Something About Emmaline Read Free

it appeared the poor sot for whom these notes had been intended had outfitted not only a new house, but a wife and stable of mistresses, what with the unending collection of milliner, modiste, glover, and lace bills.
    “And finally a mention of our dear girl,” his grandmother was saying. “Listen to this: Lady S. was seen shopping diligently with the assistance of Lady R., who has taken her new friend under her wing. Lady S., so long from town, is a delight and sure to be the prized guest next Season. ” She pursed her lips. “About time she was mentioned. But what an odd thing to say. Why would they think her so long from town when she has lived there all her life?” She tossed aside the paper and began once again upsetting Alex’s carefully wrought piles with her rustling.
    “Madame!” He rose up from his seat and covered the bills with his arms to protect them from her marauding. “What has gotten into you?”
    “I just want to see some more recent columns.” She cocked her head and eyed the collection again. Before he could stop her, she spied her prize and caught hold of another paper, tugging it free and settling into her chair with a speed that belied her eighty-some years.
    “I think you’ve gone mad,” he muttered. Though with her nose buried in another edition of the Post, he doubted sheheard him. “Didn’t you get enough of that prattle while visiting Aunt Imogene?”
    “Imogene doesn’t take the Post, ” came the frosty reply.
    That had to be the eighth wonder of the world, in his estimation, right behind the Tower of Pharos. He didn’t know anyone more addicted to gossip than his Great-Aunt Imogene—that is, save his grandmother.
    He turned his attention back to the bills at hand, tossing aside the ones that were obviously not his and the few that needed his attention.
    His grandmother shook out the pages as she searched for her beloved column. “I knew it!”
    And he knew she’d continue to interrupt him until he replied, so he said, “Knew what?”
    “Knew she’d be mentioned again. But I don’t know if I should read it to you. You’ll be in a dither for the rest of the week.”
    Alex gave up all hope of having a decent morning meal. In peace. “Go ahead,” he told her. “Or you’ll be huffing and puffing until I relent.”
    “I never puff,” she said in a voice that sounded remotely like a huff. “But if you insist: It is a good thing there are so few people in town, for Lady S. creates a stir wherever she is seen. One wonders what the baron is thinking sending such an Original to town without his watchful eye about. ”
    He held out his hands and shrugged. “And how is that supposed to put me into a ‘dither’?”
    She held out the paper for him as if the answer were as clear as the printed words before his eyes. “Don’t you see? It’s Emmaline they are talking about. Your wife. Our dear girl.”
    “Emmaline? Preposterous.” he scoffed. “Grandmère, there are a dozen or more ‘Lady S.’s’ gadding about town on any given day. I assure you, that is not our Emmaline.”
    “And whyever not?”
    “Because Emmaline would never comport herself in a manner that would be of any interest to a gossip column. ’Tis absolutely impossible.” Alex had never issued a statement with more confidence.
    But that was the problem with confidence, occasionally it needed to be shaken, and Baron Sedgwick was about to be rattled right down to the roots of his illustrious, as well as fictional, family tree.
    “Then why does it go on to say the following? From the amount of tradesmen seen coming and going at Hanover Square, it is said traffic has become a nuisance. ” She glanced up at him. “Hmmm. How many ‘Lady S.’s’ reside on Hanover Square these days, Alex? For I can only think of one.” She shook her paper again and went back to her reading.
    His mouth opened to argue with her, but he couldn’t get the words past his suddenly dry throat.
    Tradesmen on Hanover Street?