“Indeed?” Her mother reached for her tea. “She cut the Duke of Cranston in the middle of Almack’s.”
Louisa pressed her lips together. Cranston’s only offense was his immoral behavior, inclu
ding taking a mistress into his own home. Not quite on par with an admitted murderer for a father. She would need to speak with Emma alone before continuing this plan of pursuing Harry.
When neither of her daughters had a retort, Mamma rose and looked at them both as she stood. “I thought as much. And the invitation to supper at Lady Huntley’s is for me alone.”
After Mamma left the room, Emma looked up at her with a smile. “What was His Grace doing here?”
“He came to call because I have not answered the notes he has sent.”
“Perfect strategy.”
Was it? Louisa had assumed Emma might feel she was ignoring her plan. “How so?”
“He came to call on you.”
“I suppose he did.” Louisa stared down at her hand, unsure if she should mention what she had done. “I touched his chest.”
Emma’s blue eyes widened. “You what?”
“I made an excuse that he had a loose button on his waistcoat.” She refused to admit to her little sister how touching the brocade waistcoat had warmed her entire body. Or how she wanted to remove his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt to feel his skin under her hand.
“And did he react?”
Embarrassed by her thoughts, Louisa only nodded.
“How?” Emma pressed.
“His eyes...there was something different, unlike anything I had seen before. He sucked in a breath and could only stare at me.”
Emma smiled. “Excellent.”
“I’m not certain, Emma. You heard Mamma. What if Lady Bolton forces her son to break it off with you?”
“Bolton would never do such a thing. He loves me.”
“I am certain he does, but his mother is very controlling. You’ve admitted as much.” She wanted to shake Emma until she realized that Lady Bolton would never let Emma have a say in her son’s life. Emma was only to be a trophy, brought out to shine at the balls on her husband’s arm and then returned to the glass case and into the background.
“It will be different when we are married,” she replied confidently. “Now, what are you going to wear to Lady Leicester’s ball?”
“My ivory silk.”
“No, you are not.” Emma pressed her lips together and widened her eyes as if she had a big secret that she was unable to contain.
“What do you mean?”
“Tomorrow, you and I will go to Madame Beaulieu's shop for a fitting on your new sapphire silk gown.”
Louisa shook her head. As much as she might have wanted a new gown for the ball, there was not enough time to make up something now. “It’s far too late, Emma.”
“Not when she has been working on the gown for over a week.”
Louisa stared over at her sister. “How?”
“I might have told Madame that you were too ill with a cold to come yourself, but you wanted the blue silk. Since she already had your measurements, she worked her magic and created the most beautiful gown I have ever seen. I am sincerely envious.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”