Page 59 of If I Loved You
Closing now, to attempt to put Bethany down for a nap. Of late, she resists more and more, and I’ve had to employ new and different tactics almost every day.
Emma
MY DEAR EMMA,
Apologies to you, for my rudeness.
I skimmed over your most recent missive, looking only for some hint, some response to the robust clue of my desire to repeat our kiss and more.
I’ll read your letter properly when tonight’s session is done.
Yours,
L
OF COURSE, THERE WOULDbe no more letters from London, as Zach expected tonight at the earliest, and tomorrow night at the latest, for this session to be finished finally. He stared at her words once again, in her last correspondence. Indeed, he thought her neat little curly script as darling as the letter writer herself and was only mildly disheartened that she’d not truly answered his initial revealing query about their kisses.
In other regards, her letters truly had been a blessing, Zach having committed so many of her words to memory. Her sometimes mention of that bounder, Mr. MacKenzie, had startled and angered him at first, until she’d at least answered that shesometimesthought of their kisses. With those words, he’d known, she was his still.
Her words, to which he eagerly looked forward each day, admittedly being disappointed if he received no visit from Langdon, had truly served to keep him grounded and sane, this particular session having worn on him so much more than in recent years.
Leaning back in his desk chair, he lifted the letter and perused it casually once again. If he hadn’t already been in love with her, he would have been easily wooed by the tales of her life down there at the Daisies and the very clever way she treated a letter much as she would a conversation. She was engaging, didn’t take herself too seriously, and showed so much of her true self, which he’d previously suspected their fragile affiliation might have scared away. There hadn’t been a day, not since he’d left her, that he hadn’t thought of making love to her, as they had, and as they would. He was beyond anxious to return to her, and finally, satisfyingly, straighten out this mess between them.
Chapter Seventeen
“BUT MY DEAR,” SAIDMrs. Conklin, giving Emma that familiar frown that tipped her head downward, highlighting her disagreement, “youmustglass the fruit if you care to preserve it properly.”
“But I haven’t enough glass jars, Mrs. Conklin, and the Smythes and I wondered what other vessel might be employed.”
The housekeeper was shaking her head even before Emma had finished her statement. “’Tis no other that will do. Now we’ve spares, to be sure. But you’d be needing to return on the morrow, as I couldn’t put my hands on them right at this moment.”
“You are very kind, Mrs. Conklin,” Emma assured her, “but I cannot continue to forage and gather right here at Benedict House. Yet Perry Green doesn’t seem to stock or sell them that I can find. I only wondered what else might substitute.”
“You fret too much, my dear,” said Mrs. Conklin. “We’ve plenty to share and when you do eventually locate some for purchase, you’ll return the borrowed ones.”
“You are too good to me.” Emma kissed the old woman’s cheek and said she must be on her way. “But you won’t forget about dinner Sunday, will you, Mrs. Conklin? We’re very excited to have you and Mr. Thurman as our guests. Mama Smythe will dazzle you with her pike with the pudding in the belly.”
The housekeeper’s eyes lit up. “Oh, we’ll be there. Looking forward to an evening of ease and fine company.”
Emma waved and left the kitchens, trotting up the steps to the main floor, coming into the foyer just as Thurman was pulling open the door.
Lady Marston was welcomed into Benedict House, which saw Emma frozen just near the grand staircase, so stunned was she by the woman’s presence. Emma would not have said the woman showed an equal surprise to find her here.
“Just the person I was looking for,” Lady M intoned, removing her gloves and flapping the pair into Thurman’s hands. “We’ll take tea, for two, in the drawing room, if you please, Thurman.”
Recovering, Emma gave a quick and mediocre curtsy. “Pardon me, my lady, but I’m not dressed for tea, and must get back to the—”
“Nonsense. I just sat uncomfortably in an ancient carriage for more than an hour. You can spare twenty minutes.”
Ignoring then both Emma and the butler, who lifted his brows to Emma, though showed no exact emotion, Lady M mounted the stairs, using both the cane and the bannister to see her further up the steps.
Her shoulders fell, but she could not refuse, and so Emma followed the lady and joined her in Benedict House’s impressive drawing room. She glanced down at the thick Aubusson carpet, where the earl had entertained Bethany. Or had it been the other way around?
Lady M sat nearly at the edge of one of the more-pretty-than-comfortable side chairs and Emma took the other. Hoping she wouldn’t be delayed too long, she swept the hat from her head, laying the pretty, wide-brimmed article on the arm of her chair.
“I cannot imagine why you should have sought me out,” Emma said, when the lady only stared at her with that familiar, not entirely enjoyed, pinched look about her lips.
Lady M did not squander any more words than necessary. “I hear you’ve met, on more than one occasion, with Hadlee.”
