Even thinking about Lord Theo made Emma feel edgy and unsettled. So she would just stop thinking about him, she told herself.
‘You escaped before your mama could take you to task for refusing Mr Nullford?’ Olivia asked, pulling Emma from her thoughts.
‘Yes. I scuttled off to Hatchards, where I bought some paper and was kindly lent a pen and some space on their counter to write my notes.’
‘But given that the suitor was Nullford,’ Sara said, ‘are you so sure your mama will be disappointed?’
‘Since she put him up to it, yes. After the episode with my maid, I couldn’t bear the prospect of sitting still while she scolded me for my foolishness, then wondered for the millionth time why I fail to see the necessity of marrying so apparent to every other female, and then worked herself into a deep despondency, worrying over what will become of me. I hope later to use this incident to persuade her to finally accept that my vision for my future is quite different from hers and get her to agree to release me from the social obligations of the Season. But I’ve no hope of doing so before we go through the ritual of outrage, puzzlement and despair.’
‘At least you know she does care about you—even if she cannot understand you,’ Sara said.
Olivia reached over to press their friend’s hand. After her daughter’s birth, Sara’s mama had taken to her sofa, claiming her health prevented her taking any further part in society. There, she received calls from select gossipy friends and the various physicians and apothecaries summoned to treat her latest ailment, while delegating all responsibility for managing her daughter’s future to her sister, Sara’s aunt, Lady Patterson.
‘Yes, and I do appreciate that she’s sincerely concerned about me,’ Emma replied, ‘which is why I have so far tolerated yet another Season, when I would much prefer to be done with it and set up my own establishment. Oh, to be able to come and go when and where I please, without dragging along a maid or a footman!’
‘I know,’ Olivia said, sighing as well. ‘Though we are all more than one-and-twenty and could legally access the funds to establish the household together we planned at school, it’s turned out to be not nearly as easy as we envisaged. Merely mentioning the possibility of our hiring a house is enough to set Mama off in a swoon.’
‘Even we must recognise that our families will suffer a good deal of scorn and pity for producing daughters with such odd, unfeminine aims,’ Sara said. ‘I’m sure your mama genuinely believes that choosing not to marry and giving up your place in society would mean not just censure for her, but ruin and heartache for you, too.’
‘Another point on which Mama harps,’ Emma agreed. And one Mr Nullford had stressed. ‘Sadly, none of us can escape the burden of appreciating our families’ sensibilities, no matter how much their expectations conflict with our own wishes.’
‘I have no intention of “appreciating” my family’s sensibilities to the point of marrying, just to spare them distress,’ Olivia replied acidly. ‘Bound to a husband for whom I feel at best a tepid respect? Ending up a wife either neglected in favour of prettier, mindless females like the ones we knew at school, or scorned for having the temerity to display my intelligence and work towards political goals? Never!’
‘I’m not suggesting we give in to society’s pressure and marry,’ Emma replied. ‘Only that withdrawing from society to live and work together, as we envisaged at Mrs Axminster’s, will have to be deferred a while longer.’
‘How much longer?’ Olivia asked, frustration in her tone. ‘Until all family members likely to be embarrassed by us have passed on?’
‘Certainly not that long!’ Emma said, giving her friend a rueful smile. ‘I remain hopeful that I may escape by the end of the Season, perhaps even before. Especially after the contretemps over Mr Nullford, which Mama is sure to bewail as perhaps my last chance to wed.’
Inwardly wincing again, she refrained from disclosing Mr Nullford’s hurtful remark about her desirability.
‘Nullford!’ Olivia said scornfully, shaking her head. ‘Only a female who believes any husband is better than none could seriously consider wedding that blockhead. And for someone as intelligent and perceptive as you to marry such a man…it would be a travesty!’
‘Certainly a waste of intellect,’ Sara agreed.
‘Thank you, kind friends. Unfortunately, Mama is just the sort of female who would think Nullford better than no one. Enough about that dispiriting offer! Though I did need to vent my ire over that event, my other purpose in bringing you here was to suggest that we call upon Lady Lyndlington. Perhaps she will have some letter writing for us, to help redeem what has so far been a most trying day.’
Except for the interval with Lord Theo. That exchange had been as stimulating as it was disturbing.
Truly, she ought to try harder to avoid the man, though he had a disconcerting habit of occasionally turning up at the social engagements to which her mama insisted on dragging her. She should avoid him especially since some foolish feminine part of her seemed to respond intensely whenever he was near. The man represented a clear danger to her good sense—and self-control.
And now she was thinking of him again, after telling herself she wouldn’t.
Shaking her head with irritation, Emma said, ‘Shall we finish our tea and call on Lady Lyndlington?’
‘Yes, let’s,’ Olivia said. ‘All this talk of marriage makes me want to write angry letters, too.’
‘Indeed!’ Sara agreed with a smile. ‘Let’s hear it for a limit to child labour, votes for all—and a wider role in society for women!’
Though Emma and her schoolmates were fortunate enough to find Lady Lyndlington at home, they did not end up writing letters. The head of the Ladies’ Committee, the butler informed them, was already entertaining a guest—Mrs Christopher Lattimar, wife to the brother of Emma’s good friend Temperance.
Since that lady also happened to be the former Ellie Parmenter, who before her marriage had for years been the mistress of an older peer and was thus, despite her gentle birth, not accepted in society, the three had heard about, but never met, her.
‘Would you ladies like to join them, or would you prefer to call again later?’ the butler asked.
The ton might shun his wife, but Christopher Lattimar’s close circle of political friends and associates in Parliament had quietly welcomed her. Lady Maggie, wife of his good friend Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, had become something of a champion for her and one of the leading supporters of her school for girls.
It took only a moment for the three to exchange glances and a mutual nod. ‘We would be pleased to join them,’ Emma replied.
‘Ladies, so kind of you to stop by,’ Lady Maggie said, she and her guest rising as the butler ushered them in. ‘May I present you to my good friend, Mrs Christopher Lattimar.’
‘Only if they feel…comfortable meeting me,’ Mrs Lattimar said to Lady Lyndlington before turning to Emma and her friends. ‘I shouldn’t wish to cause you—or your families—any distress.’
Even if Emma had not already known the circumstances beyond her control that had thrust this lovely, dark-haired woman into a position of shame, the fact that she had Lady Lyndlington’s support would have influenced Emma towards her. Anyone who’d earned the respect and affection of Lady Maggie, daughter of an earl and wife of one of Parliament’s leading reform politicians, would have to be intelligent and interesting.
In addition to which, her friend Temperance also held her brother’s disgraced wife