Emily paced around her bedroom, holding up various dresses. She felt agitated, frustrated.

Today, she was expected to appear at Bridgerton house for tea and she had spent all morning fussing over what dress to wear.

There was a light tap at her door, and Emily called for them to come in. Anna, her lady's maid, quickly entered the room, pausing at the frantic look on Emily's face.

"Still not decided then, Miss?" She asked.

Emily shook her head, holding up an emerald green tea dress in front of her mirror. She knew that jewel colours looked good on her, but nothing seemed right for today.

"If I may," Anna started, hesitantly, "Is everything okay? Only, I've been your maid these past two years, and I've never seen you work yourself up like this before."

Emily paused. She knew she had not been herself since she arrived in England. Sighing in frustration, she perched on the end of her bed, looking up helplessly at Anna.

"You are right. I have not felt myself. The rules are so much different than I expected them to be.

"Back home, I was to entertain; to be witty and charming and know at least something of the world.

"Here, it seems women are expected to be seen and not heard. A pretty charm on their husband's arm." Emily took a deep breath and Anna nodded.

"Downstairs is different too," Anna told her. "They are so rigid in how things are done - I have had to learn almost everything anew."

Emily was glad to hear she was not alone in her struggles.

"I am sorry we ended up here, Anna." Emily sighed. Maybe if she had not been so stubborn back home, she would have her own home in the city she grew up in.

"I think…" Anna started, but never finished. Emily nodded, looking up at her. "I think maybe we need to just be ourselves again."

Emily pondered that.

Back home, she had been a constant social fixture for her ability to hold a conversation without judgement. She had a wonderful group of friends who all supported one another.

Maybe that had been the issue here - she lacked a close female companion to tell her how all the men were ridiculous and not worth the concern.

Emily stood to her feet, settling on a light blue dress instead. She grew tired of pretending to be someone she was not. It was time for her to be her real self.

Standing outside the Bridgerton home, she almost lost her nerve. The large red-brick building commanded centre stage around the square. Beautiful purple wisteria grew up the front of the building, making it almost seem like a home from a fairy tale.

Taking a breath, Emily and Anna, who had chaperoned her to the home, walked up to the front door.

She was greeted by a footman, and directed towards a grand foyer. As a maid stepped forward to take her cloak and gloves, Anna was led presumably towards the kitchen with the other staff.

Emily surreptitiously glanced around the grand room. Before her was a magnificent staircase, which separated into two directions. An open doorway to her right seemed to lead toward an office of sorts. The footman guided her to her left, where she was shown into the drawing room.

Filled with women, Emily smiled and released the last of the tension she did not know she had still been holding on to.

Mrs Bridgerton rose from her seat, clasping Emily's hands in her own. The smile was genuine and she felt glad she had come.

"Miss Hawthorn, I am so pleased you could join us." leading the way to a seating area, Emily took her place at the edge of the nearest sofa.

"This is my daughter Eloise, recently returned from Scotland. My very good friend Lady Danbury. Mrs Ainsley and her daughter, Miss Lily Ainsley. And Lady Holden and her daughter Miss Georgiana Holden." Emily nodded to them all as she was introduced.

Lady Danbury stared shrewdly at her, sizing her up.

"So you are the girl from the colonies." It was a statement, not a question.

"Former colonies, yes. Now our very own country, where all men are viewed as equal."

"So you have come to revolutionise our way of living then?"

"Just the women - we still have some ground to make up." Lady Danbury barked a laugh.

Turning to Lady Bridgerton, she smiled. "I like her."

"You live with your aunt and uncle now?" Lady Bridgeton asked.

"I do - my late father's sister and her husband." Emily willed the lump in her chest to leave, a sudden wave of sadness washing over her.

Lady Bridgerton changed the subject, focusing her attention on the young Miss Ainsley's recent proposal and Emily was grateful.

The chatter continued and Emily tried to join in where possible. Drinking the amber tea, she was surprised at its rather bitter taste. In America, it was more fashionable to drink the green leaves imported from China, rather than these brown ones - although the older generation did still enjoy the traditional cups.

Emily let her mind wander, making a mental note to try to find a tea house which could import the green version she was accustomed to, when a familiar voice from behind her made her head snap up.

"Good afternoon, mother, ladies. I thought I might quickly say hello." Benedict stood to the side of her, his imposing figure seemly taller now that Emily was seated.

"More like beg some biscuits from us," his mother chastised warmly.

Benedict offered a crooked smile, saying "Well, since you have now mentioned it." He took the cup his mother offered, and looked not very subtlety around the circle of ladies in front of him.

Emily could not miss the small spark of surprise that crossed his face to see that she now returned his gaze.

"Miss Hawthorn, how lovely to see you again."

"Mr Bridgerton."

"And how lovely to hear that voice of yours. The last time we met, you seemed more pensive." Emily paused for just a moment.

"My apologies, sir. My cousin's ball had left me weary. It has been some time since I attended such a social gathering, and I had quite forgotten how much energy they require."

"Ah so you find balls tiring?"

"I did not say that."

"Just your cousin's ball then?"

"Sir, you misrepresent me." They smiled at each other a moment, before Emily continued. "Tiring is trying to get through Lord Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage without sighing myself into breathlessness. Tiring is a 25-day voyage across the ocean. Tiring is having a young man attempt to place words into my mouth which I did not speak. But no, I do not find balls tiring."

Benedict tilted his head to the side and Emily was not sure she could understand the meaning.

"So," he said after a moment, "You are not an admirer of Lord Byron?" Emily laughed.

"I am not an admirer of idol young men." They stared at each other in silence for a moment, before Lady Bridgerton cleared her throat.

"Yes, well, more tea anyone?"

Benedict remained only a few minutes longer before excusing himself and Emily had to admit she was relieved.

While a small spark of pride pulsed through her veins at her return to form, she had not enjoyed the way in which he looked at her.

Well, she had enjoyed it. She just knew no good would come from it.

After a further hour in the company of the women, the party began to disperse. Emily asked that Anna be told she was ready to leave, and a footman disappeared to fetch her cloak and gloves.

She stood alone in the foyer, waiting for both to return, when the door to her left opened.

"Miss Hawthorn. You are leaving?" Benedict stood in the doorway, a folder in his hands.

"Indeed."

"So if you do not admire Byron, tell me, who do you admire?" The question caught Emily off-guard. It was as if they had been continuing a conversation she had not been present for.

"Truthfully, I do not admire much of the poets. My father encouraged me to read more practical books, while I leaned towards the works of fiction."

"A fan of Ms Radcliffe?" He asked, teasingly, as Emily picked through the books.

"Well it is no Margot la Ravaudeuse but I do enjoy her works."

There was a silence which followed, causing Emily to look up at Benedict. His eyes were wide with surprise.

"You have read Monbron's works?" Emily could feel the blush creeping up her neck as she looked away.

The novel was a sheer scandal, so of course all her friends had shared the book amongst themselves. Emily had even replaced the cover with another, so scared she might be caught.

Benedict moved towards her, closing the distance between them.

"And which part of that book was your favourite? Maybe you felt horror when the madam was forced to strip in front of a man. Or did you enjoy it when the reverend…" His voice trailed off, allowing Emily to remember the scene from the book.

The madam had taken refuge in the church, with a man who had lusted after her. There was one particular passage where he had gripped her thigh, his hand slowly making its way up her leg.

The distance between the pair was almost closed now, Benedict having continued to walk towards her while she was lost in thought.

She realised they were both breathing heavily, faces slightly flushed as though they had been running. Looking up into Benedict's eyes, she noticed flecks of gold around the iris, which had doubled in size. Excited. She realised he was excited.

Emily was not sure she had ever been this close to a man before. Certainly not while they were alone.

A strange feeling began to grow in her stomach. A sort of heat which spread out towards her hips. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Her heart was racing so fast, she was sure he could hear it. She wanted to touch him. His face, his hands, the pulse beating rapidly on his neck.

Benedict began to move his hand towards her face, when there was a small cough by the door.

They both turned sharply to see Anna standing, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

He stood back immediately. Emily almost walked towards him again, missing his closeness. But she stayed, frozen to the spot, unsure what had just passed between them.

Benedict reached for a book behind her, saying "I think you will enjoy this. Let me know your thoughts."

He nodded to her, leaving the room quickly.

So lost in thought, Emily was not even sure how she got home.