Page 14 of The Mister I Married

Emmy sighed. Saints be. Her mother was trying to matchmake again.

“I know what you are hinting at, Mother, and I am sorry to disappoint you, but there is nothing between me and Mr. Whitcomb.”

“Not now, perhaps,” Lady Keswick said. “But there could be. He is a handsome, intelligent man, Emmy, and he obviously likes you.”

Did he? A curious warmth spread through her chest, unexpected yet not unpleasant, and she realized with a start that it was pleasure she was feeling. Pleasure? Impossible.

She squirmed in her seat, wringing an appropriately uneasy groan from the chair as she struggled to regain her composure.

“Of course Mr. Whitcomb likes me,” she quipped. “I’m adorable.”

“I agree,” Lady Keswick replied briskly. “Which is why there is no reason why you should not be married by now.”

Emmy pressed her lips together to hold back a sigh. “Must we have this conversation again?”

“Yes. We shall have this conversation again and again until you are married.”

“But I’ve already told you, I don’t want to get married. At least, not yet.”

“And have you any idea when you will want to get married?”

The challenge in her mother’s eyes made her want to scream, but instead she fell back in her chair and bit her tongue. Literally.

Of course she didn’t know when she would want to wed. How on earth could one predict a change in feeling? One could not. And her mother well knew it.

“I like my life how it is,” Emmy said softly, lacing her fingers across her belly. “I like spending the Season in Town, and coming and going as I please, and I…” She sighed. “I am not ready for that to change.”

“But I am.”

Her mother’s quiet words drew Emmy’s gaze, and she gave her a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

Lady Keswick drew in a deep breath then turned and made her way to the Chesterfield loveseat abutting the hearth. “Come,” she said. “Sit with me.”

Her mother patted the cushion beside her and Emmy stood, her heart kicking up as she crossed the room, instinct warning her that she would not like whatever she was about to hear.

She sat down on the sofa with some reluctance, her gaze searching her mother’s face for clues. “What is it?” she asked. “Is something the matter?”

Lady Keswick cleared her throat, the nervous noise only heightening Emmy’s unease. Her palms dampened and she scrubbed them down her skirts with agitated impatience while she waited for her mother to speak.

“I…have come to a decision,” Lady Keswick finally said. “This is to be my last London Season. At least for a while.”

Emmy’s brow knit. “Your last Season? But why?”

Her mother gave her a small smile, and said, “Because I am bored, darling. The opera, the card parties, the balls and soirées…I am weary of it all. I want to spend my summers in the country where the pace is slower and more relaxed.” She sighed. “I need more relaxation in my life.”

Emmy sat back on the sofa, stunned. “But…I thought you loved London.”

“I do,” she replied. “But my love for it is not as strong as it once was, and now that your brother has married, I expect—I hope—to be made a grandmother soon.” She reached out and took Emmy’s hands in hers, an uncertain smile turning her lips. “I have devoted these last two decades to you and your brother, and I would not change a minute of it, but I’m ready for a change. I’m ready to do what pleases me now.”

Emmy nodded. Her mother’s words were unexpected yet the sentiment behind them was understandable. Lady Keswick had been a mother now longer than not, and she’d devoted herself to providing the best of the best for her children. She had earned a reprieve. A long one.

“I’ve been your chaperone for five Seasons now,” Lady Keswick continued, “and I’ve tried to be patient while I waited for you to finally choose a husband. I know you are not yet inclined to marry, and I have no intention of forcing you to, but…” She trailed off, her gaze dipping to their clasped hands. ”I must do this, darling. For myself. But I’m afraid this decision will affect you, as well. I wish it wasn’t so, but it is.”

“How so?” Emmy asked, her voice unusually high. It was a stupid question, of course. She knew her mother’s meaning.

“I know how much you love London, but as an unmarried young lady, you will not be able to stay here on your own,” Lady Keswick said, her pale blue eyes limned in regret.

Emmy did not bother with a reply. She had no need for further elaboration for her mother’s meaning was clear.