To Taste Temptation (Legend of the Four Soldiers #1)(88)

—from Iron Heart

Samuel was gone when she woke the next morning. A maid was clattering by the hearth, trying to light the fire. It must’ve been banked badly and gone out during the night.

Emeline closed her eyes for a moment, not wanting to face the day. Perhaps not wanting to face her life without him. And as she did so, she felt liquid seep from inside herself. She thought it was his seed, but when she looked, it proved to be a more familiar stain. Her monthly visitor had come. And this was the truly horrible part: Instead of feeling relief that nothing now stood between her and her marriage to Jasper, she was flooded with wild disappointment. How foolish! How utterly stupid, to want to be filled with Samuel’s child. To have no choice but to marry him.

Emeline caught her breath then. Her mind—her sanity—might know that a marriage to Samuel would be disastrous, but her heart was unconvinced.

“Can I get you something, my lady?” The maid was staring at Emeline, her hand raised over the still-cold fire.

She must’ve made a sound, done something to reveal her distress, for a servant girl to have noticed. Emeline sat up. “No, nothing. Thank you.”

The girl nodded and turned back to the hearth. “I’m sorry I’m taking so long today, ma’am. I can’t think why the fire should be so hard to light.”

Emeline looked over the side of the bed and found her wrap. She struggled into it while the maid’s back was still turned. “It’s probably the chill in the air. Here, let me try.”

But however many times Emeline stuck a flaming straw into the coals, they refused to light.

“Well, never mind,” she finally exclaimed crossly. “Have a hot bath brought into my sitting room. The fire’s lit there, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lady,” the maid said.

“Then I’ll just dress in my sitting room.”

An hour later, Emeline’s bath had grown cold. Dismally, she stirred the water near her knee. Like it or not, it was past time for her to get out of the bath and face the rest of her life and the choices she’d made.

“Towel,” she said, and stood as a maid held out an enormous drying cloth.

Probably they didn’t make drying cloths so large in the Colonies. It was lucky she had rejected Samuel and wouldn’t have to put up with inferior bath accessories. Emeline stood morosely as her maids dressed her, not even interested when the new wine-red silk was presented. She’d ordered the gown several weeks ago when she’d helped prepare Rebecca’s wardrobe. Now she might have been wearing burlap and ashes.

She finally grew restive as Harris fiddled with her coiffure. “That’s fine. I won’t be receiving visitors today, anyway. I think I’ll just go walk in the garden.”

Harris glanced doubtfully at the window. “Looks like rain, my lady, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

“Oh, does it?” Emeline asked in despair.

This seemed the final straw, that the elements should conspire against her as well. She went to the window to peer out. Her sitting room overlooked the street, and as she watched, Samuel descended the steps next door and strode to a waiting horse. She caught her breath involuntarily. The unexpected sight of him sent a jab of pain into her middle, as if she’d been stabbed. Her hand trembled against the cold glass pane. He ought to have looked up then. He ought to have seen her watching him from her window above him. But rather mundanely, he did not. He mounted the horse and rode away.

Emeline let her hand drop from the window.

Behind her, Harris was still talking as if nothing had happened. “I’ll just put the new dresses away, then, my lady, unless you need me for anything else?”

“No, that’s all.” Emeline tore her gaze from the window. “No, wait.”

“My lady?”

“Fetch my cloak please. I wish to visit Miss Hartley next door.” This might be the only time she’d have to say good-bye to Rebecca. It didn’t seem right to let her sail to the American colonies without bidding the girl farewell.

Emeline swung the cloak on and hurried down the stairs, fastening the neck. She didn’t know how long Samuel would be gone, but it seemed imperative that she not meet him again. Outside, the sky was heavy and dark with impending rain. If Rebecca was in, she must remember not to stay too long or risk being trapped by a thunderstorm. Inhaling, she rapped on Samuel’s door.

The butler’s face was ever so faintly shocked when he opened the door. It was too early to be calling, but she was the daughter of an earl, after all. He bowed as she swept past him into the entry hall and then showed her to the small sitting room to wait while he fetched Rebecca. Emeline only had time to nervously glance out the windows before Rebecca came in.

“My lady!” The younger woman seemed startled at her visit.

Emeline held out her hands. “I could not let you go without saying good-bye.”

Rebecca burst into tears.

Oh, dear. She’d never quite known what to do with the tears of others. Secretly, Emeline had often thought that ladies who wept in public were desirous of attention. She hardly ever wept, and never in front of others—that is, she realized, until last night with Samuel.

Propelled by that uncomfortable thought, Emeline started forward. “There, there,” she muttered as she patted Rebecca’s shoulder awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Rebecca gasped.