Emmaline awoke to a hand gently shaking her shoulder. She mumbled something and turned away from the offending appendage, pressing her face into the cold glass of the carriage. Wait, carriage? She groggily opened her eyes to see the attentive face of Monsieur Duval hovering over her. Apparently, she had fallen against the side of the carriage during her little nap.
“Are you alright, Mademoiselle?” he asked, concerned.
“Yes, Monsieur, I’m fine,” she said quietly, brushing down the front of her dress and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “I merely fell asleep.”
“Alright,” he said, sitting back in his seat. “We’re nearly at Lord Dunham’s townhome. You may need to prepare yourself, his wife is quite critical.”
“Thank you for the warning, Monsieur, but I will be fine.”
Monsieur Duval eyed her curiously. “Good. Have you ever been to a dinner party before?”
“Once. I went with a client,” she closed her eyes, willing away the bile that crept up her throat. “However, it was not a kind of festivity one discusses in civilised conversation.”
Monsieur Duval nodded, his eyes showing understanding. “Of course. Well, tonight will not be anything of the sort. You will stay with me all evening. I will be introducing you to some of my business contacts. I was planning on introducing you as my companion, unless that is not acceptable to you.”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “It is your business how you introduce me.”
Monsieur Duval nodded. The rest of the carriage ride was spent in relative silence. Emmaline played with the hem of her skirt, dreading her reentrance into society.
The house was beautiful. It had terracotta-colored stone and a gray slate roof with perfectly landscaped grounds. Groups of carriages lined the long drive and Emmaline could hear music wafting through the tall windows. The carriage stopped and the door opened. Monsieur Duval hopped out first, offering his arm for Emmaline to take. She got out smoothly and looked around. A few couples were walking up from their own carriages, most of them looked friendly.
They entered the house, Emmaline still gripping Monsieur Duval’s arm. Emmaline took a deep breath, taking in the loveliness that was this house. Hardwood floors and cream-coloured walls, rich dark draperies and golden sconces; it was breathtaking. The people, too, were exquisite. Women with tresses more fair than the sun piled high on their heads, with dresses made of the most expensive fabrics and jewels on their earlobes, collarbones, wrists and fingers. The men, too, were dressed in tasteful waistcoats and trousers, some wearing the garb of officers in the militia.
As they walked through the rooms, Emmaline caught several stares headed her way. She blushed and kept her head down, clasping Monsieur’s arm even tighter for support. He stopped suddenly. Emmaline nearly tripped, her long skirt catching under her shoe. She straightened and looked ahead, schooling her features as she was taught to do as a child.
“Well, now, Duval,” a strange man commented, standing up from a chair that had been placed on a raised dais. “She is a pretty one, isn’t she?”
“She is my companion, Mademoiselle Emmaline Boudin,” Monsieur Duval said tightly.
“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle,” the man smirked, bowing slightly, his accent strange.
Emmaline looked at Monsieur Duval. He nodded slightly, telling her to copy the other man’s gesture.
“The pleasure is mine, monsieur,” she said quietly, curtsying as best she could remember from her brief lessons when she was young.
The man stood, a broad smile gracing his handsome face. “And polite, too! Why, Duval, we might need to have a switch, you and I. My Lady Victoria for your Mademoiselle Boudin.”
Monsieur Duval did not look amused. “Maybe some other time, Dunham.”
“Perhaps,” Dunham smirked, eyes raking over Emmaline. “Perhaps.”
YOU ARE READING
The Abduction That Saved Me
RomanceA girl who grew up in the streets is kidnapped and sold to a strange man who seems to understand her.
