Emily woke up earlier than usual that morning. She sat up in her bed and looked out of the window. The sky was gray with foreboding clouds promising a rainy day, but her mood was decidedly cheerful despite the ominous meteorology.

The corners of her plump mouth were curled up in a mischievous smile as she jumped out of bed and began rummaging through the voluminous contents of her armoire.

Lilac silks and yellow muslins, burgundy velvets and emerald taffetas, Emily had an extensive collection of all the latest fashions of lady’s garments, thanks to her cousin Louisa who was now expecting and unable to fit into the gorgeous dresses.

But which one to choose? Which one would make his head spin? thought Emily curling the ebony wisp of hair around her index finger.

After trying on several dresses, and constructing a coiffure worthy of an expert hairdresser Emily felt exhausted.

Why did she care so much? She hadn’t seen William in four years and suddenly after spending five minutes with him she was behaving as a lovesick debutante. She’d had men plea at her feet for one kiss. Just last year she turned down four proposals. Why was she so besotted now?

After this internal monologue Emily decided not to continue behaving in this unsightly manner.

She composed herself and quickly decided on a simple lavender gown she received as le petit cadeau from a suitor in Paris two months ago. After uncoiling the complicated hair arrangement she had spent so much time creating, she pulled her locks back and pinned them into a modest chignon.

Let him see me for who I really am, thought Emily looking at herself in the mirror. I’m no longer the dressed up doll he saw at the opera, with the borrowed fancy clothes, let’s see what his reaction will be now.

She was about to leave her room, but stopped at the door and returned to the seat at the mahogany vanity which was cluttered with toiletries. She opened a small silver box and extracted a translucent perfume vial. She wanted Will to see her for who she really was, but that didn’t mean she had to give up all of her feminine wiles. Emily dabbed a drop behind each ear and one on the nape of her neck. Satisfied, she quickly left her room and skipped downstairs.

Mrs. Varnes was surprised to find out from her butler that her niece had already breakfasted and was impatiently awaiting tea time.

“Good morning aunt!” exclaimed a jovial Emily upon seeing her still sleepy aunt enter the dining room.

“Good morning, my dear,” answered Mrs. Varnes adjusting her shawl and wobbling towards the table. “Gordy tells me you were up before the servants this morning.”

“I couldn’t wait for today to start,” said Emily coming up to the window and looking searchingly into the street.

“Whatever for?” asked Mrs. Varnes bemused by her niece’s good spirits. “It’s dreadful weather outside,” continued Mrs. Varnes as she took a bite of a piece of toast ornamented with a smear of orange marmalade.

“When are we to have tea?” asked Emily, anticipation growing.

“Child, you know I usually take tea at four o’clock.”

 Emily’s eyes acquired a look of utter hopelessness.

“Why, what is the matter, my dear?” asked Mrs. Varnes noting the immediate change in Emily’s countenance.

“Is it at all possible to have it earlier today, aunt? At two perhaps?” asked Emily looking down and fidgeting with the ruffles of her dress.

“What is going on, Emily?” asked Mrs. Varnes completely dumbfounded.

At that moment Gordy, the butler, entered the dining room carrying a silver tray with a note on it.

“This just arrived, madam,” said Gordy bowing and placing the tray in front of Mrs. Varnes.

Mrs. Varnes held up her lorgnette and squinted into the text of the note.

After hungrily devouring the contents with her debilitating eyes Mrs. Varnes exclaimed, “Wonderful news, my dear! It appears that Mr. Burton is going to call on us.”

Emily’s cheeks flushed pink with anticipation and she smiled at hearing his name. Mrs. Varnes perceived the sudden change in Emily.

“You knew he was going to call?” asked Mrs. Varnes.

“I invited him, last night at the opera.” answered Emily. “I meant to tell you, but…”

Mrs. Varnes looked at Emily with a knowing smile. “You were very fond of William when he used to visit your father. I haven’t seen him in ages. It will be delightful to see him.”

“I invited him for tea, aunt. At two o’clock. This is why I wondered if we could have it earlier.”

“But my dear! We’ll hardly have time to prepare.” Mrs. Varnes appeared alarmed as she looked around her immaculate household.

“There needn’t be any preparation at all,” said Emily. “I’m ready.”

“You would greet him as you are?” asked Mrs. Varnes surprised to see her niece so modestly dressed.

“I want him to see me sans pretentious frippery,” answered Emily confidently.

Mrs. Varnes didn’t understand, but decided not to argue.

“Well, I for one must look more presentable,” with that Mrs. Varnes asked Emily to ring the bellpull. When Alice, the maid appeared Mrs. Varnes instructed her on specific preparations for tea time as they had a very important guest attending.

Emily was amused at the frantic state her aunt was in, knowing that William could hardly care about the fancy china or the particular set of silverware that was being picked out.

--#--

It was just before two o’clock and Mrs. Varnes and Miss Summerset were seated in the drawing room awaiting the arrival of Mr. Burton. Emily kept looking at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace, counting the minutes. Mrs. Varnes was pretending to be preoccupied with reading. The clock struck two and Emily’s heart skipped a beat.

“My dear, you’re anxious, I know, but try to appear more at ease when Mr. Burton is here,” advised Mrs. Varnes.

“Oh, I can’t bear it. Where is he?” asked Emily impatiently.

“Emily, please child. Control yourself. Some say that anticipation is the greatest form of pleasure. You may talk with Mr. Burton for a quarter of an hour and realize that he’s an utter bore,” said Mrs. Varnes.

“A bore? Never. Oh, aunt, you don’t understand. I spent all but five minutes with him and I felt more alive than ever,” confessed Emily.

Mrs. Varnes was concerned to see her niece so overcome with emotion.

“Emily, please. Attempt to restrain yourself. Had it not occurred to you that perhaps Mr. Burton is not in the same heightened state of anticipation as you?”

--#--

Meanwhile, on St. James Street, William was frantically trying to find his top hat.

“Jamison!” he yelled.

In a few moments Will’s butler appeared.

“I seem to have misplaced my cursed hat! I must find it, I’m already running late.”

“Very well sir,” answered Jamison nasally, and began to slowly look for it.

“Oh, forget it,” said William glancing at the clock. It was already five minutes past two.

If only I hadn’t fallen asleep, thought he, regretting the few hours of rest.

In a moment he was in a carriage urging the driver to rush on.

--#--

“Perhaps, Mr. Burton isn’t coming after all,” said Mrs. Varnes watching the minute hand of the clock pass over the Roman numeral V.

“He’ll be here,” said Emily firmly, staring into the street through the window.

Minutes passed and Emily was becoming increasingly disheartened. Had he forgotten? she wondered. She walked over to the divan and flopped down, dejected.

Another minute passed, but this time, before Emily could let out another crestfallen sigh of disappointment, she heard the clamorous trot of an approaching carriage stop outside.

Emily’s heart pounded as she heard Gordy open the front door and William’s voice announce himself. Gordy entered the drawing room.

“Mr. Burton, madam,” he said, letting William enter and closing the door behind him.

“Ah, Mr. Burton, at last,” said Mrs. Varnes stretching her plump arm towards him.

William approached her with great alacrity and leaned down to kiss her knuckles.

“I must apologize, I’m unpardonably late,” said Will looking at the old widow.

“I’ll say!” yelled Emily.

William turned and met the angry stare of Miss Emily Summerset.

He was instantly struck by how stunning she looked. Even in her agitated state Will felt her exude warmth.

“Emily, my dear,” interjected Mrs. Varnes, taken aback by her niece’s indecorous outburst.

Emily didn’t seem to pay heed to her aunt’s implied admonishment.

“You dare make me wait consumed with maddening anxiety and worry for you?! I thought you were run over by a carriage or shot at some duel!” continued to yell Emily with her fists on her hips.

William couldn’t help but smile at her honest display of emotion. This was no experienced coquette who feigned indifference and flirted teasingly. Emily was an open book. And he reveled in it. Oh how he’d missed her.

“Miss Summerset, allow me to extend my most sincere apology,” said William bowing, “It never entered my mind that you would be overcome with such vehement feelings of protectiveness for me…I do find it rather endearing.”

“Oh, do not flatter yourself, Mr. Burton. My only concern was my poor aunt, who has been anticipating you all day,” said Emily skewing her eyes to the carpet at her feet and sitting down.

She’s completely artless, thought Will. And a horrible liar. He looked at her, and remarked that illuminated with the natural light of the day and dressed in her simple lavender gown, Emily was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“Would you care for some tea, Mr. Burton?” asked Mrs. Varnes, wanting to clear the air.

“I would love some,” answered William and gave her a brilliant smile which made her blush for the first time in years.

During tea not much was said. Emily’s pout disappeared after she’d eaten a Turkish Delight, and to her embarrassment William kept catching her staring at him.

He was remarkably handsome, thought Emily feeling her pulse quicken. Mrs. Varnes wondered if her presence caused reticence in their conversation and decided this was a good time to fabricate an excuse to allow two childhood friends some privacy.

“Oh, my dear, I forgot to ask for some orange marmalade…” chirped Mrs. Varnes, impressed with her own ingenuity.

“Shall I ring the bellpull for Alice?” asked Emily failing to notice her aunt’s winking eye.

“No, no, my dear. I think I’ll go and fetch it myself. It’ll be just a moment.”

Emily finally understood her aunt’s intention and felt mortified as she spied William’s all too knowing smile.

As soon as Mrs. Varnes exited, Emily straightened her shoulders and pronounced, “I do hope you realize that wasn’t my idea.”

Will suppressed his smile and looked at her in puzzlement, “Whatever do you mean, Miss Summerset.”

“Oh never mind,” said Emily sensing him bait her.

“You never replied to my last letter,” said William picking up his tea cup.

“What letter? When?”

“After your father’s death I wrote three or four letters and you only replied twice.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Burton. You see I was quite devastated by my father’s passing and you knew him so well that reading your consolatory letters only made the pain more acute. I replied to your first two correspondences, but after that I simply couldn’t bring myself to…I didn’t want you to interrupt your stay in Italy and come on my account. You didn’t need to trouble yourself.”

“I would have come at a single word from you,” said Will with conviction. “Your replies brought me comfort. I was relieved to know that you were taken care of and that you weren’t wanting for anything.”

“Yes, my aunt has been most kind.”

“I’d love to visit your old house in Devon again, if you don’t mind, of course.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” she said gloomily.

“Is it too painful of a reminder?” asked Will cautiously.

“No. I would have loved to stay there…I’ve lots of fond memories associated with Rosewood, but you see…my financial status has become rather strained over the years, and I’ve been forced to sell the property. As a matter of fact our attorney, Mr. Knotts is drafting the deed as we speak.”

“You sold Rosewood Manor?!” Will was taken aback. “To whom?”

“To a Mr. McCutter, he’s a retired Naval officer. I am sure Rosewood is in good hands, Will, though of course it would have been nice to hold on to a place of my childhood.”

“Do you miss it, Emi?” asked Will.

“Each day. But sometimes one can’t help the circumstances,” Emily shifted in her seat, suddenly straightening her back and lifting her chin, “But please don’t feel sorry for me, Mr. Burton. Contrary to what you may believe, a woman can survive without a large inheritance and without the aid of a husband. I was telling my aunt recently that if the situation calls for it, I shall not consider it beneath me to seek employment.

“I am schooled in French and Latin, and I am rather good at drawing. I should make a very good governess,” said Emily confidently.

“A governess?” repeated Will, smiling a little. “How very Jane Eyre.”

“Do you think I couldn’t do it?” asked Emily, arching her brow.

“Oh, no, I believe you could, and you would do it, and no one could talk you out of it. As a matter of fact, I believe that anything you decided to do in your life you would do and be very good at it. You are the kind of woman who sets her mind on something and does it, come what may…just as I am the kind of man who sets his sights on something and goes after it… until it’s mine.”

Emily wasn’t sure how to interpret his cryptic message, but something about it made her blush.

“I will give your aunt credit for good faith,” continued Will, sipping his tea.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, she must have a lot of faith that we won’t do anything improper being left unchaperoned.”

“Improper? What are you alluding to, Mr. Burton? Are you not to be trusted alone with a lady?”

“I can vouch for my self-control,” said he wolfishly, “the question is, Miss Summerset…” he rose out of his seat and approached her. Emily held her breath. “Can you?”

He lowered his hand to her face and very gently, wiped the smudge of powdered sugar from the corner of her plump mouth. Emily felt the warmth of his hand at her face.

The look in his eyes was familiar and comforting, yet it was filled with a strange intensity. She pushed his hand away and stood up hoping to gain more leverage, realizing with chagrin that even on her tiptoes she barely reached his chin. Will chuckled.

“What is so funny?” asked she disdainfully.

“Nothing at all. I just remembered your father describing your eating habits. ‘Stop that troughing Emi!’ he’d yell. Do you remember?”

“I remember nothing of the kind,” said Emily, the memory clear as day in her mind.  “I may have been a messy eater when I was a child, but—”

“I recall you finding some strawberry jam in cook’s cupboard. I walked in and caught you elbow deep in the jar, your mouth smeared in berries, your eyes like saucers! You begged me not to tell your father. And may I remind you who took the blame?”

“Yes, for a price! I had to be your ‘slave’ for three days.”

“What a terrible slave you were, Emi. You scoffed at every task and never did it to my liking. All out of spite, I suppose.”

“Well, all your ‘tasks’ as you wrongfully call them were ludicrous. One, I believe had me hop on one leg while reciting some absurd Italian proverb. I didn’t even know what it meant.”

“It’s perhaps for the best…it was a most salacious adage. It was rather wrong of me, Emi. I do apologize.” Another wolfish grin.

“You were depraved! I was but a child. How dare you expose me to such rubbish? No wonder you couldn’t stop laughing.”

“I was young as well, Emi. You can’t blame a mischievous boy for horsing around. But you wouldn’t submit to my most ardent request. Your pride wouldn’t allow it.”

“I would rather have confessed to my father than fulfill that wish.”

“Hmm. I wonder if you are still so strong willed,” said William raising his hand and tenderly brushing away a wayward ebony strand from her forehead.

“Well, ask me then. Perhaps I’ve humbled over the years.”

William saw the challenge in her arched brow. He looked searchingly into her eyes and said, “Tell me I am your master and I can do with you what I will. Do you submit?”

Emily looked at his mouth as he pronounced the command that used to infuriate her. And suddenly she realized that those words no longer enraged her, a strangely different feeling filled her then. She bent her index finger and beckoned him to lean down. Will saw an alluring look in her eyes. Something like a promise. Little Emi all grown up, thought he. William bent his head and brought his ear closer to her lips.

The hair on his neck stood when he felt her breath tickle his ear as she whispered, “Never.”

Before William could react the door flew open and Mrs. Varnes came in, orange marmalade in hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry my dears, I looked and I looked and finally I found it,” Mrs. Varnes plumped down in her usual seat. “Please help yourself, Mr. Burton. It is top-rate when put on a buttered muffin.”

William resumed his previous seat, but not before giving a look to Emily that clearly told her “this isn’t over”.  Emily sat down as well, feeling a rush she hasn’t felt in a long time.

Quietness settled on once again.

“Did you enjoy the opera?” asked William, feeling discomfited by the silence.

“I did indeed,” lied Mrs. Varnes, feeling Emily’s penetrating gaze calling her a hypocrite.

“I thought it was rather dull,” said William honestly.

“How can you say that?” asked Emily. “Did you not think that Raoul's aria ‘Plus blanche que la blanche ermine’ was enthralling? I was riveted by the emotion.”

“I’m afraid I was rather distracted at the opera last night, Miss Summerset,” said Will looking into the depths of her eyes. “My mind was preoccupied with a curious meeting I had with an old acquaintance.”

Emily blushed and took another sip of her tea.

“Oh, was it one of your old friends from Cambridge?” asked Mrs. Varnes.

“No. It was a beautiful woman,” said Will plainly, his gaze never leaving Emily.

Emily’s blush deepened and she set her cup down on the table for fear of betraying her nervous state with a shaking hand.

“Oh?” said Mrs. Varnes, hoping William would continue.

“Yes, after seeing her that night, I could no longer concentrate on Raoul’s romance, I only thought of her…” said William, realizing that he was being most improper.

Emily could no longer suppress her smile. “Was she very beautiful?” she asked boldly.

“Breathtaking.”

Mrs. Varnes kept looking back and forth at Will and at Emily, wondering if she should let this explicit display continue. But she was an incredibly curious woman and a romantic at heart. She allowed the conversation to progress without interruption.

“I must confess I was so taken by her that I couldn’t sleep all night. But if I did, I’m sure I would dream only of her.”

Emily wanted to throw caution to the wind and cross the few feet that separated them and kiss him. But she knew that no matter how tolerant and unconventional her aunt had been thus far, she would definitely not stand for that.

William knew he was laying it on thick, but he couldn’t help himself…he had to be sure.

“So, tonight when I go to bed I can only hope that she will visit me in my dreams. Her brilliant smile, her pale skin, her long golden locks cascading down her back…”

“What!?” yelled Emily, interrupting Will.

Mrs. Varnes jumped. William feigned confusion.

“Did you say golden locks?” asked Emily trying to control herself.

“Yes,” said Will innocently.

“Oh,” was all Emily could say. Her expression faded to devastating sadness and she bent her head. There was also something else, in her eyes—something like the flames of jealousy.

“Mr. Burton,” said Mrs. Varnes, angered to see him upset her niece, “perhaps you should be telling these intimate impressions to the lady in question, not us.”

Will knew he was being rather cruel, but he had to test Emily just a little. Her reaction was proof enough that his regard for other women was very distasteful to her. She wouldn’t feel jealousy if there wasn’t a vestige of attachment still left for him, thought Will and smiled inwardly. Her eyes betrayed her feelings. She still cares…

Emily changed the subject to clear her thoughts.

“What plans do you have for the summer, Mr. Burton?”

“Nothing predetermined. But now that I know my old childhood friend is here I will most definitely stay in town, as I would like to offer my company to you whenever you wish it.”

Charming as ever, noted Emily. But it won’t be that easy to lure me, she mused, her prideful eyebrow rising at the thought.

“Will you be attending the upcoming assembly at Koleridge Hall?” asked Will, piercing Emily with his moss green eyes.

“I believe we received an invitation from Lady Waltham just yesterday. We’ll be sure to attend,” answered Emily, her suddenly scratchy voice belying her composure.

“I will gladly offer you my carriage,” said William to Mrs. Varnes, but before she could answer Emily chimed in.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Burton. We can manage.”

“As you wish,” said Will and took the last sip of his tea.

 Silence followed.

“It’s very kind of you to offer,” added Mrs. Varnes after some time.

Will felt that perhaps it was time to take his leave. He thanked Mrs. Varnes for the tea and after admiring the recommended orange marmalade turned his attention to Emily.

“Miss Summerset,” said he approaching her. “It was a pleasure to see you. May I be so bold as to request a favor?”

Emily squinted at him with mock suspicion. “I am listening.”

“Would it be amiss for me to reserve a dance at the Koleridge assembly presently?” his voice was as smooth as velvet.

“I’m afraid I cannot oblige you, Mr. Burton. As you can probably imagine, my dance card will most likely be full before you even have a chance to speak to me…and giving you a promise now would put all those other poor chaps at a clear disadvantage. It simply wouldn’t be fair, Mr. Burton.”

Will laughed at her teasing tone, but didn’t press further. He knew that soon enough he would hold her closely again, perhaps it wouldn’t be on the dance floor…perhaps it would be someplace even better. Will felt his stomach tighten at the thought, and made a silent promise that even if he had to walk through fire, he’d find a way to make her come to him.