Emma’s gaze shot toward the door. She was so utterly confused by the direction the conversation had taken. Were they still speaking of Mr. Lofton?No, she did not love him.
“You need not answer me now. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. Only…only answer me this: are you not afraid that if you do nothing, he will marry someone else?”
Emma closed her eyes, thinking of Owen. “Yes. It is possible.”
Mrs. Buckley nodded vigorously. “Then we shall do what we can to secure him before he can foolishly choose another.”
“Mrs. Buckley?—”
“I will not say another word.”
“It is not a good idea.” Panic rose within Emma. “I cannot…it is not a good idea.”
Mrs. Buckley watched her with consideration. “I will say no more tonight. But this matter is not over. All you need to do now is make sure you are the most beautiful creature at the ball.”
Emma let out a sharp laugh. “We’ve already failed, I’m afraid. Those years are well behind me.”
“Oh, pish. You do not know your charm. All this talk of caps, but you are still a child, young and vibrant and full of youth. Besides, there is only one man we need to impress, and he already thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in any room he walks into.”
Emma was certain Mrs. Buckley had lost her mind, but she picked up her needle and resumed ruching the bust of her gown, unable to dampen the joyful effect her words had. She was certainly bound to end an old maid with this woman beside her, but the sentiment was sweet, and imagining herself dancing about the ballroom in Owen’s arms was certainly a nice way to pass the evening.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Emma had feltunmoored since Mrs. Buckley’s blunt directives earlier that evening. The slight matchmaking scheme was so out of character that, the further Emma thought on the conversation, the more troubling it felt.
If Mrs. Buckley had been paying close enough attention to see the connection between Emma and Mr. Lofton, had she also noticed Emma’s feelings for Owen? Noticed the way Emma perked up each time he was mentioned? The way Emma watched him when he was in the room? If so, was she directing Emma toward Mr. Lofton as a way to keep her away from Owen?
Mrs. Buckley loved him as a son. Surely she would wish that he made a better match. It would not be entirely out of line for her to agree with Catharine Buckley on that score and do what she could to separate them, to steer Emma away. Indeed, Emma would need to work harder to conceal her feelings once he returned from his trip…ifhe chose to return. Perhaps the moment they had shared in the corridor had frightened him away. He had promised to protect her reputation, after all. The best way to do that would be to stay away from her.
She sat at the dressing table in the corner of her room and let down her hair, stacking the pins in a neat pile. Thick honey-colored waves fell over her shoulders. She dragged them all to one side and began to brush them out. During his absence, women eager to court Owen had been seen visiting his parents at the house. The reports of young, eligible women coming to call ignited a flame of jealousy within her. She was being childish.
Emma focused on braiding her hair into one long plait. She tied a ribbon at the end as a knock came at her door. She had not yet changed out of her dinner gown, so she turned on the seat, working the ribbon with her cold fingers. “You may enter.”
The door creaked open. Mrs. Bates slipped inside. “Mrs. Buckley is in a bit of a state. I looked for the lavender tincture, but cannot find it. Did you happen to bring it in here?”
“No.” Emma rose, crossing to her trunk. “I’ll look anyway, though. What has happened?”
There was a brief pause before Mrs. Bates said, “She will not confide in me. I have my own assumptions, but they are better left private.”
“I understand.” Emma searched her trunk, then the drawers of the dressing table in case one of the servants put it away in the wrong place. She looked in every place the small bottle could possibly be, which amounted to few in her chamber. “It isn’t here. Did you search her room?”
“Yes. Thoroughly.”
“I suppose it must have been left at the big house.” Emma glanced over her shoulder, toward the window. “We have not used it since moving. If I leave now, I can return within half an hour. Do you think that is soon enough to be of good use?”
“It is late.” Mrs. Bates worried her lip. “We ought to send Platt.”
“He will not know what to look for, and he certainly isn’t asfamiliar with Mrs. Buckley’s room as I am. The moon is out, Mrs. Bates. I shan’t even need a lantern.”
“I’m not sure I like it.”
“Do what you can to soothe Mrs. Buckley, and I will return as soon as I can. The tincture will do nothing more than soothe her mind at present anyway, but I should think a little in her tea will help her sleep.”
“If you insist.”
“I do. It is fortuitous that I lingered over my own routine this evening.”
Mrs. Bates shook her head slightly. “Be careful.”
