It was just a taste of things to come, Cal thought gloomily. The season was going to be hell.
“They’re out.” Emm jumped to her feet. The dashing young women emerged from the anteroom with Mrs. Oates. “Now.”
But just as they released her, Lady Peplowe, Mrs. Braxton and some of their friends took Mrs. Oates’s arm and led her back in.
“What’s going on?” Emm gave Cal a puzzled glance. Cal shrugged, snagged another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and gave it to his wife.
“You don’t think they’re—? No.” She sipped thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose—?” And shook her head.
Cal didn’t know what was going on, but he was pretty sure the nasty young woman was getting an earful from Lady Peplowe and her friends. As for the fashionable young women who’d carried her away so gaily the first time, whatever they’d said to her hadn’t been anything gay or frivolous. She’d emerged from the anteroom looking quite shaken.
From the corner of his eye, Cal noticed Radcliffe was here. Even as he watched, Radcliffe casually drew Jeremy Oates into their group. Oates, a pushy fellow at the best of times, looked very flattered to be included in such company. So he might. The group included several of the most important and influential men in London and the city.
As he watched they drifted quietly out onto the balcony.
Interesting. He would love to hear what they said, but his place was with his wife.
Ten minutes later Mrs. Oates emerged from the anteroom looking rattled and sulky. She glanced around the room, looking for her husband, he supposed.
“Finally!” Emm set down her glass for the third time. It was very wearing, waiting, nerving herself for the confrontation, and then having to put it off again. Knowing all the while that people were watching, though pretending not to.
She would be glad to get it over with.
But what was this? Lady Peplowe and Mrs. Braxton were escorting Mrs. Oates toward her. The crowd in the middle of the floor parted like the Red Sea.
Emm rose a little shakily to her feet. What was going on? It wasn’t what she’d planned at all, not a public confrontation like this. She wanted the privacy of the anteroom.
Nerves fluttered in her stomach. She straightened her shoulders.Get it over now and be done with it.She took several deep breaths—not too many or she’d feel dizzy.
An expectant hush filled the room. People edged closer, the better to hear and see.
“Lady Ashendon,” Lady Peplowe said. Her voice was clear and well modulated. It also carried. “This misguided young woman repeated a number of false and nasty stories about you last week at my party. She’s admitted it here tonight.”
“And at my party, she wishes to apologize,” Mrs. Braxton said. “Don’t you, Mrs. Oates?”
Mrs. Oates looked trapped and furious and anything but remorseful. She wrenched herself out of the two society matrons’ grip and tried to escape. She moved to the left. A steely line of grim-visaged dowagers stepped forward, blocking her escape. Aunt Agatha and her cronies.
She turned to the right. Five former Mallard girls linked arms and blocked her way with ferocious gaiety.
Behind Emm, Rose and Lily chanted softly, “Three duchesses, two marchionesses, five countesses, six viscountesses...”And George joined in, “And a dowager with a lorgnette.”
Emm blinked rapidly. She would not cry, she would not.
Mrs. Oates looked around the room, looking for support. She found none. “Oh, what’s the fuss about? It was just a bit of harmless fun. Everyone gossips, after all.”
Nobody said a word.
“All right, then,” she said pettishly. “I’m very sorry I gossiped about you, Lady Ashendon. My cousin knew it wasn’t true, by the way. Most people did. Stuck up and straitlaced, that’s what we called you.” She turned to Mrs. Braxton. “There, will that do? Can I go now?”
It was a travesty of an apology.
Emm itched to slap the nasty creature silly. Her fingers had curled into fists with the effort of not doing so. But she occupied the moral high ground. Dignity and grace in victory was what she must strive for now. It was what she’d taught the girls.We are a family now, and what one family member does affects the reputation of the others.
Lady Peplowe and Mrs. Braxton were waiting. As was the entire room.
The apology was blatantly insincere, but indirectly it had cleared Emm’s name.Stuck up and straitlaced, that’s what we called you.Nobody could mistake the petty adolescent jealousy in that.
Emm stared at Mrs. Oates with her coldest teacherly withering look. After a moment, the woman reddened a little and dropped her gaze.
