The room was silent, every eye fixed on Emma as she stood before the queen. Her trembling hands were clasped tightly in front of her, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on her chest. She felt like a delicate bird, trapped in a gilded cage under the scrutinizing gazes of society's elite.
"Who are you?" Queen Victoria's voice, though calm, carried an unmistakable authority that demanded an answer.
Emma's lips parted, but no words came out. Her mind swirled with uncertainty. Who was she? Was she Emma, the adopted daughter of the Duke and Duchess? Or was she someone far more complex—a young woman who didn't yet understand her place in this world?
Her hesitation only added to the tension in the room. The queen's sharp eyes softened, if only slightly, as if recognizing the turmoil within the girl standing before her.
From their seats, Eleanor and Alfred exchanged a glance. Eleanor's fingers gripped the edge of her gown tightly, her maternal instincts urging her to rise and shield Emma from the intensity of the moment. Alfred, though outwardly composed, felt the same protective urge, but he trusted Emma's strength, even if she didn't yet trust it herself.
The murmurs began again, hushed whispers darting across the room.
"She must be someone important if the queen herself is asking."
"Perhaps a foreign princess in disguise?"
"No, surely just an exceptionally beautiful commoner…"
Emma inhaled sharply, forcing herself to meet the queen's gaze. Before she could respond, a loud, clear voice broke through the tension.
"Your Majesty," Alfred said, rising gracefully from his seat. His deep voice carried the authority of his title, yet it was laced with warmth. "This is Emma Hastings, my daughter."
Gasps rippled through the hall once more, and the whispers resumed, louder this time.
"The Duke's daughter? Impossible!"
"She looks nothing like him or the duchess."
"Could she be adopted?"
The queen raised her hand again, silencing the crowd instantly. She shifted her gaze from Alfred back to Emma, her expression now tinged with curiosity.
"Step closer, child," the queen commanded gently.
Emma obeyed, taking careful, measured steps until she was only a breath away from the queen's throne. Her head bowed deeply as she fought to steady her nerves.
Queen Victoria studied her with an intensity that made Emma feel as though every layer of her being was being unraveled. Finally, the queen smiled—a small, enigmatic curve of her lips.
"You carry yourself with grace and dignity, Miss Hastings," she said. "Your beauty may have caught their eyes, but there is something far deeper within you that commands attention."
Emma blinked, her heart swelling with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. She opened her mouth to speak, but again, the words eluded her.
Before she could respond, the queen turned to the room. "Let the festivities continue!" she declared, her tone firm yet inviting.
The crowd slowly began to disperse, the whispers now laced with curiosity and speculation about Emma Hastings.
As Emma stepped back, Thomas appeared by her side, his reassuring presence grounding her amidst the whirlwind of emotions. He offered her his arm, and she took it gratefully.
"You were incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with brotherly pride.
Emma managed a faint smile, her thoughts still tangled in the queen's words and the gaze of the young man she'd met earlier. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far greater than she could have ever imagined.
The grand hall was aglow with light and the hum of conversation as Emma lingered on the fringes of the room. Despite her uncle Alfred's protective presence and her aunt Eleanor's firm smile, the whispers and stolen glances made her painfully self-aware.
She tugged nervously at the edges of her gown, her mind drifting to the library and the mysterious young man who had briefly captured her attention. Harrison, she thought, though she shook her head as if to clear it. Why does his face keep coming back to me?
Alfred leaned down and spoke softly to Eleanor. "We must attend the Ashbourne house shortly. Edmund is expecting us."
Eleanor nodded, glancing at Emma, who seemed lost in thought. "Let us not tarry then."
The family made their way to the Ashbourne estate, where the after-party for Eloise's debut was already in full swing. Inside the lavish manor, the atmosphere was intoxicating, filled with laughter and the scent of freshly cut roses. Yet Emma found little joy. The stares followed her even here, whispers growing louder the farther she walked into the room.
"She's a beauty, but where did she come from?" someone whispered.
"Is she royalty? Look at her grace!" another added.
Emma clutched her fan tightly, her knuckles white. The attention was unbearable, a spotlight she never wanted. She excused herself quietly, weaving through the crowd until she slipped into a quieter hallway.
It was there she saw him—a familiar face from a world she thought she had left behind. His name came to her lips like a prayer.
"Amadi?" she whispered.
The young man turned, his dark eyes widening in recognition. Though he now wore the livery of the Viscount's house, there was no mistaking him. He had grown in the two years since she had last seen him, his youthful frame now leaner and his features sharpened by hardship.
"Princess…" he began, but she shook her head sharply.
"Don't call me that," she said, her voice trembling. "Not here. Not now."
Amadi looked at her with a mixture of pity and admiration. "I almost didn't recognize you," he said, his voice low. "But you… you haven't changed."
Emma's lips curved into a bitter smile. "You're wrong. Everything has changed. And you? What are you doing here?"
He hesitated before answering, his gaze flickering down the empty hallway. "I followed the others. There was nothing left for me there, Emma. The Oba's wrath… it spared no one. Your uncle ensured that."
Her breath hitched at his words, tears stinging her eyes. "What do you mean?"
Amadi leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Your village was destroyed. Those who survived scattered. Some came here, seeking a better life, but…" He hesitated, his expression hardening. "There is no going back. Your uncle would never allow it. And even if you did return, no one would recognize you anymore."
The weight of his words hit her like a blow. She stumbled back, her hand gripping the wall for support.
"But this is not the life I wanted," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Amadi's eyes softened with a sorrow she couldn't bear. "None of us wanted this. But God has given you a new life, Emma. A chance to survive. You must take it. If you go back, you'll die. Is that what you want?"
His words cut through her, sharp and unyielding. Her legs felt weak, and the world seemed to tilt. "It's not fair," she choked out.
"No," he agreed softly. "But it's the truth."
Emma stumbled away from Amadi, her heart shattering with every step. His words echoed in her mind: There is no going back… If you go back, you'll die.
She found herself in a secluded garden at the edge of the Ashbourne estate. The party's noise was distant now, muffled by the hedges and tall trees that surrounded her. The night sky stretched overhead, stars twinkling indifferently to the turmoil in her heart.
Her tears came in a torrent, unstoppable and raw. She pressed her hands to her face, her sobs wracking her body. For the first time since she had been taken from home, Emma allowed herself to grieve. Grieve for her family, her people, and the life she had lost.
She sank onto a stone bench, her gown pooling around her like a delicate cage. The moonlight caught the shimmer of her tears, painting her as a tragic figure against the darkened foliage.
"Are you alright?"
The voice startled her, deep and warm, cutting through her despair. She looked up sharply to see him—the young man from the library. Harrison.
He stood a few feet away, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. The shadows played across his features, making him look even more striking than before. His dark eyes searched hers, and for a moment, neither spoke.
"I didn't mean to intrude," Harrison said softly, taking a cautious step closer. "But I saw you leave the hall, and you seemed upset."
Emma quickly wiped her tears away, turning her face from him. She didn't want him to see her like this—vulnerable, broken.
"I… I'm fine," she managed to say, though her trembling voice betrayed her.
Harrison frowned, his concern deepening. "You don't look fine."
She let out a shaky laugh, more bitter than amused. "Why are you here?"
"I might ask you the same thing," he countered, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "But if you must know, I couldn't stand the crowd. Too many people pretending to be something they're not."
Emma looked up at him, her tear-streaked face softening at his words. "And what are you pretending to be?"
His smile faded slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable. "Nothing, I hope," he said quietly. "But that's not important. You, however…"
He paused, studying her face as if trying to unravel the mystery of her sadness. "You shouldn't cry. It doesn't suit you."
Her lips parted in surprise, her tears momentarily forgotten. She blinked at him, unsure of how to respond.
"I mean it," Harrison continued, stepping closer until he was only a few feet away. "You're… beautiful, even when you're sad. But I think you'd be even more so if you smiled."
Emma stared at him, her heart fluttering in a way she didn't quite understand. His words were simple, but there was a sincerity in them that disarmed her.
For the first time since their encounter, she spoke without hesitation. "Why do you care?"
Harrison looked at her, his expression softening. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I do."
---
Emma's gaze locked with Harrison's, searching his eyes for answers she wasn't sure she wanted to find. There was something about him—something disarming yet entirely captivating. His presence felt steady, like a harbor in a storm she hadn't realized she was braving.
"You don't even know me," she said softly, her voice still tinged with the remnants of her earlier tears.
Harrison tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "No, I don't. But maybe that's the point. Sometimes strangers can see us more clearly than those who think they know everything."
His words hung in the air, and for a moment, Emma felt as if he could see right through her—a terrifying and oddly comforting thought. She wanted to look away, to put the walls back up, but something in his expression held her there.
"You don't seem like the type to wander into gardens just to console crying strangers," she said, a trace of amusement creeping into her tone despite herself.
"I'm full of surprises," he replied, the smirk giving way to a more earnest smile. "But truthfully, I was looking for a moment of peace. I didn't expect to find… you."
Emma felt her cheeks warm at his words, but she quickly buried the reaction. "And what do you think you've found?"
He paused, his expression thoughtful. "Someone worth knowing," he said finally. "But you're making it rather difficult, you know."
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Difficult?"
"You hardly speak," he said with a chuckle. "You've given me little more than glances and half-smiles. It's maddening, really."
Emma couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. It was the first genuine sound of joy she'd made in what felt like forever.
"There it is," Harrison said softly, his voice almost reverent. "That's what I was waiting for."
Emma shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "You're insufferable."
"And yet, you haven't walked away," he pointed out, his eyes glinting with mischief.
The truth of his words caught her off guard. She had no reason to stay, no reason to let this stranger try to chip away at her carefully constructed defenses. And yet, here she was.
"I suppose I should thank you," she said after a moment.
"For what?"
"For distracting me," she admitted.
Harrison took a step closer, his voice dropping slightly. "If it's a distraction you need, I can offer plenty of that."
Emma's heart skipped at the subtle intensity in his tone. "You're bold," she said, her voice steadier than she expected.
"Only when it matters," he said, holding her gaze. "And this feels like it matters."
Before Emma could respond, the sound of distant voices broke the spell between them. She turned her head toward the source, realizing how far she'd strayed from the gathering.
Harrison let out a sigh, glancing toward the noise. "It seems we're both expected back in the world."
Emma hesitated, unsure how to end this strange, unexpected moment. But Harrison saved her the trouble.
"I'll find you again," he said, his tone carrying a promise she didn't fully understand.
And with that, he stepped back, giving her space to leave. Emma lingered for a moment longer, her heart heavy with questions she didn't dare voice. Then, with a final glance at the man who'd stirred something unfamiliar in her, she turned and walked away.
Harrison watched her go, a small smile playing on his lips. Who are you, Emma? he wondered.
The chatter of the party washed over Emma as she slipped back into the grand hall. Her gaze swept across the room, looking for familiar faces, but instead, her attention was drawn to a group of ladies huddled near a gilded column. Their hushed whispers carried just enough to reach her ears.
"It's a wonder she bothers coming to these events," one of them said, her tone dripping with derision.
"Well, she has to, doesn't she?" another added, her fan fluttering as she smirked. "Poor Duchess Eleanor, clinging to that girl as if she's really hers."
"Can you blame her? She's barren, after all," the first woman whispered, her voice cruel. "And look at Emma. She doesn't even seem to fully accept her. Can you imagine the humiliation?"
Emma felt a surge of anger course through her, but what truly broke her heart was the sight of Eleanor standing just a few steps away, perfectly poised but clearly hearing every word. The duchess's face was composed, her expression betraying nothing, but her eyes told a different story.
Without thinking, Emma crossed the room. The ladies noticed her approach and quickly scattered, their smug smiles vanishing as they scurried away. Emma didn't spare them a glance.
"Mother," she said softly, the word feeling strange and yet so right on her tongue.
Eleanor turned to her, startled, her lips parting as if she hadn't heard correctly.
Emma smiled, her voice light with feigned indignation. "Why do you let people talk about you like that? You should have taught them a lesson."
Eleanor blinked, and then, to Emma's surprise, a tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, a soft laugh escaping her. "Oh, Emma, you can't imagine what that means to me."
Emma reached out, taking her hand. "I'm sorry it took me so long," she said sincerely. "But I'm here now. And I think I got my stubbornness from you, so they're in for a fight if they think they can cross us."
Eleanor laughed fully this time, her heart swelling with a joy she hadn't felt in years. For the first time, she truly felt like Emma's mother.
The moment didn't go unnoticed. Alfred, having returned to the hall, approached them with a proud smile. "It seems I have the two most remarkable women in this room," he said warmly, offering an arm to each.
With Eleanor and Emma at his side, Alfred led them to the center of the room, where he cleared his throat to draw attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Alfred began, his voice commanding yet warm. "Allow me to introduce my family. My daughter, Emma, and my son, Thomas."
The crowd erupted into polite applause, and many eyes turned once again to Emma, admiration and curiosity shining in their gazes.
Among the crowd stood the Viscount Ashbourne and his family. The Viscount smiled warmly, stepping forward. "A pleasure to meet your children at last, Alfred," he said. "Allow me to introduce my family as well. My wife, Violet."
Violet inclined her head gracefully, her smile warm.
"Our eldest, Kate, though she's already married," the Viscount continued. "Then there's Eloise, Beatrice, and finally, my son, Harrison."
Emma's breath caught as her gaze fell on Harrison. He looked equally surprised but quickly masked it with a charming smile.
"A pleasure to meet you," Harrison said, his eyes lingering on Emma just a moment too long.
Emma inclined her head, her heart racing. "The pleasure is mine," she managed, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her.
As introductions continued, Harrison found himself moving closer to Emma, his curiosity about her growing with every passing moment.
"Lady Emma," he said quietly when the others were momentarily distracted, "it seems fate enjoys bringing us together."
Emma glanced at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Perhaps," she said simply, her tone leaving him intrigued.
Harrison chuckled softly. "I suppose I'll just have to see how this story unfolds."
Emma's eyes met his, and for a fleeting moment, the rest of the room faded away.
As the introductions concluded, the crowd began to disperse, mingling once more. Emma turned toward a nearby table adorned with delicate desserts, seeking a moment of respite. But her solitude didn't last long.
"Ah, there you are!" Thomas's voice rang out as he approached, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
Emma sighed, already bracing herself. "What now, Thomas?"
He smirked, ignoring her tone as he turned his attention to Harrison, who stood not far from her. "And who might you be?" Thomas asked, his gaze appraising the young man.
"Harrison Ashbourne," Harrison replied smoothly, inclining his head. "And you must be Lady Emma's brother."
Thomas raised a brow, feigning surprise. "Lady Emma? My sister's taken to titles now?" He glanced at Emma with mock astonishment. "I didn't realize you'd become so grand, dear sister."
Emma rolled her eyes. "Ignore him," she said to Harrison. "He enjoys being insufferable."
"Oh, come now," Thomas teased, leaning against the table. "I'm merely ensuring our new acquaintance knows just how much of a delight you are to live with." He grinned, clearly enjoying himself.
Harrison's gaze shifted between the siblings, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "It seems you two share quite a bond," he observed, his tone warm.
Thomas shrugged, his teasing tone softening. "She's not so bad, I suppose. When she's not glaring at me, that is."
Emma scoffed, though her lips twitched with the hint of a smile. "If you don't stop talking, Thomas, I'll—"
"You'll what?" he interrupted, laughing. "Stare me into submission?"
Harrison chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. His eyes lingered on Emma, noticing the faint flush of her cheeks and the spark of amusement in her eyes.
"I see Thomas hasn't changed a bit since our first encounter," Harrison said, addressing Emma. "Still determined to make an impression, I see."
Emma's gaze flicked to him, her tone light but teasing. "He tries. Fortunately, most people are wise enough not to take him seriously."
"Most people?" Thomas interjected, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Sister dearest, you wound me."
Emma ignored him, directing her attention back to Harrison. "And what about you? How are you enjoying the evening? Still surrounded by admirers, I imagine?"
Harrison smiled faintly, his voice low enough to feel intimate despite the bustling crowd. "There's only one person whose company I find myself drawn to," he said, his gaze steady on hers.
Emma's breath caught, her confidence faltering for just a moment. Before she could respond, Thomas smirked knowingly.
"Well, I'll leave you two to… whatever this is." He winked at Emma before strolling away, his laughter trailing behind him.
As Thomas disappeared into the crowd, the space between Harrison and Emma felt charged, as though the world had narrowed to just the two of them.
"You don't mind his antics, do you?" Emma asked, her tone light, but there was a softness in her expression that Harrison couldn't look away from.
"Not at all," he replied, his voice steady. "It's… refreshing, actually. I imagine life around you is never dull."
Emma laughed softly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Well, I'm glad to know we haven't scared you off yet."
"Quite the opposite," Harrison said, his voice dropping. There was a weight to his words, a quiet intensity that made Emma pause. "I find myself wanting to stay."
Emma blinked, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Her cheeks flushed the faintest pink, and Harrison felt a strange sense of victory at having caused it.
Before the moment could stretch too far, a lively waltz began to play, and the crowd's attention shifted toward the dance floor. Harrison held out his hand, his eyes never leaving hers.
"May I have this dance, Lady Emma?"
Her heart stuttered in her chest, but she nodded, placing her hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver up her spine, and as he led her toward the floor, the room seemed to blur around them.
As they began to move in time with the music, Harrison leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "You may not realize it yet," he murmured, his gaze locked on hers, "but you've already changed my world."
Emma's breath hitched, her pulse racing as she tried to steady herself. There was something in his eyes—a depth of emotion that both thrilled and terrified her. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come.
And then, just as the music swelled and the dance spun them into the center of the room, Harrison smiled—a quiet, knowing smile that seemed to promise everything.
Emma felt the weight of his gaze, the unspoken truths between them, and for the first time, she wondered if perhaps her own heart wasn't entirely her own anymore.