A half-dozen of the haughtier members of thetonturned away from the dazzling display, and Samuel was about to do the same when Helena Reeves’s roving gaze paused as it moved over the crowd, catching on Lady Emma.
It happened so quickly, if Samuel had happened to blink, he wouldhave missed it.
It was subtle, but unmistakable, just the tiniest nod of her head.
Lady Emma did not return the nod, nor did she give any outward sign she’d noticed it, but Samuel felt a nearly imperceptible stiffening in her body, a tightening of her fingers on his arm.
“There you are, Emma.” Lady Crosby came hurrying down Rotten Row toward them. Her cheeks were pink and she was breathless, as if she’d been running. “Come along, dear. It grows late. Shall we go, Lady Silvester?”
Lady Crosby didn’t wait for an answer, but took Lady Emma’s arm and began hurrying her down the pathway.
“Thank you for the pleasant walk, Lord Lovell, and Lord Lymington.” Lady Flora dipped into a polite curtsy, but her troubled gaze followed Lady Emma and Lady Crosby, who’d rushed off at a brisk pace without a backward glance, leaving Samuel and Lovell standing alone on the pathway, staring after them.
Lovell frowned. “That was strange.”
Strange, indeed. Samuel stood in the middle of Rotten Row and watched as the crowd swallowed a young lady dressed in blue, her fair hair the color of sunflowers, and wondered how many secrets were hiding behind those perfect red lips.
Chapter Eight
“I don’t think the season was ever so pleasant as this when we were girls, do you, Edith?” Lady Crosby turned an enquiring gaze on Lady Silvester, who was seated beside her in the carriage. “If I ever attended a supper picnic among the roses, I don’t recall it.”
“No, it was all formal balls and tedious, stuffy dinners then, and all of us strapped into those enormous panniers, and our hair covered with lace caps.”
“Don’t forget the hoop petticoat and underpetticoats, Edith. Goodness, it’s a wonder we could dance with all that heavy silk dragging behind us.”
Lady Silvester laughed at the memory. “It’s a great deal more pleasant for the young ladies now.”
“I’m certain I don’t recall the weather ever being so cooperative, either. I’m sure it rained on us every day.” Lady Crosby peered out the window, then gasped as the carriage crested the hill and the south-facing view of Tremaine House appeared. “My goodness, so elegant! Don’t you think so, Emma?”
Emma thought it looked rather grim. Or perhaps the house was very well, and it wasshewho was grim. Either way, she didn’t like to put a damper on everyone’s mood by saying so. “It has, er…elegantproportions.”
By that, she meant it was square. Two enormous squares with towers at each of the four corners, and a long, low rectangle with dozens of rows of windows along the front between them, the whole of it faced with adark red brick.
Lady Flora had her nose pressed to the glass as the carriage approached the house. “The gardens are meant to be lovely, as well, aren’t they, Grandmother?”
“It’s been some years since I’ve been to Tremaine House, dear, but I remember being delighted with them. There are quite a lot of fountains and dear little rose arbors tucked into every corner, if I recall correctly. I daresay they’ve only improved since then.”
Emma peered at the approaching house over Lady Flora’s shoulder, still not quite able to believe she and Lady Crosby had received an invitation to Lord and Lady Tremaine’s picnic. All thetonwere panting for one, but only a select few had been invited.
Among them, Lord Lovell, his mother and his aunt, Mr. Humphries,and with them…
Lord Lymington, who’d pounce on Emma like an ill-tempered cat the moment she stepped out of the carriage, his massive paws at the ready to bat her about like ahapless mouse.
Emma turned away from the window to hide her expression from the others, a defeated sigh on her lips. She’d done her best to banish him from her thoughts, but after his morning call and their walk in Hyde Park yesterday, his every word, his every glance had been plaguing her like dozens of buzzing insects.
This wasnothow she’d imagined this business would unfold.
Lady Flora was infatuated with Lord Lovell, and Lord Lovell spent every moment with Lady Flora casting hopeful, yearning glances at her. Then there was Lord Lymington, who listened to every word Emma said, and somehow also heard all those she didn’t.
Lord Lymington, with his sharp gray gaze, and a touch that made her quiver.
After what he’d seen at Hyde Park yesterday, he must have realized the mysterious “Letty” was Helena Reeves. He was too clever notto have done.
With Helena’s one little nod, any hopes Emma had had of keeping their acquaintance a secret had been obliterated. What dreadful luck, that she and Helena should happen to cross paths just then, right under Lord Lymington’s nose!
Anyone else wouldn’t have even noticed Letty’s nod, buthehad.
He noticed everything, blast him. Emma could hardly deny knowing Helenanow, nor could she continue to insist that she’d never set foot insidethe Pink Pearl.
