"You are right." I smiled. "But that doesn't mean I will marry him."
"We shall see," Ivy said. "But, darling, I am afraid that Margaret is exerting perhaps too much influence on you. I don't think you would have done such a thing if she were not here to encourage you."
"That's wholly unfair, Ivy. I am perfectly capable of being shocking without Margaret's assistance."
"It's wonderful that you have found a friend who shares your intellectual interests. Heaven knows I'm of no use to you in such things. But I worry for you, Emily. Margaret may push you further than you really wish to go." She fell silent as we walked toward the settee where Arabella sat. Arthur Palmer, with whom she had been conversing, excused himself as we approached, and struck up a conversation with Colin about hunting. "Oh, dear, have we offended him, do you think?"
"No," I said, noticing the careful manner in which he had taken leave of Arabella. "I think we have interrupted his courtship."
"I should love to see Arabella happily married," Ivy said quietly as we approached her.
"Arabella, our friend Ivy has become quite an advocate for the married state."
"I am not surprised that Ivy should find happiness as a wife."
"Nor am I. However, I believe her concern now is your wedded bliss." After my own mortification over the port, I decided that I had judged Arabella rather too severely and intended to give her another chance. She instantly turned an unattractive shade of the brightest pink.
"I'm afraid I have few prospects, Emily, painful though it is to admit."
"You have clearly won a suitor here tonight," I assured her.
"Mr. Palmer is smitten," Ivy added.
"And you have the force of my mother behind you. When I told her you were coming, she immediately decided that you and the young gentleman should marry. I've yet to meet the man brave enough to defy her." This brought a smile to the girl's face, and even I had to admit that she looked somewhat attractive.
"I expect he will begin visiting you regularly," Ivy said.
Mrs. Dunleigh called to her daughter. Evidently my mother had persuaded her to join my father and herself at a soirée that evening; as far as I knew, the rest of the party planned to attend. No one suggested that I come. At the last moment, Margaret declared it vastly unfair that I would be left home alone, and she stayed with me. We brought the port to the library and took turns reading aloud from the Iliad until nearly midnight.
I leaned against the doorway for some time after her carriage pulled away, watching shadows in Berkeley Square. Ever since the break-in, I had watched for the man with the scar, but neither I nor my vigilant staff had caught sight of him. Tonight, however, one of the shadows moved more than it ought. It was he. I stepped down from the doorway and onto the sidewalk, peering into the dark. He was with someone, but the moonlight was not bright enough to reveal the other man's face. Without pausing to think, I rushed across the street and into the park. My long skirts made running difficult, and I nearly tripped as I crossed the square. The men must have heard me coming and had disappeared by the time I reached the spot where they had stood. On the ground I found a single glove made from the finest leather. It had to belong to a gentleman.
21 JUNE 1887
BERKELEY SQUARE, LONDON
Am immensely grateful to the queen for her Golden Jubilee celebrations. Banquet this evening was tedious, as expected, but I managed to watch the fireworks that followed with Kallista. Between the music and the explosions, there was too much noise to talk. She did not object to my holding her hand during the display-I am most encouraged-now must decide how best to proceed.
Palmer has proven valuable in arranging details of next winter's safari. Very much looking forward to hunting with him. Fitzroy will not be one of the party. "Let this example future times reclaim, / And guard from wrong fair friendship's holy name."
13
I rode for longer than usual the next morning, all the while trying to determine how I might find the owner of the glove. There were no markings inside it that might identify either maker or owner. I had little hope of figuring out where it had been purchased. Frustrated, I returned home, where I lingered over a late breakfast looking through a stack of letters that needed to be answered and reading the Times. The maid serving me was remarkably attentive. Both tea and toast were perfectly prepared and hot when served, and I complimented Susan on her work.
"All of us belowstairs were rooting for you last night, madam," she replied with a quick curtsy.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," I replied, placing my teacup on its saucer.
"Mr. Davis told us you stayed with the gentlemen, madam. I don't think any of us has ever seen Cook look so pleased. She started planning a special menu for tonight almost at once, said the queen herself would envy it." Susan leapt to attention at the sound of a soft cough behind her back.
"Mr. Andrew Palmer to see you, Lady Ashton," Davis said in his most austere tone. "Are you finished here, Susan?"
"Yes, Mr. Davis, sorry," the maid replied, bobbing another curtsy to me before rushing back downstairs.
"I most humbly apologize, your ladyship. The standard to which I attempt to hold myself was severely compromised by my behavior last night. Please do not think that I encourage gossip among the staff. I-"
"Davis, it's all right. I don't mind. They would have found out somehow, and I'm quite pleased to know that Cook, at least, stands behind me."
"We all do, Lady Ashton."
"Thank you, Davis. Where did you put Mr. Palmer?"
"He's waiting in the drawing room." I finished my tea before going upstairs and paused in front of a large mirror in the hallway to check my appearance. I had not bothered to change after returning from the park; my riding habits had become favorite outfits, as they were the only dresses I owned that would have been black regardless of my being in mourning. I spared no expense on them. The one I donned that day was made from a wool softer than any I had felt before and was cut in a new style, with a vest and jacket over the bodice, all tailored in the most flattering fashion. Pleased with how I looked, I glided into the drawing room.
"Mr. Palmer, how nice to see you. Your father said he expected you soon, but this is quicker than I would have imagined."
"He received my cable late. By the time he read it, I was nearly home."
"And what brings you to me at this ghastly hour? Some urgent business?" I smiled as I sat on a crimson velvet chair.
"Frankly, Emily, I assumed that any woman who dares drink port would never keep to conventions concerning the proper hours to call on a friend."
"Beast." I laughed, but his face turned serious.
"My poor, dear girl. You must have been more upset by the robbery in Paris than I imagined. I shall have to make a point of taking better care of you."
"I don't need taking care of, thank you very much. Furthermore, I don't believe that I have given you permission to do any such thing."
Now he laughed. "You are too sweet. But, really, you have shocked society and given me an unexpected thrill. Though you must realize that I wholeheartedly disapprove of what you did." I was not sure if he was teasing me.
"I imagine that by now everyone in London knows what I did, courtesy of the kind efforts of Mrs. Dunleigh."
"Yes, you were the talk of the party last night, but I shouldn't trouble my pretty head about it if I were you. Half the people decided you were crazed with grief over Ashton, the other half that you were out of your wits following the burglary. At any rate, no one will remember nor care in another week. Especially after they hear the news I am about to tell you."