London, England.Present-day, May 1831.EMILY BERTRAM felt tears burn the back of her eyes, as she watched the last man she had pinned all her hopes on, take his newly betrothed, to the dance hall. It was official now. She was going to die an old maid, without even being kissed before.The young woman was already three and twenty and she was yet to find a husband. She was practically on the shelf. One more year, and she would be firmly on the shelf.Mayhap, she could be a great aunt to her brothers' children if they ever got around to marrying one, the young woman thought. But then her lips wobbled, and tears threatened to spill. She wanted to cry out in hysteria, she wanted to sob. She didn't want to be any great aunt, first, she wanted to have her own children and she wanted to be loved. Was that too much to ask?The young woman clenched her eyes in pain and folded her lips into her mouth. She had always tho
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