The Counterfeit Betrothal by April Kihlstrom

I shall be out in a moment.” Emmaline could not refrain from running lightly upstairs to say good-bye to her father one last time. He was waiting for her, propped up with pillows and with a far happier look in his eyes than she had seen for some time. “Papa—” she began.
    He cut her short, saying as he held out a hand to her, “Hush, child. Go to London and have fun. That is what I wish for you. And you are not to worry about me, do you hear? I shall have Mrs. Colton to order about and bully unmercifully just as I used to do with you, so you need have no fears on my account!”
    In spite of herself Emmaline laughed and retorted amiably, “No, indeed. It is Mrs. Colton I see I must fear for.” She paused to hug him then, and when she spoke again it was with a voice that was more than a lit tl e unsteady. “Oh, Papa, I shall miss you!”
    “As I shall miss you,” Sir Osbert replied gruffly. “But I have wanted for some time to see you go off and enjoy yourself, and I tell you I shall do better for knowing you are doing so. Who knows, you may even return to find me in better health than ever.”
    “I wish it might be so,” Emmaline said earnestly.
    Then, afraid their resolution would fail them, her father added, “Go on now. I heard a carriage drive round some time ago and your escorts will be growing impatient. Tell Jeremy I said he is to take good care of you!”
    “I shall. Good-bye, Papa.”
    A short time later it was a procession of carriages that pulled away from the home Emmaline had always known. She rode in a comfortable chaise-and-four with her maid while Hastings drove his phaeton and Jeremy his curricle. Emmaline didn’t quite know whether to take offense at the neglect or give in to her relief at the privacy. In the end, her good nature asserted itself and she gave herself over to the pleasure of watching the countryside.
    Mary, however, had other notions. She wished to talk about how handsome Emmaline’s betrothed was or how neatly he handled his curricle. As she did so, Emmaline’s own treacherous thoughts kept drifting back to how he had kissed her when she accepted his proposal and how her own hands had betrayed her, stealing around his neck. Nor could she forget how her skin seemed to burn whenever he took her hand and how her heart raced until her breath seemed to come in small gasps. No, better not to think of him at all or she might so far forget herself as to go back on her refusal to the marriage. And that way lay madness.
    But when they stopped for a neat little luncheon at a posting house along the way, Emmaline’s heart once again betrayed her as Jeremy handed her out of the carriage. She could only hope that he did not notice, that his eyes were instead fixed with admiration upon her new dress and bonnet made of rose silk that he had once told her was his favorite color. And she could o n ly be grateful that she did not find herself entirely alone with him but that Hastings was there as well.
    Jeremy, with his usual thoroughness, had arranged a private parlor and the dishes were ready within minutes of their arrival. Edward held the chair for her as they sat down. “Comfortable journey so far, Miss Delwyn?” Hastings asked solicitously.
    Emmaline smiled at him warmly. “Oh, yes, Mr. Hastings. You and Jeremy appear to have thought of everything. And I still find it difficult to believe your mother has been so kind as to invite me to come and stay with her.”
    Hastings smiled in return. “M’mother loves company. And going out and about. The happiest I’ve ever seen her was when she was bringing out m’sister. And m’cousins. Three of ’em in turn.”
    “Mrs. Hastings must have the warmest heart in London,” Jeremy agreed. “I think you’ll be happy staying with her. And you need have no fear. She is wonderfully discreet, so that even if she guesses the truth of our betrothal she will tell no one.” At Emmaline’s look of distress, he added, “Don’t mind Hastings,