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“You’re welcome,” he replied. They were at her bedroom door now. “Good night.”
“Good night.” She watched as he turned toward his own rooms. “You will speak to Lady Emeline, won’t you?” she called anxiously after him.
But he didn’t seem to hear.
THE SUN WAS shining through her window when Emeline woke the next morning. She stared at it dreamily for a moment before its full import hit her.
“Oh, dear Lord!” She jumped from the bed and rang frantically for a maid. Then, afraid the summons would take too long, opened her door and bellowed down the hallway like a common fishwife.
She turned back to her room, found a soft bag to pack, and began flinging things into it willy-nilly.
“Emeline!” Tante Cristelle stood in the doorway, hair still in braids, looking horrified. “What has possessed you?”
“Samuel.” Emeline stared at the open bag, clothing spilling out, and realized there wasn’t any time for packing. “His ship leaves this morning. It may have already left. I have to stop him.”
“Whatever for?”
“I have to tell him that I love him.” She abandoned the bag and instead ran to the wardrobe to draw out her plainest frock. By this time, Harris had arrived in the room. “Quickly! Help me dress!”
Tante Cristelle sank onto the bed. “Why there is such a hurry, I do not know. If that man doesn’t know already that you have a tendre for him, he is an imbecile most severe.”
Emeline struggled up from folds of dimity. “Yes, but I told him I didn’t want to marry him.”
“And so?”
“I do want to marry him!”
“Tiens! Then it was very silly of you to become engaged to Lord Vale.”
“I know that!” Good Lord, she was wasting time arguing in circles with Tante Cristelle when Samuel’s ship might be sailing down the Thames right now. “Oh, where are my shoes?”
“Right here, my lady,” Harris said unperturbedly. “But you haven’t any stockings on.”
“I don’t care!”
Tante Cristelle threw her hands up in the air, imploring God in French to come to the aid of her so-deranged niece. Emeline thrust her bare feet into her shoes and hurried to the door, nearly running down Daniel.
“Where are you going, M’man?” her only offspring asked innocently. His eyes dropped to her bare ankles. “I say, do you know you haven’t any stockings on?”
“Yes, dear.” Emeline pressed an absentminded kiss to Daniel’s forehead. “We’re going to America, and they don’t wear any stockings there.”
Emeline left Daniel yelling huzzahs while Tante Cristelle and Harris tried to quiet him. She ran down the stairs, calling for Crabs as she went.
That imperturbable gentleman ran into the hallway looking startled. “My lady?”
“Bring the carriage ’round. Hurry!”
“But—”
“And my cloak. I’ll need a cloak.” She looked frantically about the hall for a clock. “What time is it?”
“Just past nine o’clock, my lady.”
“Oh, no!” Emeline covered her face. The ship would’ve left by now. Samuel would be out at sea. What was she to do? There was no way to catch him, no way to—
“Emeline.” The voice was deep and sure and oh so familiar.
For a moment, she didn’t dare hope. Then she dropped her hands.
