Page 49 of The Unfortunate Debutante
“No more words,” Simeon stated in a firm tone as he held up his hand to secure a hackney.
Once she was in the hackney, Emma kept her back rigid and pretended that his sharp words hadn’t cut her deeply. He was right, of course. She had no right to ask him personal questions, but she truly had considered him a friend.
9
Reachinghis hand out the window of the hackney, Simeon opened the door and waited until it came to a complete stop before he stepped down onto the pavement. He extended the driver a few coins and hurried up the steps of his brick townhome in Mayfair.
He opened the door and slammed it shut. “Confounded, insufferable woman,” he muttered under his breath as he walked across the entrance hall towards his study in the rear of his home. Why was Emma plaguing his thoughts?
After he had secured a hackney, they traveled in silence to Caddington Manor, which is what he had wanted… silence. But then the stubborn girl refused his assistance as she exited the hackney and wouldn’t even glance in his direction when she climbed over the fence. He knew he’d hurt her with his sharp words earlier, but why did she insist on being his friend? She had no right! Why could she not leave it be?
His tall, stoic butler stepped out from the library. “Mr. Pembrooke is in your study, milord,” Mr. Baxter informed him.
Acknowledging his butler’s words with a grunt, Simeon didn’t slow his stride until he arrived at his study and had closed the door behind him. His fellow Bow Street Runner, Officer Edwin Pembrooke, sat on an armchair with a snifter in his hand.
Pembrooke took a long sip of his drink. “It took you long enough to drop off the girl.”
Ignoring his friend, Simeon walked across the room to the drink cart and poured himself a brandy.
“I must admit that she is a pretty little thing.”
Simeon took a long sip, not feeling a need to contradict Pembrooke’s words.
“Good heavens, Officer Martin,” Pembrooke admonished, “sometimes I feel like I would have a more informative conversation with a settee than you.”
Turning to face him, Simeon leaned back against the wall. “Sorry. I have some things on my mind.”
“It wouldn’t be a beautiful, brown-haired, young woman, by any chance would it?”
He frowned. “No… yes, actually. But only because she is maddening.”
“Aren’t most women?”
Not amused by his friend’s teasing, Simeon pressed, “Miss Pearson is the most vexing woman I know. She climbs walls, defends herself from ruffians, and chats incessantly.”
Pembrooke chuckled. “I agree that she is unconventional, but I must admit I am confused about why you find her so vexing.”
Bringing the snifter up to his lips, he asked, “Why are you here anyway?”
“Justice Ford wants an update on the Anti-Corn Law rebels,” Pembrooke explained. “He wants to know if he needs to issue any warrants ahead of the demonstration tomorrow.”
Simeon swirled the drink in his hand. “No. I was at the meeting, and Mr. Hatcher intends for the demonstration to be peaceful.”
“You believe that?” Pembrooke asked, lowering his drink to his lap.
“I do. These demonstrators are angry about the Corn Laws, but I don’t believe they’ll resort to violence.”
Pembrooke studied him for a moment. “Sheriff Blundell is pressuring Justice Ford to issue a warrant for the orator. He wants this uprising squashed.”
“It’s hardly an uprising,” he declared, placing his empty snifter down on the drink cart.
“There is talk that upwards of four thousand people will march to Templeton Square.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Simeon sighed. “I understand, but I do not perceive this group to be a threat to the Crown… yet.”
“I believe you,” Pembrooke said, sitting back in his seat. “Now about your other assignment.”
“Go to the devil,” he growled.
