Page 18 of The Unfortunate Debutante
“That’s true, too,” Josette said, turning her loving gaze towards her husband, “about the handsome man part, but not about Society falling at my feet. Morgan did manage a few well-placed articles in the Society page of the newspaper, and it turned the tide of public opinion towards me.”
Coming to stand next to her, Morgan smiled. “Or it could have been that you were endorsed by the prince regent, the Duke of Remington, the Marquess of Bath, the Marquess of Lansdowne, the Earl of Camden, Lord Charles Beckett, Lord Jonathon Beckett…”
“We get the point, dearest,” Josette joked.
Morgan turned his gaze towards her. “You need not fear, Emma. Some of the brightest minds are working on turning your Season around.” He smirked. “And by brightest, I mean me.”
Josette let out a slight huff. “You will have to excuse my husband. He is extraordinarily cocky about his abilities on… well, just about everything.”
Leaning closer, Morgan whispered something in his wife’s ear, causing a discernable blush on her cheeks.
“Newlyweds,” Eliza jested before turning her gaze back to Emma. “The front page of the newspaper has the most fascinating article about the Highland Clearance by a Mr.DavidBlackmore. Have you read it?”
Emma reached for her teacup and took a long sip. After she placed the cup back to its saucer, she replied, “I have not.”
“Interesting,” Eliza muttered. “I enjoyed the perspective of the writer. The person interviewed many of these displaced Highlanders and eloquently explained the injustice of it all.”
“Oh,” Emma remarked innocently as she picked up her fork and resumed eating.
Eliza let out an exasperated sigh. “Let’s speed this conversation along, Emma. Shall we? After all, Rachel already gushed about you having an article published in the newspaper.”
“She did?” Emma asked.
Eliza’s face softened. “We’re all so immensely proud of you.”
“I hardly know you, but I am proud of you as well,” Morgan joked.
Josette nudged him in the side. “Hush, my love.”
Placing her fork down, Emma straightened in her seat. “Luke wasn’t exactly pleased that I submitted an article to the newspaper. He even offered me additional pin money to stop writing.”
“Of course, he reacted that way. I wouldn’t have expected him to act any differently,” Eliza said with a wave of her hand. “But I have it on good authority that Luke is also proud of you.”
“You think so?” she asked hopefully.
Eliza nodded. “I know so.”
A little girl’s laugh came from the doorway and was followed by Benedict’s voice. “I am now prepared to tutor Emma in hand-to-hand combat training.”
Emma looked over and saw Benedict holding his smiling twenty-month-old daughter, Lady Caroline, in his arms.
Morgan chuckled. “By accepting Benedict as your training tutor, you’re setting yourself up for failure, Emma. I’m willing to impart my wisdom to you, as well.”
“I beg your pardon?” Benedict asserted, walking closer to the table. “I could best you in a round of fisticuffs any day.”
Eliza grinned and shook her head. “Gentlemen, this is getting us nowhere,” she proclaimed as Caroline lunged out of Benedict’s arms and into hers. “Perhaps it would be best ifbothof you demonstrate how to protect oneself.”
Benedict removed his jacket and draped it onto the back of the chair. “It’s best to provide you with some basic training in the unlikely event that someone attempts to abscond with you,” he explained.
Rising from her chair, Emma responded, “Last week, Eliza gave me an overcoat pistol to keep in my reticule, and after much practice, I’m a decent shot.”
“That’s good,” Benedict said, “but that isn’t enough. You might not be able to reach for your pistol if the assailant is dragging you away.” He waved his hand towards the lawn. “Come. Let us show you.”
Once they stepped onto the lawn, Benedict turned back around, grabbed her arm, and yanked it behind her back.
“How do you get out of this hold?” he asked.
Rather than explain, Emma decided to show him. She lifted the heel of her kid boot and stomped it down hard on top of his Hessian boot. Immediately, he released her and let out a loud, pain-filled grunt.
