She smoothed her corset and ran her hands along the beautiful fabric of her trousers, which were tucked neatly into her new black boots. She exhaled, nervous, and then told herself to smile. She was embarking on the adventure of a lifetime, and she would enjoy every moment of it. She would be with friends and colleagues who cared for her and whom she enjoyed in return, and her family would be busy with activities of their own. Lysette’s barbed tongue and her stepfather’s oafish attitude would be far away from her.
Rosie entered the room and tipped her head. “Your mother sends for you, Miss Emmeline.”
Emme had requested basic programming for Rosie as she wanted little fuss and interference from her maid, and although her mother and Lysette were uncomprehending of her wishes, she found Rosie to be a perfect match for her busy life.
“Thank you, Rosie.” Emme retrieved her newest top hat from the vanity and placed it on her head, tilting it at the perfect angle. The hat was also burgundy, decorated with small flowers and feathers that matched her ensemble. A small pair of goggles rested on the brim, completing the look. Emme had to admit she did look rather fetching in the new clothing.
She picked up her carpetbag and, with one last look at her bedroom, made her way to the door. “If I haven’t thought of it by now, it’s too late,” she muttered.
She stepped into the hallway only to stumble into Madeline, who jumped back with a hand over her heart.
“Oh! Apologies, Emmeline.”
“No need, Madeline, none at all.” Emme shook her head but had to admit some confusion. Hester was usually the only family who ventured into the guest wing.
Madeline twisted her fingers, and then, as if realizing what she was doing, clasped her hands firmly together and stilled the movement. She took a deep breath and smiled. “I do not know how much access we shall have with each other in Edinburgh, and I want to wish you well.” She nodded once and firmed her chin. “I . . . You must be so glad. You have worked diligently . . . I cannot imagine . . .”
Emme tried not to stare, confused not only by the oddity of the conversation but that it was occurring at all. She raised her brows in what she hoped was encouragement as Madeline floundered for words.
“I only . . . I wish you well, Emme. I have every confidence you will say amazing things and people will be moved. You possess such an incredible gift.” Madeline’s eyes were suddenly bright, and she firmed her lips, smiling and lifting her chin again.
“Madeline, I hardly know what to say,” Emme admitted, shocked but touched. “Thank you.” She carefully reached forward and embraced her awkwardly, and they both shared a nervous laugh.
Emme drew back and looked at her stepsister. Madeline had rich, brown hair shot through with stunning strands of gold and deep red. She usually styled it as simply as possible, though, and Emme had long suspected it was a maneuver meant to keep Lysette at bay.
While Lysette was the quintessential English Rose, Madeline was exotic. Her features held an understated beauty, her eyes a captivating aqua color, but she often wore clothing that washed out her complexion and did little to flatter her frame. Hester remarked occasionally, quietly, that she would love to “fuss just a bit” over Madeline’s appearance, but she was always politely refused.
“Madeline,” Emme said impulsively, “perhaps when we return home, you and I could take tea somewhere . . . away from here.”
Madeline nodded, but her eyes flickered away for the briefest of moments. She smiled again but looked as though it took effort. She cleared her throat, eyes glossy. “That would be lovely.”
“Well, I had best be off. Perhaps we shall see one another in Edinburgh.” Emme walked toward the stairs, and Madeline hesitated but then fell into step with her.
“Perhaps.” Her gaze darted again, and when they reached the landing, she looked toward the family wing. Nobody was there, and Madeline visibly relaxed, if only a fraction.
Something was off, like one flat note in a chord. Emme glanced at her stepsister, more curious than ever. The energy emanating from Madeline was subtly chaotic, as though she was upset but tamping it down. Emme wished she had a moment to investigate. It would have to wait until the Summit was over, sadly.
Voices echoed through the front hall, and Emme heard Oliver’s baritone. Her heart beat faster, and she cursed the wretched organ for its betrayal. As she descended the stairs with Madeline, she decided that, of course, she could be professional with the detective, and, of course, there was no reason to object to his presence. She was professional and friendly with Carlo, and she saw him rarely. She was cordial and pleasant with her colleagues in the Shifter Rights Organization, and there were some among that number who irritated her to no end.
Deciding to behave professionally toward her former nemesis was no reason for her heart to thump in anticipation of seeing him. Perhaps her subconscious simply reacted to him as it had in earlier days when his presence signaled an imminent visit to a jail cell. That must be it. Satisfied she’d reached a logical conclusion, she stepped onto the main level with a clearer head. She smiled at Madeline, who nodded and scurried off.
Hester and Barnesworth stood at the door with the detective. Hester glanced at Madeline’s disappearing form, and then at Emme, who shrugged. Hester’s brow creased, and Emme was struck with the notion that she probably had inherited her insatiable curiosity about people and their conundrums from her mother.
Hester motioned toward Emme. “Come along. I sent Rosie up for you ages ago.”
“Ages, Mother? I would hardly say
