look. Some sort of silent communication passed between them before Cecelia turned the full force of her smile on Emma. “Tell us about your engagement, then. How did Mr. Battencliffe propose to you? I’m sure it was terribly romantic. He can be very charming when he chooses.”
Had Miss Emily Marshall made that request, Emma would have been positive the entire point was her humiliation. But she didn’t suspect any malicious intent on Cecelia’s part. Her words rang with warmth and sincerity, and she did not so much smile as beam without a trace of the smug superiority that Emma had come to expect from titled ladies.
Still, she approached the unknown with caution. “Do you know my husband so well?”
Again, a look passed between Henrietta and Cecelia, but nothing nasty lay behind it. Only a vague sense of surprise and uncertainty.
“I suppose we hoped you already knew something of Mr. Battencliffe’s history,” Henrietta said. “My husband and Cecelia’s were friends with Mr. Battencliffe in their school days.”
“And since Alexander is my brother,” Cecelia added, “I saw quite a lot of Mr. Battencliffe when we were younger—at parties, and he came to stay a time or two.”
Emma rubbed her hands along the smooth muslin of her skirts. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I was introduced to Mr. Battencliffe less than a week ago.”
Cecelia’s laugh rang with delight. “Oh, a whirlwind courtship.” The smile she sent Emma fairly bubbled with feminine complicity. “I imagine you could convince him to do anything—if you worked your wiles on him.”
“Work my wiles?” Emma rubbed suddenly slick palms together. “I believe you’ve come to the wrong woman for that.” She probably shouldn’t even admit as much to two near-strangers, but they’d doubtless hear the gossip soon enough. “I hold a singular charm for Mr. Battencliffe, I’m afraid. It has nothing to do with my wiles, and everything to do with my marriage portion.”
Cecelia reached across and placed her fingertips on Emma’s forearm. “Did you ever ask how Mr. Battencliffe came into such financial difficulty?”
“Poor investments, apparently. And his books are a chaotic disaster. I’ve just spent the morning with them. The man has no head for business.”
“I’m sorry to hear of his misfortune,” Henrietta said, “but perhaps that’s about to change. I certainly do hope so. And I, for one, would love to hear more about the young lady who made Mr. Battencliffe change his mind about settling down.”
Emma swallowed. The pair of them clearly meant to make something more interesting of her marriage than it was. She could only hope the tale would satisfy them. “Shall I ring for tea?”
Chapter Nine
What sort of man had she married? Though the conversation had passed to other topics, Emma’s mind kept returning to the hints Cecelia had dropped. Something lay behind the way she’d asked if Emma had ever questioned her husband’s finances. A possible secret. She removed her spectacles to rub at her eyes. She’d tried to return to the study and sort out the books, but her mind insisted on replaying the visit.
And as for working her wiles…That sounded as if Cecelia wanted Emma to persuade Battencliffe to…What? Their chatter had drifted to more mundane topics, and she didn’t know either woman well enough to ask them directly.
Perhaps that would change in the future. The two of them clearly wished to become friends with Emma. Over tea, they’d talked about the children under their care. On her marriage, Cecelia had become stepmother to Lindenhurst’s heir, who was apparently thriving under the tutelage of his governess. Henrietta went on about Alexander’s daughters from his first marriage, before confiding she suspected her family might gain a new member sometime next summer.
Emma drummed her fingers against the desk. The allusion to a new baby made her squirm in her chair. Her husband hadn’t managed
Had Miss Emily Marshall made that request, Emma would have been positive the entire point was her humiliation. But she didn’t suspect any malicious intent on Cecelia’s part. Her words rang with warmth and sincerity, and she did not so much smile as beam without a trace of the smug superiority that Emma had come to expect from titled ladies.
Still, she approached the unknown with caution. “Do you know my husband so well?”
Again, a look passed between Henrietta and Cecelia, but nothing nasty lay behind it. Only a vague sense of surprise and uncertainty.
“I suppose we hoped you already knew something of Mr. Battencliffe’s history,” Henrietta said. “My husband and Cecelia’s were friends with Mr. Battencliffe in their school days.”
“And since Alexander is my brother,” Cecelia added, “I saw quite a lot of Mr. Battencliffe when we were younger—at parties, and he came to stay a time or two.”
Emma rubbed her hands along the smooth muslin of her skirts. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I was introduced to Mr. Battencliffe less than a week ago.”
Cecelia’s laugh rang with delight. “Oh, a whirlwind courtship.” The smile she sent Emma fairly bubbled with feminine complicity. “I imagine you could convince him to do anything—if you worked your wiles on him.”
“Work my wiles?” Emma rubbed suddenly slick palms together. “I believe you’ve come to the wrong woman for that.” She probably shouldn’t even admit as much to two near-strangers, but they’d doubtless hear the gossip soon enough. “I hold a singular charm for Mr. Battencliffe, I’m afraid. It has nothing to do with my wiles, and everything to do with my marriage portion.”
Cecelia reached across and placed her fingertips on Emma’s forearm. “Did you ever ask how Mr. Battencliffe came into such financial difficulty?”
“Poor investments, apparently. And his books are a chaotic disaster. I’ve just spent the morning with them. The man has no head for business.”
“I’m sorry to hear of his misfortune,” Henrietta said, “but perhaps that’s about to change. I certainly do hope so. And I, for one, would love to hear more about the young lady who made Mr. Battencliffe change his mind about settling down.”
Emma swallowed. The pair of them clearly meant to make something more interesting of her marriage than it was. She could only hope the tale would satisfy them. “Shall I ring for tea?”
Chapter Nine
What sort of man had she married? Though the conversation had passed to other topics, Emma’s mind kept returning to the hints Cecelia had dropped. Something lay behind the way she’d asked if Emma had ever questioned her husband’s finances. A possible secret. She removed her spectacles to rub at her eyes. She’d tried to return to the study and sort out the books, but her mind insisted on replaying the visit.
And as for working her wiles…That sounded as if Cecelia wanted Emma to persuade Battencliffe to…What? Their chatter had drifted to more mundane topics, and she didn’t know either woman well enough to ask them directly.
Perhaps that would change in the future. The two of them clearly wished to become friends with Emma. Over tea, they’d talked about the children under their care. On her marriage, Cecelia had become stepmother to Lindenhurst’s heir, who was apparently thriving under the tutelage of his governess. Henrietta went on about Alexander’s daughters from his first marriage, before confiding she suspected her family might gain a new member sometime next summer.
Emma drummed her fingers against the desk. The allusion to a new baby made her squirm in her chair. Her husband hadn’t managed
Similar Books
