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“Insufferable man,” she murmured, allowing herself the momentary indulgence of honesty.

“I presume you refer to your brother-in-law,” came a voice from the adjoining room.

Emma started, then composed herself as her aunt emerged from the small writing room, spectacles perched primly on her nose.

“Joanna, I had thought you still abed after your journey.” She embraced the older woman, drawing comfort from the familiar scent of rosewater and ink. “When did you arrive?”

“Late enough to avoid Sidney’s arrival, early enough to overhear his presumption,” Joanna replied, looping her arm through Emma’s as they walked toward the garden.

“He is leasing Thornfield Manor,” Emma confided as they stepped onto the sun-dappled terrace.

Joanna’s eyebrows rose above her spectacles. “How… inconvenient.”

“Indeed. And he has invited me and Tristan for dinner next Thursday.”

“Which happens to coincide with the Athena Society meeting.” Joanna’s lips quirked in understanding. “A coincidence, I’m sure.”

Emma sighed, watching as Tristan emerged from the stables across the lawn, his small figure animated in conversation with the groom.

In the month since Victor’s departure, her son had gradually regained his natural exuberance, though he still occasionally glanced toward the road as if expecting the Duke’s imposing figure to materialize.

The memory of Victor’s abrupt withdrawal from their lives remained a thorn lodged beneath her ribs—painful in unexpected moments, impossible to extract cleanly.

Well, she could not dwell on that now in front of her aunt. She did not want to burden her so.

“Sidney is aware of the social calendar,” Emma said finally. “I suspect he seeks to supplant an independence he finds threatening with an obligation he can control.”

“Men of Lord Sidney’s ilk invariably do,” Joanna agreed drily. “And what about his sudden interest in country life? Last time I saw him, he could scarcely spend an afternoon without complaining of rural tedium.”

Emma hesitated at first. “I fear he harbors… inappropriate intentions toward me.”

Joanna’s expression hardened. “Has he been explicit in his impropriety?”

“Never sufficiently to justify an outright accusation. But there is… something about his stare that I recognize all too well from my dealings with men of certain appetites.” Emma smoothed her skirts, a gesture that betrayed her discomfort. “It matters little. I have fended him off for years; I shall continue to do so.”

“You shall not fend him off alone,” Joanna declared, her normally placid features set in uncharacteristic determination. “I find my visit to Cuthbert Hall may need to be extended indefinitely. My own accommodation has grown tiresome, and I have always found living with a close niece beneficial to my constitution.”

Emma felt a surge of gratitude for her aunt’s quiet strength.

She nodded once. “Tristan will be delighted. As am I.”

* * *

The drawing room at Oakley House hummed with the particular energy unique to gatherings of women temporarily liberated from the constraints of mixed company.

“I propose we next address Mary Wollstonecraft’sA Vindication of the Rights of Woman,” Annabelle announced, her blue eyes alight with mischief as she observed the mingled enthusiasm and trepidation her suggestion provoked.

“My dear, you shall render us all unmarriageable,” Mrs. Pennington protested, though her expression suggested this outcome might not entirely displease her.

“I believe that ship has sailed for many of us,” Joanna remarked, accepting a generous measure of claret from a footman with an appreciative nod. “Still, I’m curious as to whether Wollstonecraft’s arguments have aged well.”

Emma, seated beside her aunt, found herself smiling despite the lingering unease that had followed her from Cuthbert Hall.

The familiar ritual of the Society’s gathering—the gentle clash of ideas, the rustle of pages, the shared laughter—was a balm to her troubled spirits.

Here, at least, Lord Sidney’s influence could not prevail.

“An intriguing selection,” she agreed. “Though perhaps we might balance it with something less overtly political? What about Ann Radcliffe?”