“Oh no, I should think she’d stay,” Tabitha said instantly and with some authority. “Mrs. Becket is engaged in a charitable endeavor benefiting the Hospital for the Infirm, as is my mother. Mother told me that Mrs. Becket and her father have been granted the right to stay on at the vicar’s guest house for as long as she liked. Mrs. Becket said likely she would, as there is so much more she might do with her charity work in London than in Shropshire.”
Emily narrowed her eyes and glared at Tabitha. “Are you quite certain?”
Tabitha shrugged weakly. “Fairly certain, yes.” She turned away from Emily’s intent gaze and looked at the widow again. “She was a Methodist, you know,” she suddenly whispered.
Emily gasped.
Tabitha nodded fiercely. “Mother says that our departed vicar found her in a Methodist church in the country and fell quite in love with her. So inspired was he by his love that he convinced her to join the Church of England and come to London.” She paused there and sighed dreamily. “Isn’t it romantic? He saved her from the Methodists! My cousin Alice had something very similar happen,” she added, and launched into yet another excruciatingly boring tale having something to do with more country people.
Romantic it was not, Emily thought. How dare Widow Becket, a Methodist of all things, insert herself into the ton? She thought to stay on in London so that she might carry on indecently, as she was this very moment? Preying on marriageable men and taking the attention from debutantes? Emily glowered across the crowd at Montgomery, who was still speaking to Widow Becket, standing entirely too close to the woman and smiling in a way that made Emily fume. He was bestowing an indecorous smile on a vicar’s widow, and worse, his lordship clearly held the woman in some esteem!
As for her, Widow Becket was looking up at him and laughing in that perfectly adorable way she had of laughing. It was enough to compel Emily to her feet.
“Wh-where are you going?” Tabitha cried, not quite finished with the recitation of her cousin’s romance.
“I beg your pardon, but I had forgotten that my mother bade me to sit with her.”
“Oh,” Tabitha uttered, obviously bewildered.
“Good day!” Emily said smartly and marched off before Tabitha could reply.
She made her way through the crowd, dutifully stopping to pay her respects where necessary, and finally reaching the other side of the gathering where Montgomery was deep in conversation with Widow Becket. Decorum be damned, Emily marched up to the couple and forced a bright smile to her face.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Becket. My lord,” she said, curtsying.
Both of them started a bit at her intrusion. Mrs. Becket instantly smiled and grasped Emily’s hand. “Good afternoon, Miss Forsythe! My, how lovely you look today! Positively radiant—it must be the effects of having a successful debut,” she gushed.
“I suppose so. Thank you,” Emily said stiffly, and turned a smile to Lord Montgomery.
“Miss Forsythe, how do you do?” he asked, perfectly polite.
“Very well, indeed, my lord,” she said, and faltered. How to rid Montgomery of the widow now? As it was, the two of them were looking at her expectantly, as if they waited for her to announce something hugely important. “Will you be attending the May Day Ball, my lord?” she suddenly blurted.
Montgomery arched a brow in surprise above his smile. “The May Day Ball? Why, I had not thought of it, Miss Forsythe,” he said, glancing at Mrs. Becket. “I can’t say I’ve even been invited.”
“Of course you have!” Emily insisted. “Everyone has been invited!” She caught herself there and glanced at Widow Becket—well, not everyone had been invited. “I do mean, of course, everyone in the ton.”
Whatever she thought Mrs. Becket’s reaction would be, she had not thought she’d laugh.
“No need to explain, Miss Forsythe. His lordship and I were just speaking of the many events this season holds,” she said and shifted her gaze to his lordship, her smile going very soft for a moment.
“What of them?” Emily asked.
“Beg your pardon?” Widow Becket asked, seeming a little distracted.
“There are many of them for debutantes,” Lord Montgomery helpfully clarified.
“Yes,” the widow said, turning her smile to Emily again. “How fortuitous you have so many places to dance on your first year out!”
“I suppose that is true,” Emily admitted, and clasped her gloved hands tightly together, looked at the stone floor for a moment, wondering why the widow wouldn’t take her leave? A few awkward moments passed. It seemed to Emily to take forever before Widow Becket at last seemed to understand she was intruding.
“Ah . . .” the widow said.
Emily quickly glanced up; Widow Becket smiled very brightly at Emily. “I think I’ve monopolized his lordship quite long enough—”
“But you haven’t at all,” he said instantly.
“I should see if the vicar needs me,” she said, stepping back. “Good day, my lord. Good day, Miss Forsythe.”