Page 59 of The Mister I Married

Miss Delafield dipped into a shallow curtsy, the yellow gloves still clutched in one hand. “Lady Emmaline. Please accept our felicitations on your marriage.”

The words emerged as if they tasted rancid, and Emmy struggled to hold onto her smile, confused by the peculiar reaction.

“Thank you, Miss Delafield. I—”

“Do forgive us,” Miss Delafield interrupted. “But we really must be leaving now. Mustn’t we, Mama?”

Her mother blinked and then nodded rapidly. “Oh. Yes. Yes, we…have an appointment to attend to.”

“Of course,” Emmy said slowly. “I hope we shall see you…”

Her words fell away as the ladies made for the door, leaving the yellow gloves abandoned on the countertop.

“Did I say something offensive without realizing it?” she asked Tess, totally in earnest. It had happened before, more than once.

Tess shrugged. “No, not that I noticed.”

Emmy turned toward the door again and caught one final glimpse of the Delafield women as they passed by the window, sour expressions pinching both their faces.

She shook her head, a frown tugging at her lips. Had she said something to offend them, or was there some other reason behind their hasty departure?

Was it because she and Tess were Whitcombs?

“Please don’t pay them any mind.”

Emmy turned toward the unfamiliar voice and found the two red-haired women approaching, smiles on their friendly, freckled faces.

“Especially Daisy Delafield,” the older, more buxom of the two continued. “She’s just cross because she’s been after your husband for years and he wouldn’t have her.”

Emmy’s brows rose. “Oh?” She had no idea Alex had an admirer here. He’d never mentioned it.

“Not that Miss Delafield needs a reason to be cross, mind you,” the younger lady said, pushing her spectacles up her freckled nose. “She has always been an unpleasant creature, even on her best days.”

Tess laughed. “With such a cheerful name, one would think Daisy Delafield would be a cheerful girl.”

“I had the same thought,” Emmy said, shaking her head.

Grinning, the older woman said, “I am Mrs. Ogilvy—Lucinda—and this is my sister, Miss Catherine Stavers.”

“Soon to be Honeycutt,” Miss Stavers said with a smile. “I am engaged to be married.”

Emmy offered her congratulations before introducing herself and Tess and the foursome exchanged the requisite curtsies. She liked these two sisters with their warm brown eyes and friendly, open manners.

“So, you’re the lucky lady who finally managed to capture our Mr. Whitcomb,” Mrs. Ogilvy said. “You must be extraordinary, indeed, to have caught his eye.”

Emmy shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I am the daughter of a marquess.”

“Oh, we will tolerate no false modesty here, Lady Emmaline,” Mrs. Ogilvy said with a tinkling laugh. “Mr. Whitcomb could have married any single woman in Berkshire, even the noble ones, but he didn’t.”

Emmy’s brows dipped, and she murmured, more to herself than the group, “I wonder why.”

“Well, he would have had to notice them first,” Miss Stavers said dryly.

Daisy Delafield’s sour expression drifted through Emmy’s mind, and she had to bite back a smile as smug satisfaction warmed her chest. Alex could have had Miss Delafield, but he hadn’t wanted her. He’d chosen Emmy instead. He was hers.

The possessive thought caught her off guard and sent a wave of confusion rolling through her. What a peculiar reaction. She was not a jealous sort of person.

“Have you seen the new slippers that have just arrived?” Miss Stavers asked Tess. “They’re from Paris.”