She exited the carriage with a brief acknowledgment for James’s servant and then stretched her back. She was wearing a blue gown. It wasn’t anything fancy, not like some of the women who had stepped out in something fine to catch his eye. But the blue made Emma’s eyes seem more cerulean. The green hue there faded slightly.
“James,” Meg said, elbowing him in the side.
He blinked and found Mrs. Liston standing at the top of the steps, holding out her hand.
“Mrs. Liston,” he choked out. “Lovely to see you, welcome to our home. You already know Margaret, I know.”
Meg glared at him at his swift and dismissive welcome of the lady, and he heard her warmly making up for it with her own words as she introduced Mrs. Liston to their mother. James didn’t care. He stepped closer as Emma mounted the last few steps and held out a hand to her.
“Miss Liston,” he said.
She hesitated before she took his hand and let him help her to the landing. That hesitation was forever fascinating to him, for he’d never known another lady to be uncertain of him. But there was nothing reaching about Emma. Nothing grasping or false.
She didn’t chase him.
“Your Grace,” she breathed, then looked up at the house. “It is lovely.”
He found himself watching her face for too long a beat before he turned to examine the house. “It is. This place has always been my escape. Perhaps later I could take you on a tour of it.”
She jerked her gaze back to his face, and there was uncertainty in her expression. She didn’t get to respond, though, for Meg caught her arm and pulled her into a hug. Emma’s attention was taken then as the two young women began talking and laughing before Meg introduced Emma to their mother.
“Do you remember Miss Liston, Mother?” Meg asked when the formalities had been taken care of.
James watched the exchange carefully. Their mother had not had any recollection of her embarrassing display at the Rockford ball two weeks before. And she seemed to have no recognition of Emma as she stared blankly at her.
“I meet so many people,” Her Grace said. “Liston, is it?”
Emma nodded, and there was no flash of judgment across her face, no response beyond one anyone would have when meeting someone for the first time. She smiled and held out a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”
Their butler, Grimble, appeared from the foyer and Meg squeezed Emma’s shoulder briefly. “Go in, get settled. I’ll come up later and we can have a real chat.”
Emma nodded and then her gaze slid to James. She nodded slightly before her eyes darted away and she and her mother entered his home. He found himself catching his breath as she disappeared.
Meg turned toward him. “What is that expression?”
He blinked down at her. “Expression?”
Meg tilted her head. “Oh come, I know you too well. You look all…pinched. Do you not like Emma?”
He swallowed. “I think she’s…fine. I don’t really know her.”
“Well, I like her,” his sister insisted. “Soyouare going to have to like her, too. I think we could help her.”
James pinched his lips together. Help her? Yes, he had his own ideas about that subject. Ones Meg might not exactly approve of. But he hadn’t fully made a decision on that subject yet, so he merely nodded. “If she is your friend, she is my friend, I assure you.”
“Is that everyone then?” the duchess asked, annoyance thick in her tone.
Meg gave James a meaningful look before she turned back. “Yes, Mother. Emma and her mother were our last guests. We can go in.”
“Finally,” their mother muttered as she trudged up the stairs away from her children.
Normally James would have been more focused on his mother and her behavior, but today his mind turned to other thoughts. Thoughts of Emma Liston. And they were far more pleasant than any worries about the duchess and whether or not she would cause a scene over the next two weeks.
Emma smiled at Sally as her maid folded the last item into her drawer and straightened up to say, “Is there anything else I can do, miss?”
Emma shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I’ll rest a while. Grimble said supper would be at eight and I could use a moment.”
Sally gave her an understanding look. Though Emma, of course, never spoke of her frustrations with her mother, Sally certainly saw and heard things. And two days crammed in a carriage together likely made Emma’s difficulties clearer than usual.
