Emma’s heart jumped to double time. “Such news” didn’t sound like a good thing. Her father’s plans and schemes never worked out, and she and her mother would be left gathering up the pieces in the end.
As always.
“What news?” Emma managed to squeak out.
Her father patted her cheek, then looked past her to James. He glared at the duke and Emma’s stomach turned. Leave it to her father to force himself into someone else’s home, then dare to be offended that he wasn’t welcomed.
“I’m famished and I have not exactly been met with politeness in this house. I assume you have quite the spread for your guests, eh, Abernathe?”
“Quite,” James said back, his tone clipped and dangerous.
Her father didn’t seem to care, for he clapped his hands together. “Most excellent. Then let us eat before I tell you the good news. Come, my love.”
He caught her mother’s arm and guided her from the room. Emma could hear her tittering as they left, and shut her eyes with a long sigh.
“Emma,” James whispered.
She spun around. “Perhaps you are correct in your low assessment of love, James. Look at what a fool it makes my mother.”
“I want to help,” he said.
She shrugged. “So you keep saying, but in this case there is nothing you can do. He is here now and…and likely all is lost. I should have been more focused. I should have tried harder. I shouldn’t have gotten caught up in—” She cut herself off and shook her head, not daring to look at James now. “It doesn’t matter.”
She said nothing else and left the room. James let her do so, following behind her without a word, just his presence.
And it comforted her even though she knew he could do nothing for her now.
They entered the breakfast room, which was buzzing with talk and laughter from the guests as they perused the offerings on the sideboard and sat together chatting and drinking tea or coffee.
But as Mrs. Liston entered with her arm locked through her husband’s, the conversation stopped and all eyes turned to the couple. Emma could hardly breathe as she watched her mother beam with what looked like genuine happiness and coo, “And look who has joined our happy party—my husband, Mr. Liston.”
“Quite a crowd, Abernathe,” Mr. Liston said with a laugh as he entered the room and drew his wife to the sideboard. Emma caught him looking at the women in attendance, saw him sizing them up.
She shook her head. Some things never changed.
James moved past her into the breakfast room and she felt him subtly draw his hand across her back as he did so. The warmth of his fingers as they brushed her spine made her sink momentarily into his comfort.
But then he was gone, talking to those in the room, obviously trying to divert some attention from the return of her wayward and publicly troubled father. She appreciated the effort, though it clearly did no good. As she entered the room, she felt the eyes on her. She heard the little whispers.
Though she wasn’t hungry, she joined her parents at the sideboard and dished herself a small plate, then moved to the table. Meg was sitting at one end and motioned to her, so Emma followed the directive and sat beside her friend. Beneath the table, Meg threaded her fingers into Emma’s and squeezed gently. Yet another place of support to be found in this family.
One she would lose if her father destroyed her at last.
Mr. Liston set both his plate and her mother’s down and flopped into a chair just a few places down from Emma’s. He began talking—too loudly, as always—and her heart sank.
“Chin up,” Meg whispered. “It’s always best to pretend you don’t even notice the humiliation.”
Emma shot her a look, thinking of that night at the ball when the Duchess of Abernathe had been so very drunk. Of course Meg understood what she was going through. Slowly she straightened in her chair and smiled at her friend.
She was going to get through this with her dignity intact, even if her social standing at last collapsed completely at her feet. Dignity had value.
“And what brought you as such a late addition to our party, Mr. Liston?” the duchess was asking as she heavily sugared a cup of coffee and drank it with a heavy sigh.
He grinned and his gaze flashed toward Emma. “I have news for Emma. Good news, in fact. And what better time to share it?”
James speared him with a glare. “Perhaps your news would better be given to your daughter in private, Liston.”
The crowd bounced their attention from Emma’s father to James in a heartbeat, then back to Mr. Liston as they awaited the response to the duke’s quiet admonishment.
