His words stung like nettles because they were true. Mrs. Billings had lost her husband just months earlier, and yet rose before sunrise each morning to care for her daughter and help with Mrs. Carter’s sons and go about her day’s work to eke out a living. Mrs. Carter, now confined to her bed, still spent her time there productively, sewing fourteen hours a day, leaving no time for self-pity over a husband in prison and children in need of more than she could provide.
“You’re right, Edward.” She sank against the back of her chair. “I’ve been selfish and childish. I will do better, I promise you.” Just as she’d promised Mrs. Billings she would help them, another pledge she intended to keep.
She pulled the letter from the Spinsters’ Club out of its envelope. Her hands shook with anticipation. This could be the invitation she’d anticipated for so long, the offer to join the club, at which point she’d have more resources at her disposal to help talented women in need set up money-making enterprises. And she’d be able to keep her word to Mrs. Billings. But as she read the lines written in Lady Abigail’s neat, tight hand, her breath caught in her throat. Not only were the spinsters unhappy about the alternative work arrangements she’d make for Mrs. Billings and Mrs. Carter, they were “terribly disappointed” in her as well.
“Oh, dear. Lady Abigail says it’s unseemly for unmarried women to be running a business out of their home. Which is utterly ridiculous!”
He frowned. “I suppose it might be. Or it might be a bit unsafe, if they’re meeting with strangers.”
“Oh, pish. I’ve been taking the commissioned projects to them directly myself.” Emme pinched the bridge of her nose. “Except I haven’t seen anyone this past week, which means there are ladies waiting for their miniature portraits and personalized kerchiefs, and Mrs. Billings and Mrs. Carter waiting for more work.”
Emme wrapped her arms around herself while disparate thoughts joined and gelled in her mind.
“I don’t like the look of that one bit.” He pushed himself off the divan. “And I believe that’s my cue to leave.”
“Not another step, Brother.” She gave him her most cherubic smile on him. “I’m going to need your help. ”
“Unless it involves hot tea and scones—”
“Oh, what a lovely idea! I’m famished, having missed breakfast. Have Cook send up enough for two, so you and I can discuss this.”
“Discuss what?”
“I have a plan.”
He groaned.
“It will require a small storefront in a respectable area with affordable rent, a broadminded landlord, and a wonderful man to be my proxy to negotiate the lease.”
“I know I’m going to regret this,” he said. “But fine, I’ll see to tea and scones while you dress for the day. But I claim all the clotted cream as recompense for going along with this…whatever this is you’re likely to get me into.” He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “And I want something in return.”
In all the years he’d taken care of her, Emme couldn’t remember Edward asking for anything in return for his help. “Of course. It’s only fair. More than fair, I should say.”
“Make Mother happy,” He said. “Go shopping with her. You can get a new parasol, as you’ve been complaining about the one you brought back from Spain for ages. Although I’m sure you have any number of others you could use.”
“They’re all three years old.”
It wasn’t the age that kept her from using them, though. It was that they’d been from her last Season before Eleanor’s death. Nearly all of her dresses, besides those she’d worn for mourning, had been from the same time. And every shopping trip she’d taken that year had been with Eleanor. Every dress and hat and glove and parasol she owned from that time had been touched by her older sister.
“Mother’s been in discussions with the modiste for weeks,” Edward was saying. “They’ve designed gowns for you in blues and greens and pinks—”
“She knows I can’t wear pink!”
“And something…buttercup or something. Yellow, I think.”
Yellow. It had been so long since she’d worn yellow. And suddenly, it was the color she wanted to wear most in the world. The yellow of the sun hanging above London. The yellow of buttercups swaying in a field. She pictured herself in a yellow bustled skirt with a matching jacket over a crisp white blouse, sitting beside Edward as they hashed out the terms of renting the storefront for her charges.
“I’ll do it.”
He grinned, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. “I’ll let Mother know after I see to the tea.”
“But Edward, someday you truly must let me do something for you.”
He shook his head. “Just be well and safe, Emmeline. And let me protect you from cads who will break your heart.”
“It’s not his fault, Edward. Daniel didn’t break my heart. I daresay I broke his.” And her own in the process, but that was a discussion for another day, a less beautiful day, or perhaps never. “I do hope you haven’t done something foolish, like accost him on the street or challenge him to fisticuffs.”
Edward smirked. “Foolish, eh? Well, to be honest, I probably would have if I’d been able to find him.”
“Find him? Is he gone? Has he left London?” Her throat constricted for no reason she could determine. Daniel was a grown man. If he chose to leave London with nary a word or forwarding address, who was she to question his actions, or to be gripped by fear to think of him gone?
“No, he’s still in town. Just not about. And not receiving. Me, I can understand, but even Granville hasn’t been able to see him. I assume the malady that’s made you take to your bed for the better part of this past week has afflicted him as well.”
Her heart was lighter from knowing Daniel was still near. “That is likely a safe assumption.”
He nodded. “We’ll speak of it no more. And I’ll stop sending threatening missives to his house.”
“Edward, you didn’t!”
She could see by the look on his face that he had. Steady Eddie, as his friends at school used to call him. He’d never much cared for it, which was no doubt why it had stuck, but he was steady, a calming presence in her life. And he was her erstwhile protector, doing his best to shield her even from herself.
A minute after he left to seek out their breakfast, Emme’s maid arrived to help her dress for what was shaping up to be a busy day. The first busy day of the life she’d chosen for herself, a life without any man except her dear Edward. Other than his penchant for constantly wanting to pummel Daniel, he really was the perfect brother.
* * *
Another day, another threatening missive from Emme’s unhinged brother. In the ten days since he’d last seen her, the messages had become part of Daniel’s daily routine. At least for the past few days, Meriden had only been warning Daniel away from Emme as opposed to calling him out for causing his sister distress. Daniel tucked the latest envelope into his breast pocket, unsure why he’d brought it with him to the café.
Unfortunately, the place was full of mothers and chaperones and married ladies escorting marriageable maidens about town. He knew better than to take his morning tea so close to the best dress shops in the city. It was no mystery to him why he’d done it, though. Granville had mentioned in passing just yesterday that Meriden was helping his sister with “some ridiculous project or other” that involved looking at storefront establishments in the area. What was he hoping for? A glimpse of her hair? A flash of her smile? An acknowledgment that some memory of him still survived in her heart?
There was nothing to be done for it. She was better off without him. His shock at her admission, which he hadn’t been quick-witted enough to hide, had broken something in her. He’d watch her shatter into pieces in front of him, and hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to stop it or to repair the destruction he’d caused. She had her close friends, her brother, the rest of her family. They would have to be enough, would have to do for her what he couldn’t.
As for him, he no longer had his family, but he did have the promise he’d made to his mother on her deathbed to keep him focused and alive. As alive as he could be without Emme. Which, come to think of it, was pretty damn near dead.
He stared down at the next letter on his pile of correspondence, the latest unopened missive from Mr. Alby at the House of Lords. He sliced open the embossed envelope and pulled out the thick paper, taking some time to focus his mind enough to understand the words written there. When the meaning revealed itself to him, he read it another time, just to be sure he wasn’t mistaken.
25 April, in the Year of Our Lord 1870
To Mr. Daniel Hallsworth, son of the late Marquess of Edensbridge:
Pursuant to the request made of you by the Committee of Privileges in correspondence dated 4 April 1870, we had expected to see progress made toward courting one daughter of a peer in good standing with the House of Lords, with the intention of marrying in a short but respectable period of time. We were, therefore, chagrined to learn that you have ceased all association with the young ladies of the ton to pursue frivolous pastimes such as visiting alehouses and imbibing spirits with young peers who have yet to provide a Writ of Summons to join the House of Lords, and who are, in some cases, in poor standing with London society.
We hereby encourage you, in the strongest of terms, to eschew your disreputable pursuits and take up the cause of a respectable marriage in the hopes of restoring your reputation with this Committee, which, we will remind you, holds the fate of the Marquesette in its hands.
Respectfully yours,
The Hon. Mr. Charles Alby
Clerk of the Committee for Privileges
House of Lords
London, England
“Bloody arrogant, pompous, miserable son of a hellhound…” He muttered the words quietly, almost silently, so as not to cause a panic amongst the impressionable young ladies in the café, nor draw the consternation of their matronly chaperones.
Besides, he’d agreed to play this ridiculous game with the committee, and now his family name was indeed on the mend. And his prospects, if he chose to take advantage of them, were indeed favorable.
He took a hurried sip of tea, tucked all his correspondence back into his coat pocket, and pulled on his gloves. He rose from his seat with more purpose than he’d felt since the last time he’d seen Emme. No surprise his purpose now came from his need to see her again. If anyone would know her whereabouts, it would be Meriden. And if anyone could help Daniel find Meriden, it was Granville.
She wouldn’t want to see him, of course. But this time he had a good reason to insist upon it, one that wouldn’t bring shame or ruin upon her or her family name. This time he needed her help to remove the shadow of scandal from his.
Chapter 16
Emme stood by the front window of the storefront, taking in the narrow yet long front room with shelves along the side walls that could hold wares, the well-worn but sturdy floorboards that could be covered with saleable rugs, and the white painted counter where they could install a till. In four days spent visiting every reputable address Edward’s solicitor could identify, this was the only storefront that came anything close to what Emme needed to set up her ladies’ cooperative.
She pulled off her gloves and tucked them into her reticule, then hung the handle of her oversized parasol over her forearm, then ran her forefinger over a shelf. “The landlord has had it scrubbed, just as he promised. It’s the perfect spot, don’t you agree?”
Tessa smiled as she took in the space. “It’s lovely, and it’s in a wonderful location, between a milliner and a modiste.”
“It’s a bit small.” Luci grinned. “But you’re right, it’s perfect.”
Emme’s friends caught her in a quick hug between them, then Tessa pulled her back toward the window.
“I simply must see this suit again in the sunlight. I believe it actually shimmers. And the bustle is just the right size for daytime. The countess has divine taste.”
“And you look stunning in that color.” Luci ran one hand along Emme’s jacket sleeve. “Lemon cream, is it? Which reminds me, I’m starving!”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “Are you ever not starving?”
Emme grabbed both her friends’ hands, so glad they were with her, that they both now knew the truth about her and loved her anyway, that they fully supported her in the life’s work she’d chosen. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure about it. It’s been so long since I’ve worn spring colors. And thank you for being here with me. It means the world, it truly does.”
“Where else would we be, silly?” Luci waved her hand to dismiss the thought.
The front door swung open and Lady Abigail, followed closely by Lady Rachel, entered the shop.
“Ladies.” Emme laid a hand over her heart, hoping their acceptance of her invitation meant they’d reconsidered their stance on the cooperative. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“Good day, Lady Emmeline. Ladies.” Lady Abigail glanced at her companion. “Lady Rachel pointed out that I might have been hasty in dismissing your proposal for alternative means of income.”
“Quite hasty.” Lady Rachel smiled at Emme.
“Thank you for reconsidering and for coming to the shop,” Emme said.
Lady Abigail held out an envelope with the Spinsters’ Club’s seal on it, much like the letter Emme had received days earlier. “After much discussion, we’ve come up with a counter-proposal to help you in your little venture.”
Lady Rachel clapped her hands together. “Once you’ve met the requirements for joining the Spinsters’ Club, we’ll pay half the upkeep for the shop!”
Her friends grabbed her hands, but Emme took a moment to understand what the ladies were telling her. She’d wanted to make a difference for so long and had come up with what she’d thought was the perfect plan, only to have them reject it. Now with Edward helping her and the Spinsters’ Club providing support, her dream was coming true. She’d had to let go of so many other dreams over the past five years, but finally, there was one she could keep.
“Thank you,” she said. “That will help the women tremendously. They’ll be able to keep so much more of the proceeds they earn.”
“They have you to thank.” Lady Abigail shook her hand. “We look forward to working with you. Good day, Lady Emmeline. Ladies.”
“Good day,” Emme managed to say.
Lady Rachel shook Emme’s hand firmly. “Good luck!” she said, then followed her leader back out of the shop.
“Well, that was...” Luci stopped. Even she was at a loss for words.
“I can’t wait—” Emme finally started, then stopped. She’d been about to say she couldn’t wait to tell Daniel. But she wouldn’t tell him. She couldn’t. They no longer shared each other’s confidences. They would never share each other’s lives.
As if to save her yet again, Edward stepped out from the office beyond the counter.
“We’ve worked out all the details,” he said.
A small, bald man with an oversized mustache, rolled-up shirt sleeves, and a wide grin full of brown teeth followed Edward. “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you, m’lord.”
Not to mention what a pleasure it would be for him to brag to his friends and all who would listen that he was renting property to the future Earl of Limely. Emme bit back a sharp-tongued response to the man who’d refused to allow her to be in the room while the men talked business. Even as the daughter of an earl and countess and sister of a future earl, the landlord, who had not a drop of aristocratic blood, could dismiss her and any other woman with impunity.
“The landlord understands the shopkeepers and their clientele will be women,” Edward assured her as though he’d read her thoughts, or had at least noticed the look of contempt she’d shot in the landlord’s direction.
“Which means, of course, m’lady,” the landlord bowed again in Emme’s direction, “we’ll only allow the shop to be open for limited hours, and I’ll inst
all a man to keep watch over the building when any of the women are on premises.”
Which would mean more cost. Emme chafed at the announcement, but in truth, it was wise. Once word spread that the shop was overseen by women, they’d be an easy target for harassment and maybe even crime, even on such a safe street.
“If that’s settled,” Luci said, “can we have lunch now, I beg of you?”
“Yes, with my apologies for keeping you waiting, Lady Lucinda.” Edward pulled open the front door and the ladies filed out in front of him. Outside the shop, Emme quickly recounted to Edward the visit from Lady Abigail and Lady as the coachman helped first Tessa, then Luci, into the carriage.
“That’s wonderful,” Edward said. “You finally deserve some happy news.”
As Edward took her hand and she alighted on the first step, a man stopped just feet from her. He was beautiful, self-possessed, comfortable in his own skin, as well as his place in the world, as he should be. And he was staring straight at her. The depths of his blue eyes made her breath catch in her throat.
“Lady Emme,” Daniel said. He looked past her and touched the brim of his hat. “Ladies, good afternoon.” He turned to Edward. “Meriden, I need a word.”
Edward scowled. “I’ll have a word with you another time. I’m escorting the ladies home for lunch.”
Daniel shook his head. “Not with you. I need a word with your sister. It’s a matter of some urgency.”
Emme stepped back onto the sidewalk and between the men before Edward could say something that would start a fight or otherwise cause a scene.
One Kiss From Ruin: Harrow’s Finest Five Book 1 Page 18