“She went to Italy,” Emma murmured, almost to herself. “Her grandmother was unwell. And just like that, we were separated.”
Brigitte nodded sympathetically. “Indeed. They were there for so long. I have missed my dear cousin. I am surprised you did not know that her grandmother passed away some months ago.”
Emma shook her head. “I have not heard from Ophelia for some while.”
“I see. Bon. They stayed on after the grandmother passed, for the mourning period, but now they have returned. And Lady Ophelia will be at Almack’s this evening.”
A strange, almost foreign sensation crept through Emma as she absorbed this. For the first time in months, she felt a genuine spark of anticipation for a social gathering. Ophelia—her dearest friend, her lost confidante—was back. She thought of all the letters they had exchanged over the years, each growing shorter as life and distance wedged itself between them. The last letter, nearly half a year ago, had spoken of a young Italian gentleman Ophelia was fond of, of dreams of marriage and new beginnings.
Things had certainly changed since then. Emma glanced in the mirror, catching sight of her own reflection as if for the first time, and for the first time in months, she felt a flicker of that old, youthful hope.
“Oh, Brigitte,” she breathed, a smile softening her face. “It seems I may be looking forward to this ball after all.”
Emma and Alexander arrived outside the famous Almack’s Assembly Rooms, an imposing building known for the stringency of its social rules as much as its exclusivity. The exterior was grand yet understated, with columns flanking the entrance and large windows glowing warmly from within. In her years of attending, Emma had grown accustomed to Almack’s rather sober façade, but tonight it struck her as more forbidding than usual. Perhaps it was the looming presence of her brother beside her, his recent return stirring emotions she hadn’t fully reconciled.
Alexander glanced at her. “You do have a voucher, I presume?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes appraising.
Emma raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Of course I do,” she replied with a haughty tone, though privately she cringed. She had nearly forgotten about securing her voucher entirely, so absorbed had she been with her charitable work. It had only been thanks to Arabella and Hanna’s gentle insistence that she had remembered to acquire one in time.
As they waited to be admitted, Emma surveyed the other attendees, the ladies wrapped in silks and satins, the gentlemen in their somber evening coats. The air was thick with anticipation, and the hum of soft chatter floated out from the vestibule. Almack’s was the hub of London society, a place where reputation and decorum reigned supreme. It was, as she thought with faint amusement, the most respectable court of judgment one could find outside of Parliament.
“It’s been more than a decade since I set foot here,” Alexander mused, glancing about with an almost nostalgic expression. “They had nothing like Almack’s in Galway, you know.”
Emma nodded absently, offering no comment. She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, especially not with him. But Alexander continued, undeterred.
“I can scarcely believe I’m back in London,” he went on, his tone contemplative. “And now, a marquis in my own right, with my own estates to manage. I daresay the ladies will be setting their caps at me before long.”
“Lucky them,” Emma replied dryly, though a pang of bitterness settled in her chest. She turned away, hoping her disinterest would end the conversation.
Alexander exhaled, as though summoning patience. “Emma, I truly want us to get along. I’ve missed you,” he said quietly. “I know you’re angry with me, but surely you can’t stay angry forever?”
Emma turned back to him, her gaze steady and cold. “I am not angry, Alexander. I’m disappointed. I cannot trust you. I will never trust you. We can be civil to one another, but that is all.”
He seemed to take in her words, his expression hardening. “If civility is all you can manage, then that will have to do for now,” he replied. His tone was clipped, but before she could respond, their progress was interrupted by the slow shuffle of guests being admitted through the doorway ahead.
Alexander broke the silence, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Have you seen our father?”
Emma’s expression tightened, her tone sharp. “In prison, you mean? Do you honestly think I would ever set foot in Newgate to see him? As if his actions haven’t already disgraced our family enough. If I am seen there, my reputation will be even more tarnished.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow, catching the defensiveness in her voice. “But didn’t you just tell me that finding a husband doesn’t matter to you anymore?”
“I speak of my work at the orphanage, not marriage.”
The line moved ahead and, and Emma and Alexander stepped inside Almack’s, where one of the renowned patronesses awaited them. Lady Sefton herself, elegant in lavender silk and adorned with a string of pearls, extended a gracious smile. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked Alexander over, her gaze both approving and intrigued.
“My dear Lord Howe!” Lady Sefton exclaimed, extending a bejeweled hand toward him. “What a remarkable honor to welcome you back to Almack’s, no less!” She laughed lightly, almost conspiratorially, as though they were old friends.
Hypocrite. The last time I was here she looked down on me because father had just been arrested.
“We all heard of your achievements across the Channel. Themarquisatebestowed by sheer merit—well, that is an accomplishment few in your station could boast. And dare I say, a change from your father.”
Alexander inclined his head, polite but not fawning. “You’re very kind, Lady Sefton.”
“Oh, not kind, merely observant,” she said with a delighted chuckle, clutching his arm as though she’d claimed him for her very own success story. Her glance slid briefly over Emma, her smile lingering just a bit longer on Alexander. “There was a great buzz when we learned of your return,” she continued, eyes flickering up at him with a trace of admiration. “I daresayyou’ve been away for far too long. Why, London has missed you terribly.”
Emma felt herself stiffen, knowing the patroness had glanced right past her, dismissing her presence entirely. Still, she said nothing as Lady Sefton motioned them forward, her gaze on Alexander.
Emma glanced sidelong at Alexander as they moved away, noting the way he sighed just slightly, his shoulders falling an inch as the encounter ended. She could tell he’d sensed the same discomfort that had laced Lady Sefton’s words, even if he would never admit it.
