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console table. His discomfort must’ve fled with the departing crowd.
    “The girls weren’t my co-submissives the way you and Jay are with each other.” Emma smiled at them and crossed her ankles. “When Henry first told me he’d taken on a new sub, I thought he meant like Victor and I used to do.”
    “Like how?” Leaning back, she fought the desire to curl her feet up under her dress.
    “Young women visiting the club in hopes of finding a long-term master often lack experience and refinement. We helped them understand what they wanted and taught them how to approach dominants and negotiate for those things.”
    Munching, Jay snuggled into her side. More outings would be good for him. Reinforce his self-worth. She’d have to mention his courage to Henry.
    “Victor commanded their obedience, and I provided a role model.” Eyes distant, Emma swayed from her plumb perch. Her face lit with soft curves. “When they were ready, we expanded their comfort zone with dominants whose integrity was beyond reproach. Many of the girls keep in touch with me.”
    “Dominants with integrity, huh?” Giving in to Jay’s tray-waggling, Alice snatched a macaroon. “Bet I can name one.”
    “Two, actually.” Emma laughed, light and graceful. “Victor helped Henry and William polish their skills. We had quite the happy household then.”
    “They lived with you?” Jamming the cookie into her mouth rescued them both—her from a verbal faux-pas and the cookie from certain crumbling between her clenched fingers.
    “No, no. Will had his harpy, poor boy, and Henry was a sought-after bachelor.”
    Emma must’ve gotten Henry’s permission to talk openly. She’d handed out valuable lessons about Henry and his cultural circles. Even Emma’s handling of tea had been a lesson in how to conduct herself as a submissive.
    “But they dined with us weekly, and Victor often oversaw their scenes. No matter how many girls stayed with us, I never went wanting for attention.” Joy melting into weighty lines, Emma plucked at her dress. “The house is quiet now.”
    The couch cushion itched. Or the tag in her dress was the culprit. Easing prickly emotions had never been her strong suit. She always fumbled the words.
    Jay laid the cookie tray aside. “Your husband did a good job. Henry’s amazing at figuring out what we need when we need it.” Bouncing against her in his casual puppy sprawl, he matter-of-factly waded into the emotional whirlpool. “Too bad Master William doesn’t get to use his training as often. I met his wife once. She hated me, and I wasn’t even trying to get in her husband’s pants.”
    Sugar-rush filled, he launched to his feet. He gestured wildly, hunching his shoulders and raising his voice to a shrill, nasal tone as he imitated Santa’s wife ranting over dinner while Henry tried to converse with his friend.
    Laughter pinked Emma’s cheeks.
    “—commented on her unusual placement choice for the floral arrangement. He was extra-polite.” Dropping to the sofa, Jay jostled her seat. “I got to pick flower petals out of his hair when we got home.”
    Alice mimed plucking petals from his hair. “Beautifully done,” she whispered. “He’ll be so proud of you.”
    With his honesty, Jay had made excellent inroads with the other subs, and Emma had professed certainty word would spread. And easing Emma’s loneliness? No way she could’ve managed, not like Henry’s joyful comedian.
    “Is this a closed party, or is anyone welcome?”
    Henry.
    She whipped around as Jay hopped to his feet. Trained until desire became instinct, flowers opening to the sun or hounds running to his whistle. Jay danced in place, waiting for a command.
    “Henry.” Standing with substantially more calm, Emma beckoned him in. “You’re always welcome.”
    He greeted Emma with a light kiss on her cheek and a half-embrace.
    For the first time, shadows of inadequacy left Alice undisturbed. She didn’t have to compete for Henry’s