With careful steps, Emilia crossed as far as the end of the settee. Lady Cinthia’s cloying perfume filled her nostrils. Emilia didn’t know where to look. Though she felt it impossible the other woman knew of Viscount Dunreid’s kiss, his determination to make her his mistress, and the very expensive gift in the satchel she clutched to her side, guilt and shame prevented her from meeting Lady Cinthia’s eyes. Emilia couldn’t very well stare anywhere lower, though. After a few glances, she settled on a spot over the woman’s left shoulder.
A sigh escaped the viscountess. “You’re a buxom little thing, aren’t you?”
Was she supposed to reply to that?
“Not what I imagined at all,” Lady Cinthia continued. “Although I suppose some men find a lack of sophistication attractive, in a tawdry sort of way.”
Emilia’s face grew hot. How much of her husband’s plans did the viscountess know? “I beg your pardon, my lady?”
“Why? Have you done something that requires my pardon?”
Emilia yanked her gaze to meet the woman’s stare. “Oh no. Of course not. I wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Blue eyes narrowed. “Tell me, then, what am I to think when my husband comes to breakfast with a black eye? Then, when I have him followed, as any good wife would, he goes to the most expensive jeweler in town, picks out a costly trinket, and has the shop owner send the bauble here, to you. A gift like that is only given for unpardonable things.”
“Oh, but I didn’t do anything,” Emilia cried. She dropped to the settee, satchel clutched before her. “I really didn’t. Viscount Dunreid tried...that is, he may have asked…but maybe I misconstrued. I must have, of course.” Shut your mouth, Emilia, she railed in her head. You don’t tell a woman that her husband is trying to have an affair with you, especially not a powerful socialite who could see you run out of town.
“What did my husband ask?” Lady Cinthia’s tone was icy.
Emilia shook her head. “Nothing.”
“And you refused him this nothing?”
Hesitantly, Emilia nodded.
Lady Cinthia snapped to her feet. Back straight, she paced away, then spun to face Emilia. “You fool girl, that’s the worst thing you could have done. Ailbeart loves the hunt. How do you think I ended up with such a wealthy, titled, self-proclaimed bachelor? All of London told him I was the one woman he would never win.” She aimed another glare at Emilia. “If you’d simply given in to him, he would have moved on and I would be the one receiving gifts, by way of apology, as it should be.”
So, she was to blame, for not permitting Viscount Dunreid to have his way with her? The unfairness of Lady Cinthia’s logic stung. Emilia wrenched open her satchel and pulled out the box. She proffered the unwanted gift. “You take this, then. It should be yours. I want nothing to do with the viscount, or his gifts.”
Lady Cinthia eyed the box. Quick strides brought her back to the settee. She snatched the box from Emilia’s hand and open the lid.
“It’s hideous.” Lady Cinthia grimaced down at the pendant. “But I could have the stones reset into separate pieces.” She shoved the lid closed and leveled a contemplative look on Emilia. “I will take this.”
Emilia vented her relief in a long exhale. At least that was one trouble solved. “Please, my lady, I don’t want anything that’s yours. How can I…extricate myself from this?”
Derision shone in Lady Cinthia’s eyes. “I find that statement difficult to believe, Miss Glasbarr. Everyone wants something of mine, be it wealth, social advantage or a matter of the flesh.”
Emilia fended off a grimace at the woman’s vulgar words. “I assure you, I do not. I only want a husband and a small home, and I’ve made arrangements to seek those things. Why, this afternoon, I’m going for a ride in the park with Mister Banbrook to—”
“A ride in the park with Mister Banbrook?” Lady Cinthia snapped.
Too late, Emilia recalled there was some greater connection between the two than both being English. Lady Cinthia glowered at her for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed, to Emilia’s astonishment. When she lowered her chin, she leveled a hard, pity-filled look on Emilia.
“You’ll have no luck with Banbrook, my dear. He’s one who will never wed.” Her lips pulled into a smile, but her blue eyes were devoid of kindness. “You know Miss Kitty Thomas jilted him only last week? She was a smart girl, to see he was only leading her on.” She lowered her voice, conspiratorial. “He likes to engage himself to a girl so he can, shall we say, sample the wares, but he doesn’t mean to see the engagement through.”
Emilia gaped. Could that be true? Mister Banbrook hadn’t struck her that way at all. She shook her head in disbelief.
“Trust me. We were engaged for two years, back in London. Ask anyone.” Lady Cinthia’s parody of a smile was patronizing now.
Unsure what to make of such an accusation, Emilia blurted, “I thought you left him.” Hadn’t the viscount said something about Mister Banbrook being jilted yet again?
Lady Cinthia nodded. “I did. How long would you wait for a man to reach the altar?” She tapped the pendant box against her thigh in an agitated rhythm.
“I do no’ know,” Emilia murmured, thoroughly confused. She did know one thing, though, lady or no, wronged party or not, the viscountess seemed increasingly like a terrible person. One Emilia didn’t wish to spend further time with.
“Such an innocent.” Lady Cinthia shook her head. “It’s a shame you’ll have to grow out of that. I daresay your naivete is the sum of your appeal.” She looked Emilia up and down again, her expression one of distaste. “Certainly, your allure doesn’t stem from your overly-plump curves or straw-yellow hair.”
Emilia clutched her satchel close and hunched her shoulders in an effort to hide at least some of her distasteful curves. The viscountess’s words were ones she’d heard since the age of sixteen, but Emilia had no ready reply. She knew she was a plump little country mouse. That’s why she’d come to finishing school, to try to become suitable for city life.
Lady Cinthia shrugged, the gesture dismissing Emilia’s lack of worthiness as beneath her notice. “I can see myself out. Take my advice, return to wherever you came from before you become embroiled in a world you’re too simple to understand.” She strode to the door and stopped, back to Emilia. “I trust this is the last I’ll have to see or hear of you.”
Lady Cinthia swung open the door and swept gracefully from the room. Emilia remained hunched on the settee. Could the viscountess be right?
