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After she took a sip, Harriet lowered the teacup to her lap. “Don’t you want children?”
“What would I do with children?” Jane asked. “I know nothing about rearing children.”
“Neither did I when I first started with Baldwin, but I must admit that it comes quite naturally,” Harriet replied.
Jane brought a finger up to her lips and tapped it. “If I did marry, I would want to marry a recluse. Someone who was content living in the countryside and never wanted to attend social events in London.”
“Why is that?” Harriet asked.
“Because I dread going to all the soirées, house parties, and balls,” Jane admitted. “It is rather exhausting.”
“You are the daughter of a marquess,” Harriet pointed out. “It is expected of you to attend until you secure a match.”
“What a dreadful thought,” Jane muttered.
“Speaking of which, we are to attend Lady Shipston’s ball this evening,” Harriet shared, shifting her gaze to Emmeline. “Please say that you will attend with us.”
Emmeline grimaced. “I am not sure how I will be received.”
“You need not worry about that,” Harriet assured her. “Madalene and I are working on a plan to ensure you are embraced by theton.”
The sound of the main door being closed drifted into the drawing room.
Jane glanced over at the open door, her lips curling into a frown. “It would appear that my brother has finally decided to return home.”
The next moment, Oliver appeared in the doorway, looking terribly disheveled with tousled hair and wrinkled clothing. His tired eyes roamed the room until they met Emmeline’s.
“Good heavens,” Harriet declared. “Whatever happened to you?”
“It matters not,” Oliver replied, his eyes not straying from Emmeline’s. “May I speak to you privately, Emme?”
“Of course,” she said, rising.
She walked the short distance to him, and a terrible smell wafted off his person. Bringing her hand up to her nose, she said, “You smell awful.”
“I am well aware of that, but I was hoping to speak to you before I took a long soak.”
He offered his arm, and Emmeline timidly placed her hand on his sleeve. He led her towards the rear of the townhouse, and it wasn’t long before they were strolling along one of the footpaths in the garden.
She removed her hand from his arm and asked, “How are you faring?”
“Not well.”
“No?”
He reached out to gently grab her arm and turned her to face him. “I feel awful for not coming home last night, but I assure you that it couldn’t be avoided.”
Tired of his lies, she kept her back rigid as she asked, “And why was that?”
“I spent the night in jail.”
“You did?” she asked, rearing back. “Whatever for?”
Oliver let out a sigh as he dropped his hand. “My friend convinced me to attend a meeting with him, and it turns out it was a meeting for rebels.”
“It was?”
“And I was arrested by the Bow Street Runner that orchestrated the whole thing.”
