Lady Crosby rose unsteadily to her feet. “I think I’d better…I believe I’ll retire to my bedchamber fora short time.”
“Yes, my lady.” Emma’s anxious gaze followed Lady Crosby as she made her way to the door of the drawing room. For the first time since Emma had met her, Lady Crosby looked every moment of her age.
If her ladyship fell ill over this, Emma would never forgive herself.
It was yet another thingto worry about.
She sank back down on the settee, every limb trembling with exhaustion. Her eyes felt gritty, and her head was pounding.
“Go on up to yer own rooms for now, lass,” Daniel said gruffly. “We can talk on this later. I’ll send for ye if there’s a need.”
But as exhausted as Emma was, she knew she’d never be able to rest. Every time she closed her eyes, she’d be haunted with the waking nightmares of last night. Caroline Francis lying dead in a dark alley. The bruises on Helena’s neck, the tears in her eyes. Samuel’s face when Helena said Lord Lovell’s name, and later, in the carriage, when he’d asked her to tellhim the truth.
Was l part of your scheme all along?
He had been, at first, but then…then he hadn’t.
Emma wasn’t sure when it had changed. That day at Hyde Park, or the next day, in Lady Tremaine’s rose garden? That night at Drury Lane, when she’d glanced over at his box and found him staring at her, his gray gazelike a caress.
The way he’d kissed her scars…
It had been all of those moments, and none of them.
There hadn’t been a single moment, a single touch, a single kiss. It had crept up on her, and she hadn’t even thought to look for it, when nothing—nothing—ever crept up on Emma Downing.
Except this had, and before she even knew she held it in her hand, it was already gone.
She slumped back against the settee, and she must have fallen asleep, because it was hours later when she blinked awake to Lady Crosby gently shaking her shoulder. “Emma? Wake up, dearest.”
“What time is it?” Emma sat up, rubbing her eyes. Daniel was gone, and late morning sunlight was filtering through the drapes.
“Nearly eleven, and we have a visitor. Tidy your hair a bit, won’t you? Oh, dear, your gown is all wrinkles. Well, it’s too late to do anythingabout it now.”
Lady Crosby fussed and patted Emma into near-respectability, then sent word for the footman to show their visitor into the drawing room. Emma expected Lady Flora and Lady Silvester to appear, but that wasn’t who walked into the roommoments later.
It wasLady Lymington.
“Good morning, my lady. How do you do?” Lady Crosby rose to her feet.
It wasn’t so shocking that Lady Lymington should call—she and Lady Crosby were friendly, if not intimates—but after what had happened with Samuel, the last person Emma expected to stroll into their drawing roomwas his mother.
“Lady Crosby, and Lady Emma.” Lady Lymington inclined her head, and accepted the seat Lady Crosby indicated. A brief silence fell before Lady Lymington awkwardly cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon for calling so early, but it seems we’re to, ah, leave London for Kent laterthis morning.”
Lady Lymington shot a glance at Emma, who struggled to keep her face neutral.
Samuel must have offered his mothersomeexplanation for their precipitous departure from London. It was difficult to guess what he’d told her from Lady Lymington’s expression, but given Emma had suspected her ladyship’s beloved nephew of kidnapping and murder, Emma braced herself for a flood of angry denials and bitterrecriminations.
They never came.
Whatdidcome left both Emma and Lady Crosby momentarily speechless.
Lady Lymington shifted uneasily on the settee. “I didn’t like to leave London without seeing you both first.”
Emma and Lady Crosby exchanged a glance. Their level of acquaintance with Lady Lymington didn’t demand such a courtesy. It was a bit odd, but Lady Crosby, who was all graciousness, leapt into the fray to cover the awkward silence. “That’s very kind of you, my lady. We’ll miss you very much, won’t we, Emma, dear?”
“We will, indeed. The season won’t be the same without your family here, Lady Lymington.” Those words were truer than any Emma had ever spoken, so true it was as if they’d been wrenchedfrom her soul.
Lady Lymington studied Emma’s face, as if gauging her sincerity. “It does seem a great shame we should part now, just as we’re all becoming such good friends. That’s why I’vecome, you see.”
