Emma made her way over to her study, clutching her stomach with her hands as she walked the short distance. She was blissfully married and expecting her first child. Her life was perfect. She twirled the rose she had just picked from the garden and raised it to her nose. She was glad she still loved the smell of flowers even now that she was pregnant. There were so many things she did not like anymore, but flowers were not among them.

Now she was pregnant and showing and was no longer supposed to be out in Society, taking long walks around the garden had become one of her favorite ways to pass the time. Realizing that, her husband had taken it upon himself to make sure that the gardens always looked beautiful for her.

Reaching the study, Emma sighed contentedly. Martin had arranged the tiny space for her so that she would have her own spot where she could sit and attend to the letters she received for her advice column. The Love Lady was much in demand, though Emma still kept her identity as its writer a secret. She ascribed the popularity of the column to the change she had implemented. No longer did she ask the senders to choose titles and wealth above love when that was their conundrum. In fact, she advised them to go for love. Love had worked for her, and she knew it would be the same with everyone.

Emma wanted everyone to feel the love she enjoyed. The world would be better for it if everyone was in love and happy, she now believed.

Emma sighed and sat, her legs on the tiny stool Martin had placed there just for that purpose. Her feet were becoming more painful with each inch her belly grew, but she was simply not ready to lay down. She knew if it was up to Martin, she’d spend the entire day in bed, eating her meals and writing her letters there.

She reflected on how amusing Martin was. He was adoring, which she appreciated, but she wished he didn’t worry so much. She remembered trying to pick up a tiny box addressed to her to see what was inside, and Martin running in, yelling at her to drop it because it was too heavy for her to lift. Emma simply rolled her eyes at him and shook the box with one hand to demonstrate how light it was. Instead of being appeased, he had frowned at her and warned her that she might pick up a heavy box by mistake one day, hurting herself and the baby.

Emma and their mothers both thought his behavior was sweet but also ridiculous. They had made fun of him numerous times, and they had tried to convince him that he didn’t need to worry so much, and that she wouldn’t be hurt by going for a walk or lifting light weights, but Martin refused to listen. They had finally reached an agreement; she could continue her strolls and work in the study answering letters, but she couldn’t do anything else. Emma laughed at him, but she was relieved that he was concerned about her and the baby, as were their mothers.

Emma smiled and picked up a letter, ready to tackle the problems of the day.

Dear Love Lady,

I have been an avid reader of your column, quite content in reading the stories of others and the advice you give to them. But now I have found myself in a situation, and I need your advice.

There is a gentleman who has caught my interest, and I would like to get to know him better. However I am not like most ladies for I am far too spirited, and I have noticed that he is far too shy to know what to do with me. As such, it has been an obstacle to our getting to know one another. I never thought I would ever like such a man. He is respectable, quiet, and responsible, all of which are the exact opposite of me. My worry is that he is too shy, and I am uncertain of how things would work out between us because of how different we are. Do you think it could work? I am at a loss as to what to do and whether to proceed or not. Please, help me. I never thought I would ever fall in love like this…

Fiery Princess

Emma was surprised as she read the letter. She had received a lot of letters since starting the column, but there had not been one quite like this. The majority of the women who wrote were mostly concerned as to whether to marry someone with a title or someone they loved. It was the way of their world, and Emma had come to accept it. Yet, there were rare occasions where she got letters that were not really focused on a man’s title or status and were actually matters of the heart. But none of them had even been as moving as the letter Emma currently had in her hands.

She stared at the letter and reread it. This lady didn’t seem to care about the man’s title, but she did want to get to know him and have a meaningful connection with him. Emma was thrilled to respond. She jumped at the chance to write about something new, which she had always wanted to do.

She dipped her pen in the inkpot, ready to start writing, but as soon as she touched the pen to the paper, she realized she couldn’t think of anything to say. It had never happened before, except when she was going through her emotional turmoil over her wedding to Jeffrey. She had always been able to simply read a letter and write down a response immediately after.

She stared down at the paper for several minutes. While she struggled to gather her thoughts, an ink blot had formed where the pen touched the paper. This was a strange case, and she was determined to solve it. Who was this lady, and who was this man she clearly cared about but was concerned she wouldn’t be a good match for?

Emma wished for the first time that the Love Lady wasn’t anonymous. Maybe if she saw the lady, who might point out the gentleman in question, she’d have time to study the two of them and see if they were an unlikely couple or if there was some spark between them.

Emma sighed and replaced the pen in the inkpot. She picked up the rose she had placed on her table and sniffed it. Maybe if she thought about it without distraction, she would come up with a good solution. Emma was still pondering the matter when Martin walked in, holding a tray in his hands.

As soon as she saw him, her mouth watered. She did not know if it was because of him or what he had on the tray, and it did not matter. They were both equally appealing to her, although she would take the man over the tray and its contents any day.

“Now, there is my beautiful wife,” he said, smiling at her as he made his way over to her. “I’ve brought you something.”

Emma shook her head in amusement. He had begun the tradition of bringing food to her wherever she was ever since she had complained of being hungry these days. She kissed him on the cheek, and he bent down to kiss her on the belly. There was always a kiss for two. One for her and one for the baby.

“You know, with you always bringing me food to eat, I think you should be prepared for all the weight I will have amassed after the baby comes out,” she said, only half joking. She feared she would be as big as a house if he continued feeding her the way he did. At just five months pregnant, she still had four more months to go before she took to the birthing bed.

“Too much weight? There is no such thing. You are perfect just the way you are, and I will love you no matter what. Besides, your body is carrying a life, so it is only fair that I get to nourish it. And when you have had the baby, you will still be the perfect queen who carried my child for nine months. I promise you, darling, you gaining weight is not a concern of mine.” He kissed her on the lips in a manner that had her swooning.

Considering how long they had been together, Emma would have thought she would have gotten used to it and it would not affect her as it still did, yet whenever her lips touched his, she felt the current running through her body.

She opened her eyes, feeling pleasantly dazed, and saw him smiling at her. The charmer. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Now, eat please,” he said, still wearing his beautiful smile. Emma nodded her head obediently and picked up a biscuit. She bit into it and moaned at how good it was, so soft, warm, and buttery. It melted in her mouth. She looked up at a still grinning Martin.

“Here, drink this,” he said, holding out a cup of her favorite sweet tea. Emma held it to her nose and breathed in the cinnamon in it. She had been craving cinnamon since getting pregnant.

“What would I do without you?” she asked before taking a sip.

“You like it? I had Cook make it for you, and I made sure she made the biscuits extra buttery, just the way you like them. I am going to tell her to only make it like this for you now.” He pecked her cheek lightly once more. “I like making you happy. I vowed to always make you happy, and that is exactly what I am doing.”

Martin waited for her to finish eating, and then he set the tray outside by the door, ringing the bell for a servant to come get it.

“So, what were you doing before I came in?” he asked as he sauntered back to her side.

“Oh, well, I got this letter today, and it is different from all the others I have had so far,” she said, handing it to him. She watched as he quickly read through it.

“Hmm. This looks like another interesting case,” he said when he was done reading.

“Do you want help me to figure it out?”

“Of course, my love,” Martin said, and kissed her again.

The End

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