Emma stopped crying or 'acting out' as Mrs. Dennis phrased.

Mrs. Dennis had a word with Emma once she calmed, 'You are not a commoner, but Duchess of Watford. Your every action has consequences. Crying like that would only degrade Lord Advent's and Watford's reputation. The Duchess should lead, her duties always comes first.'

Every day felt like years for Emma. She would wake up early and join Amelia for breakfast. Amelia would insult her, which she took silently. Then she spent most of the morning with Mrs. Dennis training or performing some Duchess' obligation. The only small comfort she could afford was the innocence of Amy and Amanda, who usually joined her in the evening.

Lord Advent wrote for his daughters to join him in Watford Castle. Everyone left. Emma had never been this lonely in her whole life. She even started to miss Amelia's insults.

'Your Grace', the sharp voice of Mrs. Dennis, brought her out of the trance. She was staring out of the window thinking about another life where her husband reciprocated her love. Her only reprieve nowadays was her wistful dreaming.

'I am sorry Mrs. Dennis, did you say something?'

'I asked whether you would like to skip Wellington's ball.'

'No, I must not. It's the season's most important ball.'

Mrs. Dennis let out a heavy sigh, she curtsied and left.

For the past few weeks, Emma had been surreptitious about her personal life but attended public gatherings all the same. Her crying in the garden and Lord Advent's abrupt departure to Watford without her had made it to the local gossip column. She had to endure the worst of maturing.

Some vultures were so direct and asked whether Lord Advent was considering separation. She pretended it didn't bother her and her husband left because of an emergency in his estate. Nevertheless, the whispers followed.

'Why leave his wife alone in London when Watford is so near?'

'Why take his children with him and not his wife? Maybe she trapped him in marriage telling a false tale of pregnancy'

Mary helped Emma get dressed, it was an extravagant red dress. The colour was so loud. Mrs. Dennis had selected it. Emma had no idea what takes place in Mrs. Dennis' head. One moment she wants Emma to skip the ball and the next she dresses her so extravagantly. Only a blind man would not notice her. Emma sighed, tonight was going to be worse, her bright red dress would make sure the vultures will have no difficulty spotting her.

Wellington ball was usually a grand affair. Even a country girl like Emma has heard of it. When the announcer announced Emma, she slowly descended the stairs; heads turned in her direction. But her eyes found him and it saw only him.

There was Lord Advent, standing tall. Their eyes met, nothing existed in the world except for her as he walked slowly towards her. He met her at the bottom of the stairs. He bowed his head and offered his hand.

Music began and he guided her to the dance floor. Should it have to be waltz! She couldn't take her eyes off him. She was scared he would disappear if she so much as blinked. Was she dreaming? But his warm hands on hers couldn't be a dream.

Emma tried her hardest to remember all the training Mrs. Dennis gave her on how not to show her emotions. It was getting harder to care, by the second. She missed him to the point where she no longer ate or slept. She felt lonely, ignored and unwanted. Here he was looking at her as though she was the most beautiful thing in the world. It felt unreal, almost like a dream. They broke apart as the music ended.

'I will fetch you a drink,' said Lord Advent and left. She stood staring at his retreating form.

'Emma!' someone squealed and hugged her.

'Frances!'

'So good to see you, you look stunning,' said Frances Hill.

'Thanks. I didn't know you were in London.'

'Mama forced me here. But I am angry with you. How come you never invited me to your wedding? Mr. Zennor wrote to me telling you were married.'

'I am sorry, it was sudden. I wrote to you afterwards, but you never replied!'

'You did!? I must have missed it when I came here,' Frances said. Her look of disappointment changed to a radiant smile

Emma liked Frances. She made Frances' acquaintance when in Liverpool. Frances was innocent and wild, a bad combination. But her heart was always in the right place.

'Where is Sir George Kenworthy?'

George Kenworthy was Frances' best friend. They were inseparable. It came as a shock to Emma when George married an Indian girl, Sanah James. He has always been very protective of Frances.

'Oh! He couldn't come, I wrote to you, remember? His wife is pregnant.'

'How are you enjoying the season?'

Frances rolled her eyes. 'As a matter of fact, I am hiding from my mother. She keeps insisting I dance with Viscount Waymount. Keep an eye out for her, will you?'

'It's just a dance, why are you avoiding it?'

'You have no idea. I heard he has vestigial toes, that's why his shoes are huge.'

Emma snorted, gaining the attention of the crowd around her.

'Really Frances, vestigial toes? What do you have against vestigial toes?'

Her reply was interrupted by Lord Advent. Frances looked at him with an open-mouthed surprise.

'Lord Advent, meet my friend Miss. Frances Hill.'

'Miss. Hill,' Lord Advent kissed her knuckles.

'Aunt Mary said you married an old man, but your husband is very handsome. You both look lovely together. The way he looks at you, he is completely smitten.'

Lord Advent was visibly taken aback.

'Mama is heading this way, I better hide. Ta-ta,' and with that, she disappeared.

Mrs. Hill joined, 'Your Graces,' she curtsied.

'I am sorry but I thought I saw my daughter.'

'I think she headed to the Ladies' room.' Emma said, hoping that's not where Frances was heading. Mrs. Hill left them too.

'I am sorry about Frances. She has a good heart, just doesn't know when to stop talking.'

'I understand.'

Lord Advent never left Emma's side all night. They joined Mr. Bennet and Miss. Frances for a Scottish reel.

'You are smiling again,' commented Mr. Bennet.

'What do you mean Mr. Bennet? I always smile.'

'Please call me Antony. I think we are friends, aren't we?'

'Only if you agree to call me Emma.'

'Sure, Emma.' He said easily.

'I am sorry, I should have returned sooner. But from what Mrs. Dennis tells me you handled the situation well. Rumours will die down soon,' said Lord Advent as they sat in the carriage on the way home.

Emma couldn't say anything, her throat felt tight. Is that why he was back? To quell the rumours?

The way he looked at her today; the dress selected by Mrs. Dennis; all made sense. It was all a show. A successful one, that too. 

AN: Sorry to hijack, enjoy my other historical romance The Bet.

The Bet 

Chapter 1: Wellington Ballroom, London

Frances was trying to escape into the Ladies' room and take refuge there for an hour, but no! As if on cue her mother appeared in front of her; Frances was sure her mother could hear her thoughts.

'Frances! I hope you are not planning on spending this evening in hiding,' admonished her mother.

'Mama! How can you accuse me of such a thing? You know how much I like London Balls,' said Frances, her innocent act fooling no one. They both knew she hated the London season. Frances was a country girl; she didn't do well in the polished society.

'Come along, Viscount Waymound asked for a waltz with you,' said her mother Mrs.Sophia Hill.

Mrs. Hill was not an ambitious mother like the rest of the mothers in town; she didn't want her daughter to be married to a wealthy gentleman. She just wanted her to be married before Frances did any permanent damage.

'Not Lord Waymound Anne said,' Frances started to moan before her mother quelled her with a glare.

Mrs.Hill groaned inside and thought, 'What has Anne done again! If Anne doesn't shut up, Frances is going to end up a spinster, although Frances can manage it all by herself.'

Frances was one and twenty and a breathtakingly beautiful brunette with green eyes. This was her first London season. She was considered the season's diamond. Her dance card was always full. When she said she was thirsty, there was a mad rush to the lemonade stand to fetch her a drink. Their sitting room was filled with bouquets.

Others may think Mrs.Hill's worries were baseless, but she knew better. Mrs.Hill's plan was to get Frances married to a decent gentleman while he is befuddled by her beauty before he stumbles upon her 'problem.'

They traveled all the way from Liverpool as Frances managed to scare away every gentleman there. Mrs. Hill once hoped that Lord Kenworthy would marry Frances, he was friends with her and mostly kept her problem in check, but he married the all mysterious Indian girl Sanah James.

'Remember the London rules, Franny,' ordered Mrs.Hill.

'Yes Mama!' Frances sighed.

'Lord Waymound,' curtsied Frances.

'Miss Hill, you look as lovely as ever. Shall we?' asked Lord Waymound.

Frances counted to ten and said 'The weather seems to be pleasant today, Lord.'

Lord Waymound offered his hand. Frances took it as he led them to the dance floor. Frances was a good dancer, but she preferred Scottish reel to Waltz.

They bowed as the dance ended and Frances sidled toward the Ladies' room but was ambushed once again not by her mother but her aunt. Her aunt Lady Mary Smith, Baroness of Nottingham was notoriously famous for her gossiping and she knew everything happening in London.

'Come girl, we need to find your mama, I have important news for her,' said Lady Smith.

'Mama is near the lemonade stand, I need to use the Ladies' room,' said Frances. Lady Smith gave her the you-don't-fool-me-for-a-second look, took Frances's elbow and frog marched her.

'What happened Mary? What did Frances do?' asked Mrs.Hill looking mortified.

'Relax Sophie, Frances is well-behaved, and am sure she remembers London rules,' said Lady Smith giving a stare which Frances knew to mean 'I'm an adult, I know what I'm doing and you should do well to remember it.' Frances nodded, barely managing to roll her eyes.

Aunt Mary was excellent at giving messages through her eyes. You can't mother nine children without learning a thing or two, Frances thought.

'I saw Frances dance with Lord Waymound. We should stop his advances, he is not a good match, I heard he is a drunk and gambler,' said Aunt Mary.

'But he seemed sober when we danced,' said Frances, thankful she didn't have to reject him. She knew if aunty Mary said he was a drunk, he must be.

Mrs.Hill said, 'As long as he doesn't get violent, I think it would be better if he is drunk. Mostly, it would keep his mind off you know -,' she lowered her voice and said ' -Frances's problem.' This time Frances did roll her eyes.

Frances believed in love. She did not want to marry anyone as her mother would like for her to. She missed George, he knew her better than she did herself. She would be forced to call him Lord Kenworthy if he was here. But he couldn't come as his wife Sanah was 7-months pregnant. Frances hoped she could be back home before Chundu, Master Kenworthy, arrived. What a weird nickname to call a kid! Sanah had explained that it was a nickname for mice in her native language. Frances smiled again - who would call their kid a mouse? But George, to her astonishment, went along.

'Frances! Frances! Are you listening?' asked Aunt Mary, giving her the what-are-you-doing-not-hanging-to-every-word-I-tell-you look.

'Sorry Aunt Mary, what did you say?', Frances apologised.

'Lord Vandam is attending today,' said Aunt. Seeing Mrs.Hill's incomprehension, 'Earl of Brentwood' explained her Aunt.

'I thought he didn't attend parties,' said Frances.

'Stay clear of him, avoid him by all means.'

'Why? He is quite vocal in parliament. I read reports that under his stewardship agriculture production tripled and he was appreciated by the King himself. And he is friends with Prince Philip. Such a person can't be a bad person. I really hope you would introduce me,' concluded Frances.

'No!' her aunt nearly screamed, and many people turned in their direction.

Aunt Mary smiled apologetically, lowered her voice, and said, 'He is a beard-.'

'Mary!' admonished Mrs.Hill glared at Aunt Mary the way she usually reserved for Frances.

'-splitter' finished Aunt Mary.

Frances was amused to watch this exchange, though she didn't know what was wrong with spitting bread. It was obviously a bad thing, she supposed wasting food is wrong.

But one thing was clear: if Lord Vandam could induce such a reaction in Aunt Mary, she should avoid him.