Chapter 3 #2
Simeon dealt with the scum of Society, and yet, he found that preferable to guarding a spoiled debutante. What had he gotten himself into?
“Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die…” Emma kept muttering under her breath over and over.
Her white-knuckled fingers were gripping the edges of the bricks as she attempted to climb down the back of Eliza’s townhouse.
It was still early, but the sun had risen brightly over the Lansdownes’s well-manicured garden.
Gritting her teeth, Emma ignored the sweat rolling down the sides of her face and the pain in her tired fingers.
She was dressed in a white shirt, fitted tan trousers, and ankle boots.
Moving her foot, she was having a hard time finding a foothold on the brick wall. Perhaps she wasn’t ready for this step.
No, I can do this, she thought, strengthening her resolve.
After all, she had scaled up the wall to a second level window…
multiple times, but she had wanted to challenge herself by climbing down from the third level.
Attempting to stay calm, she replayed Eliza’s instructions in her head; Stay as close as possible to the wall and position your boots in the space between the bricks.
Eliza’s unconcerned voice came from the ground. “I’m impressed that you haven’t fallen, but you are taking entirely too long.”
The jovial voice of her friend, Lady Easton, came from next to her. “Ignore her,” she encouraged as she moved closer. “Eliza can scurry up a wall faster than any rats I’ve seen.”
“I can hear you, Josette,” Eliza said in a light tone.
Josette laughed down at Lady Lansdowne. “I’m just offering encouragement to my friend.
” She turned towards her, appearing completely calm and oriented.
“Look for bricks that are jutting out vertically and find your foothold. Make sure you check the bricks before placing your weight on them. A loose brick could cause you to tumble off the wall.”
Emma lowered her right foot until she found a brick that jutted out.
“Good,” her friend praised. “Now find a handhold.”
Tentatively, she began finding the nearest holds, alternating her feet and hands. “It’s much simpler climbing up the wall,” she remarked, blowing out a puff of air.
“That it is.” Keeping pace with her, Josette stated, “Once you get the hang of it, then it really is quite simple.”
Once she was within a few feet of the ground, Emma dropped down, and was met with Eliza’s clapping.
“Well done,” the Marchioness of Lansdowne said. “Was I correct that it is much easier in fitted trousers?”
“It was,” Emma agreed as she wiped the sweat off her brow with her shirt sleeve. “I will have to thank Miss Cosette for the fitted clothing the next time I am in her shop.”
Placing a hand to her barely discernable protruding belly, Eliza said, “I won’t be climbing many walls until my babe comes.”
“If I recall correctly, Benedict forbade you from climbing walls this morning,” Josette remarked.
Eliza grinned. “Benedict tends to be a bit overprotective.”
“A bit?” Josette questioned.
Directing her next comment to Emma, Eliza asked, “Are you ready for your next lesson, or would you like to take a break?”
“Break, please,” Emma declared loudly.
Eliza laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s have some breakfast first.”
They walked over to a table where a buffet was set up and each picked up a plate. After Emma served herself, she walked over to a round table and accepted the proffered chair from the footman. He placed a napkin on her lap and filled her teacup.
“Thank you,” she acknowledged as she reached for her fork.
Sitting down next to her, Eliza asked, “How are your fingers?”
Emma looked down at her red, blistered fingers. “They hurt.” She glanced between Eliza and Josette. “How do you both make it look so easy?”
Reaching for her teacup, Josette gave her a mischievous smile. “The more you practice, the more it becomes second nature. Besides, every self-respecting lady should know how to climb down a wall.”
Emma arched an eyebrow. “For some strange reason, my boarding school curriculum did not offer a class in climbing down walls.”
“Pity,” Josette said before taking a long sip. “It’s quite a useful skill.”
Taking a moment to admire her friend, Emma couldn’t believe the transformation in Josette since she’d married Lord Morgan. She seemed freer, happier, and the sadness that had lurked in her eyes had been replaced with joy.
“I’m surprised that Morgan is letting you out of his sight,” Emma teased.
Josette let out a soft, airy laugh. “We arrived home late last night from our wedding tour, and he tried to persuade me to skip training this morning with Eliza.” She brought her fingers to her lips. “He was quite persuasive, I must admit.”
“How disconcerting,” Eliza chided in a mocking tone.
Josette brought her hands down to her lap. “But, in the end, I convinced Morgan to join me.”
Glancing around the veranda, Emma said, “I didn’t realize Morgan came along. Where is he?”
“He followed Benedict up to the nursery to play with Caroline,” Josette shared.
Eliza picked up a newspaper resting next to her plate. “Have you had a chance to read the newspaper, Emma?” she asked with a pointed look.
“No.” She shook her head. “Luke refused my request to see it.” Pushing her food haphazardly around the plate with her fork, she inquired, “What does it say?”
Opening the paper up to the Society page, Eliza read, “ ‘Miss Pearson was so inebriated that she passed out during the opening set with her guardian, Lord Downshire.’ ”
Emma’s fork stilled. “Everyone thinks I was inebriated?”
“Not to worry,” Eliza declared, folding the newspaper back to the first page.
Emma frowned. “How can you say that? My reputation is in tatters, and I have embarrassed my family.”
“You did no such thing,” Eliza contended. “Besides, the ton is a fickle lot. Once a new scandal comes to light, your accidents will become a forgotten memory.”
Josette wiped the sides of her mouth with her napkin. “There was a time when the Society papers dubbed me ‘Black Josette’ due to the timing of the unfortunate deaths of my family members.”
“Truly?” Emma asked, knowing Society now adored Lady Easton.
“It’s true,” Josette confessed. “I was sixteen at the time, and I chose to run from the horrible gossip and spiteful words being spewed at me.”
“What happened?” she found herself asking.
Lord Morgan’s smug voice came from the doorway. “She married a most dashingly handsome man, and Society fell at her feet.”
“That’s true, too,” Josette said, turning her loving gaze towards her husband, “about the handsome man part, but not about Society falling at my feet. Morgan did manage a few well-placed articles in the Society page of the newspaper, and it turned the tide of public opinion towards me.”
Coming to stand next to her, Morgan smiled. “Or it could have been that you were endorsed by the prince regent, the Duke of Remington, the Marquess of Bath, the Marquess of Lansdowne, the Earl of Camden, Lord Charles Beckett, Lord Jonathon Beckett…”
“We get the point, dearest,” Josette joked.
Morgan turned his gaze towards her. “You need not fear, Emma. Some of the brightest minds are working on turning your Season around.” He smirked. “And by brightest, I mean me.”
Josette let out a slight huff. “You will have to excuse my husband. He is extraordinarily cocky about his abilities on… well, just about everything.”
Leaning closer, Morgan whispered something in his wife’s ear, causing a discernable blush on her cheeks.
“Newlyweds,” Eliza jested before turning her gaze back to Emma. “The front page of the newspaper has the most fascinating article about the Highland Clearance by a Mr. David Blackmore. Have you read it?”
Emma reached for her teacup and took a long sip. After she placed the cup back to its saucer, she replied, “I have not.”
“Interesting,” Eliza muttered. “I enjoyed the perspective of the writer. The person interviewed many of these displaced Highlanders and eloquently explained the injustice of it all.”
“Oh,” Emma remarked innocently as she picked up her fork and resumed eating.
Eliza let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s speed this conversation along, Emma. Shall we? After all, Rachel already gushed about you having an article published in the newspaper.”
“She did?” Emma asked.
Eliza’s face softened. “We’re all so immensely proud of you.”
“I hardly know you, but I am proud of you as well,” Morgan joked.
Josette nudged him in the side. “Hush, my love.”
Placing her fork down, Emma straightened in her seat. “Luke wasn’t exactly pleased that I submitted an article to the newspaper. He even offered me additional pin money to stop writing.”
“Of course, he reacted that way. I wouldn’t have expected him to act any differently,” Eliza said with a wave of her hand. “But I have it on good authority that Luke is also proud of you.”
“You think so?” she asked hopefully.
Eliza nodded. “I know so.”
A little girl’s laugh came from the doorway and was followed by Benedict’s voice. “I am now prepared to tutor Emma in hand-to-hand combat training.”
Emma looked over and saw Benedict holding his smiling twenty-month-old daughter, Lady Caroline, in his arms.
Morgan chuckled. “By accepting Benedict as your training tutor, you’re setting yourself up for failure, Emma. I’m willing to impart my wisdom to you, as well.”
“I beg your pardon?” Benedict asserted, walking closer to the table. “I could best you in a round of fisticuffs any day.”
Eliza grinned and shook her head. “Gentlemen, this is getting us nowhere,” she proclaimed as Caroline lunged out of Benedict’s arms and into hers. “Perhaps it would be best if both of you demonstrate how to protect oneself.”
Benedict removed his jacket and draped it onto the back of the chair. “It’s best to provide you with some basic training in the unlikely event that someone attempts to abscond with you,” he explained.