Phoebe sighed. “I’ve tried that one thrice—and twicewas enough to have Mama visit the shoemaker and cast aspersions upon the quality of his wares. I shouldn’t like to jeopardize the poor man’s business any further.”
“A fainting spell?” Diana offered, along with a plate of biscuits.
Phoebe shook her head. “Regrettably, Mama now carries a vinaigrette for just such a purpose. And the last time I feigned a faint, Mama summoned a doctor and I was forced to endure the application of leeches.”
“Dear me,” Emma sighed, forgetting her manners to rest her elbow upon the small table and tuck her chin into her hand. “Well, don’t fret over it. I don’t anticipate any bachelors, but should one slip through, we’ll think of something.”
Well, that wouldn’t do. Even if she did have the dearest, most loyal friends that were to be found in the whole of England, it would be impossible to get herself appropriately compromised under their careful watch. She ventured, “I don’t think such subterfuge will be necessary tomorrow evening.”
“Likely not,” Emma said. “But it’s always wisest to prepare for any eventuality. Lord Statham was not invited, but he’s been crass enough before to prevail upon the good manners of a hostess, or so I am told.”
“Not to worry,” Diana assured Phoebe. “We shall ensure that he doesn’t make it through the door should he have the gall to turn up uninvited.”
“I’m not concerned about Lord Statham,” Phoebe said. At least, she wasn’t any longer. Or she wouldn’t be, soon enough. “I only meant to say, if thereshouldbe a bachelor in attendance—”Blast.
“But there won’t be,” Lydia said crisply.
“But if thereshouldbe!” Phoebe threw up her hands in a surfeit of aggravation. “If thereshouldbe, then—then I don’t believe any extraordinary measures needs must be taken.”
A strange silence settled over the table in the wake of Phoebe’s pronouncement. “Phoebe,” Emma said at last. “Is there something you would like to share? Am I to be playing hostess to an unexpected guest?”
“An unexpectedgentlemanguest?” Diana inquired, blinking behind her spectacles.
“And a bachelor, at that,” Lydia added. “One you do not intend to dissuade?”
How was she meant to answer everything at once? “Not unexpected, exactly,” she prevaricated. Although perhaps he was, since he’d said he’d never attended before. Perhaps Emma had never truly expected him attend. “And yes, a bachelor.” But a gentleman? She doubted even he would lay claim to the title. “I mean to say—”
The fractious whimpering of an infant began as a distant sound, but Emma had been trained these last months to recognize immediately the sound of her small daughter, and her attention was instantly diverted to the doorway where, seconds later, her husband entered.
“Pardon my intrusion,” Rafe said apologetically as he bounced the small bundle in his arms in an attempt to soothe the baby from her discontent—without much success. “Only Mama will do, it seems.”
Thankfully, the piteous wail quieted the moment Emma took her daughter into her arms. “Oh, my poor darling,” she cooed down at the baby. “That new tooth must pain you something awful. Rafe, would you fetch her some ice wrapped in a cloth to chew?”
“Of course,” he said, but then Phoebe had the sneaking suspicion that he refused Emma nothing. “Oh—as I have gotyour attention for the moment, a bit of news. You’ll never guess who has accepted your invitation this time around.” With one hand he dug into the pocket of his waistcoat and retrieved a folded bit of paper. “It arrived perhaps ten minutes ago,” he said as he offered it to her.
Oh, dear.
With a deftness that suggested she had learned to manage rather a lot whilst holding a small child in her arms, Emma flicked the paper open with one hand and scanned the lines contained therein. Her brows rose, her mouth dropping open in pleased surprise. “Oh, how wonderful!” she said. “I always invite him, of course, but Kit has never once—”
And then the realization struck her. Her voice faded out into a stunned silence, and her gaze swung toward Phoebe with the weight of a cudgel. “Kit?” she inquired.
“Well—well—” Phoebe’s voice had emerged in shrill tones of encroaching panic. Desperately, she said, “He is notunexpected, exactly, is he?”
Into the stilted silence that followed, Rafe said, “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”
“I suspect we all have,” Lydia replied blandly. “Oh, this is going to be an interesting afternoon indeed.”
“Yes,” Diana agreed, shifting in her seat as she rubbed her hands together in a fashion that Phoebe could only consider wickedly gleeful. “Phoebe has got a great many questions to answer,” she said.
The worst sort of busybodies, they were, all three of them. But at least they were not gossips, and a woman had to take her blessings from whence they had come.
∞∞∞
“It’s too damned tight.” Chris fidgeted uncomfortably through Brooks’ attempts to make him presentable for Em’s ball. Why in the bloody damned hell did theToninsist upon stuffing themselves into clothing tight as sausage casings?
“It is the fashion,” Brooks said, a frown tugging at his lips as he worked to knot Chris’ cravat.
“Then the fashion is absurd. What need ‘ave I got for a collar that touches my ears?”
