Upon her return, she passed by rows of stores with glass displays. Confectioners made her stop to inhale the luscious scent of fresh chocolates, while the hot, delicious smell of pastries emerged from a nearby bakery.
But it was the fruiterer who tempted her the most. Behind a large glass-window display of pineapples, figs, and grapes, she spied baskets of fresh strawberries.
Oh, heaven. She imagined a strawberry shortcake, with the juicy berries soaking into the cake, topped with cream. It took only moments to part with the coins. Likely she could have gotten a better price at Cheapside, had she bargained for them. But she wanted to remain in Mayfair where it was safer.
Outside, she strolled along the street before a male voice shouted a warning. Horses reared, and her footman pulled her out of harm’s way.
The driver gained control of the animals and pulled the carriage to a halt. Someone bumped into the footman, and he knocked Emily into a patch of heavy mud.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Lady Whitmore.” The footman turned crimson with shame, assisting her to her feet while the other servant collected her purchases.
A well-dressed gentleman emerged from the carriage. “By Jove, it’s Miss Barrow. What on earth are you doing here?”
Emily flushed as she saw Mr. Freddie Reynolds. Freddie was a peacock of a man, but he had a decent heart. A few years ago, Daniel had permitted her to attend a family gathering at the Reynolds’s country estate. Afterwards, Freddie had made Emily the object of his worship. He never failed to send tokens of his affection, a gesture that touched her though she had no feelings toward him.
“Miss Barrow, I am devastated by the accident. No amount of apology is sufficient. Please allow me to escort you home.”
“No, really, I’m fine.” She tried to brush the mud from her gown, but it only made matters worse.
“My dear Miss Barrow, it would delight me no end to have you call me Freddie.”
Emily was not at all comfortable with the idea. It would only start up the courtship again. And now that she was married, he needed to understand that it would be entirely inappropriate. “Mr. Reynolds, thank you, but I…believe you may not have heard of my recent nuptials. I am Lady Whitmore now.”
“Really.” His voice transformed with a hint of irritation. “I hadn’t heard.”
Her cheeks flooded with color, and she managed to nod. “Yes. Well, I really must be going now. It was a pleasure to see you again.”
Freddie’s face became a mask, as if he’d suddenly realized the angry tone. “Forgive me. It was rather a shock to hear of your marriage.”
With a warm smile, he opened the door to his barouche and bowed. “Please. Since it was my fault you fell into the mud, you must allow me to make amends.”
“I do not wish to soil the inside of your carriage.” She held up her muddy skirts. “I had best walk home. It isn’t far.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it.” Freddie removed his cloak and set it upon the seat beside him. “There. Your throne awaits, my lady fair.”
He wasn’t going to relent. Though she winced at the thought of leaving muddy traces upon the fine cloak, another refusal might cause greater embarrassment.
She decided there could be no harm in accepting a ride, so she gathered up her purchases. One of the footmen rode with the driver as an escort, while she sent the other man home.
“Seeing you again does my heart good,” he insisted. “The beauty of your perfect face and the sweetness of your deportment have haunted my dreams.”
Emily nearly choked. She doubted if her husband would call her deportment sweet. And hadn’t Freddie heard her when she’d said she was married? What were his intentions?
“May I call upon you?” he asked. “I would cherish the pleasure of your company.”
Oh, no. That would not do at all. Not with her marriage in such a delicate state. The earl would be furious.
“Mr. Reynolds, I am flattered, but as a married lady, I—“
Freddie held up his hand. “I shall adore you from afar, then. Say no more, my lady.”
It wasn’t quite what she’d wanted, but she let it go. Freddie’s smile faded into melancholy a moment later. “I should like to extend my sympathies upon the loss of your brother.”
Emily nodded, feeling the familiar twinge of hurt when she thought of Daniel. “Thank you.”
“Were you—with him, the night he—?” Freddie’s voice broke off, embarrassed at his question.
Emily shook her head. “No. I found out when they brought his body, and…” She broke off, not wanting to remember. “I’d rather not speak of that night.”
