Intertwine (17 page)

No. Not helping.

“Something outrageous?” she asked, liking the teasing edge in her voice.

“Indeed,” he replied, wagging his eyebrows mockingly. “Do you feel up to the challenge?”

Emme nodded and then said the first thing that came to mind.

Utterly without thinking.

“What preparations have you made for a possible zombie apocalypse?”

Now why had she said that?

Oh yes, The Question! Perfect!
Alter Emme said happily.

James blinked. Paused. As if hunting for meaning within the sentence.

“Zombie? I don’t believe I’m familiar with that word.”

As if that were the only problem he could find.

“The living dead,” Emme deadpanned.

She watched from the corner of her eye as a delighted smile spread across his face.

“The living dead?” he repeated. “Ah well, in that case, preparations are going well. One can never be too careful when dealing with the living dead.” Grinning widely now. “They could rise at any time and threaten the well-being of the entire county. I mean, they have an insatiable appetite for . . .” He paused searching for what to say next.

“Brains,” Emme helpfully supplied. “They feed on brains, preferably human ones.”

A low chuckle. “Yes, yes, brains. And of course they can only be dispatched through superb skill with a sword. In fact, I have had the local militia conducting specific zombie defense training drills. My field marshal says their fighting abilities have improved remarkably in recent months.”

“Excellent!” Her voice filled with sincere approval. “You should consider investing in some ninjas to aid in your defenses. I hear they are most useful against the living dead.”

“Ninjas?”

“Uhmmm. . . .” She hunted for the answer. “They’re like secret Japanese assassins. They wear all black and creep along in the dead of night. Deadly and silent with super sharp knives and sabers.”

“Intriguing. I would dearly love to get my hands on a squadron of them. Strictly for defense purposes, of course.” His mock-serious face was convincing. Only his dancing eyes betrayed him.

“Of course.” For some reason, the entire exchange warmed her through. As if she had been waiting a long time for this exact conversation.

“One can never be too careful with the living dead.” He seemed to be enjoying himself. “Are they intelligent?”

“Oh no,” Emme said quickly. “Their own brains have turned to mush, thankfully. They are like persistent slugs, slow, shuffling but uncaring and difficult to stop.”

But then she had to stop, because she had an image in her head of a rotting corpse, animated, shuffling forward with its arms outstretched. Which of course was an impossibility, right?

Would all of this ever make sense?

She sighed and decided the sun was too lovely and James’ honey-smooth voice too tempting to wallow in ‘what ifs.’

Instead, she laughed as he came up with zombie counter-attack maneuvers, and she followed outlining the finer points of ninjas for him.

Chapter 14

Sutton Hall

The drawing room

Two days later

May 9, 1812

W
elcome!” Sir Henry boomed as they walked into the room, Emme on James’ arm. Georgiana and Arthur trailed behind. Emme stared as a portly man with permanently flushed cheeks hurried across the room to them, his impressive salt and pepper mustache vibrating as he spoke. Though ‘impressive’ was perhaps too light a term to capture his facial hair. ‘Work of art’ was a more apt description. The mustache stretched thick and expansive with slightly upturned ends completely hiding his mouth.

“Welcome,” Sir Henry repeated, stopping in front of them. “James . . . Arthur . . . Miss Knight.” He nodded his head toward each in turn. Then turning to Emme, “And this must be your lovely mystery guest.”

At her side, Emme felt James grin. “Sir Henry, please allow me to introduce Miss Emma,” he said pulling away, gesturing toward her.

Sir Henry made her a slight bow, his wide mid-section jiggling.

“Pleased to meet you, madam,” he said in loud clipped accents with a smile.

Or at least Emme thought he smiled. His eyes crinkled as if smiling and his mustache inched upward.

“Miss Emma, may I present our neighbor, Sir Henry Stylles?” James continued, gesturing toward their host.

Emme took a deep breath and without thinking did the first natural thing. She took three steps forward and held out her hand, preparing to shake his.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Henry,” she said giving what she hoped was a pleasant smile.

Her hand still extended, she paused as everyone in the room went instantly quiet.

Wait. . . . Everyone?

Emme looked past Sir Henry into a sea of faces, all staring back at her with startled eyes. The space seemed full of dark evening coats and shimmering silk dresses, topped with waving feathers, amongst the gilded furniture of Sir Henry’s large drawing room.

Her eyes instantly rested on a tall, dark-haired man who looked at her with disdainful gray-silver eyes. A petite woman hung on his arm wearing a gauzy lavender dress, her stare surprised. They both seemed vaguely familiar.

Wow. So awkward.
Alter Emme whispered.

Emme quickly pulled her hand back to her side, darting a glance back and forth between Sir Henry and Georgiana.

“I . . .” she began and then sighed. “Obviously, I did something wrong.” She gave what she hoped was a contrite smile and looked with wide eyes at Georgiana, pleading for help.

“A lady does not shake hands with a gentleman,” Georgiana murmured quietly in her ear. “And I should have anticipated that Sir Henry would have invited half the county.”

Emme groaned inwardly. Only three minutes in and she had already blundered. It promised to be a long evening.

Haldon Manor

Georgiana’s bedroom

An hour earlier

May 9, 1812

Emme watched as Fanny finished pinning a curl. She had spent the last hour tucking and twirling Emme’s hair into an elaborate coiffure with a ribbon running throughout, soft curls framing her face. The overall effect was . . . good. Lovely. With a pleased expression, Emme rose and turned to Georgiana sitting in a chair behind her.

“Well? Do I look like a lady?”

Georgiana smiled and rose gracefully. “Indeed! You look every inch the proper lady. Do you feel more yourself now that you are rightly dressed?”

Emme wasn’t sure how to answer that question. She turned and looked in the mirror.

She stood clad in a sage green silk evening dress, the empire waist gathered high around her rib cage, sleeves puffing slightly our from her upper arms, the low-cut bodice edged with delicate lace. The dress itself was beautiful.

Emme turned sideways, noting how the heavy fabric draped to the floor. She could feel the pressure of the boning in her tight corset or
stays,
as Georgiana had called them. The stays kept her posture perfectly upright, her back almost unnaturally straight. But it felt odd to have her chest and waist squeezed so tightly while the rest of her body was so free.

Isn’t it a little risque to not wear underwear?
Alter Emme murmured.

Emme frowned at that. She had only a knee length garment Mary called a chemise underneath the corset and dress. She felt quite underdressed. And yet somehow not.

Again, the now familiar panic threatened. Emme took several calming breaths and willed it back. They were becoming old friends, she and anxiety.

Georgiana must have noted her slight frown as she looked at her reflection.

“You don’t like it?” she asked. “I thought that the green would be most becoming with your darker hair and pale skin. And it brings out the green hints in your eyes as well.”

Emme turned to her with a smile, determined to put on a brave face.

“Thank you, Georgiana. The dress is truly beautiful and I love it.” She did. “I was just feeling some concern over my faulty memory. I hope that I don’t embarrass you this evening.”

Georgiana laughed. “Oh please, don’t fret, Emma! This evening should be a small affair with only you, James, Arthur and myself in attendance. Sir Henry rarely gives large dinner parties at Sutton Hall. There is no one you need fear. Now come, let us show the gentlemen how well you look!”

Emme nodded and looped a shawl over her arms, following Georgiana down the stairs. Georgiana’s color had seemed better the last several days, her coughing less harsh. She was more lit from within, more cheerful. They paused after entering the drawing room door, allowing the two men within to rise to their feet. Arthur gave a stiff bow.

James looked absurdly distinguished in a dark navy coat with an ivory and gold striped waistcoat, snowy neckcloth expertly tied. Tan breeches hugged his legs, his hair carelessly styled, as usual. James’ eyes lit up as they locked with hers, an appreciative grin tugging his lips.

I want to drown in that crinkly smile of his,
Alter Emme swooned.

Really, couldn’t that dry voice make itself more useful?

This
is
being more useful. Trust me.
Now she just sounded smug.

Emme mentally rolled her eyes.

She reminded herself (again!) that she had a mystery man in a locket upstairs who obviously meant something to her. Thinking of James as anything other than her host and the brother of her friend would be wrong. It was the buried memory of another man that caused her insides to go all boneless when James smiled at her.

It wasn’t James himself. No. Definitely not.

Besides, she had her first post-memory-loss dinner party to navigate this evening.

Emme swallowed, trying to force the butterflies back into her stomach as they stepped outside to the waiting carriage and the short ride to Sutton Hall.

Back to Sutton Hall

Still in the drawing room

May 9, 1812

Emme stood frozen, unsure how to proceed.

Like a deer in headlights,
Alter Emme unhelpfully suggested.

So if shaking hands was taboo, how did one greet another human being?

Really, when had things become so needlessly complicated?