Emily stared in fascination as the young lady across the table finished her second course.
The poor girl looked as though she had been starving for an entire week. She ate at an ungodly speed. Even Oscar—seated next to her—watched in equal fascination and seemed unable to look away.
Her fuller figure spoke of over indulgence rather than starvation, but she was indeed a sight to behold.
"Are you much aquantined with Lady Susannah Smithers?" Lord Westwood asked, forcing Emily to look away from the plump paragon.
"We were introduced when they arrived earlier. I'm afraid I have been staring at her rather blatantly. It's just..." Emily looked back in time to see Lady Susannah soaking up all the gravy off of her plate with the extra bread that sat in the middle of the long crowded table.
"Ah, yes. Well, if you have never been to a dinner with her before, her behaviour must seem quite shocking, but I assure you, it is to be expected. She has a fondness for food, as you may have already guessed."
"Incredible," Emily said under her breath. It was amazing what one could get away with when one was rich and well connected.
Emily, on the other hand, had never been allowed to indulge in anything during her time at her aunt and uncle's, especially food. Her slim appearance had not been one of choice.
Her line of sight moved slightly left towards Oscar, whose facial expression now twisted into one of horror as Lady Susannah used her finger once all the bread was gone.
"I have it on good authority that Lady Trentham wishes an alliance between Lady Susannah and her son."
Emily stared at Lord Westwood wide eyed. Aunty Prue and Cecily would not be pleased with that piece of news.
"She is extremely wealthy, and a distant cousin of the King, you know?" he added.
"I'm shocked," Emily said as she turned back to look at the rather odd pair across the table.
"Though, I am positive his mother will have some convincing to do by the look on poor Trentham's face," said Lord Westwood.
Indeed, Emily thought. Oscar did not look one bit enamoured with Susannah Smithers. She was certainly no beauty, with a rather large hairy mole protruding from her forehead. She reminded Emily of the fairy tales about witches who ate small children for supper, by luring them into a quaint cottage with the promise of sweets.
Suddenly, Oscar’s eyes were on her. She immediately looked down towards the plate in front of her that still displayed some slices of beef and a handful of roasted potatoes.
He had been avoiding her since the night in the library—which, of course, suited her perfectly fine. That way, she did not need to avoid him.
That night had stirred too many emotions within her. Emotions she could not harbour. Every night since, the feel of his lips had haunted her dreams. The kiss had been chaste, but its effect would linger for a lifetime.
"You look at the floor far too often, my dear. You are exceedingly beautiful tonight. Let everyone take a glimpse," Westwood whispered in Emily’s ear.
She looked up into his handsome face, and couldn’t help but return his infectious smile. If she had not lost her heart long ago, she would have been drawn to his black eyes and defined jaw. He was a different kind of beautiful to Oscar. Where Oscar embodied a boyish charm and lighter features, Westwood seemed older, more mature. Perhaps even a hint of danger and excitement lurked behind his rakish facade. She had known him barely an hour and already he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
"You are too kind, your Grace, but I fear you exaggerate."
"Poppycock! I am neither kind, nor do I fabricate falsehoods. You are a beautiful young woman and I shall be surprised if not every man in the room falls halfway in love with you by evening's end."
Emily felt a blush creep up her cheeks. His gaze was far too intense, forcing her to look back at her plate. Her appetite completely vanished.
Was it true? Could she possibly be that alluring? She was not used to such words of affirmation. With years of unkind remarks about her personality and appearance from her family, she was having a very hard time believing this man who, merely yesterday, was a complete stranger.
"Penny for your thoughts," Westwood whispered.
She looked up at him with a ghost of a smile. "Thank you for your kind words. But I fear I cannot accept them until I have heard them at least a hundred times."
A loud guwaf burst from Westwood and the people closest all turned to see what was so amusing. He took Emily’s hand, kissed the back and smiled at her. "I knew I would enjoy your company, Miss Hollyford."
She was laughing at his playful banter when she saw Oscar looking at her intensely. He was not laughing or smiling, and his fists clenched on either side of his plate.
Once dinner had come to a close and Lady Smithers had eaten every morsel of food from the table, the guests either gathered in the ballroom for a spot of dancing, or in the drawing room for cards and wine.
Emily had not been allowed to attend social gatherings in Yorkshire. So she would hide and watch while Cecily received her lessons from her dancing tutor, then practise with the four staff the Andrews' employed. And only while the family were out for the evening.
So whenever the opportunity presented itself, she danced till her legs protested from either tiredness or pain—usually the latter, owing to her derelict shoes.
With plenty of gentlemen eager to impress the young ladies with their impeccable dancing abilities, Emily was persuaded to dance every dance. Not that she complained. It was a wonderful evening and her smile, the brightest in the room.
After dancing with Cecily and Aunty Prue, Oscar had retired for the evening. Unsurprisingly, they had followed not long after. Leaving Emily to really enjoy the rest of the evening in peace. She felt slightly guilty that she was having a wonderful time, while he looked utterly miserable with cousin Cecily. But when Lord Westwood whisked her about the dance floor, the rest of the world faded.
With the last dance about to play and not a lot of gentlemen still willing to dance, it looked as though she would have to sit it out too. Perhaps it was time she went to bed like most of the guests, then she felt a presence behind her. Thinking it was Aunt Florence, she turned with a smile.
It wasn't her aunt that looked back at her with fiery eyes, but Oscar.
"My Lord," she said in surprise. "I thought you had retired for the evening."
"No, Miss Hollyford, I have been hiding."
It still sounded strange to hear him refer to her as Miss Hollyford, but she had insisted and was glad he respected her opinion on the matter. When her Christian name rolled off of his tongue, it was too much for her to bear. Too familiar, too intimate.
"I'm afraid you have missed all the dancing. They are about to play the last song now."
"Just in time then," he said with a smile, and held out his arm for her. "Shall we?"
She knew deep down it was not a good idea. How many years had she dreamed of this moment? And how many sleepless nights would this moment keep her awake and longing for just one more dance?
But she could not resist, the temptation too great. She nodded in acceptance, and he led her to the middle of the ballroom.
As the music started, she closed her eyes to ease her nerves. She wanted to savour every second of this magical moment. To remember the feel of Oscar's hand intertwined with hers, his warm breath so close to her neck.
All at once, the kiss in the library came flooding back. She stumbled, and he caught her.
"Forgive me, I did not mean to be so clumsy," she said, hoping he could not hear how loud her heart beat.
"Think nothing of it. I have been watching you all night, and your dancing is impeccable."
Emily looked up in surprise. Had he really been watching her the whole time? He smiled back as they turned away from one another.
"Are you much aquantined with Lord Westwood?" She asked as they came back together. They need something neutral to discuss before she lost her senses altogether.
His expression darkened as he answered, "not very much, no."
"He is a very fine gentleman and was very kind to me this evening."
"I do not doubt it," he curtly replied.
"I think I shall very much enjoy becoming more acquainted with him during our stay." She wasn't sure why she felt the need to push the subject of Westwood, but it felt the safer option.
Oscar remained quiet as the dance came to a close. Before the music had stopped, he lowered his head close to hers and whispered in her ear, "sleep well, Emily."
She stared in shock as he walked away. The feel of his warm breath still tingled against her cheek. She needed to keep away from him. A distraction, perhaps? But what?