Page 41 of The Unfortunate Debutante
A flicker of fear came to Peter’s eyes before he blinked it away. “As you wish,” he replied, performing an overexaggerated bow. He turned his gaze back towards Emma and winked.
Emma watched as he spun around and stormed away.
“Are you all right?” Mr. Martin asked, his eyes not wavering from Peter’s retreating figure.
She shuddered. “Thank you for stepping in when you did. I had no idea he would create a scene in the middle of the square.”
Her eyes scanned the square, and she saw women and men watching her, all with looks of censure on their faces. She let out a loud sigh. “This Season keeps getting worse and worse.”
“Would you like to leave? Or we could go on a walk through the maple trees?” Mr. Martin surprised her by asking.
“A walk sounds delightful,” she replied, placing her hand on the side of the carriage and allowing Mr. Martin to assist her down. Once her feet were on the ground, Mr. Martin stepped to the side, and she noticed that he begrudgingly offered his arm.
She couldn’t help but notice that he did not enjoy being near her. Or was it any woman? She would have to ask him that during their next interview.
“Do not give any heed to what Mr. Lockhart said,” he remarked, leading her onto the pavement. “His words were inaccurate and in no way reflect the woman that I have had the privilege of getting to know.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
“Do you think your father granted him permission to marry you?” he asked, giving her a side glance.
“Heavens, no,” she stated with conviction. “My father did not want me to marry at sixteen, nor would he have ever selected Peter as a suitable candidate.”
She could feel the taut muscles under Mr. Martin’s jacket, making her feel safe.
“May I ask why?” Mr. Martin pressed. “After all, he employed Lockhart as his solicitor.”
Up ahead was a break in the iron fence that led towards an established footpath through the maple trees. She kept her eyes on the trees while she explained, “My father always said that Peter was good at business but lousy at life. Furthermore, he was the only solicitor in our village, and his family’s land neighbored ours.”
The sound of horse hooves pounding on the cobblestone caused her to turn her eyes towards the direction of the street. A black coach, with two horses and a lone driver, was charging right for them.
Women and men started screaming as they darted out of the pathway of the carriage. Immediately, Mr. Martin grabbed her arm and pulled her behind the safety of the iron fence in such a hurried fashion that they both toppled to the ground with Mr. Martin landing on top of her.
The carriage roared past them and down the street before turning the corner.
“Thank you for saving me,” Emma murmured, their faces now only inches apart. She couldn’t help but admire his handsome face, and she had an immense desire to reach up and touch the dark stubble along his jawline. Thankfully, she was still in control of her senses.
“You are welcome, Miss Pearson,” he breathed as his eyes landed on her lips.
A growing number of people were congregating near the fence, and they started whispering loudly back and forth. A few of the women even had fans in front of their faces. It was evident that they were talking about her… again.
Mr. Martin rose and extended his hand to assist her in rising.
Emma straightened and started dusting off the dirt and leaves from her once-pristine gown. Perhaps Peter was right. It appeared that the universe was telling her that she did not belong in this world.
With her head held high, she allowed Mr. Martin to escort her back to his carriage. She felt confident that this was the worst Season ever!
8
Sittingon a brown leather settee in Lord Downshire’s study, Simeon held a snifter in his hand, but it had long been forgotten. He was watching Lord Downshire pacing back and forth, and the anger radiating off him was almost palpable.
Miss Pearson was sitting next to Lady Downshire on a settee, and her eyes were downcast. Whenever she glanced in his direction, he couldn’t help but notice the sadness that lingered in her eyes. Her normal air of cheerfulness was replaced with gloom. He had to admit that it tore at his heartstrings.
Why does it matter what her reputation is, he wondered. Miss Pearson is a beautiful young woman, well connected, with a large dowry. He had no doubt a gentleman of the ton would recognize her for the rare beauty that she was, and she would have a blissful life. He frowned at that thought. It was a life he would never know.
The door to the study opened, and to his surprise, Eliza, the Marchioness of Lansdowne, rushed into the room, followed by Lord Lansdowne and Lord Jonathon.
“Good gracious, Luke, what was so urgent that you called for an immediate family meeting?” Eliza asked.
