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“You have always been unruly.”
“That is true, but it is not as endearing as I grow older.”
“I disagree,” Oliver said. “It is refreshing to find a woman who knows her own mind.”
Emmeline huffed. “Surely you jest.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Oliver remarked, “I tire of the women that hide behind coy smiles and polite conversational topics.”
“Then you are in the minority, I’m afraid.”
Oliver stopped at the iron fence that ran along the back of the property and leaned up against it. His expression grew solemn. “How have you been since Charlotte died?”
“I miss my cousin dreadfully,” she breathed. “At times, I still can’t believe she is gone.”
“How long has it been?”
Emmeline sighed. “Almost a year.” She gave him a sad smile. “I was saddened that it didn’t work out between you two.”
A pained look came to Oliver’s face. “It was her choice to break our engagement.” His words sounded gruff.
“I know, but it makes it no less difficult for everyone involved.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t attend the funeral,” he said. “I just didn’t think it would be appropriate, given the circumstances.”
“My aunt wouldn’t let me attend, either. She felt it wasn’t proper for me to grieve in public.” Emmeline worked hard to keep the resentment out of her voice.
“You have had a lot of tragedy befall you at such a young age,” Oliver remarked as he watched her closely.
“I suppose I have,” she reluctantly admitted.
Oliver’s eyes scanned the gardens. “Are you truly going to marry the Duke of Billingham?” he asked.
A puff of air left her lips. “I’m afraid I don’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Everybody has a choice.”
“It is either marry the aged duke or enter a life of servitude.”
“Surely, there must be another option for you.”
Emmeline shook her head, causing the blonde curls that framed her face to sway back and forth. “I can’t think of one,” she replied. “I only have a small inheritance from my grandmother, but it isn’t enough for me to support myself.”
“Your aunt and uncle truly wouldn’t be as unfeeling as to force you into a marriage with the duke.”
“My uncle negotiated the terms of the contract,” she shared. “They both believe it to be a brilliant match.”
Oliver crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s a terrible match.”
“I agree, but I am just a woman. What choice do I have?” she asked earnestly. “My future is dependent upon marrying well.”
Oliver was silent for a long moment. “What if you did have another choice?” he finally asked.
“What do you mean?”
He uncrossed his arms and straightened from the fence. “What if you could marry another?”
“Who?” she asked. “The duke intends to marry me when I turn twenty-one, and that is only six days away.”
