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me,” she muttered.
    “Oh, of course, of course,” she said, clearly disappointed that Emily’s answer was not Dunn. But she quickly recovered. “Oh there now, you mustn’t be unhappy, Miss Forsythe! It’s quite early yet! Why, in my day, a gentleman did not dare offer for a young lady before the Charity Auction Ball! It makes a young man seem far too eager if he offers before then.”
    “Really?” Emily asked, perking up.
    “Oh, indeed!” Lady Southbridge cried, and with two hands, patted her enormous chest. One of the little dogs scampered up the hill that was her and happily licked her face. “The Charity Auction Ball is still the venue for the most important offers,” Lady Southbridge continued, giggling at her little dog as she took him in her arms and crushed him to her. “So, my dear, what brings you to my sitting room today?” she asked, oblivious to the little dog’s squirming.
    “Only my desire to call on you, my lady. My mother speaks so very highly of you, and I had always thought that when I’ve come out, I shall go and pay my respects to Lady Southbridge.”
    Lady Southbridge smiled broadly at that, her cheeks balling up like two lumps of dough. “What a thoughtful dear you are!” she cried. “When who comes out?”
    “When I’ve come out,” Emily said again, but louder.
    “Really, you must practice your enunciation, Miss Forsythe. You’ve an awful habit of mumbling! Oh, I adore callers, and you are the perfect antidote to an otherwise dreary afternoon! I’ll just ring for tea,” she said and picked up the little bell next to her day couch.
    The sun was shining for the first time this week, but Emily smiled nonetheless and put her hands in her lap as Lady Southbridge rang for her butler.
    They chatted over tea, gossiping about all the debutantes, with Emily professing a dislike for most of them. Lady Southbridge was accommodating in that—if Emily professed a dislike for another debutante, her ladyship was quick to offer up a juicy little tidbit about the offending young woman.
    But when Emily had been in her company for three-quarters of an hour, she was growing desperate to plant the next seed to detach Montgomery from the widow. Fortunately, Lady Southbridge gave her the opening she needed.
    The old woman was really something of a remarkable windbag, and she was droning on and on about someone, a friend’s sister by marriage, some such relation, and that she’d done the most awful thing by consorting with a high-ranking official in the House of Commons. “Her reputation is ruined, ” Lady Southbridge said with disgust as she examined the biscuits. “She shan’t show her face in London again, mark me. It was all really quite scandalous,” she said with a shake of her head as she selected another biscuit.
    “I should think not as scandalous as consorting with a vicar’s wife,” Emily quickly interjected.
    “Eh? What’s that?” Lady Southbridge asked, her head snapping up so quickly that Emily briefly feared she might choke on the biscuit she’d just shoved in her mouth.
    “I said, I should think not as scandalous as a vicar’s wife !” Emily shouted.
    “For goodness sake, I heard you, dear! What I mean to understand is which vicar’s wife?”
    “Oh,” Emily said and coyly sipped her tea. “I shouldn’t have uttered a word, Lady Southbridge. I’m certain I’m quite wrong, and I should just as soon cut out my tongue as speak ill of anyone—”
    “Yes, yes, but who? ” Lady Southbridge insisted.
    Emily put her teacup down. “All right then. But please, you must give me your word you won’t repeat what I’m to say to another living soul.”
    That earned a groan and a roll of Lady Southbridge’s eyes as she fell back against her day couch. “I should be insulted, were I not as old and wise as I am, for I am hardly the sort to wag my tongue!” she exclaimed heatedly.
    “I beg your pardon; I never meant to imply that you were, mu’um. It’s just that . .