The Regency Season: Gentleman Rogues. Margaret McPhee

up, met his gaze with icy accusation before she turned and was carried away with Lady Lamerton and the crowd.

      ‘If you will excuse me,’ he said smoothly to the Hollingsworths.

      ‘But, Mr Stratham!’ He heard the shock and petulance in Lady Persephone’s voice.

      ‘Well, I never—’ Hollingsworth was beginning to say, but Ned did not stay to hear the rest. He was already weaving his way through the crowd towards the staircase down which Emma had disappeared.

      He caught up with her in the crowd on the ground floor, came up close behind.

      ‘Emma,’ he said her name quietly enough that only she would hear as he caught a hold of her arm, unnoticed in the crush that surrounded them, and steered her into a nearby alcove.

      She tried to snatch her hand free of his grip, but he held her firm. ‘Do not “Emma” me!’

      Her spine was flush against the wall. He stood in close to protect her from the sight of passing eyes. So close he could smell the familiar enticing scent of her, so close that his thighs brushed against hers.

      Anger was a tangible thing between them, flushing her cheeks, making her dark eyes glitter.

      ‘Not a Whitechapel man after all, Ned Stratham.’

      ‘Always a Whitechapel man,’ he said with unshakeable steadfastness. ‘Not a lady’s maid after all, Emma de Lisle.’

      She ignored the jibe, held his gaze with a quiet fury. ‘Tell me, upon your return to Whitechapel, was it of your courtship with an earl’s daughter that we were to have “talked”?’

      ‘Had you waited, as you said you would, you would know.’

      They were standing so close he could see the indignation that flashed in her eyes and feel the tremor that vibrated through her body.

      ‘Know that all those nights you were not walking out with me in Whitechapel you were here, in Mayfair, paying court to Lady Persephone? Know that there was more than one woman on the receiving end of your charms? Know that you were lying through your teeth to me when you implied you had a care for me, for your care was all for another?’ Her breath was ragged. ‘I am glad I did not wait to hear you spin more of your lies.’

      ‘I am not the one who lied.’

      ‘And yet here you are in high society.’

      ‘With good reason.’

      ‘Oh, spare me, please!’ Her breasts brushed against his chest with every breath she took.

      ‘No,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You will have your explanation, Emma, and I will have mine.’

      Where his hand still held hers he felt the sudden leap of her pulse.

      ‘I do not think so, Ned. You should return to Lady Persephone. I am sure she will be wondering where her suitor has got to. Just as Lady Lamerton will be seeking me.’

      The accusation rippled between them.

      He pinned her with his gaze, but she did not falter, just held it with hot hard defiance.

      ‘We will talk, Emma.’ He released her and stepped aside.

      She held his gaze for a moment longer. ‘Hell will freeze over first, Ned Stratham.’ She stepped out into the flow of the crowd just as Lady Lamerton, who had almost reached the front door, peered behind.

      He stood where he was and watched until Emma had negotiated her way through the bodies to reach the older woman. Only once they had disappeared through the front door did he step out into the crowd.

      * * *

      ‘I look forward to hearing more of your news. Yours with affection...’ Within the drawing room of her Grosvenor Place home the Dowager Lady Lamerton finished dictating the letter. ‘Compose another one in the same vein to Georgiana Hale. Not a straight copy, you understand, in case the unthinkable happens and they see each other’s correspondence.’ Lady Lamerton gave a shudder at the thought.

      ‘Of course.’ Emma passed the letter to Lady Lamerton for her signature. ‘And the part about Dorothy Wetherby... I believe that Mrs Hale and Mrs Wetherby are cousins.’

      ‘Good lord, I had forgotten. You are quite right, my dear. No mention of Dorothy Wetherby’s latest exploits.’ She smiled what Emma had come to call her mischievous smile. ‘That would certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons.’ She chuckled as she signed her name and passed the paper back to Emma.

      ‘We had quite the time of it last night, did we not?’ demanded Lady Lamerton.

      ‘Indeed.’ Emma busied herself in blotting the letter dry and finding the sealing wax. She did not want to speak of last night. She did not want to think of it. Not when she had already lain awake half the night thinking of nothing else.

      ‘I do not see what all the fuss was about. It was not as shocking as was implied.’

      ‘Some aspects of it were very shocking,’ said Emma, although those aspects had not occurred within the ring.

      ‘Perhaps to you with your innocence and naïvety...’

      She smiled at that, but it was an ironic smile. Oh, she had been naïve, all right. Naïve to trust Ned Stratham. Even after all she had learned in these past two years. Pretending he was a Whitechapel man. Pretending he was considering a future with a serving wench when he was serious only about landing himself a title. Liar! Damnable liar! She was so angry, at him, and at herself for believing him. When she thought what she had felt for him...what she had done with him... When she thought how close she had come to turning down the opportunity to return to society and all it might allow her to do for Kit...and all for a man who had deceived her. She wondered if anything of what he had said had been true. But then when she had thought about it during those long hours of the night, how much had he actually told her of himself? Answering questions with questions. And in her efforts to protect her own secrets she had not pressed him.

      ‘But not to a woman of my position and experience of life and the world.’

      Emma gave another smile, but said nothing.

      ‘How was it seeing so many familiar faces again, my dear?’

      ‘Most interesting.’

      She thought of Lord Hollingsworth and his family in the box at the amphitheatre, Ned sitting beside Hollingsworth’s daughter, and felt something twist in her stomach.

      ‘I could not help notice the appearance of some new faces amidst the old. Faces I do not know.’

      ‘We have had a few new arrivals since you were last in society, Emma.’

      ‘And some betrothals and weddings, no doubt.’

      ‘Oh, indeed. And some most scandalous. The Earl of Misbourne’s son, Viscount Linwood, married the actress Miss Fox and was caught up in the most appalling murder scandal. And Misbourne’s daughter, Lady Marianne, a meek and mild little thing who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, was married with rather suggestive haste to a gentleman who, let us just say, was the antithesis of what one would have anticipated Misbourne to have chosen. But then there always has been something rather shady about that family.’ She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling as she relived the gossip.

      ‘Lady Persephone must have made her come out by now.’ Emma hoped she was not being too obvious in what she wanted to ask.

      ‘Indeed,’ said the dowager. ‘She came out this Season and took very well—very well indeed.’

      Emma felt nauseous. ‘She is betrothed?’

      ‘Heavens, no! Hollingsworth has pockets to let and needs her to make an alliance to rectify the problem. All the interest in Lady Persephone was from other titles or gentlemen with insufficient funds for Hollingsworth’s liking. He is angling to catch her Mr Stratham.’

      Just the mention of his name made