Page 51 of The Unfortunate Debutante
Pembrooke gave him a look filled with pity. “I will relay the message to Ford, but he won’t be pleased.”
“Regardless, I sent you a missive about the meeting planned tonight,” he attempted.
“You wanted me there in case things went awry, not to be your partner.”
“It’s true,” he commented. “I can ensure my own protection, but I wanted an additional set of eyes to help keep Miss Pearson safe.”
Pembrooke grinned. “You two appear close.”
“We are not. I am assigned to guard her, nothing more.”
His smile grew. “I saw you smiling when you were talking to her.”
“I don’t smile.”
“True, your normal resting face is between a grimace and a scowl, but when you are with Miss Pearson, you occasionally smile.”
“Please leave,” Simeon said, rising from his seat. “I have had my fill of you for the moment.”
Pembrooke rose and jested, “These moments are special to me, as well.”
“You will look into Lockhart?”
“I will, and I will continue to trail you until you acknowledge that I am your partner.”
“It won’t happen.”
Tugging down on his paisley waistcoat, Pembrooke didn’t seem perturbed by his rejection. “I will wear you down, just like a good pair of Hessian boots. We will be partners soon enough.”
Simeon watched as Pembrooke walked out of his study. He was the closest thing he had to a friend. They had worked a few cases together when he was a new recruit, but then he had been partnered with Jared.
His partner’s death had been his fault. He knew it. It didn’t matter what everyone else thought. Jared had been working undercover as a customs official and had left him a note saying that he was on to something big. However, he had been tracking a shipment of contraband and was staking out The Cloven Hoof public house. The next morning, Jared was found dead.
Simeon winced as he poured himself a drink. He had failed his friend. He should have been there to help him. He blinked back his tears of remorse. He was bloody awful at keeping people safe. He deserved to be alone. He wanted to be alone!
Emma’s crestfallen expression came to his mind as he slammed his glass onto the cart, spilling his drink on his hand. His sharp words had hurt her, and he’d seen the pain in her eyes. He could have apologized, but he was angry. She had no right to ask those questions. But, on the other hand, he had no right to yell at her like that, either. He was raised better than to yell at a woman in such an appalling fashion.
Simeon knew he needed to apologize, despite every fiber of his being telling him not to. He would do it tomorrow, and he hoped the apology would be better than his marriage proposal had been.
Emma satat her dressing room table as Peggy styled her hair into a chignon. Simeon’s words echoed through her mind. “I would never have a friend like you.” What a terrible thing to say to someone. She had a lively personality, and she had no problem making friends… until now. Which was fine with her. If Simeon didn’t want to be her friend, then she didn’t need him as her friend either. Her lips twitched in amusement. She sounded as if she was back at the early days of her boarding school.
“Are you all right, miss?” her lady’s maid asked, breaking through her thoughts.
Emma smiled at Peggy’s reflection in the mirror. “Just woolgathering, I suppose.”
“You aint’ dreaming about that handsome Bow Street Runner, are you?” she teased, placing the final pin in her hair.
“Heavens, no,” she declared as she turned in her seat. “Mr. Martin is rude and big-headed.”
“I see,” Peggy replied, but clearly she did not, judging by the smile on her face.
Abruptly rising from the chair, Emma wanted to be finished with this futile conversation. She smoothed out her primrose gown with its rounded neckline.
“I’d better hurry if I want to arrive on time to break my fast,” she said.
“Yes, miss,” her lady’s maid replied with mirth in her voice.
As she headed down the hall towards the family’s dining room on the first level, Emma recognized that she would not be able to attend the rally today in Templeton Square without Simeon’s help. She didn’t dare go by herself, and Luke would never grant her permission, even if she took along one hundred footmen. She sighed. Perhaps she should just write an article about the meeting that she attended and hope that it would be good enough to be accepted by The Morning Post.
