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CHAPTEREIGHT
Emily clasped her hands as she waited outside her brother’s study.
He’d been talking with Upton and Somersworth for more than an hour and she’d heard the distinct clink of crystal. They were drinking.
She wondered if he’d receive her request with more or less irritation for having partaken in some brandy?
There was only one way to find out.
She took several deep breaths.
She’d hoped the other two men would leave but they’d not, and she didn’t wish to put the request off any longer.
She was nervous enough as it was. She pressed her palms to her dress, hoping to remove some of the clamminess before she raised her hand to knock on the door.
Why she grew nervous to speak with her brother, she couldn’t say. He loved her. But her insides didn’t agree. Any negative emotion sent her into a flustered babbling mess.
And worse than asking in front of just her brother would be to ask in front of other people.
She thought of Somersworth. What would he think? Would this further fuel his interest or push him away? She hoped the latter. Much as she’d always wished to marry, she’d realized an important fact about herself. She wished to marry, not just for the sake of the institution, but for love.
And she’d not be able to settle for less.
Which was the thought that seemed to finally push her to raise her hand and rap on the door.
“Yes?” her brother asked.
She cracked open the door. “Ken. I’d like to speak with you.”
“Come in,” he said and she pushed the door open further, stepping into the room. Ken sat on the other side of the desk, his feet propped on the top while both Upton and Somersworth sat in chairs between the desk and the door.
The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as the faint scent of smoke and liquor added an atmosphere of warmth.
All the men stood as she entered the room, Somersworth setting his glass aside and stepping up next to her.
Ken looked between the two of them, his gaze narrowing. She shifted, her breath trembling out of her lungs. The last thing this conversation needed was another complication. Had Lord Somersworth told Ken about his admission at the ball? Did Ken approve? Did it matter?
“I need a few minutes with my sister,” Ken said as Upton started to file past her toward the paneled door. But Somersworth paused, his hand brushing hers. “Remember what I said.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” she answered, her gaze pointed down to her toes. He’d be the next person she’d have to find the courage to tell the truth. He slid past her and out the door, it softly clicking closed.
Silence filled the room as she slowly raised her gaze to her brother’s. He stared back at her, one lock of his wavy brown hair falling over his forehead. He brushed it back with a quick hand. “What is going on?”
“What do you mean?” she asked her brows rising.
“First Smith and now Somersworth. Why was he looking at you like that?”
That made her smile. “I thought you wanted me to have suitors.”
His eyes narrowed into slits. “Neither of them are appropriate choices for you.”
“An earl and the second son of a marquess are not appropriate?” She cocked her head to the side assessing her brother. She’d assumed he was eager for her to be a success. That he was embarrassed by her lack of progress. Had she gotten that wrong?
Ken’s mouth opened and then closed again. “Somersworth’s reputation is—”
“The same as yours.”
Ken’s mouth snapped shut. “And Smith is…” But he trailed off.
