Fredrick may not care for her as she did for him, but she would take him as he was. She wanted to be in his life, now and forever.
Emilia turned towards the large mirror that hung on the wall and marveled at her ballgown. She had never worn such an ornate gown before. The cost of this single gown was more than she would ever earn as a teacher at her old boarding school.
The gown itself was a delicate shade of pale blue, adorned with a net overlay intricately embroidered with flowers and dotted with small jewels. It was truly magnificent. She felt beautiful- something that didn’t happen very often in her life.
The door swung open and Anette stepped into the parlor with a broad smile on her lips. “Your ball is acrush,” she declared.
Emilia found herself smiling in response. “That is wonderful.”
Anette perused the length of her. “That ballgown is exquisite,” she said. “I have never seen anything quite like it.”
“I helped the dressmaker design it,” Emilia admitted.
“Well, you should be proud of yourself, because I doubt Fredrick will be able to keep his eyes off of you,” Anette said.
“Fredrick?” she asked.
Anette waved her hand in front of her. “My apologies. I meant thetonwon’t be able to keep their eyes off of you.”
Emilia wasn’t sure what to make of Anette’s slip of her tongue. It sounded deliberate, but she didn’t dare press her friend. Not now. Her greatest fear was that Anette saw right through her and knew of her feelings for Fredrick. What a mortifying thought.
“I am slightly nervous,” Emilia admitted.
“As well you should be,” Anette replied. “A little fear doesn’t hurt anyone, especially since everyone in that ballroom is waiting for you to fail.”
“They are?”
Anette nodded. “But you aren’t going to fail, are you?” she questioned. “You are going to keep your head held high, knowing you have earned your rightful place in high Society.”
Emilia started fidgeting with her hands. “I have earned nothing,” she admitted. “I just happened to inherit a fortune.”
“A grand fortune, that is far more than suitable,” Anette corrected.
“Regardless, is that enough to win theton’sapproval?” Emilia asked.
A deep, resonant voice came from the doorway. “No, it is not,” said a tall, white-haired man. It was evident that this was Lord Cuttyngham because he bore a striking resemblance to Fredrick.
Lord Cuttyngham walked further into the room. “There will always be some naysayers that claim you don’t belong amongsthigh Society because you are an upstart. There will be others that say you don’t belong because Sir Charles was only a baronet,” he said. “But none of those opinions matter; only yours does. Don’t give the naysayers any heed.”
Emilia gracefully dropped into a curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.”
The marquess came to a stop in front of her. “You are enchanting, my dear,” he said with a warm smile. “I can see why you have bewitched my son.”
Her eyes grew wide. “I have done no such thing,” she said. “We are just friends.”
“Ah, my mistake,” the marquess responded lightly.
Anette interjected, breaking the moment. “Shall we adjourn to the ballroom?”
Lord Cuttyngham extended his arm to Emilia. “Shall we, my dear?” he asked.
She rested her hand on his sleeve and allowed him to lead her from the parlor. As they walked to the ballroom, she wanted to express her gratitude. “Thank you for agreeing to do this. I know it must come as a great hardship to you since you were forced to leave your wife’s bedside.”
“It is my privilege to help one of Fredrick’s friends,” Lord Cuttyngham said with amusement in his voice.
Emilia felt her heart quicken as they approached the ballroom.
In a gentle voice, Lord Cuttyngham encouraged, “Don’t forget to breathe.”