Lord Berkshire turned and looked at Emily, seeing her for the
first time. His deep blue eyes took in her thin stature, her dark blonde hair,
and eyes that matched his own. She blushed under his close scrutiny. Suddenly,
she wished she could escape the gaze that seconds earlier she had hoped to
catch.
Lord Berkshire’s brow furrowed deeper. “Radford as in Sir
Henry Radford?”
Emily’s blush deepened. “That would have been my father,
sir.” She never imagined gossip traveled this far from London.
“Why here is Providence to intervene! What a blessing you
have found, Stephen.” He grabbed his brother’s hand and patted him on the
shoulder. “We are pleased to make your acquaintance at such a time of need.
Miss Radford, if you would be so kind as to marry my dying friend, we would be
forever indebted to you.” Lord Berkshire executed a terse bow.
Emily’s face blanched. That was the last thing she expected
any gentleman to ask her especially if they were familiar with her family name.
“M-m-marry, sir? I am a governess. I cannot marry.”
“My brother seems to believe you are ill-suited for the
position. Besides, if you marry Lord Westings, you will have no need to be a
governess any longer. In case you failed to hear it, he will pass into the arms
of God by tomorrow’s eve. As you are young, you may even find another husband
after your period of mourning is finished.”
“You don’t really look like a governess anyhow.” Stephen
added cheerily, shaking his head.
“Do I look like a widow?” Emily asked in shock.
“Excuse my brother,” Lord Berkshire frowned at Stephen
before quickly returning his gaze to Emily. “He is still at Eton. Will you at
least give ear to the dire circumstances in which we have found ourselves?”
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