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Emma blinked and returned her attention to her partner. “I apologize, my lord. You caught me woolgathering.”
“While dancing? How odd.”
“I am enjoying myself now.”
He grinned. “Good.”
They danced in silence for a moment before Ainsley spoke up again. “I do hope you don’t mind me saying, but you are far better off without Bolton. The man is far too attached to his mother.”
She smiled up at him. He was the only person who had ever said as much. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Might I call on you this week?”
Emma tried not to frown as she thought about his question. Only last year, Ainsley had courted Louisa, and now he wanted to call on her. It seemed like a rather odd request. Or was she just peevish at being his second choice?
“Miss Drake?”
“Of course, my lord. We are at home on Wednesdays.”
“Excellent.” As the dance ended, he escorted her to the refreshment table, where she grabbed a glass of lemonade.
“Here comes your mother,” Ainsley commented before sipping his wine.
Emma rolled her eyes. “She must wish to leave now.”
“Lord Ainsley, how wonderful to see you again,” her mother gushed. “I had such high expectations for a match with you and Louisa last Season. But my little Emma is the prettiest of the bunch.”
Emma’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She did have other qualities than her beauty, didn’t she? Ainsley had appeared to appreciate Louisa’s intelligence, but Emma never had the curiosity her sister had for scientific articles and treatises. Emma’s taste ran to the romance and adventure stories written by Mrs. Henrietta Lewis.
Ainsley cast her a look of understanding before saying, “Thank you, Mrs. Drake. I do hope you are well.”
“I am very well,” her mother said with a slight blush.
Her mother’s reaction only confirmed Emma’s suspicions about her activities this evening. For all her speeches on moral behavior, her mother was a dreadful hypocrite. “Mamma, are you certain you are well? You look flushed.”
“Well, in truth, I have developed a slight headache tonight.”
“We must get you home, then.” Emma moved to take her mother’s arm.
“No,” her mother stammered, staring at Ainsley. “You should stay. I’m certain Louisa and Harry could see you home.”
“I won’t hear of it.” Emma smiled back at Ainsley. “Good evening, my lord,” she said with a quick curtsy.
“Goodnight, Miss Drake.”
As she and her mother walked away, Emma felt as if someone watched her every move. She slid a glance in the direction of Mr. Kingsley, who openly stared at her with one black brow raised in question. She ignored him and the fluttering in her belly.
The carriage ride back to her mother’s home was quiet as each woman processed their thoughts. Emma considered the evening a small success. She could now cross one item off her list. Although she had to admit that introducing herself to a man wasn’t as satisfying as she’d thought it would be. Perhaps her choice of man influenced her enjoyment. Or possibly it had been Kingsley’s reproach that had taken some of the pleasure from the ball.
He’d had no right to interfere with her evening. She had hoped to get more than one item crossed off her list. His interruption had prevented her from pinching a glass or two of wine without her mother’s notice to work on item number three. But now she couldn’t wait to pull the wool over his eyes by dressing as a man in his gaming hell.
THE NEXT TWO DAYS WERE quiet with only a few callers, mostly her mother’s friends, but today both her sisters and the duke himself had come to call on them. Emma walked into the family salon on the first floor with a smile. Both her sisters had brought their children, which always pleased her.
As Emma sat down, Louisa’s stepdaughter, Charlotte, moved to sit next to her. “Good afternoon, Miss Drake.”
Emma smiled down at the little girl. “Good afternoon, Lady Charlotte. How lovely you look today.”
The five-year-old beamed with pride. “Thank you. Mamma picked it out for me.”
