She gave him a stony look. “I doubt Lord Fitchley remembers me after all this time.”
He laughed. “You’re wrong! He remembers you very well. Exceptionally well, I daresay.”
Emilia cursed silently at the way he said those last words. “Your pardon, sir. I must rejoin my friends.” She turned back toward the dress shop, only to see with horror Arabella heading right toward her. Her head was turned as she spoke to Charlotte, so she didn’t catch Emilia’s frantic look.
“Allow me,” drawled Parker-Lloyd, reaching out to hold the door. He bowed as they stepped out. “Lady Arabella! What a pleasure.”
Arabella stopped short, looking him up and down with all the distaste Emilia felt. Arabella’s brother, Oliver, had once accused Parker-Lloyd of cheating at cards, and the men had nearly dueled over it. All the McCorquodales despised him. “Oh. You.”
He smiled at that, showing his teeth like a predator. But then he caught sight of Charlotte, who was peering curiously at him, and Emilia’s heart almost stopped. “Good day,” he murmured salaciously, eying the girl with open calculation. “Won’t you introduce me to your young friend?”
“Indeed not,” said Emilia forcefully. “I only introduce her to decent people.”
Parker-Lloyd’s face darkened. Arabella pushed past him. “James! Is the carriage here?”
“Yes, m’lady,” said a voice at Emilia’s shoulder, making her start. James had materialized without a sound, and he was watching Parker-Lloyd with a dangerously calm expression.
“Excellent. Stand aside, please,” said Arabella with regal hauteur. She linked her arm through Charlotte’s and towed her toward the carriage. James fell in behind them, purposely blocking Parker-Lloyd’s view.
Emilia started after them, but the wretched man snared her arm. “Who is that girl?”
“Let me go.” She gave him a freezing look and ignored his question as she tugged against his hold.
His grip tightened. “How dare you dismiss me.”
“I wonder that you care,” she said coolly. From the corner of her eye, she saw James returning. “Insignificant little nobody that I am.”
Parker-Lloyd was still for a moment, then released her, smiling his flat smile again. James was back, looking large and threatening.
“Are you?” Parker-Lloyd murmured. “I confess I did think so once... but now, I wonder.”
She ignored him and walked away, James at her side. “Did he hurt you?” murmured the so-called footman.
“No.” She hesitated at the carriage step. “James... I expect you’ll tell Mr. Dashwood about this, but I should tell him first. There are things I must explain.”
His face didn’t change. “As you wish, ma’am. But he’ll want my report this evening.”
She gave a nod. “Understood.” She climbed into the carriage and sat next to Arabella, gripping her hands together tightly to hide their trembling. She would have to find Mr. Dashwood as soon as they returned home. For now, she tried to shake it off, and mustered a smile for Charlotte. “A first lesson in London gentlemen, my dear. Not all of them are gentlemen, and some are to be outright avoided.”
“He’s a foul man,” put in Arabella. “He tried to cheat my brother at cards.”
Charlotte’s wary expression eased at that explanation. “The bloody sharper!”
Emilia closed her eyes as Arabella laughed. “Yes, he is,” Emilia conceded. “Even if I cannot condone that language.”
The girl giggled. “I know far worse! Are we still to go for ices?”
“Yes,” said Emilia firmly. She didn’t want Charlotte to dwell upon Parker-Lloyd or his comments.
Thankfully there were no other disruptions at Gunter’s. Polly Neale and her mother were waiting, and the two girls seized each other’s hands and began chattering at a speed that repelled any other participant. The conversation veered from fashion to pets to flavors of ice and then back to fashion, with Polly hanging on Charlotte’s every word about the dresses just ordered.
By the time they returned to Portland Place, Arabella and Charlotte were fast friends, debating the best number of buttons on a pair of gloves and whether one needed a parasol if the bonnet had a broad enough brim. Emilia was in a state of quiet anxiety.
“Would you please tell Mr. Dashwood I must have a word with him when he wakes?” she asked Pearce once they’d said farewell to Arabella and Charlotte had hurried upstairs to tell Lucy all about the outing.
The butler bowed his head. “He is not here, Miss Greene.”
She blinked. “Not here?” It was three in the afternoon. When did the man sleep?
