Julia London Read Online Free PDF Page B

she had learned from her mother, who often left the most important part of her speech dangling when she wanted her husband’s full attention.
    “But?” Mrs. Becket asked.
    Emily looked up and winced as if she were pained by something so vile. “It’s true. I daresay I had the misfortune one night, returning from the theater with my cousin, of seeing him on the street in their company. And once, I overheard my father speaking with a gentleman friend,” she said, lowering her voice to a coarse whisper, “and he said that Lord Montgomery would do well to keep his lady friends in the alleys where they belonged.”
    Something flit across Widow Becket’s face, but then . . . nothing.
    Once again, she surprised Emily—she did not seem the least bit offended. She did not gasp, did not make any sound at all, but went on shoveling biscuits onto the wooden table as if she’d not heard a word Emily had said. In fact, Emily worried that perhaps she hadn’t heard her, and leaned forward, peering up into her face. “You do understand me, Mrs. Becket?”
    “Of course I do, Miss Forsythe,” she said, and smiled as she walked past Emily to put her tin away.
    Was it possible the widow did not understand the implications of what she’d just said? “I suppose that’s why his lordship has the awful reputation of being a roué, ” Emily mused aloud. “It’s said in all the drawing rooms, you know.”
    “No, I wasn’t aware,” Widow Becket said pleasantly, as if they were discussing the weather. “There now,” she continued, arranging two of the biscuits just so. “I shall return in a quarter of an hour and they should be quite cool to the touch. Shall we go help the ladies with the charity baskets?”
    Bewildered by Widow Becket’s reaction—or lack of it—Emily nodded and followed her out.
    She did not have another opportunity to reassure herself that Mrs. Becket understood Lord Montgomery’s dark reputation but consoled herself with the knowledge that what little she had said most certainly dampened Widow Becket’s enthusiasm for him. After all, how could she possibly continue to esteem him, her being a vicar’s widow and he being a bloody rake, for God’s sake?
    All right, then, the part about the ladies and the alleys had been completely fabricated, but everyone in town knew that Lord Montgomery was no stranger to the pleasures of female flesh. And now, the saintly Widow Becket knew it, too.
    Still . . . to be doubly sure that Widow Becket was completely out of the picture, Emily begged her leave of paying a call to the orphanage, much to her mother’s obvious disappointment, and instead paid a call to Lady Southbridge.
    Lady Southbridge was a grand dame of the ton. It was said—at least by Emily’s father—that if there was anything worth knowing about a person, Lady Southbridge knew it and would repeat it to one hundred of her dearest friends. Emily certainly hoped that was true.
    Lady Southbridge was pleasantly surprised to see Emily when the butler showed her to his lady’s drawing room. The large old woman was lounging on a day couch, two little dogs at her feet.
    “Miss Forsythe!” she cried happily as Emily curtsied before her. “Forsythe has turned you out quite well, hasn’t he? Turn round, turn round, and let me have a look at you.”
    Emily did as she was told, and when she had completed her rotation, she smiled sweetly at Lady Southbridge and dropped another curtsy.
    “Oh my, you’re a lovely one, dear. So come,” she said, patting the seat of the chair next to her. “Come and tell me all about your coming out. Have you received any offers?”
    “None,” Emily said.
    “Dunn?” Lady Southbridge squealed.
    Emily’s eyes flew wide open—Lord Dunn, the positively ancient old man? “No!” she said instantly. “No, no, I beg your pardon, I said none. ”
    “Well then, you must not mumble, Miss Forsythe, for I distinctly heard you say Dunn. ”
    Emily blinked several times. “Forgive