A Second Chance at Love, A Regency Romance (A Danby Family Novella) by Lilia Birney Read Free Book Online Page B

was—and little Rose. Her heart gave a flip-flop and she calculated how quickly she could reach Sheffield. From here in Norwich, she'd take the public post tomorrow morning and be home within four days. If only there was a way to send word home and beg Anna to pack and ready baby Rose for the journey. Well, she'd just have to pack quickly once they arrived. And then she'd have to decide what she was going to do with the rest of her life.
    She plodded along the High Street, briefly noting the sun's icy bright glare. Really, it was quite cheeky of the sun to look so cheerful on such a miserable day. Her options were limited, her future bleak. She could go back to Uncle Arthur and Aunt Millie, but that surely would mean a return to that charitable style of living she'd grown up with. Did she really want Rose to grow up thinking she was only a second-class citizen? Enduring her cousins' smirks and raised eyebrows? Or could she find some occupation?
    She ran nervous fingers over her figure. She couldn't bring herself to do what the solicitor had implied. She never let any man touch her except her husband. And, well, if one were to be honest, Philip Whitton. In fact, she had allowed herself to get too swept away by Philip, and his single-minded, dashing ways. So swept away that she had nearly allowed herself to be compromised. And would the second son of a Marquess stoop to marry a penniless commoner? Of course not. So, marriage to Charles seemed infinitely better and more secure. She suppressed an urge to snort in derision. So much for security.

Emily snuggled deeper into her corner of the public coach, trying desperately to rid herself of the weight of the peasant woman who had fallen asleep on her arm. The woman yawned and snorted, giving off a vapor of boiled onions. Emily pressed her head against the window and swallowed. There was nothing to do about it but make the best of matters. No use retching now. Why, they probably wouldn't even stop the coach.
    She turned her thoughts back to the well-worn path of what-to-do-next. Uncle Arthur and Aunt Millie would certainly be in for a surprise this Christmas. Two extra guests…for an indefinite stay? Well, perhaps if Emily got right to work, helping to prepare the Christmas dinner, shepherding the children about, scrubbing the house until it gleamed, perhaps then Aunt Millie would spare them her thinly veiled barbs about poor relations. Yes, she was poor, but she was industrious. She would make herself useful until she decided on a course of action.
    She gave her sleeping coach mate another shove, but the dead weight on her arm remained fixed. Emily sighed. She could be a governess or servant of some kind—she wasn't above hard work. Unfortunately, there were few people she knew who would take her on, since they knew and respected Charles. Hiring his widow would seem like a dreadful comedown. And little Rose, what would she do about Rose? She could send Rose to live with her aunt and uncle while she found work, but the mere thought of it took her breath away. No, they would stay together. No matter what happened, her daughter would stay by her side.
    If only there was someone rich enough, powerful enough. Someone who would help her no matter what had happened with Charles.
    The answer hit her like a bolt of lightning. The Duke of Danby, of course. When Philip was her beau, she met the old autocratic duke on several occasions. Under his crusty façade, she detected a true affection and kinship with the elderly peer. Of course, by now Philip was likely married and knee-deep in children, so no one would give their former courtship a second thought. The duke would have no objection, surely, to helping her find a position somewhere. And Danby was far enough away from Sheffield that no one would particularly care that she was Charles Barlow's widow. Anonymity. How delightful!
    She breathed deeply, caring not a whit that all the breath she took was redolent of stale tobacco and boiled