Free Colors of a Lady by Chelsea Roston Page B

steady
rumble of carriages as the ton returned to their dwellings. The
coach was slowing to a stop in front of the Sheridan townhouse. It
must be Emma.
    Sure enough, her short sister hopped out of
the carriage with all the grace of a newborn fawn. She, of course,
slipped on the ice and barely kept her balance. Lord Hartwell, ever
the gentleman, was quick to aid her. Caroline clucked her
tongue.
    “They're like something out of a romance
novel,” she murmured, face pressing against the glass.
    In minutes, Emma was safely inside. The
coach disappeared down the street towards the more impressive
lodgings of the Duke of Kellaway. Caroline left her perch at the
window. She walked over to her writing desk and picked up the note
she received today.
    It came from some unknown admirer. Perhaps
admirer was too kind of a term since the contents were vaguely
threatening. Whoever it was, this person had awful handwriting. At
least have the decency to perfect your script before sending notes
to daughters of earls.
     
    Dear Lady W,
     
    Your sister’s nuptials draw ever more near.
Would you care to hear of some news that will surely send Lord H
sprinting back into your arms?
     
    It, naturally, remained unsigned. Caroline
wondered if this “news” had much to do with those rumours of Emma
with a soldier. No one of any sense gave that tale much credit. The
ton actually rallied behind the younger daughter even while she was
away in the country. That could not be the secret.
    Her sister hardly had a stellar life, so she
could truly not think of any event or secret that would cause every
upright man to forsake her fortune. Especially not Lord
Hartwell.
    “That reminds me...,” she said to herself,
rifling through the papers on her desk. Two days ago, she had
received a note from the man himself. He asked for her aid in
setting up a surprise for Emma. He was also employing the help of
their aunt, who was already in town. Quite odd of her to not send
around her card to announce her arrival. But Aunt Lucille always
did whatever she wanted and had not suffered for it. It was still
dashed odd.
    Lady Wren pulled out her chair and sat down
into it. She pulled out a sheet of paper and her fountain pen and
began to write a reply. She was more than happy to assist in this
plan. But it would do well to her reputation to remain haughty.
    Upon finishing the note, Caroline decided to
retire to bed. The farthest thought from her mind was the troubling
letter. It really could not be so bad.
     
    “What do you mean Aunt Lucille is missing?
How would you know that? She has not yet left the Continent.”
    It was Wednesday evening in the Sheridan
household. Emma was in the middle of dressing for the evening. Mary
was putting the finishing touches on her ensemble, a fetching mauve
gown constructed out of thin Indian silk. Emma had been peering
closely at her reflection in the mirror when her father rushed into
her room. Normally a calm man, it unnerved his daughter to find
Lord Sheridan in such a panicked state.
    “Lucille...is missing!” He announced,
throwing down a missive. It was then that Emma halted Mary’s nimble
fingers. She turned to her father to inquire further.
    “It seems...that...” He stopped to catch his
breath. Sprinting was not something in which he often engaged. He
was a titled gentleman after all. He had done his duty; he did not
need to run anymore.
    “Come, Papa, sit down,” Emma implored,
rising to her feet. She guided her father to a low settee. He
thanked her and sunk into it, overcome with despair.
    Emma turned to pick up the letter, quickly
skimming over it. “She has been in London for nearly a fortnight?
Why did she not tell us? She disappeared from her townhouse?”
    “She arrived early and ran into Lord
Hartwell almost immediately. He convinced her to help with a
surprise so she did not announce her arrival. That letter is from
Lord Hartwell. He has been meeting with the police all day and will
arrive here shortly.