I won’t let myself fall under his spell again.

She’d been weak before, letting herself dream of him. She knew better now, didn’t she? He hadn’t loved her. He didn’t even remember her.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

She gripped her reticule, pushing her mind back to the task at hand. Today she would go shopping. The children needed new clothes, and it would take her mind off her worries.

Stopping in front of Harding and Howell, she decided to purchase fabric for Victoria and Royce. The vast array of costly goods was dizzying.

She glanced behind her, to see if anyone had followed them. Don’t be silly, she told herself. Whoever had attacked her at Falkirk wanted Daniel’s belongings. He wouldn’t come after them in London.

Even so, it made her uneasy to think of it. Best to carry out her shopping and return home as quickly as possible.

She had worn her faded black bombazine gown, the one Stephen despised. In the simple dress, she was less noticeable than the more affluent women and a less likely prey for thieves. She had ordered the footmen to maintain a discreet distance while she visited the linen draper’s.

Upon her return, she passed by rows of stores with glass displays. Confectioners made her stop to inhale the luscious scent of fresh chocolates, while the hot, delicious smell of pastries emerged from a nearby bakery.

But it was the fruiterer who tempted her the most. Behind a large glass-window display of pineapples, figs, and grapes, she spied baskets of fresh strawberries.

Oh, heaven. She imagined a strawberry shortcake, with the juicy berries soaking into the cake, topped with cream. It took only moments to part with the coins. Likely she could have gotten a better price at Cheapside, had she bargained for them. But she wanted to remain in Mayfair where it was safer.

Outside, she strolled along the street before a male voice shouted a warning. Horses reared, and her footman pulled her out of harm’s way.

The driver gained control of the animals and pulled the carriage to a halt. Someone bumped into the footman, and he knocked Emily into a patch of heavy mud.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Lady Whitmore.” The footman turned crimson with shame, assisting her to her feet while the other servant collected her purchases.

A well-dressed gentleman emerged from the carriage. “By Jove, it’s Miss Barrow. What on earth are you doing here?”

Emily flushed as she saw Mr. Freddie Reynolds. Freddie was a peacock of a man, but he had a decent heart. A few years ago, Daniel had permitted her to attend a family gathering at the Reynolds’s country estate. Afterwards, Freddie had made Emily the object of his worship. He never failed to send tokens of his affection, a gesture that touched her though she had no feelings toward him.

“Miss Barrow, I am devastated by the accident. No amount of apology is sufficient. Please allow me to escort you home.”