Page 39 of A Touch Wicked
While opportunities were still limited for women in America, they had more employment and social mobility. Emma considered offering elocution and etiquette services to American debutantes seeking titled English husbands. Still, such a thing might take time, even with Alexandra as a reference.
She was going to need more money.
Emma sighed and tried to concentrate on the topic at hand. “You could always ask Lord Kent if he’s willing to read your work.”
She hoped Alexandra didn’t notice the way she’d hesitated on his name, reminding herself that he was no longerJames. Not to her. One day, another woman would call him that in the darkness.
“Oh, he’s willing.” Alexandra waved a dismissive hand. “Lately, James has insisted on reading everything I’ve ever published. But if I wanted a man’s opinion, I'd go out in public and utter any idea at all and one comes out of the woodwork to offer some garbled insight on the matter.”
Emma flashed a smile at that. “I still think it’s lovely that he’s interested.”
“Yes. I find it rather curious: you leaving the house so unexpectedly, James’s sudden attention to our co-written work.” She tapped her cheek. “You told me not to ask, and yet I can’t help but deduce a few things . . .”
“I’m in love with your brother,” Emma said, setting down her teacup.
“Yes!” Alexandra almost leaped off the couch in delight. “I knew it!Why do you look so miserable? Why did you leave the house? Did he muck everything up? Because I can hit him with something. A book, or a reticule, or a larger, heavier object at your request. I know I always say violence isn’t the answer, but brothers are a different matter. I can stab him with my pen.”
“What? Good god. Don’t stab him. Don’t hit him.” Emma shook her head. “Wait a moment, youknew?”
Alexandra settled back in her chair with a grin. “Of course I knew. I know everything that goes on in the house. The maids gossip when they think I’m not listening; I’m always listening.”
Emma stared at her. “Are you certain you’re an authoress and not a spy?”
Her friend looked downright smug as she lifted her teacup again. “Come now, tell me everything. I heard there was a bit of a tiff in the foyer.”
“He asked me to be his mistress,” Emma said.
Alexandra’s smile disappeared and she promptly set her teacup down again with a harshclank. “That cad! That bumbling, infuriating fool. And youdon’twant me to stab him with a pen? I ought to go for an artery.”
“You . . . you might not be as sympathetic to me once I tell you everything.”
“Oh, I already know everything. He’s your Masquerade lover, I gather. I can piece together the rest. Thank goodness you declined to describe his co—”
“Alexandra.”
The other woman winked. “I’m rather impressed with you, dear. I’ve never seen Kent so out of sorts about, well,anything. You’re not going to accept his offer, are you? Because you deserve the best.”
“Alexandra.” Emma’s voice was gentle. “I’m a commoner.”
“You deserve the best,” she insisted. “So what are you going to do?”
Here was the moment Emma was dreading. Because she never expected much from Lady Alexandra Grey. She had applied for the position of her maid, and had gained a co-writer and lifelong friend. She didn’t know what she would do without her, what kind of life she would lead. Every woman deserved the support of a friend, and letters only helped so much. Emma felt as if she would be starting over.
“What else is there?” Emma said, taking Alexandra’s free hand. “You know as well as I do that it’s time for me to leave. If I don’t . . .” Emma sighed. “It would be so easy to accept his offer, and I can’t make the same mistake all the women in my family have. I’ve already booked passage to America. I leave for Boston the day after tomorrow.”
“No.” Alexandra set down her tea on the table and grasped Emma’s hand with both of her own. “Absolutely not.”
“My darling friend. I have imposed on you and your family for long enough—”
“Not imposed. For god’s sake, we’ve written together. Our work is important to the women of this country,damnmy idiot brother.”
Emma’s vision clouded over with tears. “Then I shall take our writing across the ocean to the women there.” Then she threw her arms around her friend and embraced her tightly. “Don’t despair. I’ll write to you and you must come visit me when I’m settled. We’re going to take the world by storm, you and I.”
Chapter 22
“I've heard gossip,” Richard said, strolling into James’s office, “that you attended three balls this week and danced with not a single debutante.”
James glanced at his brother in irritation. He was in the middle of reading another of Alexandra’s co-written works, a pamphlet discussing the safety of women in factory work. He had no doubt she received most of her information from Emma. The issues in Alexandra’s work discussed matters important to female commoners, things men like him had never considered. Things Emma must have discussed with her.
