Splendid (3 page)

“I wanted to, but I didn't.”

“I would have.”

“I know.” Belle smiled and looked up at her cousin. “You do have a talent for speaking your mind.”

“Is that a compliment?”

Belle pondered the question for a few moments before answering. “I rather think it is. Redheads aren't really in fashion just now, but I predict that you—and your outrageous mouth—will be such a success that by next month I will be informed—by Those Who Inform—that red hair is positively the latest thing and isn't that lucky for my poor cousin who has the misfortune of being American.”

“Somehow I doubt that, but it's very kind of you to say so.” Emma knew she wasn't as lovely as Belle, but she was satisfied with her looks, having long ago decided that if she couldn't be a beauty, at least she was unusual. Ned had once called her a chameleon, pointing out that her hair seemed to change color with each shake of her head. One glimmer of light set her locks aflame.
And her eyes, normally a clear violet, smoldered and darkened to dangerous black when she was in a temper.

Emma scooped some flour into the last bowl and wiped her hands on her apron. “Cook!” she called out. “What next? We've measured out all the flour and sugar.”

“Eggs. I want three in each bowl. And no shells, you hear me? If I find any shells in my cakes, I'll keep them in the kitchen and serve up your heads instead.”

“My, my, Cook is fierce this morning,” Belle chuckled.

“I heard that, missy! Don't you think I didn't. I'll have none of that. Now, if you're going to be in my kitchen, get to work!”

“Where did you put the eggs, Cook?” Emma rummaged through the box where perishable food was stored. “I don't see them anywhere.”

“Well, you can't be looking hard enough, then. I knew you two would have no cooking sense.” Cook stomped over to the box and flung it open. Her search, however, proved as fruitless as Emma's. “Well, I'll be. We're out of eggs,” Her scowl returned with a vengeance and she bellowed, “Who was the fool that forgot to get eggs from the market?”

Not surprisingly, no one raised her hand.

Cook scanned the room, her gaze finally resting on a young maid who was hunched over a pile of berries. “Mary,” she called out. “Are you done washing those yet?”

Mary wiped her wet hands on her apron. “No, ma'am, I've still got pints and pints to go. I've never seen so many berries.”

“Susie?”

Susie was up to her elbows in soapy water as she hurriedly washed dishes.

Emma looked around. There were at least a dozen people in the kitchen, and all of them looked terribly busy.

“Well, this is just dandy,” Cook grumbled. “Four hundred to cook for, and I've got no eggs. And no spare hands to go fetch more.”

“I'll go,” Emma volunteered.

Both Belle and Cook looked at her with expressions that were somewhere between shock and horror.

“Are you crazy?” Cook demanded.

“Emma, it simply isn't done,” Belle said at the exact same moment.

Emma rolled her eyes. “No, I'm not crazy, and why can't I go to the store? I'm perfectly able to fetch some eggs. Besides, I could use a little fresh air. I've been cooped up inside all morning.”

“But someone might see you,” Belle protested. “You're covered with flour, for goodness sake!”

“Belle, I haven't met anybody yet. How could I be recognized?”

“But you can't go about in your maid's frock.”

“This frock is exactly why I
can
go out,” Emma explained patiently. “If I wore one of my morning dresses, everyone would wonder why a gentle lady was out without an escort, not to mention on her way to the market for eggs. No one will look twice at me if I'm dressed as a maid. Although
you
certainly cannot accompany me. You'd be spotted in a second.”

Belle sighed. “Mama would kill me.”

“So you see…if Cook needs all her help in the kitchen, I am the only solution.” Emma smiled. She smelled victory.

Belle wasn't convinced. “I don't know, Emma. This is highly irregular, letting you go out by yourself.”

Emma let out an exasperated sigh. “Here, I'll pull my hair back tightly just like our maids do.” Emma hastily rearranged her hair into a bun. “And I'll spill some more flour on my frock. And maybe smear a little on my cheek.”

“That's enough, now,” Cook interjected. “We don't need to be wasting any of my good flour.”

“Well, Belle?” Emma asked. “What do you think?”

“I don't know. Mama wouldn't like this one bit.”

Emma put her face very close to Belle's. “She isn't going to hear about it, is she?”

“Oh, all right.” Belle turned to all of the kitchen maids and wagged her finger. “Not one word of this to my mama. Does everyone understand?”

“I don't like this at all,” Cook said. “Not at all.”

“Well, we haven't much choice, have we?” Emma put in. “Not if you want cakes at the ball. Now why don't you put Belle to work squeezing those lemons, and I promise I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone.” And with that, Emma grabbed some coins out of Cook's hands and slipped out the door.

Emma took a deep breath of the crisp spring air when she reached the street. Freedom! It was so nice to escape the confines of her cousins' home every now and then. Dressed as a maid, she could walk along unnoticed. After tonight, she'd never again be able to leave the Blydon mansion unchaperoned.

Emma turned the final corner on the way to the market. She took her time as she ambled down the sidewalk, stopping to glance in every store window. Just as she'd expected, none of the ladies and gentlemen out strolling gave more than a passing glance to the small, red-haired maid covered with flour.

Emma hummed cheerfully as she entered the
bustling market and purchased several dozen eggs. They were a little awkward to carry, but she was careful not to grimace. A kitchen maid would be used to carrying such burdens, and Emma did not want to spoil her disguise. Besides, she was fairly strong, and it was only five short blocks home.

“Thank you very much, sir.” She smiled at the grocer, nodding her head.

He returned her grin. “Aye, you new around here? You sound as if you hail from the Colonies.”

Emma's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't expected questions from the grocer. “Why, yes, I did grow up there, but I've been living in London now for many years,” she lied.

“Aye, I've always wanted to see America,” he pondered.

Emma groaned inwardly. The grocer seemed ready for a long, engaging conversation, and she really needed to get back home before Belle started worrying about her. She started backing out that door, smiling all the way.

“Now you come back sometime, little missy. Who did you say you worked for?”

But Emma had already scurried out the door, pretending that she hadn't heard his question. By the time she was halfway home, she was in high spirits, whistling happily, quite certain that she'd pulled off her charade without a hitch. She walked slowly, eager to prolong her little adventure. Besides, she enjoyed watching all the Londoners go about their daily business. In her maid's costume, no one paid her any mind, and she could stare quite shamelessly as long as she looked away whenever anybody glanced back at her.

Emma craned her neck to watch an adorable
little boy of about five or six years scamper out of an elegant carriage drawn by a pair of matched bays. He clutched a small cocker spaniel puppy, scratching it between its ears. The black and white puppy returned his affection by licking the boy across the face, and he squealed with laughter, prompting his mother to poke her head out of the carriage to check up on him. She was a beautiful woman with dark hair and green eyes that shone with obvious love for her son. “Don't you move from that spot, Charlie,” she called to the boy. “I'll be with you in one moment.”

The woman turned back toward the interior of the carriage, presumably to speak to someone. The little dark-haired boy rolled his eyes and shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for his mother. “Mama,” he implored, “hurry up.” Emma smiled at his obvious impatience. From what her father had told her, she'd been exactly the same way when she was small.

“Just one minute, scamp. I'll be right down.”

But right then, a calico cat streaked across the street. The puppy suddenly let out a loud bark and jumped out of Charlie's arms, chasing the feline into the street.

“Wellington!” Charlie shrieked. The little boy broke into a run, following the dog.

Emma gasped in horror. A hired hack was barreling down the street, and the driver was completely engrossed in conversation with the man sitting next to him, not paying the least bit of attention to the road. Charlie would be trampled underneath the horses' hooves.

Emma screamed. She didn't stop to think as she dropped the eggs and raced into the street. When she was but a few feet away from the boy, she made a headfirst dive through the air. If she had
enough momentum, she prayed, she'd knock them both out of the way before they were run over by the hack.

Charlie yelped, not understanding why a strange woman had jumped at him, slamming herself into his side.

Just before Emma hit the ground, she heard more screams.

And then there was only darkness.

Chapter 2

E
mma heard voices before she opened her eyes.

“Oh, Alex!” a female voice wailed. “What if that maid hadn't been here? Charlie would have been trampled! I'm a terrible mother. I should have been watching him more closely. I should never have let him get out of the carriage before I did. We should just stay in the country where he won't get into so much trouble.”

“Now, Sophie,” a masculine voice said firmly. “You are
not
a terrible mother. You must, however, stop your screeching before you terrify this poor girl.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Sophie agreed. But in a few moments she was sobbing again. “I cannot believe this has happened. If Charlie had been hurt, I don't know what I would do. I would just die. I would. I would just wither up and die.”

The man sighed. “Sophie, please calm yourself. Do you hear me? Charlie is fine. There is barely a scratch on his body. We just have to realize that he's growing up, and we need to keep a closer eye on him.”

Emma moaned softly. She knew she should let these people know that she'd regained consciousness, but in all honesty, her eyelids felt so terribly heavy, and her head was pounding uncontrollably.

“Is she coming around?” Sophie queried. “Oh, Alex, I shan't know how to thank her. What a brave maid. Perhaps I should hire her. Maybe the people she works for now don't treat her nicely. It would just break my heart if she's mistreated.”

Alexander Edward Ridgely, the Duke of Ashbourne, sighed. His sister Sophie had always been something of a chatterbox, but she did seem to prattle on even more than usual when she was nervous or upset.

Just then Charlie spoke up. “What's the matter, Mama? Why are you crying?”

Charlie's voice only served to make Sophie cry even harder. “Oh, my baby,” she wailed, clutching the boy to her chest. She took his face between her hands and started covering it with loud kisses.

“Mama! Stop that! You're getting me all wet!” Charlie attempted to wriggle out of his mother's grasp, but she grabbed him closer until he hissed, “Mama, Uncle Alex is going to think I'm a
sissy
!”

Alex chuckled. “Never that, Charlie. Didn't I promise to teach you how to play whist? You know I don't play cards with sissies.”

Charlie nodded vigorously as his mother let go of him rather suddenly. “You're teaching my son how to play whist?” she demanded between her loud sniffles. “Really, Alex, he's only six years old!”

“Never too young to learn the way I see it. Right, Charlie?”

Charlie broke into a wide toothless grin.

Sophie sighed loudly, despairing of ever keeping a firm feminine hand on her brother and son. “You two are both scoundrels. Scoundrels, I say.”

Alex chuckled. “We are, of course, related.”

“I know, I know. More's the pity. But enough about cards. We must attend to this poor girl. Do you think she will be all right?”

Alex picked up Emma's hand and felt for the pulse on her wrist. It was strong and steady. “She'll be fine, I imagine.”

“Thank goodness.”

“She'll have a hell of a headache tomorrow, though.”

“Alex, such language!”

“Sophie, stop trying to play the prig. It doesn't suit you.”

Sophie smiled weakly. “No, I suppose it doesn't. But it does seem as if I ought to say something when you curse.”

“If you feel you absolutely must say something, why don't you simply curse back?”

Amidst this banter, Emma let out a small moan.

“Oh my!” Sophie exclaimed. “She's coming around.”

“Who is she, anyway?” Charlie suddenly demanded. “And why did she jump on top of me?”

Sophie's mouth fell open. “I cannot believe you just said that. You, dear boy, were almost run over by a hack. If this nice lady hadn't saved you, you might've been trampled!”

Charlie's little mouth formed a large
o
. “I thought maybe she was just a little crazy.”

“What?” Sophie shrieked. “You mean you didn't even see the carriage? You're going to have to learn to be more careful.”

Sophie's loud voice made Emma's head pound even harder. She moaned again, wishing that these people would give her just a few minutes of silence.

“Hush, Sophie,” Alex admonished. “Your shrieking is obviously bothering her. She needs a bit of quiet before her head stops hurting enough for her to open her eyes.”

Emma sighed. Obviously there was at least one person in the carriage with common sense.