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“I can’t,” he replied. “At least, not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I am planning to attend the meeting tomorrow night with my friends,” Oliver explained. “I need to know if this Guy Stewart is one of the radicals that we need to be concerned about.”
Baldwin took a step back. “I wish you luck.”
“You aren’t going to stop me?”
With a shake of his head, Baldwin asked, “Would it make a difference if I tried?”
“Not likely.”
“Then go,” Baldwin said. “But be mindful that you now have a wife waiting for you to come home.”
“Emmeline will hardly notice that I am gone,” Oliver attempted.
Baldwin shook his head. “I told you that this would be a mistake,” he said. “You weren’t in a position to take a wife.”
“You are wrong.”
“I truly hope you prove me wrong, Brother,” Baldwin said before he spun on his heel.
Oliver watched his brother’s retreating figure and he found himself growing increasingly irritated. Emmeline would be fine at Hawthorne House without him. He didn’t have time to coddle her and ease her into her new role. No. He had a job to do, and he wouldn’t accomplish it by sitting around his townhouse.
It didn’t matter that he would prefer to spend time with his wife than eating out at White’s with his friends. His duty was to his country, not his wife.
Chapter Seven
“Will that beall, milady?” the young, red-haired maid asked as she stepped back.
Emmeline ran her hand down the sleeve of the borrowed white muslin gown. “Yes, thank you, Ellen,” she replied.
Her words had barely left her mouth when the door to her bedchamber was opened, and Jane walked into the room, wearing a jonquil gown.
“I have come to escort you to the drawing room,” Jane announced cheerfully.
“Oh, thank heavens,” Emmeline remarked. “Hawthorne House is enormous, and I am not entirely sure that I could have found the drawing room on my own.”
“I assumed as much,” Jane replied as her eyes perused the length of her. “My gown looks quite lovely on you.”
“Thank you for letting me borrow it for dinner tonight. I will travel to my townhouse tomorrow to retrieve my clothing.”
“I assure you that it is no trouble at all.” Jane’s eyes left hers as she questioned, “Are you pleased with your bedchamber?”
Emmeline nodded as her eyes roamed the square room with pale green wallpaper. A four-poster bed stood against the wall, and a fireplace sat on the opposite wall. “It is exquisite,” she admitted. “It is much larger than my bedchamber at my townhouse.”
“Have you visited the sitting room yet?”
Emmeline shook her head. “I have not,” she said.
Jane walked over to the door that led to the sitting room and opened it. “It is rather a nice room,” she shared before she disappeared into it.
Emmeline didn’t know why she was hesitant about visiting the sitting room, but she knew she was being foolish. She stepped over to the door and peered inside. The sitting room, with its rich blue walls, was much more masculine than her bedchamber. Two floral camelback settees faced each other near the fireplace.
Gesturing with wide arms around the room, Jane asked, “What do you think of your sitting room?”
“It is lovely.”
