Well, he silently vowed, she would not escape him so easily—
“You best calm yourself, Emerson.” Amir’s quiet voice broke through, startling him. “You will give yourself an apoplexy.”
Emerson shot him a glance to see his lips slightly upturned. He had the right of it, considering his boiling blood. Emersonbreathed in through his nose and let out a long slow stream of air. It took another five minutes for his heart rate to simmer.
~~~
Inside the carriage, Rose contemplated Miss Macy’s twisting fingers. Her hands were chapped and rough, her nails chipped and etched with dirt beneath. The first thought through Rose’s mind was the girl’s need for gloves.Rose peeled off her own and set them across Inez’s hands. Her gaze whipped to Rose’s. Rose shook her head. “Put them on. I have many pairs. Your fingers must be chilled.”
“I-I couldn’t possibly, ma’am,” she whispered.
“I insist. Don’t be frightened, Inez. Nothing dire will happen, I promise you.”
Despite Rose’s assurances, Inez’s fingers trembled violently as she clutched the gloves between tightly clenched fingers.
Rose scoured her brain for something to say. For some inane subject to lessen Inez’s fear. “Can you read, dear?”
“Read?” The sound was another octave she thought Mr. Whitmore and his driver could hear over the horses’ hooves beyond the carriage doors.
“I-I just wondered,” she said, the familiar helplessness stealing through her.
“Per’aps ye should let me out ’ere, ma’am.”
Rose frowned. “It’s not a requirement, Inez. As I said, I just wondered. That’s all.” She was terrifying the chit. Oh, how Rose hated that about herself. Try as she might, she had no interpersonal skills whatsoever. When one considered Sebastian’s stoicism, Antonia’s obsession with her coming baby, Claire’s many absences in Society events of late, clearly it rendered Gabriella as the only creature of Society of the Ryleigh clan. Even Rebecca, Sebastian’s wife, had no patience for extraneous small talk.
Taking a deep breath, Rose gentled her tone. “The young women who live in the house I’m taking you to come from all walks of life.” She shook her head. “I’m not explaining very well, am I?” she said with a self-deprecating smile. “Never mind. I think you will fit in quite nicely. I wasn’t jesting when I said you would have a warm bed, food, and a new dress.”
Inez didn’t appear any more appeased, turning her gaze out the window without speaking.
Rose decided attempting to explain things further might only frighten the girl more than she already was. She would turn her over to Gabriella and Mrs. Kier, the housekeeper.
It seemed forever before they reached Hope Street. The journey couldn’t be over soon enough for Rose. It was only a few minutes later the hackney-looking carriage turned down the short drive to the aging brownstone, driving past the large oaks and few elms that framed the aging portico, before rolling to a halt.
Rose was tempted to throw open the door and jump down without awaiting the steps, but decorum reined in the impulse.
Emerson’s driver, a curious man she’d hardly noticed before now, had the door open and was soon leaning inside. His brown features were obscured within the darkness of the cab. “My lady?” he said, jarring her inattention.
“Yes, of course. Thank you.” Rose took his bared hand, which felt odd in her own. She stepped down and aside to wait on Inez.
The heavy door of Hope House swung wide, and Mrs. Kier peered out. “Another ’un, Lady Stanford?”
Rose glanced back at the carriage where Inez had yet to appear. “I’m not yet certain, Mrs. Kier.” She peered atop and was surprised to see that Mr. Whitmore was nowhere in sight.
Good heavens.Rose started around the carriage, but Miss Macy and Mr. Whitmore appeared around the boot of the conveyance. The first thing Rose noted were her white leathergloves now donned by Miss Macy’s roughened hands, and how she clutched Emerson’s arm. Emerson seemed unbothered by Inez’s clinginess, and Rose’s heart melted a little.
“There you are, Miss Macy. Come, you must meet Mrs. Kier and the other girls.”
Her fingers tightened on Emerson’s arm, and Rose reassessed the situation.
“Mr. Whitmore, you must also come. See Miss Macy safely inside. I suspect she will trust your judgment. Will that reassure you, Inez?”
Her slight nod was barely discernable.
“We are coming, Mrs. Kier. Would you please send tea to the parlor? And send for the other young ladies if you will.”
“Aye, Lady Stanford. We’ll be awaitin’ ye.”
The troupe reached the portico, Rose stepping inside first. She released the tie of Mr. Whitmore’s greatcoat and hung it on a hook in the rustic foyer. She glanced at Inez and was appalled to see raised gooseflesh on her arms. “Come, dear. We must get you near a fire to warm you up,” she said, leading them down the narrow wooden-floored hallway.
