The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,17
be separated from Oliver again. She wanted a family. Oliver might be her only chance for one. But there was one more piece to her puzzle, one she wasn’t ready to give up on just yet. What if she’d been searching all of this time for her father’s love, when only he could give it?
She’d left Chelmick, his tightly run estate, on appalling terms. She’d never meant to go back. But what if she went now? Would her father agree to see her because of Oliver? Could he forgive her at last, now that she’d been changed by motherhood?
She couldn’t leave England until she knew for certain that her roots had truly been torn from the soil. Fifteen was a tumultuous age for any girl. They’d had their differences, but surely her parents had grown wiser, too.
But as she made plans to pack up her house and servants, she couldn’t shake her foreboding.
Chapter Five
ELIZABETH ARRIVED at her parents’ house in a carriage fit for royalty. Another, less ostentatious carriage followed behind. Her hands twisted in her lap. She’d lost sleep wondering whether appearing at their door surrounded by obvious signs of her wealth would help or hurt her reception. Was it better to demonstrate the success she’d found even without their help and love, or better to arrive modestly and risk them thinking she’d done it all for naught?
Her desire to prove herself had won out. But she must still wonder if she’d made the right decision.
Their Gothic-style house lorded over an expansive lawn speckled by imposing evergreens. Her yearning for it startled her. She hadn’t seen this house since she was fifteen. The ensuing years had done little to make it more welcoming, and yet she searched hungrily for the distinguishing features that had imprinted on her younger self. The flying buttresses marching across the front. Equilateral arches filling the space between them, their traceries undecorated so they appeared to look on her with stoic, empty eyes. In the winter, snow and ice would freeze over what meager color the pale stone structure possessed and give it a haunted, abandoned look. The reddish façade didn’t fare much better in the weak summer sunlight, and she shuddered despite the heat.
Two footmen clad in her family’s ivory livery ran out to greet the carriages as her horses clopped across the stone drive. She pressed her back to the velvet squab of her bench, keeping herself out of view of the narrow windowpane. What did she think she’d accomplish here? In all the years since her mistake, her parents had never once attempted to reconcile with her. What would they think when she suddenly presented herself on their doorstep?
The servants went about efficiently setting the carriage to rights in preparation for her eventual exit. She adjusted the tiny emerald hat tilted at a jaunty angle on her head and pinched her cheeks. It would have been much more proper to have written ahead, but she’d had no reason to believe they’d reply. No, she’d rather pretend she was out and about in this part of Shropshire and force them to close the door directly in her face.
She steeled herself. She hoped her parents were at home. She would almost prefer they were not.
Mrs. Dalton and Oliver met Elizabeth as she descended the carriage. Elizabeth offered the nursemaid a grateful smile and reached for her son. He was awake and alert. She smiled softly. His little round head jerked as he took in the new sights and colors of Chelmick Hall. “He looks happy,” Elizabeth observed.
“He fussed a bit for the last mile, but I gave him a bit of milk-soaked bread and he settled enough to catch a wink.”
Elizabeth nodded at this and looped his small hand around her fingers. Her lips touched the down-softness of baby hair curving just over his ear. “Do you like the house? We must introduce you to your grandparents. You’ll be a good boy for them, won’t you?”
The double doors of the hall had already been thrown open. A wide, shallow-stepped staircase led to the gaping mouth of the house. She took a deep breath, then began the ascent. At the top of the stone steps she paused. She cuddled Oliver to her one more time before handing him back to Mrs. Dalton.
Those of Elizabeth’s retainers who were not helping to unload the carriages were being shown to the service entrance by other ivory-liveried footmen. Everyone seemed occupied, leaving Elizabeth alone to face her childhood fears.