Free I Thee Wed by Amanda Quick Page A

not lose well, Miss Greyson. It is certainly not your fault that you are enjoying a bit of good luck tonight, is it?”
    The unhealthy excitement in Miranda’s eyes worried Emma. In keeping with her employment agreement with Edison, she had promised to participate in Miranda’s games. But enough was enough, at least for now. It was time to lose. Besides, she did not think it would be a good idea for Miranda to grow too confident of the effects of her nasty brew.
    “One more round and then I believe I shall go up to my room,” Emma said.
    Displeasure lit Miranda’s expression for an instant, but it was quickly suppressed.
    “Very well, Miss Greyson, one more round.” Miranda selected three cards seemingly at random from the pack, studied them for a moment, and put them facedown on the table. “Go ahead. See if you can guess the cards.”
    Emma touched the first card. Through the gentlywhirling mist that filled her brain she could see a four of clubs as clearly as a sunrise.
    “A king of hearts, I believe,” she said blandly.
    Miranda frowned and turned over the card. “You guessed wrong. Miss Greyson. Swan, pour Miss Greyson another cup of tea.”
    Swan started forward with the pot.
    “No, thank you,” Emma said. “I don’t want any more tea.”
    “Rubbish. Of course you do.” Miranda gave the footman an angry, impatient look. “I told you to pour Miss Greyson some more tea. Do it now, Swan.”
    Swan flashed Emma a pleading glance. She did not need any of the tea or her own intuition to realize that the poor man was caught in a difficult situation.
    She gave him an understanding smile. “Why not? I believe I will take some more tea, after all. Thank you, Swan.”
    Gratitude flashed in his eyes. The teapot in his hand trembled slightly as he poured the tea.
    When he finished and stepped back, Emma reached for the cup. She pretended to lose her grip on the delicate handle. The cup slipped from her fingers and fell to the carpet.
    “Oh dear,” Emma murmured. “Now look what I’ve done.”
    Miranda looked ready to explode. “Fetch the maid, Swan.”
    “Yes, madam.” Swan fled toward the hall.
    “I believe I splashed some tea on my gown.” Emma rose. “Please excuse me, Lady Ames. As it happens, I am ready to retire for the evening anyway.”
    There was a hard glint in Miranda’s eyes. “But, Miss Greyson, the night is young.”
    “As you know, I do not go out into Society very often. I am not accustomed to its hours.” Emma gave her a sugary smile. “I doubt that anyone will notice my absence.”
    “You are wrong, Miss Greyson. I will notice.” Miranda leaned forward slightly. A hot intensity radiated from her. “I wish to play another game.”
    A familiar electricity sparked through Emma. She felt the hair on the nape of her neck stir. A prickly sensation made her palms tingle.
    I
am afraid
, she thought, stunned by the sharp premonition of danger. Mortally afraid. For no obvious reason.
    Damn the woman. I will not let her do this to me
.
    Miranda watched her the way a cat watches a mouse.
    Another frisson of fear and warning sizzled through Emma.
What is wrong with me? It is not as though she is holding a gun to my head
.
    With a fierce effort of will, Emma collected her nerves and the skirts of her uninspired gray gown. “Good night, Lady Ames. I have had enough of cards for this evening.”
    She did not dare glance back over her shoulder to see how Miranda had taken the dismissal.
    She forced herself to walk sedately away from the card table. En route to the staircase she paused near the open door of the ballroom to check on her other employer. A large number of people had gathered inside the spacious chamber. In addition to Ware’s houseguests, many members of the local gentry had been invited tonight.
    Chilton Crane had not come downstairs all day, much to Emma’s relief. He had sent word to his host that he was nursing a headache.
    She glanced around and saw Letty standing with a small