Someone gave a tap on her open door. Turning her gaze in the direction of the sound, Emma wasn’t sure if she was happy or not to see her sister.
For the moment, she greeted her, and Sophie returned the greeting before sitting on her bed to wait in silence while Bessie finished fixing her hair.
After Bessie left the room, Emma faced her sister. Sophie grinned.
“I can’t believe your fortune. Imagine snatching a duke so soon!”
Emma groaned. “It won’t be a happy marriage.”
“Sure, it will. You shouldn’t be so glum. Just think of how big your new house will be. Think of all the nice clothes and jewelry you can have. Think of all the servants who’ll do your bidding. Think of all the places you can go for entertainment. Besides, he has money. You’ll be wealthy for the rest of your life.”
Emma shouldn’t be surprised. Her sister’s goal was to marry someone with a title. To her, this was the best thing that could happen to a lady.
Sophie had no idea what she’d just gotten herself into. “He’s going to resent me,” Emma said.
Sophie slipped her arm around Emma’s and helped her move forward.
“Give him an heir and all will be forgiven,” she whispered. She rolled her eyes and ignored her sister’s last statement.
"You’ve always been the sensible one of the two of us,” Sophie said.
She stopped before they reached the stairs and grabbed Emma’s arm so Emma paused. She hugged Emma.
“I’m happy for you because you’re marrying a duke, but I’m going to miss you.”
Emma returned her hug. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
***
Ever since that night when the Duke of Daventry had asked for her hand, her aunt had been busy tending to all necessary preparations in anticipation of her upcoming nuptials.
And while Emma herself received the occasional instruction to tend to a minor item on her aunt’s list, she was never consulted when it came to the actual event and what it ought to be like.
Never once did her aunt wonder what flowers she would like to see that day? Or what dish she might care for that morning?
In a strange way, Emma felt like none of it concerned her, like she had no connection whatsoever to the upcoming wedding.
After breakfast with her family, she was led upstairs to her room where the maids had already laid out her wedding dress.
Seeing it, Emma’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away before her aunt could lecture her.
“You will be a beautiful bride,” Sophie beamed, giving her hand a slight squeeze. “Smile for me, will you?” she whispered. Feeling the corners of her mouth tuck up at her sister’s emphatic words, Emma tried her best.
“Thank you,” Sophie said.
Rushing into the room, her aunt took charge immediately, and before Emma knew what was happening, she was looking at herself wearing a wedding dress in the tall mirror brought in from her aunt’s room.
Busy hands tucked here and smoothed fabric back there. Her hair was drawn up and pinned up in the latest fashion, a few strands, forced into bouncing curls, softening the somewhat rigid structure.
“Well, you look handsome enough,” her aunt mused, looking her up and down. “Do try to smile. This is a happy occasion after all,” she reminded her. “As unexpected as this is, we could not have hoped for a better match. He is quite amiable, and you are lucky to have caught his eye.”
Looking at herself in the mirror, Emma saw the slight tremble in her hands as she brushed them down the front of her dress.
The face that smiled back at her didn’t seem genuine, and she hoped her betrothed would not hold it against her. He could not expect her to go into this marriage with a joyous heart, could he?
As another thought struck, Emma closed her eyes to maintain her composure. Before she had gone to bed the night before, her aunt had come to her room.
At first, Emma had been surprised to see her, but then her feelings had quickly changed as her aunt began to speak.