the night air was cold, and the veranda was dark. She had only been away from the table for a few minutes when she heard footsteps coming up behind her.
“Well,” a voice drawled lazily. “If it isn’t the guest of honor.”
Emily didn’t need to turn to know that it was Tarnham. She pretended as if she hadn’t heard him, but it didn’t help. He sidled up to her, a greasy grin on his face. His ferret peered at her.
“Parted from the stalwart protector of her virtue?” Tarnham smirked as he rolled the last word around in his mouth. “Don’t tell me you’ve already been routed! Dinner isn’t even over yet.”
“I haven’t been ‘routed’ Mr. Tarnham,” Emily said flatly. “I came out for some air.”
“Yes, I suppose girls like you need cooling off every now and again,” Tarnham said. “By the way, Heusler is quite taken with you. Says he’ll pay good money. I could hardly discourage him, since I hear money’s what you’re mostly interested in.”
He stared down at her décolletage and made a little reproachful tsk tsk.
“Why, you’ve got a loose thread, just there.” His hand came up to where her dress dipped to reveal the cleft of her breasts. “Why don’t you let me …”
Without a second thought, Emily hauled back and slapped him across the face, putting her whole shoulder into it. Tarnham went reeling, staggering a step. He rubbed his cheek and stared at her with wide eyes.
“I won’t be squinked, Mr. Tarnham,” she said. “I don’t care what kind of woman you think I am, but skycladdische or not, I’m someone you’d better not trifle with!”
Tarnham stared at her. “You struck me!”
“I’ll do it again, you slimy, smirking hoodlum,” she hissed, balling her hand into a fist. “I don’t know how women do things in New York, but in California we settle matters like this with six-shooters. Now take that ugly rat of yours and leave me alone.”
Tarnham drew himself up, tugged his coat down, and retreated in a hurry. Emily turned away. Anger and indignation burned in her cheeks. Yes, she would be heartily glad to never see another Warlock again!
She was surprised by a soft ripple of laughter drifting up from the shadows, where the stairs led down to the garden. Someone thought that was funny, did they? She stormed over to see who it was.
It was Stanton.
“Well done.” He grinned. He was wearing dark evening clothes and an overcoat, and he looked well. Better than he had a right to. “I have always wanted to see Tarnham get the kind of female attention he deserves.”
“I’m glad I could oblige,” Emily said coolly, turning away.
“Emily? Are you all right?” Miss Pendennis ducked her head out of the door. “I heard a blow, and then that Tarnham came scurrying through ever so …”
When Stanton saw Miss Pendennis, he gave her a little salute. “Hello, Pen.”
“Hello, Dreadnought.” She smiled at him. “Thank the goddess you made it. It’s downright ugly in there!”
Miss Pendennis looked between Emily and Stanton. She scratched the back of her head, cleared her throat.
“Yes. Well. I’ll just go back in, then.” She looked at Emily. “As long as you’re … all right?”
“I’m fine.” Emily bit the words. “I shall be in momentarily.”
When Miss Pendennis was gone, Stanton said, “She’s a great friend …”
“… of your sister Hortense. Yes, I’ve heard.” Emily didn’t look at him. “I’ve heard a great many things.” She paused. “How’s your shoulder?”
He shrugged the shoulder in question. “Better.”
“And I expect you’ve gotten yourself cleansed?”
“Quite a disgusting process, really,” Stanton said. “It involves bone rattles and live chickens. You would have found it fascinating.”
“Oh, I’ve found more than enough to fascinate me,” Emily said. “I’m getting pretty tired of being fascinated by things, actually.”
Stanton said nothing. He was looking at her, his green eyes traveling from her face to her feet.
“You look wonderful,” he said.
Emily shrugged as if the subject bored her, letting her hand smooth over the purple silk of her skirt. Then she turned away from him abruptly and went back to the railing. He followed, coming to stand next to her. They looked out over the darkened gardens, the smell of distant daffodils rising on the gentle breeze.
“Ready for the Grand Symposium?” he asked.
“No, given that it has no chance of success and Mirabilis’ true motivations for holding it are clouded with intrigue.”
Stanton nodded, leaned forward on the stone railing, supporting himself on his elbows. He looked at her sidelong. “I’m glad you asked for