on with it.
“Turns out Dorothea is good friends with the comtesse. She couldn’t believe I’d never made her acquaintance, although she did concede that being absent for three years ‘fighting that odious Bonaparte’ was a partial excuse. She confidently expects to see the comtesse and her grandchildren this very evening at Caroline Turnbull’s soirée.”
Alex smiled. “I’m sure Caroline will be delighted to see us.”
Chapter 5.
Lady Caroline Turnbull’s soirée was fashionably crowded by the time Emmy, Luc, and Camille arrived. The sound of animated chatter and a lively English reel greeted them, and Emmy wasted no time in finding a vacant chair at the side of the room for Luc.
After twelve years, he walked with only the slightest limp and required no one’s arm for support. He did use an elegant silver-topped cane, but that was more for ornament than necessity. He was convinced it gave him a rakish edge. Sally mocked him about it constantly.
His injury had been caused by grapeshot—a bag of musket balls set on iron rings that when fired from a ship-mounted cannon resulted in a supersized blast. Luc was fortunate not to have bled to death on the deck, but thankfully the surgeon who’d operated on him had been experienced in dealing with such wounds. Emmy had read about many other poor souls who’d ended up with what they called a “sugar loaf stump,” an amputation performed too close to the bone, resulting in a conical stump which was difficult to heal.
Since Luc was missing only the lower portion of his leg, Camille had instructed a Jermyn Street shoemaker to fashion him a prosthetic foot with a jointed ankle made from wood and leather. It had taken Luc some time to grow accustomed to the contraption—he’d spent many hours leaning heavily on Emmy or Sally and cursing his inability to balance—but now he walked with a confidence that showed little hint of the struggle he’d endured. Emmy had nothing but respect for the way he’d dealt with such a dramatic change in his life.
Even so, she had no doubt their father’s criminal escapades, and her own “miseducation,” had provided her brother with a welcome diversion during his long convalescence. He’d needed something to engage his clever mind. Helping to plan the next heist had stopped him from dwelling on his injury.
With Luc suitably settled, Emmy accepted a glass of champagne from a passing servant and proceeded to make herself inconspicuous.
In the animal kingdom, especially when surrounded by carnivores, one of the best strategies is to fade into the background and disappear. She had become adept at avoiding notice, like one of those color-changing lizards she’d seen at the Exeter Exchange. It was not that the ton itself provided any specific threat, but she was ever-conscious of the fact that she was unlike any other woman in the room. She had far more to hide than a penchant for gambling or an illicit assignation with someone else’s husband. She couldn’t afford to let anyone get too close, for fear they would uncover her secrets. Her family had to be protected.
Clusters of people formed, separated, and reformed like the jewel-colored contents of a kaleidoscope. Camille came to stand beside her, and together they looked out over the crush of dancers.
“Lord Eversleigh is here,” Camille murmured, and Emmy didn’t bother to suppress a groan. The man was a corseted fool who persisted in pursuing her despite a complete lack of encouragement.
“He doesn’t even notice when I’m being rude to him,” Emmy whispered back. “He never listens to a word I say. He just stands there and stares at my décolletage.”
“He’s very rich.”
“He’s the most patronizing man I have ever encountered.”
Camille cast a subtly scornful glance at the man who was still half the room away. “I quite agree. No amount of money could make up for having to face that over the breakfast table for the next thirty years.”
Eversleigh considered himself a veritable tulip of fashion. His startling green-and-pink-striped waistcoat was festooned with fob chains and pocket watches. A sparkling diamond stick pin secured the cravat at his throat. Marcasite buckles dazzled on his shoes. Emmy liked to amuse herself by imagining precisely how she would deprive him of every item of jewelry he owned.
“I vow, if the Nightjar weren’t such a noble thief, he would pay my Lord Eversleigh a visit,” she whispered. She could retire for life on the fripperies with which he decorated his person. “He doesn’t know me, nor does he have the slightest desire