In-between

“Your lordship is most kind,” Emily said, and made a curtsy to Lord Nautleigh.

“But of course, my young lady,” the earl said – and a small lump caught his throat at the sight of the Countess’s maid in waiting, blinking her eyes at the mention of the word kind.

“Will that be all, sir?” Emily said. “The Countess is in between charity events, and I must attend to her presently.”

The earl noticed how Emily’s eyes cast themselves downward at his persistent stare, how her lips pursed together and made a convex pattern of her cheeks, oh – so pretty, so innocent, so … unspoiled, nothing like the other girls of Warren’s youth, before nobility and kinship and duty proscribed his life, and Catherine – oh, the mother of his six sons – Catherine walked into his life. This Emily, this girl who noticed him, how he worshiped –

“And so you must,” the earl replied. “I shan’t detain you any longer, kind girl. Please excuse me.”

He bowed and clicked his heels together. And then he turned and walked toward the drawing room. Something in the way of a tear found its way to his left cheek.