Being a wallflower, when done properly, was surprisingly entertaining. By this point, Emma had mastered the art. It was never an easy task, particularly after her arrival was announced at the event, but she somehow managed to participate in only three tiresome conversations about the weather, the latest gossip, and the most eligible bachelors in the room. Once she finally retreated to the shadows, she remained there, choosing to observe everything around her. Despite being at a charity event, the dear Mamas of the ton were as fierce and relentless as ever.
Lady Farrell, a baroness, had decided to host a charity concert where her grandchildren would provide the entertainment with their musical talents. Or at least, that was the hope. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last, that such a performance turned into a torturous ordeal—except, of course, for those whose hearing had long since failed them. But for now, everyone mingled, drank, and ate before the performance began. It was rumored there would be a break, but the Mamas wasted no time introducing their daughters to as many gentlemen as possible in such a short amount of time. The debutantes from the previous season seemed to radiate excitement with each new introduction, their eyes shining with dreams and hopes, surely wondering if any of these men might be their future husbands. Meanwhile, the men appeared pained, their eyes darting around in search of a way to escape. Emma almost thought she could see smoke coming from their ears as they tried to think their way out of the situation. She bit her lip, stifling a laugh.
Then, the joy left her as quickly as it had arrived. The death of her father hadn’t been a source of sorrow for anyone, but it had changed Edmund. Her once jovial brother, the evergreen one, had become little more than a shadow of his former self. She didn’t know if it was the weight of so many responsibilities—she understood so little about the property affairs—but she missed Edmund, and how things used to be. And it wasn’t just her; everyone missed him. Emma’s gaze flicked to her mother for a brief moment before it immediately drifted away. Georgia was also watching her daughter, her eyes nearly squeezed shut as she judged Emma’s resistance to listen. At least Emma could take solace in the fact that Edmund wasn’t around, too busy that evening to participate, while Elijah seemed to be enjoying himself, skillfully avoiding their mother’s attention. At that, she had to stifle a laugh again.
A few guests appeared to be enjoying their introductions. One gentleman kept glancing at a debutante, clearly taken with her. She, in turn, stole frequent glances at him, as though she could not bear to look anywhere else. Emma smiled—a broad, genuine smile that made her cheeks ache. There was hope for some.
Being the third of six, Emma didn’t know much about the world or the nature of men, but she had spent enough time around her brothers to understand that not all rakes were rakes in the truest sense, and that most men were, in fact, sweet and gentle. Some only bore the title of rake, and others wore it to avoid being called something far worse. Most, she thought, simply did what was expected of them: marry an acceptable lady and produce heirs. She understood that only the luckiest experienced true love. Some of the now-married ladies she was forced to socialize with had shared their views on marriage, and it didn’t seem particularly appetizing.
Still, Emma clung to hope. She had to. She came from a troubled family, but she still dreamed of having one of her own someday—one that, perhaps, would resemble the kind her mother often described, though it was clear her own family had never quite been that ideal. Of course, Emma had other dreams. She longed to travel, to expand her knowledge.
She took a small sip of her lemonade, smiling softly when she realized the young couple who had been stealing glances at each other were now strolling together around the room.
Emma wondered what would become of her if she ended up a spinster. Perhaps she would become a governess, or maybe try her hand at being a pianist. That might even give her mother a reason to faint, and it would surely make Edmund die. Or nearly. She laughed quietly to herself, then caught a movement from the corner of her eye. When she turned to look, she froze. There, standing in the room, was a gentleman she hadn’t noticed before. Worse, she quickly realized it wasn’t just any gentleman—it was the Duke of Bedford. Her eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment, panic and horror surged within her. But she quickly composed herself. She had no illusions about her prospects with men, especially not with a duke. She stood frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights, waiting for something to happen, for him to speak, anything. She wasn’t completely ignorant about the gossip surrounding the new Duke of Bedford, but the details escaped her. She vaguely remembered a comment about his health... but that was all. Now, she could only hope he was kind enough not to mock her. Perhaps he would simply ignore her. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself unable to look away from his face, waiting for whatever might come next.
Lady Farrell, a baroness, had decided to host a charity concert where her grandchildren would provide the entertainment with their musical talents. Or at least, that was the hope. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last, that such a performance turned into a torturous ordeal—except, of course, for those whose hearing had long since failed them. But for now, everyone mingled, drank, and ate before the performance began. It was rumored there would be a break, but the Mamas wasted no time introducing their daughters to as many gentlemen as possible in such a short amount of time. The debutantes from the previous season seemed to radiate excitement with each new introduction, their eyes shining with dreams and hopes, surely wondering if any of these men might be their future husbands. Meanwhile, the men appeared pained, their eyes darting around in search of a way to escape. Emma almost thought she could see smoke coming from their ears as they tried to think their way out of the situation. She bit her lip, stifling a laugh.
Then, the joy left her as quickly as it had arrived. The death of her father hadn’t been a source of sorrow for anyone, but it had changed Edmund. Her once jovial brother, the evergreen one, had become little more than a shadow of his former self. She didn’t know if it was the weight of so many responsibilities—she understood so little about the property affairs—but she missed Edmund, and how things used to be. And it wasn’t just her; everyone missed him. Emma’s gaze flicked to her mother for a brief moment before it immediately drifted away. Georgia was also watching her daughter, her eyes nearly squeezed shut as she judged Emma’s resistance to listen. At least Emma could take solace in the fact that Edmund wasn’t around, too busy that evening to participate, while Elijah seemed to be enjoying himself, skillfully avoiding their mother’s attention. At that, she had to stifle a laugh again.
A few guests appeared to be enjoying their introductions. One gentleman kept glancing at a debutante, clearly taken with her. She, in turn, stole frequent glances at him, as though she could not bear to look anywhere else. Emma smiled—a broad, genuine smile that made her cheeks ache. There was hope for some.
Being the third of six, Emma didn’t know much about the world or the nature of men, but she had spent enough time around her brothers to understand that not all rakes were rakes in the truest sense, and that most men were, in fact, sweet and gentle. Some only bore the title of rake, and others wore it to avoid being called something far worse. Most, she thought, simply did what was expected of them: marry an acceptable lady and produce heirs. She understood that only the luckiest experienced true love. Some of the now-married ladies she was forced to socialize with had shared their views on marriage, and it didn’t seem particularly appetizing.
Still, Emma clung to hope. She had to. She came from a troubled family, but she still dreamed of having one of her own someday—one that, perhaps, would resemble the kind her mother often described, though it was clear her own family had never quite been that ideal. Of course, Emma had other dreams. She longed to travel, to expand her knowledge.
She took a small sip of her lemonade, smiling softly when she realized the young couple who had been stealing glances at each other were now strolling together around the room.
Emma wondered what would become of her if she ended up a spinster. Perhaps she would become a governess, or maybe try her hand at being a pianist. That might even give her mother a reason to faint, and it would surely make Edmund die. Or nearly. She laughed quietly to herself, then caught a movement from the corner of her eye. When she turned to look, she froze. There, standing in the room, was a gentleman she hadn’t noticed before. Worse, she quickly realized it wasn’t just any gentleman—it was the Duke of Bedford. Her eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment, panic and horror surged within her. But she quickly composed herself. She had no illusions about her prospects with men, especially not with a duke. She stood frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights, waiting for something to happen, for him to speak, anything. She wasn’t completely ignorant about the gossip surrounding the new Duke of Bedford, but the details escaped her. She vaguely remembered a comment about his health... but that was all. Now, she could only hope he was kind enough not to mock her. Perhaps he would simply ignore her. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself unable to look away from his face, waiting for whatever might come next.
word count: 927
With love,
Lady Emma Edevane
Lady Emma Edevane