“How lovely everything looks, Maeve. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“And you, my dear, positively glow in that shade! That divine color is not one I could carry off. Not with this unsightly hair of mine. I’ve never seen such a color. Wherever did you find it?”
She could hardly tell her friend the true origin. Even as heat flamed her face, she settled for “Mr. Whitmore of Whitmore’s Wholesale Warehouse donated bolts of material to Hope House…”
Maeve’s eyes moved to the man at Rose’s side, and she smiled.
A tingle shot up Rose’s spine, and the left backside of her body heated. “May I present Mr. Whitmore, Maeve? Mr. Whitmore, I’m pleased to introduce you to our hostess, Lady Harlowe.”
Emerson took Lady Harlowe’s gloved hand and bowed, quite stately, over it. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Harlowe. I hear your home has an interesting history,” he dared to say.
Rose nearly collapsed into a puddle on the floor. But to her surprise, Maeve graced him with a cheeky grin and winked.“Indeed, sir. One of the most famous courtesans that London had seen in decades was the previous resident. ’Tis my stepson’s inheritance.”
He grinned back, and the sight robbed Rose’s ability to draw a breath. “How fortunate for your stepson, my lady.”
“HowisMaster Nate?” Rose asked her in a somewhat breathless tone.
Again, Maeve’s cheeky grin split across her face.
“He keeps his nursemaid on her toes.” The deep resonance of Lord Harlowe stepped into view, entering the conversation. Viscount Harlowe bowed over Rose’s hand, then straightened with a contemplative glance at Emerson. “Whitmore, isn’t it? I believe we’ve heard your name tossed about the docks. A most…enterprising warehouse operation.”
Again, Rose’s breath caught. She quickly withdrew her fingers and tightened them on her reticule.
Emerson’s response was another smooth, precise bow. “One must do what one can to keep trade afloat, my lord.” His tone carried nothing but courtesy, yet tension vibrated in the air between them.
Rose’s heart drummed faster. If the Harlowes knew of Emerson’s warehouse…how many others whispered the same?
“How gallant of you to accompany Lady Stanford to our humble soiree,” Harlowe told Emerson. A statement that set Rose’s teeth on edge.
Maeve tapped her husband’s arm with her closed fan. “’Tis a charity subscription, Harlowe. Please, try to remember our purpose.”
“Of course,” he said with a contriteness that bordered sarcasm.
Rose was not amused. “Lord Harlowe, I’ll have you know—”
Emerson cut her off. “I do my utmost to keep the lady from mischief, my lord,” he said in all seriousness that had Rose leveling a glare at him.
She accepted the reprieve and dropped her head, groaning. “Please, Harlowe, you must not encourage him. The man is much too arrogant as it stands.”
“I fear such traits are imbedded deep within the male psyche, my dear,” Maeve said with a pointed look at Harlowe.
A saucy smile trickled through her. “I take your point,” Rose returned.
“Rose Stanford!”
Rose flinched as Gabriella’s shriek pierced her ears while she seized her hands and spun her about.
“Do you mean to outshineeverylady here? That gown—good heavens. It’s nothing short of perfection. Where on earth did—” She stopped, her gaze flicking to Emerson and back, red coloring Gabriella’s cheeks. Certainly, the slash of red matched Rose’s own.
Rebecca clasped her other arm, tugging Rose in her direction—truly, between the two of them, she was nothing short of a rag doll—with a smile that touched on envy. Inside, Rose softened, as Rebecca was not one known for her sense of fashion. And, well, the dress was spectacular. “This is the most stunning color I’ve ever seen. Why, even Huntley could not take his eyes off you when you entered. And—”
“Do not say Ryleigh, Your Grace, I beg of you. The man is my brother!”
“Er, no. I was not about to intimate Sebastian.” Rebecca’s eyes also flicked to Emerson and back. To her credit, she only smiled.
It was enough for Rose’s breath to catch, the heat rising to her ears.Emerson?
Gabriella leaned in, her whisper teasing. “He looked as though he’d been struck by the hand of the Almighty himself. Honestly, Rose, I thought he might swoon dead away in the foyer.”
