Emmeline

Tom kept his word. Johnny's mother came around noon on Christmas Day, four children all dressed in ragged clothes trailing after her. The eldest child, a dark-eyed girl with wild curls and an already dour expression carried a baby on her hip. But she couldn't have been older than ten or eleven.

Tom and I stood in the entrance hall to receive them. Lucian showed them in, and the children all looked round them in wonder, their eyes big as saucers.

"Bella, it was good of you to come." Tom stepped forward, grasping her shaking arms.

"Johnny..." she said faintly. "Where is he?"

"Here," I said, motioning him forward from where he was hovering, just behind me. Gently I guided him towards her with a hand on his shoulder. It shook under my touch.

Her eyes darted to my hand. That made her reach for him and pull him away, eyes narrowing at me.

"Get your filthy fingers off my son, you trollop."

"Bella!" Tom exclaimed, his face blanching. "That is my wife you're speaking to!"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't think I was..."

"When you said you got married, Tom, I din't think it were someone like her." She spat the last word at me, like an insult, before rounding on Tom.

"'Like her?'" Tom seemed both confused and offended. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I 'eard the rumours," Bella said viciously. "Shelterin' some girl. Probably married 'er to escape suspicion, din't you?"

"Bella, this is not the time..." Tom cast a desperate apologetic glance at me. "Come into the drawing room. There's something important we must discuss."

"Is she coming?" Bella's dark eyes narrowed at me, even as Tom restrained her. If he had not been holding her, I was sure she would have lunged for me.

"No. Come on, Bella." Tom dragged her towards the drawing room, the children following silently. When the door finally shut behind them, I let out a heavy sigh, rubbing at my temple where a pulse was beginning to tap. I was the source of many rumours, almost too many. There had to be a way to get my memories back. It was the only way either of us would get any rest.

||

Tom and I did not get much of a chance to talk about it as the day progressed. He sent Bella and the children back to the village, promising he would go to the Dunbar estate as soon as possible. Then we changed, starting early before our guests arrived. Lord Radford and Lady Violet would be attending, and because of obligation or some other thing, Lord and Lady Eden. Tom did not like them and neither did I, but he told me they would see it as a slight if they learned they were passed over. And since their son-in-law was also one of Tom's closest friends, it would not do to draw that kind of attention as well. Or so Tom said.

"Since when have you cared what society thinks?" I asked him as Peggy laced up my corset as tight as it would go with the baby in the way.

"It's not society, exactly," he said from the adjoining room. "But Ray was as much a brother to me as my real brother, and where family is concerned, I thought it only right."

"I see." My thoughts wandered to Bella again, the way her expression had twisted into something ugly, and her words.

Get your filthy fingers off my son, you trollop.

"I must apologise for Bella's behaviour earlier," he said, poking his head in as I was being laced into my dress. "I had no idea she felt so strongly about this."

"What have you got to apologise for?" Peggy interjected sardonically, before I could say a word. "You didn't make her that way."

"You have a point, Peggy." Tom entered, pulling on his coat as he did. He was dressed in all black except for his grey silk waistcoat, and he'd even combed his hair for the occasion. "But insulting my wife and accusing her of loose moral fibre is not acceptable."

"She cares for you, doesn't she?" I waited until Peggy was gone to ask that, because I'd suspected it all along but hadn't wanted to say anything until now.

That seemed to catch him off-guard. He turned to me, his expression puzzled. "What gives you that idea?"

"The first time she came...and kissed you in the drawing room. I knew she wasn't just looking for a guardian for her children. She wanted you for herself." I had already figured that out. And even now, as I carried Tom's child, I believed he still had a place in his affections for her.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. "Perhaps I have not been direct enough with her. If she believes I married for convenience and not for love, then she must also believe there is still a possibility of us."

"Which did you marry for?" I would try not to be offended if he said the first. After all, we did not know each other well, even now.

"At first, I believed it was convenience," he said, and how he did not hear my heart crack was a miracle. Then he looked me right in the eye. "But now, I think it has turned into love."

"Has it?" I said weakly, as he came to me and slid his hands along my waist. I reached up to steady myself on his shoulders.

"Yes." He dropped his forehead to mine. "You brought my existence out of the shadows of solitude and into the light. You gave me something to care for, after I lost my entire family. And you are giving me the chance to gain another."

I closed my eyes, to process those words. He moved, and a moment later he was kissing me. Tentative at first, but much surer once I cupped his face and returned it.

"I love you," he breathed against my lips, and one of his hands settled on the baby, just a small firm swell in my lower abdomen. "And this baby."

"And I love you, and this baby," I said, in much the same way.

He smiled and kissed me one more time, gently and softly and assertively all at once. What was he but all those things to me every day? How could I have found better luck?

A throat cleared from the doorway and we pulled apart. It was Lucian, watching us with the severity of a schoolmaster.

"Milord, a coach arrives."

"We will be down in a moment, Lucian, thank you."

When Lucian was gone, Tom looked back at me. He had that glint in his eye, a student caught doing something naughty and relishing it. "Are you ready, my love?"

I smiled, kissing his cheek and pulling him into a tight embrace. "Yes."

||

The gathering went well, and for the first time in a while other rooms besides our own were occupied. Both Lady Violet and Lady Eden congratulated me on the child, but I could see Lady Eden's heart was not in it. It made it perfectly clear that many well-born women still looked down on me — except for Lady Violet, of course.

When I came to bed that night I found Tom propped up against pillows, papers on his lap and all over the bedspread. He scowled at one as I climbed in, tossing it aside and running both hands over his face.

"What are these?" I asked, taking care to not crush them as I adjusted myself.

"From the factory," he said, tipping his head back and tapping it against the headboard. "If she does not start producing twice the amount next month what she did this month, she may go under."

"And how is our money?" I rarely asked about it, because Lady Violet had said it was very rude to discuss money in public settings. But this was not public, and he was my husband.

"Enough to buy off Sir William, but nothing more," he said, scooping up the papers in a messy pile and moving them to the floor. "He will be asking a large sum to stay quiet, I know already."

"What if we sweeten the pot?" I said, an idea coming to me. "When you go, I'll come along. Perhaps he may agree if there are other reasons to stay quiet."

He made an indignant noise through his teeth, sitting up straighter. "Emmeline, you are my wife, not a common prostitute. I do not want to put you on display for money and favours."

"You wouldn't be, Tom, think." I took his hand and kissed his fingers gently. "This is not only for the Burkes' dignity, but ours too."

"By turning yourself into this?" He caught my chin and turned my face towards his. "You deserve respect, Emmeline, and nothing but. From men and women alike."

"Tom." I kissed his palm and then leaned into him, dropping my head to his shoulder. "I'm trying to prove something to myself as much as to him, and to you. Won't you allow me that, at least?"

"You may try," he said, resigned. "But do not expect him to give in so easily."

I gave his hand a squeeze. "We'll see about that."

He only sighed. But I was going to prove myself to him. I was going to make myself worthy of his pride and affection.

||

We were to Sir William's two days after Christmas. I saw the first Christmas-box collection and distribution, an event long supervised by Tom's mother. Since it was my first year, Tom helped as well, promising that the staff would have far better boxes next year. That made me think of our child — six months old by then.

"Are you entirely sure you still want to take part?" he asked me as we set off, me sitting in front of him on Thor's back. Tom made sure to keep him at a walk. "You may still change your mind."

"I want to do this, Tom," I said. It was briskly cold, with frost on the grass and our breath steaming in the air. "Tell me you did not want a chance to negotiate."

"I did, as a matter of fact." He adjusted his hold on Thor's reins, and the horse snorted and tossed his head. "Only I was not expecting my wife to want it as well."

"I want what you want," I said, leaning back into his chest. It was warm against me. "With some room for independence, of course. Tell me about this Sir William."

"Well..." Tom sighed, and his breath billowed out in a white cloud. "The first thing you must know...if you see the butler, you call him 'Mr Hancock,' never just 'Hancock.' His head housemaid is Peggy, like ours, and his housekeeper, if you see her, is Mrs Johnston."

"I see. And what of the family?"

"His wife is Elizabeth, and their children are Bertrand and Lavinia. Although I doubt you will see them...the children are at their studies, most likely, and Elizabeth is quite sickly...spends a lot of her days in her bedchamber. And as for addressing Sir William, he has never answered to anything else."

"For someone accused of being a recluse, you seem to know quite a lot about them," I said, giving him a nudge.

"That I may be, my darling, but I am not a social pariah." His lips pressed to the curve of my ear, and his breath tingled all the way up and down my neck. "I am still accepted...in fact, wanted...in many social settings."

"Tom." I blushed.

He laughed, just a rumble in his chest, as he kissed my cheek. It was in moments like these that I was truly thankful it was his home I had sought refuge in. He was the sort of man that did what had to be done first and asked the questions afterward. My safety had never been more secure.

"There it is, up there," he said, after miles of featureless land. As we crested the next hill, I saw it more clearly. The house itself was a light brown stone, and boasted flying buttresses like a church. Around it spread the woods, all the way to the horizon.

Automatically, my breath shortened and my stays were suddenly tight, so tight I felt I might burst from them. It was through these exact woods I had stumbled through for days after my escape. I could feel the sharp branches ripping at me now. I let go of the saddle and pressed my hand to my stomach, forcing myself to stay calm.

Tom felt it. "Something the matter, my love?"

I swallowed hard. I did not want to say anything, not when everything was still guesswork. "No, I...I must have been laced a bit too tightly this morning."

"You must pardon Mrs Shute. She is so used to the way Mother liked hers."

"Even for a woman with child?" I would have to forgo tradition as the baby grew, because even now I felt unusually compressed.

"If you want to be the one to tell her that, I would not stop you."

I smiled and nudged his knee, and in return he nuzzled at my neck. Thor snorted and tossed his head again, and at that Tom reached around and rubbed his withers.

"Never a romantic, were you, old boy?" he said, and one of Thor's ears turned backwards. He blew out a breath in reply, so deep I felt his side move.

By now we were at the outer gate of the house. Tom pulled Thor to a stop and dismounted, rapping on the wooden door with the end of his riding crop. A small square in the middle opened, revealing a pair of eyes.

"Yes?" said a rumbling man's voice.

"Captain Thomas Haywood, Lord Dorchester, to see Sir William Dunbar," Tom answered, as if he'd recited it many times.

The eyes moved, in a nod, and then flicked up, catching me still in the saddle. "And...?"

"Accompanied by the Lady Dorchester." There was a hint of irritation as he said it.

"Wait here, milord, I will see if he is ready to receive you," said the man, and then the square clapped shut.

"This entire routine is ridiculous," Tom grumbled as he came back to Thor's side, catching the reins just under his bit. "Sir William knows who I am."

"Doesn't want to take chances, perhaps?" I held onto my hat as a breeze whipped up, making Thor pace forward and backward a few steps.

"Steady," Tom said to him. To me, he said, "Not only that. He believes that coupled with the outer wall, he is an impenetrable fortress."

"Well, is he?" I scanned the high sand-coloured wall. The face of it was rough, but had no footholds. In other words, difficult to scale.

"I don't know. I doubt he does either."

We were interrupted by the creak of the wooden door opening. A footman in livery came first, followed by a man dressed in deep green. I had hardly any time to get a good look at him, because the next thing I knew, Tom was helping me down and the footman was taking Thor away.

"Mr Hancock," Tom said as we approached. "A pleasure this is."

Mr Hancock's bushy brows knitted. "The young upstart Haywood. Haven't changed a bit."

"Afraid not," Tom said, his tone unusually bright. "Have you not met my wife? This is Emmeline, the newly made Lady Dorchester."

"Milady. Ma'm." Mr Hancock gave me a bow, just a slight bend at the waist. "If you'll follow me, Sir William is expecting you."

I slid my hand through Tom's elbow, and we trailed along in his wake. Two more footmen pulled open a set of heavily carved wooden doors as we crossed the courtyard, and when we stepped inside, I felt my feet falter. We'd entered a palace — floors so polished they reflected our faces back, chandeliers throwing rainbow fragments into our eyes when the sun hit them, gold gilt scrollwork everywhere. The panels on the walls were all painted differently, showing landscapes or pastoral scenes. And the carpet was so thick it muffled our footsteps.

"My God," I whispered as Mr Hancock led us up the staircase.

"A bit extravagant, is it not?" Tom said, only loud enough for me to hear. "The man's house is the size of his ego."

"Perhaps a bit smaller," I agreed, and Tom grinned.

We followed Mr Hancock down a spacious mirrored corridor after that, fragments of ourselves flashing at us from the walls and the ceiling. I moved closer to Tom. For some, this amount of space was liberating. It made me feel vulnerable, exposed.

"Here we are milord, milady." Mr Hancock stopped at a third set of doors, these covered entirely in gold gilt. He knocked twice, two sharp bursts.

"Enter!" boomed a voice from inside. Mr Hancock pushed the doors inward and stepped aside.

There was no end to the luxury, it seemed. This room was red everywhere I looked: carpet, drapes, walls, furniture. Dark oil paintings disappeared into the gloom above, and directly ahead of us, in an absurdly large armchair, sat the roundest man I'd ever seen. His waistcoat was straining over his sizable stomach, which threatened to burst from it at any moment.

"Sir William," Tom said, sweeping his hat off and bowing. I followed his lead, with a respectable curtsey. "Thank you for receiving us."

"Dorchester," said Sir William with a squint. "Look at you. Just like your father, you know."

"I have been told that, yes," Tom returned with a close-lipped smile.

"Hardly a man yourself and you're already an earl." He adjusted his spectacles, looking directly at me. "Slip of a thing, aren't you? And skinny as a rail, to boot."

"Yes, Sir William," I said, unsure of how else to respond.

"Please, have a seat." He gestured to the sofa nearby, clothed in red and cushions stuffed so full we sunk very deep when we did. "What is it we're discussing, Dorchester? I hear you don't make personal calls often. Especially with your young pretty wife there."

Tom sat up straighter, tugging first at his waistcoat and then at the knot in his neckcloth. "It concerns the issue of Johnny Burke's poaching, Sir William."

Sir William's eyes narrowed, his plump face darkening. "I'll see that boy swing for it, I will. That's the end of it."

"I was hoping we could come to a compromise, Sir William. He is the man of the house now, since his father died in the American War of Independence. If he goes, his family will have no way to support themselves."

"Makes no difference to me," grunted Sir William. "Law's the law. And he was on my land."

"I came to offer you a sum. And the return of your pheasants, if you'll have them."

Sir William's eyes darted between us. "I will not take bribes, Dorchester. You know that."

"I am aware of what this implies," Tom said, and just by his expression I could see he was grasping at straws. "But think of it this way...it is no loss to you if your birds are returned to you and if you earn some pounds off it. I am by no means bribing you, Sir William. I only ask if you would consider that in return for keeping Johnny Burke off the gallows."

Sir William rested his first chin on his fist. "No loss, you say?"

"None whatsoever."

"I'll consider it, for fifteen-hundred pounds."

"Surely the return of your birds is included in that," Tom said, and his fist curled on his knee.

"In addition, Dorchester." Sir William raised an eyebrow.

Tom opened his mouth to speak, leaning forward, but I put my hand over his and squeezed.

"Is there really nothing else we can do to re-negotiate, Sir William?" I gave him my most charming smile. "If we said, in completely theoretical terms, of course, that we could not pay you that?"

He patted his powdered wig, and then his ruffled neckcloth. "And what would you be offering, milady?"

"Perhaps a dance or two at the next house party. If you take that, together with the birds and the sum, I should think we would be able to at least reduce to thirteen-hundred."

"Well..." His brow furrowed, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head. "Perhaps I could be persuaded, if you attended our New Year's ball."

Tom and I exchanged a glance. He gave me a small nod of encouragement.

"We would be honoured to come," I said.

"A third dance, and I would settle for twelve-fifty." Sir William leaned forward. There was an eagerness in his face.

This time it was I who nodded at Tom, and he put his hand out to Sir William. "Consider it a deal, then."

Sir William's face cracked into a smile as he took Tom's hand. "Splendid, splendid. Did I tell you it's a masquerade?"

||

"Have I ever told you how incredibly astute you were today?" Tom said as we climbed into bed that night. We'd been invited to stay for tea at Sir William's, and treated with the utmost respect — a bit trite, if we were being honest — but respect nonetheless.

"I believe you did say that, yes." I pulled the sheets up to cover me and rested my hands on my abdomen, over the baby. "Over supper."

"Well, I will say it again and again." He smiled as he slid in next to me, rolling over and kissing me before I could react.

"Tom." I withdrew when he came in next. "We have not solved everything."

"If it were only that easy, Emmeline, if only." He ran his hand down until it rested on top of mine. "But our problems have decreased by one."

I smiled, cupping his cheek. "And we have accomplished it together."

Tom didn't reply, only smiled in return as he kissed me again, his hand sliding to my hip and pulling me towards him. I kissed him back and smiled against his mouth. We were much better this way. I knew that without anyone having to say it.