In the past few weeks, Nigel had tried to build up her confidence. He’d practiced dancing with her, despite the painful gout that plagued his knee. He’d shared long talks with her in the evening, encouraging her and listening when she confessed her fears.

She had come to see him as a lonely man who wanted to fill his days with the children. But she still didn’t want to give them up, regardless of what Daniel’s will stated.

Nigel had been especially indignant when he’d learned of Lord Rothburne’s refusal to recognize her as Stephen’s wife. He vowed to force the marquess into accepting her.

Tomorrow night, he planned to escort her to Lady Thistlewaite’s ball. He had it on good authority that Stephen would attend. The aching emptiness in her stomach tightened with anticipation, for she longed to see him. And yet, the thought of facing Lady Thistlewaite made her consider developing a sudden case of hives.

How would the earl react when she arrived? Stephen did not want her here; he had made that quite clear. Neither did the marquess. When she arrived at the ball, it would be without their knowledge.

She was strongly tempted to pay a call upon her husband, to warn him of her intent. Oh, he would be angry all right. But it would be worse if he learned of her arrival at the ball. Better to let him know sooner, rather than later.

She donned her cloak and bonnet, just about to leave when Nigel stopped her. “Why, Emily, is something the matter?”

“No.” She glanced at the door. “I was planning to pay a call.”

“Not alone, I hope.”

“Of course not. I was going to take a footman as an escort.”

Her uncle relaxed. “Very well. But you will, of course, take the carriage. I’ve no wish for harm to befall you on the streets when we’ve only just become reacquainted.” He summoned a servant. “Have my landau and driver brought to the front. Lady Whitmore wishes to pay a few calls.” Nigel bowed gallantly. “There is no need to walk.”

“It isn’t so very far,” she protested.

“Perhaps not, but you are a countess, and you must present yourself as such. I look forward to introducing you to society tomorrow evening.” His blue eyes grew thoughtful. “It should have been done years ago. I am sorry once again that your circumstances were not different. But enough about the past.”

Nigel cleared his throat and predicted, “You will enchant them all.” Offering her a wink, he added, “I may not possess a title, but I do have connections.”

“Thank you, Uncle Nigel.” Impulsively, she gave him a hug. He smelled of tobacco and tea.

Nigel patted her on the back. “Enjoy your outing then.”