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Not liking the fact that her mood had soured,
Emma threw her shoulders back and tilted her chin slightly. A
sullen ninny she refused to be! Instead, she would be brave. She
wouldn't dwell on the past. Especially not now. Not when things
were so close to being over.

Not every girl needed to go to balls and
dance with her prince.

Emma couldn't help but smile, though she
struggled against the constricting of her chest again, as she
watched Trudy in the mirror.
I won't be sad… I won't be sad… I
refuse to be sad,
she repeated to herself, praying she would
believe it soon. Envy wasn't her normal attitude, and she very much
disliked it.

While Trudy sat in a chair with the fabric of
her emerald green dress billowing out in all directions, Emma
attempted to put a rose she'd picked from the garden into Trudy's
fiery hair.

"Hold still." She giggled despite herself.
Trudy really was one of those girls who could light up a room. A
sweet girl. The total opposite of her father who could be kind at
times, but there was always something secretive about him.
Something Emma could never place. Something she wouldn't miss when
she went back home to Enhurst.

"I'm sorry. I'll try to sit still." And she
did. She tried, but her excitement made her feet shake first… then
her knees…. then her hips… in a few seconds, her entire body shook
to some sort of rhythm and to a tune only Trudy could hear.

"This won't work unless you stop." Emma
laughed, fighting to slide the stem of the red rose into Trudy's
matching hair. There. It would have to do. Getting Trudy ready was
fun, but it took away from her other chores — and, thanks to Mr.
Dodsworth, Emma had plenty.

Though the Dodsworths were rich, they didn't
have many servants. Possibly, as a way for stingy Mr. Dodsworth to
keep more of his wealth. Less workers meant less wages. Of course,
it meant more work for Emma, Elizabeth, and Miles — the only
servants in the entire household. Emma was both the lady's maid and
the chambermaid. The only other maid in the home, the housekeeper,
was Elizabeth — a woman not two years Emma's senior. Rules of
polite society dictated Emma should call her
Mrs. Elizabeth,
though the girl wasn't married. It was of no consequence: Emma
never could bring herself to do it. It would almost be as strange
as calling Trudy
Miss Gertrude
. She shivered at the
unpleasant thought.

Imagine if someone called her
Miss
Emma
. She scoffed and shook her head. Maybe in her dreams.
Maybe when she got back to Enhurst and forgot all about this time
of her life. Maybe when she could be the
Baron's Daughter
and not some lowly house servant. She'd miss Trudy and Elizabeth —
and Miles in a small way, but she wouldn't miss having to work for
someone else to pay for a debt not hers. Perhaps if she went far
away, no one would know of her servant past.

Perhaps if it were far enough away —
Ravenston or even Everdale.

Emma's mind wandered, and she could picture
sitting in a chair like the one Trudy occupied, with a maid helping
her get ready for her coming out party — or one of the many balls.
She'd wear a blue dress, for it was her favorite color and matched
her eyes so well. Her maid would put one of her mother's combs in
her hair, keeping the blond curls from escaping. Emma would stand.
Twirl. Feel the rich fabric as it flew against her skin.

Then she would turn to her maid and thank her
for everything she'd done for her and tell her she was
appreciated.

Finally, Emma would get in a white carriage
drawn by a white horse and be whisked away to — not Darenset where
she lived now. It was a beautiful town. Large. The biggest in the
area, rivaling London with its beauty and wealth. Not to the balls
in Enhurst, a much smaller place where everybody knew everybody —
and a baron's daughter being gone for years was no exception. No,
Emma would make the three-day journey to London where she would
attend every ball the city had to offer. Where no one knew her.
Where she would find a husband who would never have to know what
she had done for the past five years. She would have to learn new
customs and social etiquette, of course, but how hard could it
be?

And she would never think of Darenset again.
Only in her nightmares. Being a servant wasn't the part she hated.
She didn't mind cleaning or helping Trudy. It was the highlight of
her day. What she disliked was being away from home. Away from her
childhood friends. Friends she'd been forced to leave without any
notice.

One day she'd come home from her dear friend
Ruby's house. Her father had greeted her with a bag and escorted
her out to a waiting carriage, not a white one.

Mostly Emma understood why she had to leave,
but she was more than ready for this part of her life to be over.
She would miss Trudy. Though the two were close in age, their
appearance and attitude about life couldn't be more different.
Trudy had the most beautifully different red hair Emma had ever
seen, blue eyes that were so light they looked like the sky on an
early autumn day, and, though she wasn't nobility, Trudy had a
titled air about her. She expected certain things in life and
pouted when her expectations weren't met in her desired time.
Trudy's one downfall.

Emma had stone blue eyes, a round nose, and
dark blond hair just like her mother. The mother she would never
see again. The mother she still grieved for, though it had been
nearly seventeen years since her passing when Emma was only two.
Her mother's death had left her with a father and a newborn sister.
It had also led to her father's grief and mounting issues with
currency.

No matter what was whispered in haughty tones
every time she went to the Darenset marketplace, Emma knew the
truth. Her father had done all he could to take care of them. It
wasn't his fault Mr. Dodsworth had called in his debt.

None of that,
Emma chided herself. She
would not waste time worrying over things she could not change. In
a week's time, her father would come and fetch her home. It would
be wonderful.

Emma choked back a tear. She wouldn't cry.
Not now. Not when it was so close to being over. And not with Trudy
looking so beautiful in her ball gown in front of her. Tonight was
special for her friend, and she did not want to ruin it.

Too late for that.

"Is something the matter?" Trudy asked,
staring at Emma through the mirror for the first time that evening.
Her forehead creased, and she appeared troubled.

"No. Nothing." Not wanting to cause a scene
or take the attention away from Trudy and her big night, Emma shut
her eyes tightly and willed the tears to cease.

Trudy turned in her seat and took Emma's hand
in hers, gently patting it. "Do not lie to me, sweet Emma. I've
known you far too long for that. What is troubling you? Are you sad
you cannot come to the ball? If I asked father…"

"No," Emma said louder than she'd meant. She
removed her hand from Trudy's quickly and nearly knocked her over
in her haste. When she faced her again, Trudy's eyes were wide in
surprise. Emma couldn't blame her. She hadn't told Trudy her
thoughts, so she had had no idea what had been going on in her head
while she'd rambled on about the coming Season and the handsome
Lord Waverly she'd hoped to dance with. Though, when she'd spoken
of Lord Waverly, it was with a sullen whisper.

"No," Emma said a little more calmly, wiping
her hands on one of the insufferable white aprons Mr. Dodsworth
insisted she and Elizabeth wear. "It is not that. I promise you.
Though I would love to attend your first ball, I understand why I
can't. If things were different…"

Trudy stood with a sad smile on her face.
Again, she took Emma's hand firmly and bent down so she was at
eyelevel with her maid. "Emma Rose Hartwell, you are my dearest
friend, and it does bother me that you have to work for my father,
and it absolutely kills me that my
friend
cannot attend my
coming out party or share the Season with me. It isn't fair."

Emma appreciated Trudy's words, but she knew
the ways of the world. Though of noble blood, the daughter of a
baron, she was a maid paying for her father's debts. She could not
attend the ball without scandal, and she would not wish that on her
friend. She would not wish scandal on anyone.

Five years ago, scandal rocked her home in
Enhurst, and she refused to live though those times again. "It
really is alright. I promise. Soon, the Season will start and you
will find a suitor. Or several. Maybe even the Lord Waverly you go
on and on about. You will forget all about me."

Trudy's cheeks blushed, and she held on to
Emma's hands tighter. "While Lord Waverly is a dream of a
gentleman, I daresay I will never have him. Not if my father has
anything to do with it. Besides, never in my life will I forget
you, Emma."

She let the words sink in. No, she would not
cry again. "And in a few days I will have paid my father's debt to
your father and will be on my way home. So, you see? We both have
things to look forward to."

"Still doesn't mean it is fair. I will miss
you when you go." Trudy leaned over and hugged her tightly. Outside
of that room, it would have appeared strange, even scandalous for a
lady to hug her servant. Such behavior was not acceptable. But in
Trudy's room, it was a friend hugging a friend.

For a brief few seconds, Emma did not worry
about what the outside world thought of her. The only thing that
mattered: Trudy, a girl she had shared dolls with and had pretend
tea parties way past the age acceptable for young girls to play in
such a way. A girl, who, late at night, after everyone else had
gone to bed, had snuck into Emma's room and taught her the lessons
Trudy's tutors had given her during the mornings. Emma wagered
there wasn't another maid in Darenset as educated as she. A fact
she cherished.

"I will miss you too." Emma pushed her friend
back gently and studied her face. In the five years she had known
her, Trudy had changed from a gangly child into a sophisticated
woman. After a fortnight, she likely would never see her again, and
it broke Emma's heart, but she was more than ready to begin a new
time in her life. "But we have to finish getting you ready. You
have a ball to attend."

Trudy took her handkerchief and dabbed the
wetness under her eyes. "That I do."

"Let's get you ready, Gertrude Dodsworth. The
world is waiting for you, and I shall want to hear every
detail."

When Ash Falls

London Fairy Tales, Book 4

PROLOGUE

Ash didn't want to
remember her this way. Her beautiful face, so often lit with a
breathtaking smile, was now cold and dead.

The first time he'd seen her, he had thought
she was an angel, and he'd said that very thing under his breath
when she had made her debut that season…

"Beautiful," he murmured as Lucy took a turn
about the room, gaining introductions to all the available
gentlemen who came her way. Taking an earth-shattering breath, the
kind that every man took when he was about to approach a beautiful
woman, he made his way over to her.

Music faded into the background with each
step. All Ash was aware of was the clicking of his boot against the
floor as he progressed toward the beauty. One dance… if only she
would give him one dance, he would secure her hand forever. He knew
it in his heart, in his soul. She was meant to be his.

Heart beating out of his chest, he could
barely contain his excitement as she lifted her eyes and met his
gaze. Blue eyes twinkled in his direction, and then she lifted her
hand in a wave. A wave? Something was wrong. Ash paused and then
glanced self-consciously over his shoulder. There was no one but
him, and then he gazed back at her. She crooked her finger,
beckoning him forward.

Completely under her spell, he couldn't deny
her any more than he could cease from taking his next breath.
Finally, he stood before her, at least a foot taller than she.

"Where have you been, you rogue?" She
swatted him on the arm and gave him a coy laugh. "I have been
looking everywhere for you!"

"For me?" Ash questioned. "Are you certain
we have met?"

"Must you always joke at such serious
times?" The girl laughed again, and he was caught at the sight of
her dimples as they danced along her cheeks. Carefree. She appeared
so carefree, so perfect, un-weighted by the things of this world,
by the responsibility and darkness, by disappointment. He tilted
his head and then reached out to touch her — perhaps she truly was
a dream. And then a voice broke out into the pounding in his
ears.

"Ah, sweetheart, you've met my brother."
Hunter stepped beside the girl and wrapped his arm around her.