Emilia let go of Michale's hands.
"I have to go play now. Farewell my lady!" he said, smirking and kissing her hand. Emila laughed and turned to walk to a corner of the room, only to be stopped by her mother.
"Were just dacing with Michael?" she hissed, while grabbed her wrist. Emilia rolled her eyes and looked back at Michael, who was staring at her.
"Yes mother i was."
"I told you not too! Do you know what his reputation is?" she boomed when they were in the hall way.
"His can't be worse than Mr. Price's...oh excuse Owen." she said, mocking his disgustingly low voice. Her mother glared at her and set down her glass.
"Emilia, lissten to me. Let me make myself perfectly clear. Are you listening? Good....Michael, will not, and shall not, be your husband. He is a mucisian. A rouge. A rake. I refuse to let you marry someone like him, of his kind. Mr. Price however is of rich family. He knows what it's like to be a gentle man. You will dance with him, you will smile, and by the end of the night, i want him to be thinking of engagment. Even if i have to force you two together I don't want to hear another word of this Michael character! Do i make myself clear?!" she said.
Emilia stared at her mother, her graying hair and wrinkles.
"But mother, I love Michael. Isn't that enough?" she whispered. As emilia said this, she realized that this was true. She saw her mother's face soften, just a little.
"Emilia, dear. Michael is a fantasy. Mr. Price is real." she said, and walked away.