Page 40 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
To her surprise, a broad smile broke out across Lady Talbot’s face. Emma glanced at her mother, wondering how she would handle this encounter.
“Ah, it’s the Carlisles,” Lady Talbot said, sweeping toward them. “How wonderful to see you.”
Emma’s mother didn’t speak, apparently stunned into silence.
“Lady Talbot,” Emma managed to say past the tightness of her throat. “It’s a pleasure.”
It wasn’t. It hadn’t been even before the marchioness had insulted them. She was a gossip and a terrible snob, and honestly, Emma didn’t like her very much.
Glancing at Lady Talbot’s daughter, Margaret, Emma added, “Good afternoon, Lady Margaret.”
The tall, sallow girl’s mouth pinched. “Likewise, Lady Emma. You look well.”
Her expression gave the impression that it pained her to say it.
“Oh!” Lady Talbot raised her hand to her mouth as though she’d just had a thought. “Are you here to order a gown for your wedding, Lady Emma? You will make a beautiful bride. Won’t she, dear?”
Margaret nodded dutifully. “Yes, Mother.”
“So she will,” Lady Carlisle chimed in, finally having recovered enough to speak. “And to think that I have mothered a future duchess.”
She looked somewhat smug about this fact. After being cut at the opera, Emma couldn’t blame her.
“You must tell us how you secured a duke for Lady Emma,” Lady Talbot said, coming closer. “Lady Violet was declared an incomparable at the beginning of the season, so no one wassurprised when she landed him, but with Lady Emma…. Well, suffice it to say, all of the mamas shall want to hear from you.”
Emma hid a scowl. Why did people say such things when she was standing right there? Sophie nudged her arm and sent her a small smile, then narrowed her eyes at Lady Talbot. At least Emma knew that Sophie would always support her unconditionally.
“How is dear Violet?” Lady Talbot asked, feigning concern. “Is she returning to London to finish out the season?”
Lady Carlisle straightened. “I’m afraid I can’t share Violet’s plans at this time.”
Probably because she had no idea what they were. None of them did. They didn’t even know where, precisely, Violet was.
Madam Baptiste emerged from the back room, and her dark gaze shifted from one group to the other before settling on Emma.
“Lady Emma, we are ready for you,” she said, her tone polished enough to almost hide her low birth. “Please come through to the fitting room.”
“Excuse me, ladies,” Lady Carlisle said.
“Wait!” Lady Talbot exclaimed as Lady Carlisle guided her daughters toward the back room.
Lady Carlisle arched one imperious eyebrow at the other woman.
“Will you be attending the Bevington’s ball on Friday?” Lady Talbot asked.
“We will.”
Lady Talbot nodded approvingly. “Then we’ll talk to you there.”
Lady Carlisle pursed her lips. “Perhaps.”
Emma’s lips twitched as she stifled the urge to laugh.
The Carlisle women passed Lady Talbot and Margaret and followed Madam Baptiste into a private room. Emma wasrelieved to be out of sight of the others. She’d been rigid since she’d seen them, worried about what they might do or say.
A small wooden pedestal stood in the center of the space they found themselves in. The walls were white, and a massive mirror occupied one of them. Light flowed in through a window near the ceiling.
“Did you see that?” Lady Carlisle asked, spinning around and beaming at Emma. “We are accepted again.”
