘old bloke’ is a duke and deserves our respect.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much choice,” Emmeline admitted. “It is either marry him or seek employment.”
“You could come be my companion,” Jane declared.
A rich, baritone voice came from behind her. “You do not want to become my sister’s companion,” he warned.
Emmeline turned around to come face to face with Lord Oliver. The handsome lord had dark brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and broad shoulders. His blue eyes were so intense that she couldn’t decide if she wanted to look away or keep staring.
“And why is that?” she asked, attempting to be unaffected by his nearness.
“She would fill your head with fantastical nonsense and whatnot.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Emmeline bantered back. “It might take away from the humdrum of my life.”
He leaned closer and whispered, “Or it will drive you mad.”
A smirk came to her lips. “If I can handle you and Baldwin teasing me unmercifully growing up, I have no doubt that I can handle your sister.”
Oliver smiled, a devilish smile that always managed to work through her defenses. “How are you, Emme?”
Emmeline smiled at the nickname that Oliver had given her when they were children. She only allowed him to call her that.
