Page 64 of Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas 2)

“If you must read those awful rags, would you at least get someone else to buy them for you?”

She held her breath and waited for him to comment on the pregnancy kit, the condoms, the lice shampoo!

“I nearly forgot. My sister asked me to tell you that she’s found a gown for you to wear to the engagement party. She’ll have it waiting when you get back.”

She sank down on one of the chintz-covered barstools at the counter, trying to think what to say. “Are—are you having me followed?”

“Followed? Of course not. I simply have my sources.”

“And that’s all your sources told you? That I bought a tabloid newspaper?”

“I can’t think why you’d be interested in such drivel. Still, if that’s your worst sin, I’m sure I can live with it. Anne, my second wife, was fond of the tabloids.” There was a pause as he turned away from the receiver to speak with one of his aides. “I have to go, Emma; I have another call waiting. And from now on, please try to remember that whatever you do reflects on me.”

He broke the connection before she could reply.

The blueberry muffin she’d enjoyed for breakfast clotted in her stomach as she sat on the stool, receiver in her hand, telephone cord twisted around her fingers. How could he know about the tabloid, but not the rest of it? She tried to sort out her thoughts, but nothing made sense.

Patrick came into the kitchen, eager to hear the details of Emma’s connection with a duke. She gave him a highly abridged version, and he was just beginning to press for more information when Torie entered from the front hallway. “Hey, Lady Emma. Let’s get hoppin’.”

She wore white jeans along with a light blue T-shirt, and her fashionably untidy hair tumbled from a bright yellow banana clip at the crown of her head. She was also working away at a piece of gum.

“Where are we going?”

“Driving lesson.” Torie spit her gum into the trash and immediately pulled another stick out of her pocket.

“I don’t have any desire to learn how to drive.”

“I know, but you’re going to anyway.” She plopped the fresh piece in her mouth.

“Really, Torie—”

“Haul ass, Your Ladyship. My royal chariot’s waiting. Or are you chicken?”

“Of course I’m chicken! Why do you think I’ve gone all these years without learning to drive?”

“All you have to do is steer up and down Kenny’s driveway. You can steer, can’t you?”

“Probably, but there’s no point.”

“There’s always a point to spitting in the devil’s eye.” Torie’s familiar green eyes held a challenge.

Patrick took Emma’s arm and drew her off the stool. “Do what she says, Lady Emma. Life’s too short to spend it bogged down by phobias.”

Emma could fight one of them, but not both, without looking completely spineless. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “Up and down the drive. But that’s all.”

It wasn’t all, of course. After half an hour in the drive, Torie somehow managed to bully her into pulling out onto the road by promising that hardly anyone ever used it.

Emma found herself with wet palms and a damp T-shirt, driving a car with the steering on the wrong side. As her fingers gripped the wheel, she fought the memory of that terrifying day when she’d been ten and she’d watched a bright yellow lorry come barreling toward the car.

She crept too close to the center line and jerked the wheel.

“Relax,” Torie said. “You’re fingers are going to start cramping up.”

“Stop cracking your gum!”

“Damn, you’re cranky. By the way, in this country we drive on the right side of the road instead of the left.”

“Oh, God!” Emma wrenched the wheel to the right, but didn’t straighten in time to keep the tires from biting into the gravel on the shoulder. Finally, she managed to maneuver the car into the proper lane. “You should have told me at once! I think I’m going to faint.”

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