Meg rolled her eyes at him. “We do more than gossip. And the reason you may wish to stay is that someone you like will be there.”
He shook his head in confusion. “Someone I like? You?”
“No. Emma Liston,” Meg said, laughing as she exited the room and left James alone with her parting words. He leaned back in his chair, staring after her.
Emma Liston. It had been two days since he last saw her at Lord and Lady Rockford’s Season opening ball. He’d been trying hard to get her out of his mind ever since. It was a funny thing that she kept popping into his head. She wasn’t at all his type and he hardly ever thought much of one woman over another.
“It is likely because she saw Mother at her worst and offered kindness,” he muttered, looking back down at the ledger before him. Now the numbers swam and he could hardly recall what he was doing before Meg came in and distracted him.
Certainly it wasn’t thoughts of Emma Liston that did that. Certainly not. Nor was she the reason that this chore to go say hello to Meg’s guests suddenly seemed less irritating.
No. Not at all.
As the carriage rounded the last bend onto the drive at the Duke of Abernathe’s London estate, Emma swallowed hard and tried to maintain some small semblance of calm. It wasn’t easy when across from her, Mrs. Liston was talking on and on, just as she had been since they left their home nearly half an hour before.
“You should try to sit next to Lady Margaret,” her mother said.
Emma shook her head. “Mama, I’m certain there will be seating arrangements made and more important guests will be seated next to Meg—Lady Margaret.”
Her mother’s eyes lit up in triumph. “Well, make sure you talk to her for as long as you can, regardless. She could be your champion.”
Emma gripped her hand on the carriage seat. “Mama, I don’t want to use—”
“Posh!” her mother interrupted, waving one hand wildly. “Of course you should use this connection. It could be your saving grace.”
“Please, Mama,” Emma whispered, exhaustion washing over her in one long wave. “Just,please.”
The carriage stopped before they could continue the argument and her mother shot her one more pointed glare before she was helped from the carriage by a footman. Emma smoothed her skirts, tried to calm her suddenly racing heart, and followed Mrs. Liston out of the vehicle.
As she looked up at the fine home, she was surprised as Meg, herself, stepped from the front door and waved at them from the top step.
Mrs. Liston grabbed Emma’s arm and all but dragged her up to the top, chattering all the time.
“Lady Margaret!” she called out. “How lovely of you to invite us. You know how Emma cherishes your friendship, we are so pleased.”
Emma’s cheeks flared with heat at her mother’s over-solicitous words. She cast Meg a quick look but found the other woman didn’t look irritated by the silliness of her guest.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” Meg said, reaching out to catch Emma’s hand for a brief squeeze. “Hello, Emma.”
“My lady,” Emma said softly, reverting back to correct formality for this public setting as she met Meg’s stare.
For a flash she saw understanding in her eyes. A bond made by mothers who humiliated their daughters, though in very different ways. And for the first time that day, she drew a full breath and calmed a little.
“You two are our last arrivals,” Meg said, sliding an arm through Emma’s. “So I shall escort you back to the veranda myself.”
Emma gasped in horror at that statement. Her mother had forced her to change three times, then ultimately had her put on the first dress she’d started with, a yellow gown with blue flowers stitched through the bodice. Of course, that was why they had run late.
“I’m so sorry to delay the party,” Emma gasped.
Meg shook her head. “Gracious, it’s fine. Truly, the previous guest only arrived five minutes ago, so you are not so very tardy. And I’m pleased that our group is now complete.”
As she spoke, she took them through a beautiful parlor and out a set of open French doors onto a veranda. Emma couldn’t help it. She came to a sudden stop as she looked across the beautiful space.
It was wide and broad with lattices strewn with flowering vines. From this vantage point one could see the sprawling garden behind the estate manor, complete with a rose maze and a huge gazebo off in the distance. There was a fountain in the middle of it all, where a stone lady dressed in flowing Grecian robes poured a never-ending pitcher of water while white angels lifted their hands to catch the liquid.
“Isn’t it lovely?” Meg said with a wide smile. “It is one of my favorite places in all the world.”
Emma nodded, all but speechless. Then she found herself moving forward as Meg pulled her into the center of the veranda. A dozen tables had been set there, with white table clothes and beautiful floral arrangements in the center of each. They were full now with finely dressed ladies chatting and smiling. Emma saw a few look toward her with surprise. Of course they would be surprised—she was never invited to such events.
