Emma was too shocked to react for a second then she clipped out, ‘Thank you for your concern, but Miss Waverley is quite content with her lot. Good day.’ Though white-faced with fury, she dipped her head before moving on with Dawn. ‘The cheek of the witch!’ she fumed when they were outside. ‘To do something so ill after years have passed.’
‘Awful, wicked woman! It is little wonder Simon was unhappy. Who would want to be shackled to her?’ Dawn wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Emma murmured agreement. Simon had told her that he’d been forced into a marriage by his family and that he didn’t love his wife and never would. But he wouldn’t have told her anything at all if Robin hadn’t confronted them at a tavern, halfway to Gretna, and beat the truth out of him. She realised that they might have lived together as man and wife for months before she finally discovered that her husband wasn’t her husband at all because he already had a wife living in Yorkshire.
‘Perhaps Veronica has guessed Joshua has designs on you and is feeling more hateful than usual,’ Dawn said.
‘I’ll never be her rival for that swine. Actually, they are a perfect match.’ Emma realised that it was understandable, if unforgivable, that Simon had sought happiness elsewhere.
‘Come back to our house and have tea,’ Dawn urged.
Emma felt frustrated that their outing had been ruined, but relieved that she’d managed to hold her temper when provoked. It was a pleasantly mild spring day and she’d gladly got out of the house for a while. Although she couldn’t afford to buy even a length of ribbon it had been nice to mingle in the crowds of shoppers and absorb the atmosphere. But she was ready to go home, too.
‘Oh, there’s a hackney.’ Emma made to hail it, then dropped her hand back to her side, letting the vehicle sail past.
‘Never mind, another will be along soon,’ Dawn said, bobbing about to locate one.
Emma barely heard her friend’s comment; she’d spotted somebody and her heartbeat had accelerated alarmingly at the sight of him. On the opposite pavement, dawdling by a lamp post, was her brother. He appeared to be engrossed in fiddling with a tinderbox to light the pipe clamped in his teeth. She wasn’t fooled by that. He was aware of her and was intermittently flashing eye signals at her from beneath the peak of his cap.
An icy sensation trickled down her spine. It was no coincidence that Robin was here. He’d sought her out because he wanted to speak urgently to her.
Regent Street was crowded with people and it was easy enough to lose oneself in the noisy throng. Nevertheless, Emma wished he’d not taken a chance coming to a place where he might bump into old acquaintances. Grimy of countenance and dressed in a labourer’s clothing, there was nothing to hint at the dandy her twin had once been. A coarsely woven jacket engulfed him almost down to his knees and a wide-brimmed cap concealed his features. A coal cart was parked nearby and now he was confident she’d seen him he stepped quickly to it, sheltering behind the mountain of black sacks. Emma wondered if he really was employed as a coalman or had just donned a disguise. And what a disguise it was! Even a bankrupted gentleman’s son might do better for himself.
‘There’s one!’ Emma waved and the cab drew up at the kerb. ‘Don’t fret over that horrible woman,’ she said kindly when they were settled on the seat. She had noticed that Dawn looked rather depressed following the unpleasant episode in the shop.
‘I won’t let such as her bother me,’ Dawn said dismissively. ‘Come and have some tea with me and we can end our day nicely.’
‘I’m afraid I’m going to be a spoilsport. I’ve got a headache now so won’t be much fun.’ Emma’s temples had started throbbing, but she blamed her brother for it rather than Mrs Gresham. She took a peek over a shoulder, guessing the coal cart might be following them. It was. Whatever Robin had on his mind she’d sooner know about it straight away. She was glad he’d located her in Regent Street rather than risk dawdling close to their house in case their father had spotted him.
* * *
‘I saw you go off with a man last night. Who was he?’
‘What?’ Emma bristled at her brother’s curt interrogation. ‘Have you risked breaking cover just to ask me that?’
‘I told you to come alone last night,’ he scolded. ‘I thought I could trust you, Em. Who was he? Did you tell him about me? Does he know where I lodge?’
‘Well, if you were close enough to have seen him you must know that two robbers set about me.’ Emma gave her brother a blameful glare. ‘Why did you not come to my rescue, then I might not have needed a stranger’s assistance.’
‘He was a stranger?’ Robin sounded relieved. ‘You don’t know him, then, Em?’
‘Well, I do know him now,’ Emma said flatly. ‘I had no alternative but to make his acquaintance after he saw off those two villains and delivered me safely home.’
Emma watched her brother restlessly pacing to and fro over the grass. Instinctively, she had known that he would wait for her to join him where they’d talked before. As a girl she had been allowed to go to the local heath in her twin brother’s care to play with bat and ball. Unbeknown to her father—who would have banned further trips had he known—she’d climb the trees with Robin and on one occasion had torn her elbows falling off a low branch. The greensward, dotted with oaks, was isolated enough to allow them to talk unobserved, but not so remote than she might arouse suspicion walking to and from it on her own. A few scamps were at play, darting in and out of the woods, whooping and hollering. The boys were too young to bother to pay attention to the odd sight of a lady deep in conversation with a rough-looking fellow.
‘You told me you were studying law.’ The speaking look that travelled over Robin from top to toe needed no explanation.
‘I am studying at night, but I have to earn a living as well. Lawyers ask their apprentices for references. I have none to give and must in time set up my own business as Charles Perkins. My boss, Milligan, doesn’t want to know more from Charlie than whether he finished his rounds and got payment for all of the sacks he delivered.’ He spoke sourly of his alter ego, but hadn’t been sidetracked from having an answer to what really interested him. ‘Who was your Good Samaritan? That high flyer looked as though it cost a pretty penny.’
His sister didn’t answer immediately and he guessed she was still indignant that he’d not rescued her. ‘After we parted last night I came after you because I should have owned up to something important,’ he started to explain. ‘I would have knocked those ruffians down for you, Em, but I was too late to be of help.’ He’d been glad of that, having been loath to bring himself to the attention of a passing parish constable by brawling. ‘I caught a glimpse of your rescuer’s face and...’ He tailed off into silence.
‘And?’ Emma prompted. ‘Who did you believe him to be?’
‘The Earl of Houndsmere, but then I thought I must be seeing things.’ Robin sounded bashful.
‘Well, you weren’t. It was him,’ Emma said shortly.
Robin took a step back, then another, looking dazed. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course, although I only found out he was an earl this afternoon.’
Robin gripped her shoulders, giving her a little shake. ‘You didn’t tell him you’d seen me, did you?’
‘Why...he doesn’t know you, does he?’ That question was met by silence so she demanded, ‘Did you come into contact with him years ago?’
Robin vigorously shook his head. ‘I know him by sight, but I’ve never spoken to him before in my life. But he’s not a man to cross, Em.’ He dropped his face to his palms. ‘Hell’s teeth! Why did it have to be him?’
Emma roughly dragged his hands from his face to study his tortured expression. Increased