Forcing her gaze to the young man with whom Bentley was speaking, Emma’s breath expelled in a sudden puff. It was the young Mr. Lowth, whom she had last seen sobbing as Bishop assisted him from the club drawing room two days ago.
An instant of fear claimed her before she recalled that it had not been Lowth’s intention to harm Bentley that day. In truth, he looked anything but threatening as he stood talking to Bentley now in his perfectly tailored clothing and neatly combed hair.
If Emma had seen young Lowth in this guise first, she never would have suspected he would have any cause to wield a weapon in a drunken fit of despair.
Goodness, she likely would have encouraged Portia and Lily to talk with the young man she saw tonight.
She cast a sweeping glance about the room. The ladies and gentlemen of the ton paraded effortlessly through the ballrooms and drawing rooms of society with such poise and grace. Was the veneer so polished and bright simply to conceal ugly secrets lying beneath the facade?
Emma’s stomach clenched with the hypocrisy of her thoughts. She harbored such a secret.
Looking back toward Bentley and the young Mr. Lowth, she saw them turn to walk away. But not before the younger man glanced past her position. Her heart stopped for a moment, thinking he might recognize her. But his expression never changed. He had likely been far too deep in his cups that day to even know she had been in the room.
She watched until they disappeared again in the crowd. A strange feeling claimed her.
“Are you all right, Emma? You are looking a little peaked.”
Emma brought her focus back to the immediate and looked at Portia, who was staring at her curiously.
“I am fine. Just a bit warm, I think.”
“Then wouldn’t you be flushed rather than pale?” Portia pressed, and Emma wished fervently that her youngest sister was not quite so precocious.
Why couldn’t the girl just keep her observations to herself?
“Perhaps it was something I ate.”
“If you are unwell, maybe we should go home,” Lily suggested.
Emma would have liked nothing more. Seeing Bentley in this environment again had sent Emma’s head into a spin. How long could she manage to keep her two lives separate? Tonight proved just how easily the line between the two could waver. The longer she stood straddling that line, the higher the stakes became.
She had accepted the risk of her endeavor from the start. She just hadn’t anticipated what it might cost her personally.
Giving Lily and Portia an encouraging smile, she said, “All is well, and there is far too much of the night left to consider leaving now.”
The next song started up, and the girls reluctantly went off with their dance partners, while Emma angled herself a little better so as to keep a watchful eye on the ballroom in case Bentley should reappear.
To her immense relief—and a startling amount of disappointment—he did not cross her gaze again that night.
Fourteen
The next day, Emma took a break from her work to meet Clarice. They had gotten in the habit of enjoying a late brunch together, and though it was most often just the two of them, on occasion, Henry would also join them. Today seemed to be one of those days. Emma heard the manager’s deeper tenor as she approached the kitchen.
She entered the room with a smile that threatened to falter at the unexpected sight of Mr. Bentley seated at the table beside Henry. The vivid peacock blue of his waistcoat accented the color of his eyes when he looked up to see her in his doorway.
Emma’s spine immediately stiffened with tension even as her pulse jumped at the pleasure of seeing him. What cause had he to join them today?
Surely it was not some indication he had seen her last night.
But he appeared relaxed enough in the company of his employees. Perhaps this was not so terribly unusual.
“Ah, there she is,” Clarice exclaimed as she came forward to set a steaming teapot on the table beside the light fare already spread out before the men. “Come sit, my dear. We are graced today with such handsome company.”
Trying not to appear as wary as she felt, Emma took a seat beside Clarice and busied herself with pouring out the tea. Unfortunately, she was seated directly across from Mr. Bentley and felt his gaze upon her the entire time.
To her relief, Clarice began a stream of conversation that was light and entertaining and continued through the casual meal. At one point the talk turned to how she and Henry had met.
Emma had assumed the two had become involved after meeting at Bentley’s, but it seemed that was not the case. Apparently, after retiring from the navy, Henry had continued sailing under private ventures. The way he mentioned such, with a slight dip in his gaze and an almost apologetic turn of his lips, led Emma to wonder if such ventures had not been entirely within the boundaries of the law. It was during one of these sailing treks to South America that Henry met a young woman traveling with an international theater troupe.