The Importance of Being Wanton - Christi Caldwell Page 0,111

am not blind,” Emma said, sailing to her feet. She clasped her hands about her, and as she spoke, she briefly held the gaze of each member. “At least not in the way you are thinking. Charles is a good man.” She spoke on a rush before anyone might seek to interject their own opinions—and erroneous ones at that. “He is clever, and he genuinely cares about what he has created as much as we do.” Emma drew in a deep breath. “My pride, however, was hurt, and because of that, it led me here, and it fueled the rise of the Mismatch Society, but then it also steered me down a path where I lost focus on what our mission should be.” Her gaze came to rest on the leader of their group, and in the other woman’s eyes was something missing from all but Clara and Lila—understanding.

They knew what Emma had just herself found out. She loved him.

Her heart jumped.

Love.

It was certainly what it was . . . on her part. But what of what he felt? Was it . . . the same? He’d of course not spoken those words to her, but his actions—

Crasssh.

Pandemonium erupted, shouts and screams going up from the members as the windowpanes broke, exploding in a spray of splintered glass.

Emma jolted, shock knocking her off balance.

Wait . . . no . . . that was not shock.

She touched a shaky hand to the back of her head; a sticky warmth oozed onto her palms. Dazed, she studied the near-black liquid. Nay, not liquid. It was . . . blood.

“Emma?” her sister asked haltingly, and she looked up to meet Isla’s eyes.

Or she tried to.

It was just too hard.

Impossible.

Her lashes fluttered, and her legs wavered, and Emma collapsed . . . remembering no more.

Chapter 23

THE LONDONER

DANGER!

Society is abuzz with questions as to which member amongst Polite Society should prove a vengeful villain of the Mismatch Club? No one is safe.

M. FAIRPOINT

Charles was going to marry her.

That was, if she agreed to wed him. If she wanted to. As he wanted her.

And these past weeks, she’d given him every hope that her answer this time might be . . . would be different.

But it also meant other aspects of his life needed to be different, too. Change had been due long before this moment.

“You summoned me, chap.” Landon strolled into Charles’s office ahead of the butler, cutting off the formal introduction with only the ease of one who was very much at home in this household.

Coming to his feet, Charles motioned to the wingback chairs situated at the front of his desk. “I have.”

Tomlinson backed out of the room, and Landon plopped down in one of the seats. Slumped in the chair with his legs spread, he’d the look of bored calm personified. And yet the other man’s astute gaze took in everything: the ledgers and notebooks stacked on Charles’s desk. The room in general. “Not your usual place of play,” he remarked.

“No,” Charles said. Over the years, he’d really not committed himself to endeavors and matters as he should. Oh, he’d handled the finances for Miss Lee and Miss Linden. He’d not been a wastrel, but neither had he devoted his efforts to business. Not as he should. “I’ll not be joining you at Forbidden Pleasures anymore.”

“Is this about the buxom beauty and my attempts to help you?” Landon sat up straighter in his seat. “Because it wasn’t my intention to offend you.”

“No, no. It’s not about that.” At least, not directly. “I’ve come to see that my attending a place such as that is . . . wrong. Through my attendance, I’ve lent support to an establishment that has harmed women.”

Landon stilled, then released a groan. “You’re doing it.”

As in marriage. “It,” however, was the way the other man had always referred to matrimony when his finances had been at their most dire and he’d had to entertain the possibility of finding a wealthy wife. Thus far he’d been saved by windfalls at the gaming tables. He wouldn’t always, however. It was Charles’s hope that some honorable, loving, good woman would rescue Landon from himself. “I love her,” he answered, not pretending to misunderstand.

“She’s worthy of you?”

At least, this time, it was a question from his friend.

“Even more so,” Charles promised.

Landon sighed again, this one more resigned than the one to precede it. “Yes, well, I’ve fought you on that from the start, but someone who brings you this much happiness can’t