The Importance of Being Wanton - Christi Caldwell Page 0,74

“There. They are finished.”

Sylvia clapped once. “For the sake of the meeting, might I suggest we focus on new business? New business being our continued reduction in numbers.”

And there went Emma’s planned material for the Mismatch Society. She tightened her hold upon the small notebook on her lap, those pages filled with the details of her prepared speech. For the nervousness she’d felt at this new-for-her role, there wasn’t a rush of relief, but only the sting of regret. Everything she’d prepared would fall by the wayside, forgotten. Not that it much mattered, anyway, if the other members weren’t there to speak to.

While Valerie went about doing roll call, a hand rested on Emma’s knee, and she glanced up.

“It was going to be magnificent,” Olivia whispered with the support and loyalty only a best friend was capable of. “And it still will be. One day, when you share. Which you will.” Valerie got to Olivia, and the other lady looked away, answering the call.

Frantic footfalls sounded outside the room.

They looked up, just as an out-of-breath Cora staggered into the room. “I’m here,” she gasped. A moment later, she was joined by Brenna. “We’re here!”

And then, the most unexpected of the missing members arrived. “As am I.”

Everyone gasped. “Cressida!”

The young woman blushed, and head down, she rushed to join Emma.

“How . . . ?” Emma whispered to Cressida as the others around them chatted happily with the return of the three.

Stealing a furtive glance about, Cressida caught Emma’s hands. “You mustn’t say anything. He swore me to absolute secrecy.”

“He?”

“The Earl of Scarsdale paid a visit to my brother and managed to convince him to allow me to return.”

Floored, a jolt went through Emma. “He did . . . what?” she asked, earning a curious look from Sylvia.

“Hush,” Cressida implored.

And as the group refocused, Emma’s mind raced under the discovery of what her friend had revealed . . . and more, what Charles had done. Why? Why would he do that? Nay, it mattered not why . . . just that he had. Her heart beat wildly. As this day, which had started out as grim, suddenly brightened.

“Perhaps the others are coming as well?” Isla ventured, pulling Emma’s head out from the clouds. “Mayhap we’ve been worrying for naught?”

“Oh, no.” The Kearsley sisters spoke in unison, still lightly winded as they took their customary seats. “They aren’t,” Cora added, earning a put-off look from her younger sibling.

Or mayhap they hadn’t.

Cora continued on anyway through that sisterly disapproval. “I have it on authority from Miss Dobson that she will not be attending. That is, not today.”

Well, that wasn’t so dire. Emma cleared her throat. “I am happy to report, however, today’s reduction in members is unrelated to Lord Scarsdale,” she offered, knowing so implicitly. After what they’d shared . . . And his sending one of their missing members back was proof—

“Oh?” Sylvia asked, fetching a newspaper off the table, and all eyes went to Emma. “Are you . . . certain of that?”

“Yes. I spoke to the gentleman.” Butterflies somersaulted low in her belly with the remembrances of that night she’d visited him . . . and everything he’d done to her body. “And as such,” she went on, feeling her entire body go warm, “I can say with confidence he has abandoned his plans for a rival league.”

“Alas, it appears the gentleman did not get the memorandum,” Sylvia said dryly, and handed off that heavily creased newspaper. It passed from remaining woman to remaining woman, until Isla reluctantly handed it over to Emma.

With a frown, she scanned the tiny print.

“Front page, center,” Sylvia directed, and Emma’s eyes went there.

And then she promptly wished they hadn’t.

Her entire body went stock still. She frantically worked her eyes over the article. “The Club du Livre is progressive and positive, the influence that Polite Society and all society neeeeeds?” Emma’s voice climbed up on that last particular word. “The unlikeliest of lords, with the patronage and support of his respected mother, has brought both lords and ladies together in an original venture. The Earl of Ssss . . . Son of a swag-bellied bull!” She exhaled that curse through a sharp hiss of air between her tightly clenched teeth.

Oh, it was not to be borne. Where the Mismatch Society had been called into question as scandalous and condemned, Charles’s society continued to be met with appreciation and fascination, and praise.

A growl worked its way up her throat.

“What is it?” Olivia gently prodded as Emma continued