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“Perhaps romance clouded her judgment,” suggested Mrs. Pennington, the vicar’s widowed sister, her voice wistful. “Love has been known to make fools of the wisest among us.”

“Ha! Poppycock,” countered Lady Winterbourne adjusting her ear trumpet with a flourish. At seventy-three, she was the eldest in the Society and could not attend meetings as frequently.

“The author simply needed a convenient plot device. Men always assume women lose all reason at the first sign of attention from them. Poppycock, I say. I once had a gentleman caller who believed I couldn’t manage basic arithmetic after the simple act of complimenting my darned bonnet!”

The ladies erupted in laughter, and Mrs. Witherspoon nearly spilled her tea.

“Speaking of fluttering eyelashes.” Annabelle leaned forward conspiratorially. “Our dear Dowager Countess has been rather distracted today. One might wonder if a certain brooding duke has anything to do with it?”

Emma nearly choked on her tea. She set the cup down carefully and speared her friend with a warning look. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Annabelle.”

“Oh, come now,” Annabelle pressed, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’ve been staring at the same page for twenty minutes. And you put the sugar in the inkwell earlier, which has created quite a fascinating new writing medium.”

A chorus of curious murmurs and barely suppressed giggles rippled through the room.

Emma felt heat rise to her cheeks.

“I merely had a restless night,” she protested weakly.

“Restless with thoughts of a certain gentleman with stormy eyes, perhaps?” Annabelle suggested, wiggling her eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion that made all the women turn their bright, interested gazes on her.

Oh dear. Oh dear.

Emma couldn’t possibly let this continue.

Joanna adjusted her spectacles, and Emma was immediately grateful to her aunt for always standing up for her at times like this.

“Really, Miss Lytton, you shouldn’t tease. Though I must say, Emma dear, you did spread your scone with jam and then attempt to spread the butter on top,” the older woman said, which did nothing to deter the mischievous Annabelle.

“It’s not teasing if it’s true,” Annabelle argued, triumph gleaming in her eyes. “And I have it on good authority that a certain duke will attend Lord Knightley’s ball…”

All eyes turned to Emma, who desperately sought a change of subject. “Shouldn’t we return to the book? I found the protagonist’s relationship with her sister particularly compelling.”

“Not nearly as compelling as your relationship with Westmere,” Annabelle said dryly, peering at her.

“There is no relationship, to begin with, Annabelle,” Emma sighed, lifting her loose fist to her chest in a bid to settle her suddenly pounding heart.

Annabelle let out an unladylike snort. “My eyes can see you blush at the mere mention of him!”

“I heard he saved young Tristan from drowning.” Mrs. Witherspoon’s whisper was loud enough to reach Cornwall.

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Pennington countered, waving her handkerchief emphatically. “It was a runaway horse. And he caught the boy with one arm while fending off highwaymen with the other!”

“I assure you, it was neither,” Emma interjected. It seemed the gossip vines had already started churning out stories. “And I would appreciate?—”

“Perhaps we should invite gentlemen to our next meeting,” Lady Winterbourne suddenly suggested, her eyes twinkling with a youthful devilry that belied her age. “Lord Knightley expressed interest, did he not? And where he goes, the Duke might follow. I could use my rheumatism as an excuse to push you both into the same settee. Works like a charm!”

“Oh!” Annabelle looked rather taken with the idea. “What a terrific idea!”

“Absolutely not!” Emma gasped, absolute horror etched on her face. “The Athena Society is our sanctuary from masculine interference.”

“Evenhandsomeinterference?” Annabelle teased, pretending to swoon. “With eyes like stormy seas and shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of the empire?”

“Yes,” Emma said with a finality that made the ladies pout. “And that is the end of that.”

“Aww.” Annabelle pouted.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Not another word from you,” she said. “Now, let us focus on more important matters.”