Page 45 of A Game of Hearts

“And what effect would that be?”

“Why, that of a young lady of perfect breeding, demonstrating that some people’s judgment says far more about their own character than about hers.” Lady Agatha’s smile grew decidedly satisfied. “The dinner table can be quite the stage for such demonstrations, don’t you think?”

*****

Susan’s hands moved with careful precision as she arranged Emma’s hair, each pearl-headed pin placed with deliberate attention. Emma watched in the mirror, noting how her maid kept glancing at the blue silk gown as if ensuring some particular effect.

“The pearls next, Miss?” Susan lifted the case with unusual ceremony. “Lady Agatha was most particular about them.”

“Was she indeed?” Emma fingered the smooth stones. “And did my aunt give you any other particular instructions about my appearance this evening?”

Susan’s hands stilled for just a moment - long enough to confirm Emma’s growing suspicion that more was happening than mere dinner preparation. “Only that you should look your very best, Miss. Though...” She hesitated.

“Though?”

“She did say something about some people being surprised by how the evening turns out.” Susan’s expression in the mirror was carefully blank. “Now then, shall we add just a tiny touch of rouge? Not too much - just enough to suggest perfect composure.”

Emma’s fingers traced the pearls at her throat - her grandmother’s pearls, worn on every significant occasion of her life. Why had her aunt insisted on them tonight? What surprise could possibly make this evening anything but an exercise in maintaining dignity through mortification?

The blue silk settled around her with familiar elegance. Yesterday morning she had chosen it, hoping to please Lord Limnwood. Now... now she would wear it as armour, showing him exactly what he had thrown away with his quick condemnation.

“There, Miss.” Susan stepped back, surveying her work with satisfaction. “You look...”

“Perfect?”

Emma’s smile held a touch of irony.

“Strong,” Susan corrected softly. “You look strong.”

Unexpectedly touched, Emma met her maid’s eyes in the mirror.

“Thank you, Susan. For everything.”

“Shall I tell Lady Agatha that you’re ready?”

Emma took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders.

“Yes. Though... Susan?”

“Miss?”

“If my aunt has something particular planned for this evening, I don’t want to know. I believe that I’d rather face whatever comes with genuine reactions.”

Susan’s expression suggested that this was exactly the right decision.

“Very good, Miss. Though... perhaps you might want these?”

She held out a delicate lace handkerchief and a spare pearl-headed pin. Emma raised an eyebrow in question.

“Just in case, Miss. One never knows when one might need emergency repairs. To one’s composure or one’s hair.”

The oddly specific nature of these offerings only confirmed Emma’s suspicion that something was afoot. But she took them without comment, tucking them into her reticule.

Whatever her aunt and the others had planned, she would face it with dignity. And if their plans went awry... well, she was prepared for that too.

Chapter Twelve

The Duke’s dining room glittered with candlelight, crystal, and carefully maintained civility. Emma kept her eyes on her soup, aware of the subtle glances being cast in her direction. Lady Anne’s voice carried from the far end of the table, something about the proper way to arrange morning visits. The banality of her conversation struck Emma as almost offensive after yesterday’s events.