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Walking over to her window, she stared out at the full moon. How she wished her parents were still alive. And not for the first time. She missed them dreadfully. It had been two years since they died at the hands of highwaymen.
Emmeline leaned her head against the windowsill and allowed herself to cry. She felt so alone. Her heart had yet to heal from her parents’ deaths, and her pain was still raw. At times, her unrelenting grief seemed unbearable.
The door to her room opened, and her raven-haired lady’s maid stepped into the room. Her hair was tied back at the nape of her neck. “Are you ready to undress?” she asked as she closed the door.
Not bothering to spare her a glance, Emmeline replied, “I suppose I am.”
“You sound reluctant.” Mary came to stand next to her and asked, “Are you thinking about your parents again?”
Emmeline nodded, seeing no reason to deny it. “I am.”
“That is to be expected, especially since you are facing such a difficult choice,” Mary reasoned.
Meeting her lady’s maid’s gaze, she asked, “What should I do?”
“What is your heart telling you to do?”
Emmeline huffed. “If only it was that simple.”
“It can be.”
“My aunt and uncle would be furious if I don’t marry the duke.”
Placing a hand on her sleeve, Mary asked, “But could you live with yourself if you did?”
“I don’t know.”
Mary removed her hand, then remarked, “I cannot advise you one way or the other, but I can tell you that your mother would most assuredly want you to be happy with your choice.”
Emmeline gave her a timid smile. “I appreciate you staying on as my lady’s maid after my mother passed away,” she said.
“There is no place I would rather be,” Mary replied as she returned Emmeline’s smile.
“I know what I want to do, but I don’t know if I am strong enough,” Emmeline admitted.
“Just be true to yourself, and everything will work out.”
Emmeline shook her head. “My aunt and uncle will no doubt ask me to leave their townhouse, and I shall have to seek out employment.”
“Do you believe that they’d truly be so unfeeling that they would do such a thing?” Mary asked. “After all, this is your home.”
“It became their home when my father died,” she pointed out. “As my aunt has stated on multiple occasions, I am just a guest here.”
“That is terrible of her to say such a thing.”
“They are just words.”
“Words can still hurt deeply,” Mary expressed, compassion in her voice.
“I suppose I am growing accustomed to my aunt’s criticism,” Emmeline admitted as she turned away from the window.
“That is a shame.”
Emmeline sat down on the settee at the foot of her bed. “I shall turn twenty-one in a week, and I will finally reach my majority. I will be able to access the inheritance of three thousand pounds that my grandmother left for me.”
“That is a tidy sum.”
“It is not enough to live on for the rest of my days, though,” Emmeline said dejectedly.
