Page 13 of Dukes Do It Better
“I’m so sorry,” Emma began.
“No, please don’t. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.” She offered her hand to shake, like they were men sealing a business deal. “Adelaide Martin. I went to Saint Alban’s with you, although I was a year behind your class and rather terminally shy.”
Emma shook her hand and fixed her smile to show more warmth. The recognition still didn’t come. This floundering sensation was unlike her. Typically, in social situations she felt at ease, yet since arriving in London she’d struggled to slip into the old skin she’d once inhabited so effortlessly. Even entertaining Malachi in her drawing room hadn’t gone the way it should have. Instead, he’d shown up without her noticing, and then heard her swear at an inanimate object. They’d quickly set aside proprieties to some degree, but there was no denying the manners that used to be instinctual were now work.
And she’d just agreed to stay for the whole Season. Lordy goodness.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Miss Martin. Or is it missus? I’ve recently returned to Town and am still catching up with everyone’s news.”
The corners of the other lady’s mouth tightened, but she maintained her smile. “It’s still plain Miss Martin. The grace with which you move about in society never came as easily to me. Mother despairs that I’ll die a spinster.”
It felt like she’d misstepped. After talking about Old Emma only moments before, she realized Miss Martin likely expected to be speaking to that Emma. Especially since they’d gone to school together. Had Emma been kind to her? Or dismissive? Oh, dear. The possibilities were endless given the kind of young woman she’d been.
There was only one way to handle this. Emma took a breath and forced herself to do the exact opposite of what she would have done during her finishing school days. “It’s funny you say that, because I’m realizing being in society isn’t as easy for me as it once was. I’m a bit like a fish out of water, to be honest. I’d love some company at events should our paths cross, Miss Martin.”
Beside her, Phee squeezed Emma’s hand as if to say well done.
“Lady Emma”—Miss Martin’s face softened into a conspiratorial smile—“if you’re a fish out of water, you’re welcome to flop on the dry pavement next to me. Or dance floor. There’s always room with us wallflowers.”
Lottie and Phee appeared to be following the exchange with great interest, but Miss Martin’s words gave Emma pause. Years ago, she’d been the belle of the ball. That illusion of success had been glorious in its way, but those days were gone. From Miss Martin’s tone, Emma didn’t believe the offer to sit with the wallflowers was meant cruelly, but as a genuine gesture of friendship.
“Miss Martin, I shall take you up on your offer. Another friendly face would be welcome. In fact, I find myself a bit peckish. Would you care to join us in getting something to eat after we finish our shopping?” Emma asked.
Lottie made a moue of disappointment. “That sounds like a lovely idea, but I’m afraid I’ll have to bow out. Ethan and I have a meeting with brewery investors. They’re all in a tizzy about something, and we need to smooth ruffled feathers. But you three go on and enjoy yourselves.”
Emma’s eyebrows pinched together. “Is everything all right? Whatever could the investors have to worry over?”
Lottie waved away the concern, but Emma could see a shadow of worry in her dark eyes. “I’m sure it will be fine. It’s just business. But I will need to get going shortly, after I check in with Madame about the garnet silk she mentioned.”
“Lottie, do you mind if we share a hack? We can leave my carriage here with Emma and Miss Martin,” Phee said.
Turning to the tall woman in brown, Emma said, “Miss Martin, it appears to be the two of us, then. Surely you won’t leave me to eat by myself? Let’s get to know each other better. One flopping fish to another.”
“Thank you for the invitation, Lady Emma.” Miss Martin nodded.
“Just Emma, please.”
“Then I’m Adelaide.” She offered a wide, lovely smile that transformed her face from quietly appealing to remarkably beautiful. “Are you making an order with Madame today, or having a fitting?”
Emma grinned. “Oh, you have to see the fabric we found for a ball gown. Speaking of fabric, unfortunately, Lottie was right. Put down the one you’re holding. We can find you something better. And then we’ll go eat.”
Madame Bouvier appeared with a sketch pad. “Lady Emma, are you ready?”
Emma looked around her circle of friends, old and new. “Yes, Madame. I’m ready.”
* * *
“Explain to me why we’re here again,” Simon said.
“Because you’re always hungry, I’m thirsty, and it’s too early to drink properly. Besides, I hear this place is new, so maybe we can talk without anyone overhearing.” Malachi scanned the room of the cozy tea shop and prayed they had decent coffee.
“The walls have ears in my office for sure.” Simon craned his head and rocked onto his toes as he glanced around. “There’s a table back by the wall without anyone sitting nearby. This all feels very clandestine, Lord Son of a Spy. Certainly the most excitement I’ve had in a while.”
“Then you should get out more. And Father wasn’t a spy. Not exactly.”
Simon took a seat at a wood table and shot him a disbelieving look, complete with an arched brow. “Of course. My mistake. He simply worked for the diplomatic service, held closeted meetings with rulers of nations, and made secret transactions for peers and kings that he recorded in a journal that’s being held over the heads of the Royal Navy. Oh, and had a code name. But that’s drastically different from being a spy. Silly of me to mix up the two.”
“Bloody hell.” Malachi chuckled despite himself. “He was a royally endorsed agent of the crown.”
