Page 46 of Lady Like

Harry prepared herself for a variety of possible reactions from Emily upon their reunion, from stoic silence and refusal to take Harry’s hand, to screaming obscenities, perhaps even violence—this was, after all, a woman who, upon their first meeting, had thrown her shoes.

She had not imagined Emily would take her hand and dance with her.

Even more surprising—that Emily should then turn and run.

At which Harry’s resolve to let Emily Sergeant leave her life dissipates.

Harry follows Emily out of the ballroom and halfway down the colonnade that runs parallel to it, catching up to her just before she reaches Bennet Street. “Miss Sergeant, wait!”

She grabs for Emily’s arm, but Emily rounds on her and snaps, “Don’t touch me.”

Harry steps back at once, raising her hands.

Emily swipes at her eye with her wrists—she’s crying, why is she crying, has Harry made Emily cry? This whole endeavor is beginning to feel like a sleeveless errand.

But when Emily speaks, her voice is strong. It reminds Harry of the first time they met, under the wisteria at the Majorbanks’s ball, when Emily had told her to sod off and Harry had gone cross-eyed. “What did you do that for?”

“Do what?”

“Dance with me.”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“But why now?” Emily’s face is shining, cheeks poppy red. “Why here?”

“I…” Harry swallows. The colonnade is empty, and the low rumble of sound at their backs from the ballroom feels vast and muted, like they’re standing beside the ocean. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Who says I can’t be fine on my own?”

“I know you can, ” Harry says. “But you don’t have to be.” She wants to take Emily by the hand, but Emily is pacing the width of the path like a tiger in a menagerie, and Harry is too afraid to reach between the bars of the cage for fear of losing a finger.

“You know, I was fine before I met you,” Emily says, her voice pitched.

“I could have been fine my whole life. I could have married some man and been his wife and had his children and lived in his house and it would have been so damn fine, but then you had to show up, you mad, stubborn, difficult woman.”

Harry swallows. “I didn’t mean for my coming tonight to upset you.”

“Tonight?” Emily’s laugh is threaded with hysteria. “You think this is about tonight ?”

“Is it…is it not?” Harry struggles to grasp the meaning of Emily’s words, but she might as well be snatching for the back of a runaway carriage. “Miss Sergeant, forgive me, but I do not understand why you’re angry with me.”

Emily scoffs and swipes at her eyes again. “If only.”

“If only what?”

“If only I was angry at you.”

“Then what is it?”

Emily stops her pacing. Turns to face Harry. Her eyes shine in the candlelight. “Do you really not know?” she whispers.

And it is then, before Harry has a chance to answer, that Emily Sergeant takes Harry’s face between her hands and kisses her.