The one that had been owned by a member of the Bourbon royal family. Even with the magnificent necklace and the beautiful gown, she worried she would look like a dowdy imposter. She had no talent in dressing hair. And there was the fact she was quite plain.
A rap sounded at her door. "Come in," Adam said.
Studewood entered the chamber, trailed by a girl who looked no more than sixteen. "Lady Sophia has sent this young female to be your maid." He looked at the girl. "I'll have you tell Mrs. Birmingham about your qualifications." He then eyed Emma. "If madam isn't satisfied, there will be other candidates." He turned and left the chamber.
Adam began to move toward the door."Since this is a lady's discussion, I'll be in my library, dear one."
Emma invited the girl to sit beside her on the settee. "Now, tell me about yourself." The girl could not have been in service for very long. She was so young.
"My name is Therese." She spoke English with a heavy French accent. "The truth is that I have not yet taken a position as a lady's maid, but my sister she is maid to Lady Maryann, who is sister to Lady Sophia, who is, I am told, some kind of sister to you."
Emma nodded. Were French maids not the most desired?
"My sister is very capable, and she has trained me. I will take care of your . . ." Her gaze went to the pile of dresses on the bed. "Your beautiful dresses, and I am told that I have the gift of dressing madame's hair."
Despite Studewood's warning, Emma's intuition told her she could do no better than to engage Therese. "That is exactly what I need. Do you suppose you could start today?"
* * *
When his wife entered the dinner room, he stood as he always did when a female entered a chamber, but this time he was stunned at how truly lovely Emma looked. He'd been telling her that she would be the toast of the ton, but he hadn't really thought she would be this striking. Of course, she was not a radiant beauty like Maria, but she would most certainly draw attention. His lazy gaze went from her swept up hair, along her sweet face, down her graceful neck to the soft swell of breasts. His breath hitched. "You're more beautiful than I thought possible."
He walked toward her, set his hand to her waist, and guided her to her chair. "I take it you engaged the maid?"
She lowered herself into the chair to which he had led her. "I did, and I'm very pleased with her."
"As am I."
As he dined on clear turtle soup, followed by turbot, he kept staring at her. It was as if she were a different person. She was the same Emma, yet she wasn't. Dressed so elegantly, she now easily looked her age, looked like a privileged young matron. As pleased as he was, a part of him mourned for the loss of that girl in the sprigged muslin dress.
When he'd offered her marriage, he thought only of making a hysterical young woman happy. He had been pleased it was within his power to brighten her life. Now, though, he realized she looked like a wife who would bring him credit. Women would embrace friendship with one so wholesome looking. Men would admire her fine good looks.
Part of his attraction to Maria had been the pride that strummed through him when men looked hungrily at her. She'd been like a prized race horse—which somewhat shamed him now. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to sitting in his box tomorrow night, knowing that all eyes would be on his lovely wife.
"What are your plans for tomorrow?" she asked.
"I thought we'd return to Wycliff's in the morning."
She nodded. "And in the afternoon?"
"Would you like to go to the British Museum?
Her smile was as radiant as the chandelier that hung above their table. "Indeed I would."
* * *
Therese helped her into her night shift, then after bidding her mistress good night, took Emma's lovely new dress away to care for it.
In bed, Emma had a difficult time falling asleep. She kept remembering how Adam had stared at her when she had walked into the dinner room. For the first time in her life, she had felt like a woman. She'd been flattered when he'd said she was beautiful. It was an exaggeration, of course, but she'd actually felt like a great beauty as she sat beside him and felt his eyes continuing to peruse the new Emma.
Lying in the bed so close to her husband's bedchamber made her startlingly aware of what an empty marriage theirs was. She felt guilty for her melancholy thoughts. It wasn't as if she wasn't grateful to him. Because of his kindness, she had a lovely home, beautiful gowns and jewels—and London. Those things should make her very happy. She was happy, happier than she'd ever been, but that one omission—his love—kept her from enjoying perfect happiness.