Egypt's back. "I do believe this time of
the year Agatha is staying at Hemmingly. You have enjoyed staying with her in
the past, have you not?"
Emily's
heart leapt. Of course. Why had she not thought of it sooner? Agatha would help
her make sense of her future. The planning was perfect, brilliant in fact.
"I adore Agatha."
Her
mother swallowed. "Yes, well, perhaps during your stay, your brothers will
find you a suitable husband. You might even come to love the man they choose,
you know. But remember, dearest, love is more than a feeling. I should know.
Sometimes people do not love you back, but it still can be love."
Tears
came to her mother's eyes, and Emily instantly felt a prickle of guilt. Her
father had always been kind to her mama, but as the years progressed, Emily
noticed it was not a marriage based on love or even mutual trust, but a
marriage of convenience, nothing more, at least from her father's side.
"Well
then, that's settled. Your abigail will pack your bags, and you will be leaving
Elbourne Hall as soon as we can make arrangements." She kissed Emily's
cheek and sighed. "Never fear, I have told your brothers to look for an
earl and no less, unless he is that elusive Black Wolf, then, of course,"
she gave a giggle, "I would make an exception."
When the
duchess took her leave, clicking the door closed behind her, Emily fell onto
her bed in a fit of laughter. The very idea of Fennington and her off to Gretna
Green was absurd.
And the
Black Wolf? Mama must have been reading the latest gossip in the Times.
Heavens, most women in England dreamed about eloping with the Wolf. The English
revered the man as much as Wellington himself. No one knew the identity of the
man that had crossed French lines serving as a secret agent for the British
during the war. Rumor had even declared that the Black Wolf had made it into
Napoleon's bedchambers to steal a missive and had barely escaped with his life.
Emily
sank back into her pillows and smiled at the thought of her mama and the Black
Wolf meeting at a masquerade ball. Goodness, the man would probably be old,
fat, and bald. Would not her mama be surprised?
Emily
sat up, her face instantly sobering at the disturbing thought. Old. Fat. Bald.
Three more reasons why she would be the one to choose her husband. There was no
telling what kind of man her brothers would choose for her.
Egypt
pounced onto her bed, and she jumped in surprise. "Ah, did Mama leave you
to guard over me?"
Emily
stroked the cat's snow-white cloak, fingering the scar she had stitched up a
year ago when Egypt had fallen onto a fireplace poker. Before the accident, the
fluffy feline had hissed whenever Emily came into the room, but now Egypt was
her best friend, that was, besides Agatha and Jane Greenwell.
Jane,
only a year younger than Emily's twenty years, had resided at Hemmingly since
the girl's parents died about five years ago. Emily smiled when she thought
about how her friend would react when told about the plans to find Emily a
suitable husband. Needless to say, she would be furious.
Emily
turned suddenly when Egypt began to hiss and arch her spine. "What is it,
sweeting?"
A slight
tap on the window drew Emily's attention where a soft breeze sent the curtains
rippling against the frame. "Why, 'tis only the wind, Egypt."
"Lady
Emily," a voice called softly. "I say, Lady Emily, are you
awake?"
Egypt
hissed again, and Emily slipped her wary gaze back to the window. That low,
raspy voice belonged to only one man. "Mr. F-Fennington?" Disbelief
hung on the end of his name.
"I
say, Lady Emily, can you hear me?"
Emily
shot from her bed, crossing the floor to peer over her sill. "Good
gracious! Whatever are you doing?"
The
large figure of Mr. James Theodore Fennington clung precariously to the trellis
outside her window. The dark cloaked body looked more like a swinging pendulum
than a man on a mission, especially with that wretched quizzing glass winking
in the glow of a lantern he held in