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The countess waved her hand in dismissal, her acid smile back in her face. “They are my contemporaries. Of course, I noticed. Now, I’m sure you’re tired and you’ve stopped here because…” Her brows lifted.
“A difficulty with my carriage,” Jacob said without batting an eye. Emily looked down, not wanting to appear guilty.
“Of course,” the baroness said smoothly. “In the meantime, I’ll request the baths. Emily, I’d be happy to lend you my personal maid to help you with your toilet.”
It was Clara who stepped up next to her, her chin jutting up. “I’ll see to Emily myself.”
The baroness’s gaze flicked up and down Clara. “Aren’t you looking refreshingly appropriate.”
Indignation rose in Emily and she suddenly wished that Clara had her own colorful clothing back on. Clara had every right to be herself. But she said little as Clara reached for her arm, holding it until they’d made it up the stairs and down a hall.
She continued to hold it as they were shown into a spacious guest room, where a tub already waited.
The door closed behind them, leaving them in the room alone. She turned to Clara then, her breath coming out in one slow steady rush. “What was that?”
“I’ll tell you what it isn’t. Good intentioned or innocent. Never let her servants anywhere near your things or your person.”
“Near my person?” she gasped, her hand coming to the jewels still tucked in her bodice.
“I don’t know. I’m rambling.” Clara crossed the room and sat on the bed. “But she must be interested in something. In thirty years of knowing that woman, she has never offered her maid to anyone or been so hospitable as she was to you just now. It’s got my hackles up.”
That same dread filled Emily’s stomach, which only intensified when she opened the lid of her trunk.
“Clara!”
“What?” Clara was off the bed and hurry toward Emily.
“My trunk, everything is…nothing is as I left…” She stared blinking at the now rumpled contents that had not been like this just this morning.
“I guess I wasn’t rambling after all,” Clara murmured, reaching for Emily’s arm and beginning to massage her biceps. “I think we should tell Jacob.”
“I agree,” Emily whispered. “I can undress myself. Go find him if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course,” Clara said as she turned and left the room.
Emily quickly undressed, and as she removed her corset she tucked her jewels just under the pillow of the bed, smoothing out the fabric again.
It was likely ridiculous. How would anyone know she had her mother’s jewels? Though she did have the paperwork that declared it, in the crate tucked in the seat of Jacob’s carriage. She was out of the tub once again, grabbing fresh clothing and yanking on a chemise and stockings. She began lacing a new corset, carefully tucking the precious pieces between the chemise and the corset. She wished for them to be as close as possible now.
A knock at the door made her jump as she reached for the dressing gown and wrapped it about herself before crossing the room. Was it Jacob? Had he come to see the trunk for himself? She pulled open the door, excitement and relief swelling inside her. Those feelings shriveled in an instant when she was faced with Baroness Robinson.
“My lady,” Emily said in a rush of air as the woman came striding into the room.
“Miss Cranston,” the baroness said as she stopped next to Emily’s trunk and glanced inside. “I have to say, by your outward appearance, I expected your trunk to appear neater.”
Emily’s brows lifted as she stood by the still open door. “As did I.”
The baroness only smiled. She scanned the room and then crossed to the bed. “Oh dear, your covers are disheveled as well. Please allow me.”
Emily stared, her lips parting. Was the baroness primping her bed? She lifted the slightly crumpled pillow and then pulled the covers first back and then straight.
“What is my mother doing?” Jacob’s deep voice rumbled behind her.
“Making my bed?”
“Mother,” he said loudly enough that the other spun about, dropping the pillow. “You have servants for that. I know. I pay their salaries.”
“Always money with you,” the baroness huffed, her hands coming to her hips. “I’m not living like a pauper like you do. It’s unbecoming of your station.”
