Page 24 of The Unfortunate Debutante
“Does she?” Simeon found himself asking.
Bringing his gaze back down, Lord Downshire replied, “She was educated at a boarding school, but her education was lacking in many regards. She was not prepared for Society, so we hired tutors to fill in the gaps. Poor Emma grew up with less restrictions, and she thrived in Scotland. However, London poses its own set of problems, even before Mr. Lockhart started sabotaging her.”
“Your ward claims she writes articles for the newspaper,” he shared, picking up his snifter from the table and taking a sip.
Lord Downshire cleared his throat. “Please keep that to yourself, Lord Wentworth.”
“It’s true?”
“Yes,” he reluctantly admitted.
Simeon found his curiosity piqued by this peculiar young woman. She was an anomaly amongst the women of the ton. But more importantly, he felt she conceded too easily. It struck him as ingenuine, and that perplexed him.
Miss Emma Pearson was up to something, and it irked him that he didn’t know what it was. Perhaps guarding her for a day wouldn’t be the worst waste of his time.
He tossed back the remainder of his drink and placed it onto the table. “I will guard Miss Pearson,” he paused, “at least until another guard can be procured.”
“Thank you, Wentworth. I will owe you a favor,” Lord Downshire sighed in relief.
“Keep it,” he declared, walking towards the door. “I’ll be waiting outside to escort Miss Pearson to the garden party.”
Emma was sitting perfectly stillat her dressing table chair while her lady’s maid used a hot curling tong to create small ringlets to frame her face. Her thoughts were on the infuriating Bow Street Runner she had just met. He had a strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, and thick, black eyebrows. His short, brown hair was brushed forward, and he had long sideburns. He may be handsome, but he was a dolt. She had been so excited to learn that Mr. Martin worked as a Bow Street Runner, but he had dashed her hopes of interviewing him. All she wanted to know was his thoughts on the Corn Laws and…
Her lady’s maid’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. “You seem distracted, miss,” Peggy observed as she reached for another lock of hair.
Keeping her gaze focused on the mirror, Emma replied, “I am. The newspaper requested that I submit additional articles for their consideration, and I want to write an article about how the Corn Laws are affecting the people in the rookeries.”
“Like you did for the Highland Clearance?”
“Yes, but this time I would like to attend a meeting of a group that is actively opposing the Corn Laws and interview multiple people,” she confessed.
“That doesn’t seem safe,” Peggy mused, walking over and placing the hot tongs next to the hearth.
Emma shifted in her chair to face her lady’s maid. “People are on the brink of starvation because of the high bread prices, and they have no money to spare to buy anything else.”
“My cousin’s family is starving because he can’t find a job,” Peggy revealed, blinking back her tears. “I send him all the spare coins that I can, but it isn’t enough. He works side jobs whenever he has the chance, but there are no long-term prospects.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rising from her seat, Emma went over to her reticule and removed the two one-pound notes. She extended them towards Peggy. “I hope this helps.”
Peggy put her hands in front of her. “I cannot accept that. It’s far too generous.”
“Please, I insist,” Emma replied, holding the money out. “No one should go without food, especially children.”
Tentatively, Peggy reached for the money. “Thank you, miss. This will mean the world to my cousin,” she said, slipping the notes into the pocket of her apron.
Turning towards the bed, her lady’s maid picked up a white gown with a fine, sheer, yellow silk overlay. A blue trim ran along the hemline and along the sleeves. She held it up for her inspection. “I thought this gown would look beautiful for the garden party.”
“Excellent choice, Peggy.”
After she was dressed, Emma sat back on the bed as she put on her white satin slippers with their blue decorative ribbons.
Clutching a blue-striped parasol in her hand, Peggy appeared anxious as she diverted her gaze to the floor.
“What is it?”
Peggy brought her gaze back up to meet Emma’s. “I do know someone who can help you. My brother, Jerome, belongs to the Anti-Corn Law rebels.”
“Can you arrange a meeting with him?” Emma asked eagerly.
