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Emmeline didn’t know what to think about Captain Hudson inviting her aunt to dinner. To make the numbers even, he’d also invited the vicar, whose wife was off visiting cousins in the next county over. On one hand, it would be nice to see Aunt Julia. On the other, Emmeline never knew what to expect from her eccentric aunt.
Emmeline might as well have wished to see pigs fly, because the first thing out of Aunt Julia’s mouth was, “Haven’t you got a better dress to wear to dinner than that, Emmeline?”
She felt the heat rush all the way to her toes. This wasn’t exactly the thing to discuss in front of two men, especially the vicar. Did the vicar not mind the turn in the conversation? By all accounts, he was focused on eating his food and little else, as if he hadn’t eaten a decent meal in a week, which might very well be the case with the absence of his wife.
“This dress is perfectly adequate for a small dinner party in the middle of the week,” Emmeline said in a low voice, hoping to prevent an outright dispute at the dining table.
Mouth pressed in a firm line, her aunt narrowed her eyes, which made her face look like it had been made for the peacock hat she’d worn to Branhall. “Isn’t your employer paying you enough?”
Captain Ridout cleared his throat and set down his fork.
At this, the vicar looked up. His rather short hair stuck up at the back of his head, and he had a nervous habit of adjusting his collar every few minutes.
The piercing gaze of the captain didn’t intimidate Aunt Julia, though, and she merely looked at him with the same question in her eyes.
“I’m perfectly happy to pay for anything missing in Miss Finch’s wardrobe,” Captain Ridout said.
Aunt Julia clapped her hands. “What a wonderful man you are. Don’t you think he’s wonderful, Emmeline?”
“He has been very generous to the parish,” the vicar said.
Emmeline was positive her face was flaming red. She didn’t acknowledge the vicar’s comment but focused on her aunt. She could not, would not, meet the captain’s eyes. “I do not expect my employer to buy me clothing in addition to paying my salary.”
“Well, dear”—Aunt Julia reached for her wine glass—“if he’s offering, then why not accept?”
It took tremendous willpower for Emmeline to keep her voice calm, controlled. “I’m a governess, and I’m perfectly happy keeping to my station with the children. Branhall is a long way from London Society.”
“She has a good point there,” the vicar said, tugging at his collar.
Why couldn’t the man return to his earlier silent eating?
After a healthy sip of her wine, Aunt Julia said, “Yes, but we aren’t exactly country bumpkins here either.” Her gaze shifted to the captain’s. “Are you attending the Jones’s soiree? They said you were.”
Emmeline stole a glance at him. His hand holding his fork stopped in motion. “I am, in fact.”
“Oh, wonderful,” her aunt said. “Everyone is so looking forward to getting to know the elusive bachelor better. And you must pay particular attention to Mrs. Jones’s daughter, Gwen. She is such a pretty little thing. Had her first season already, but nothing came of it. I’m sure Miss Jones would be more than happy to see such an esteemed captain at her parents’ home. Surely a man of your stature and age is seeking a wife. Why, you’ve an estate now and no one to share it with.”
Emmeline was quite sure that Hudson would have choked on his food if he’d taken a bite before her aunt’s comment. As it was, his gray eyes turned to murky mud.
“While I appreciate your concern for my, er, well-being,” Hudson said in a voice that bordered a growl, “my life is in order.”
“I agree, it is quite in order,” the vicar added. No one paid him mind.
Aunt Julia didn’t seem at all bothered by the harshness of the captain’s tone. In fact, she merely lifted a brow and said, “Suit yourself.” She returned to her wineglass, and blessed silence reigned for a handful of moments.
The vicar returned to his food. Emmeline smoothed the napkin over her lap. When she next caught the captain’s eyes, she mouthed, I’m sorry.
Instead of glowering, his eyes sparked with humor, catching Emmeline off-guard.
So much so that a bit of warmth spread from her heart outward. Could it be possible that Captain Ridout didn’t mind the ribbing that Aunt Julia had given him? Of course, he was a military man, so the frettings of a middle-aged woman couldn’t truly set him off course, could it?
After the last of the food was cleared, Captain Ridout said, “Since neither I nor the reverend smoke, we will join you ladies in the parlor directly.”
“Oh, that will be lovely,” Aunt Julia said with a broad smile. It seemed that she’d forgotten how she’d been nagging the captain only moments earlier. She rose and took the vicar’s proffered arm. The two of them exited the dining room and headed for the parlor.
Before Emmeline could rise to her feet, Captain Ridout reached her side and held out his hand. To help her to her feet, of course, but the action gave her pause. Had he truly found humor in her aunt’s comments? Was he not appalled by her directness?
Emmeline placed her hand in his and stood. The warmth of his hand shouldn’t have surprised her, yet it did. His fingers were long, and his grip gentle but firm. And he didn’t let go of her hand right away.
In fact, he drew her to a stop before they entered the parlor.
“I meant what I said.” He looked down at her, sincerity in those gray eyes of his. He’d freshly shaved for this supper party, and she found herself quite missing the shadow that appeared on his face this time of night. “I’m happy to buy you a new wardrobe.”
Something in her chest caught. She was tempted to say yes but knew she could not. Because it would make her feel . . . feel . . . indebted? Obligated somehow. Unable to pay him back or return the gesture?
“Mr. Ridout,” she started, keeping her voice low and knowing they only had a few moments before Aunt Julia would wonder what had become of them, “I can’t possibly accept your charity. Please understand.”
His gaze searched hers. “Very well.” He paused. “By the way, I think you look lovely tonight.”
Ever so slowly, he lifted her hand, then pressed a kiss on the back of her hand. Warmth buzzed through her, and she found herself smiling up at him.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said in a rumbling whisper. “I know we only have but a moment, yet I feel that I must inquire after—”
“Emmeline!” Aunt Julia’s voice rang sharp from the parlor.
Captain Ridout immediately released her hand, and they walked into the parlor, arm in arm.
“There you are,” Aunt Julia said, her gaze speculative. “I was just telling the vicar that this is your first governess position.”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Emmeline felt like she’d swallowed down a hot flame. What had Captain Ridout been about to say? Myriad possibilities jolted through her mind, but she quickly dismissed each one. Yet . . .
“And your last one, of course.” Aunt Julia’s wink was meant to be friendly, but instead, it was a sharp prick to Emmeline’s stomach.
Captain Ridout immediately stepped away from her and said, “You are leaving?”
“No, nothing like that.” She swallowed against what felt like pebbles in her throat. “At least, not exactly.”
“Oh, do stop bumbling about, Emmeline. Spit it out,” Aunt Julia said, drowning out any softening that Emmeline might have imparted.
For now she realized how leaving after one year of working as a governess might sound to the captain and how it might impact the dear Ridout children. How could she have been so foolish? She’d jumped into this position with two eager feet and an open heart, and they’d received her so well. How could she not have considered the consequences of her leaving the children after a year’s time?
“I—I . . . When I turn twenty-five, I’ll, uh, receive my inheritance. That is . . . that is—” When she dared a glance at Captain Ridout, her heart dropped all the way to her toes. His gray eyes had darkened, and a line of disappointment had appeared between his brows.
“Let me explain, or we’ll be here all night,” Aunt Julia said, straightening on the settee so that she looked like a queen holding court. For added effect, she tapped her fan open and waved it a time or two against her neck. “Emmeline is twenty-four, unmarried, and without prospects. She is under the care of her brother and his wife. They have more than enough responsibility at home raising their three boys. It’s a wonder they’ve put up with Emmeline for so long in the first place, what with her refusing to take any fashion advice from her sister-in-law, Martha, and purposely avoiding all social affairs in the months leading up to this governess post.”
The more her aunt talked, the more Emmeline wanted to sink into the floor. She’d dig her way to middle-earth and live among the rocks and dirt. There, surely, her aunt wouldn’t be able to follow with her hurtful words.
“Her father foresaw all of this, wise man that he was,” Aunt Julia said. “So he provided for her in his will. If Julia doesn’t marry by the time she’s twenty-five, then a cottage will go to her, plus a yearly income to keep her for the rest of her days.”
Emmeline blinked against the stinging in her eyes. This was all true, yes, but when put like this . . . she could only imagine the look of disappointment in Andrew and Charlotte’s eyes. Trading a small cottage for the love and laughter they’d shared together over the past month. It all sounded so coldhearted.
Her aunt was still talking, still stripping Emmeline’s soul before the men in the room, and she couldn’t catch a full breath. And she was fairly sure that the tears were only a breath away.
“Excuse me,” she said in a trembling voice. “I have a headache and will retire for the evening.”
Before her aunt could protest, Emmeline swiftly crossed to her and kissed the woman’s papery cheek. Then, with barely a nod to the men, she hurried out of the parlor. Up the stairs she fled, brushing at the tears now freely falling on her face. By the time she reached her bedchamber, she’d given up on holding back her emotions.
She crossed the dark room and stood before the attic window. Folding her arms did nothing to ward off the chilly air. But she didn’t care about the cold. She didn’t care that her throat burned and that her eyes would likely be swollen from crying come morning. Right now, all she cared about was how Captain Ridout had looked at her.
As if he’d been . . . hurt.
Was it possible to hurt a man like him? A man who’d been through so much and who continued to carry even more? She closed her eyes against the moonlight filtering through the thin clouds.
If only Aunt Julia hadn’t been over tonight, Emmeline might have been able to tell the captain about her one-year commitment in a softer way. Then perhaps they could have told the children together. Now she didn’t know what would happen.