“Really?” Gabby said with interest. “I’ve never been outside London. Papa owns a bank, you see, and he’s too busy to take me anywhere.”
“What about your mama?”
“She died in childbirth. The only things I have of her are a dowry and this.” Gabby tugged on a bright curl. “Unfortunately, carrots aren’t in fashion this Season. Or ever.”
“I think your hair is lovely and unique,” Emma said.
“Truly? You aren’t just saying that?”
“Not at all. As for fitting in, my papa said that the rarest of jewels shines the brightest.”
“My father says the nail that sticks out gets the hammer.”
“Ouch,” Emma said.
“Exactly.” Gabby sighed. “Unfortunately, it seems I can’t help but stick out no matter what I do. And tonight, especially. Not that I’m surprised—I’m more or less an act of charity.”
“How so?” Emma said curiously.
“Papa has a client—a gentleman of consequence—who owed him a favor.” Gabby wrinkled her nose. “Clearly it was abigfavor as the fellow had to secure a spot formeon the exclusive guest list. An invitation, however, is no guarantee of success. Papa will be quite disappointed when he discovers that I was not asked for a single dance.”
“Dancing isn’t all that it’s made out to be. My toes are still sore from being trod on.”
“You’re very kind. It would be nice, however, to have made some friends,” Gabby said wistfully. “You’re the first person who has spoken with me all evening.”
“Would you like to call upon me some afternoon?” Emma said on impulse. “I have sisters your age, and I have a feeling you will rub along famously with them.”
“Oh, I’d love to, ever so much.” Gabby’s blue eyes shone.
Emma fished a calling card from her reticule. “Here is my direction.”
“Dash it, I know I have mine in here somewhere…” Rummaging in her lumpy evening bag, Gabby triumphantly produced one bent-eared card.
As Emma was tucking the card away, a liveried footman came up to her.
“Pardon. Miss Kent?”
“That’s me,” Emma said in surprise.
“I was instructed to give you this, miss.”
She took the note from the footman’s salver and, unfolding it, read the succinct message.
Meet me in the gallery on the third floor.
There was no signature, but the slashing imperiousness of the handwriting gave away the identity of its sender and made her pulse race. Then she remembered what she had overheard earlier and, with a huff, wondered if she should go running to obey his grace’s command.
Apparently, he was all too used to having females at his beck and call.
“Is everything alright?” Gabby said.
“Yes. But I have to attend to something,” Emma said, sighing. “I shall see you soon, I hope?”
Gabby gave a merry nod. “You can count on it.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emma found the door to the gallery unlocked, her skirts whispering against the Aubusson runner as she entered the long rectangular room. Paintings framed in gilt lined the navy silk walls, and benches and curtained alcoves with window seats were conveniently placed for contemplation or conversation. The lush drapery and carpeting provided a hushed quality to the space, which was a welcome relief from the brouhaha of the ballroom downstairs.
