His fiancée found it impossible to smother the unamused scoff that escaped her lips. Men were the greatest fools in the world when it came to a pretty face. Like that business with the Trojan War. To be fair, they were waiting for a chance to start a war and Helen of Troy provided them an excellent one. To run off with the handsome, albeit cowardly prince, of a different land in an attempt to escape your older husband, was brave. If not intolerably stupid. Emma could muse indefinitely on the Greek myths, but now was not the time.
“Shall I continue?” Thomas inquired archly. Emma gestured for him to continue. “When I first met Lady Carradine, it was some months later in Vienna. She had already made quite the name for herself in Vienna. Men lusted after her and as you might have guessed, she was not one to turn away favours. This is how I met her.” He stopped once more, gauging Emma’s face. There was an ever so slight narrowing of her eyes, coupled with a firm set of her mouth. “She sought my company, finding me quite handsome.” There was a certain tinge of male pride in his voice upon revealing this fact. Even if one was not interested in said woman, a man could not help but be a little bit pleased at being propositioned. “I rebuked her finding the whole matter off-putting. Nevertheless, she did not give up and followed Hedgeton and I around to many other cities. Finally, we left for England and I never heard from her again.”
“Until
“Exactly, until tonight. She is newly married and not much of a threat if that is what you are worried about.”
Emma scoffed again. How presumptuous of him to assume she was jealous! “I am not at all worried about this Lady Carradine,” she replied. “I am vexed by her blatant disregard for propriety.” She chuckled, amused at her own retort. “I sound like a governess.”
“Yes, you would be more vexed with that than anything else.” He agreed. Thomas was a little unsettled with Lady Carradine’s arrival in London. She had sworn she would never come back, but she had the protection of her husband and even the Prince Regent. Perhaps that is why she felt safe enough to come home. Here, she could happily break all rules with censure. How long could she go on like this? It had been many years since they first met and she was just as classless then as she was now. Her great beauty excused most of her behaviour and if that did not work she had the wealth and power. Rather, she knew people who could erase any indiscretion. He hoped she would stay in England throughout the Season so she would not bother him on the Continent.
The fighting had died down since Napoleon’s defeat at Leipzig, deeming it safer to travel around the Continent. Anyone familiar with the events was expecting an official end to the wars this year. Thomas was a bit doubtful considering how great a military power Napoleon had proved to be. Whatever the outcome, Lord Hartwell found himself selfish in hoping it did not interfere with his plans.
“Oh! I think we have arrived,” Emma announced. She yawned angrily, belatedly covering her mouth with a gloved hand. “Excuse me,” she murmured.
A footman pulled the carriage door open letting in the frigid air that Emma had almost forgotten. She shivered and pulled her cloak closer around her.
“Thank you for the ride home, Thomas. Have a pleasant night.” She gracefully moved to exit the carriage. She took great care to not snag her delicate skirts.
“Shall I call upon you later this week and take you to the museum? You mentioned before you had not been yet.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea!” she exclaimed, hopping out of the carriage. She lost her footing on the icy sidewalk and slid a bit. Thomas lunged forward to offer some assistant, his arms reaching out. “I am quite alright.” Emma assured him as she steadied herself. “As I was saying, that sounds wonderful. I cannot wait to see the Rosetta Stone! When shall we go?” Emma paused, a sudden frown pulling at her lips. “I do not have a chaperone though. My aunt has not yet arrived. Perhaps we can postpone. I have not any clue where she is at this point.”
“I am sure I can a chaperone. I believe I have some matronly relatives in town. Surely one will suffice as a chaperone?”
“I suppose they must. I shall scarcely sleep for thinking of our outing.”
“Do try to get some. You want to be alert for the museum. A good friend of mine will give the tour. He has worked there for many years.”
“Wonderful! Now, I need to go inside. It is quite late and this is perhaps improper.”
“Naturally.” Thomas moved to leave the carriage as well. He took her hand in his. “Have a good night.” He placed a quick kiss on her palm.
Emma desperately wanted to ask if she would see him before their trip to the British Museum. It would not do to seem clingy. He would see her when he was free. He was not required. Barely a day had passed where she had not been on the receiving end of one of his charming smiles. She did not want to miss them for a single moment. Then, there was that kiss.
“I do not believe I can call on you tomorrow, but I will see you at the theatre, yes?”
“Wednesday night? Yes, of course. I heard this one is really good.”
“Well, go inside then. Sleep well, Emma.”
Inside the house, the butler Lewis stood waiting in the foyer. He had been part of the household since the girls were in nappies. He rose from a lowly footman to the exalted position of butler. Lewis knew all of the intricacies of the households, including their darker secrets. As such, he was quite protective of the Wren family. Emma was a favourite of his for she had a kind heart, always inquiring after his health. Caroline too was kind but in her own particular way. The sort of discreet kindness that resulted in a prepared basket to take to his ailing mother.
Never before had he stayed up to await the arrival of young Emma. Normally it was her sister who stayed out late, cavorting until the sun began to rise on the distant horizon. She had returned home with her parents and immediately retired to her room, claiming to be intensely tired. Tonight, it was Emma who twirled in after hours, winter at her heels. She pulled off her cloak, depositing it into the waiting hands of her maid.
“Good evening, Lewis,” she announced, ever cheerful. Her smiles never failed to brighten up even the dourest of servants. That quality coupled with her ability to render Lady Sheridan speechless made her beloved. She glanced down at the puddle her shoes were making. “I am so sorry. I know that Anna has probably already finished her cleaning for the evening.”
“It is fine, my lady. I delayed her since you had not yet arrived. You are quite late today,” he observed. Lewis shut the door firmly in place and locked it.
“I am aware. Tho-Lord Hartwell and I were discussing our honeymoon and it ran overlong. We ran into a former acquaintance of his.”
“Emma, you should not dawdle and discuss your private business with the servants. You should leave your bad habits here and not take them with you to your new home. I am sure Lord Hartwell would prefer his wife to act as befitting her station.”
“Mother, it is dreadfully late. I am not in the mood for your lectures. I will treat Lewis and the others as I see fit. When I marry Lord Hartwell and become mistress in his home, I will still treat them as humans. They have lives as you and I do. It may not be proper, but how I can spend my whole life being waited upon by a group of people and not get to know them at all?”
Lady Sheridan did not know why she continued to berate her daughter on her behaviour. She had rarely heeded any of the advice that her mother deemed important. She had to admit that she was engaged despite all her flaws and Caroline was not. She simply could not sleep soundly without correcting Emma. She was not improper in public where it truly mattered, so perhaps it would cause no issues. After all, Emma was to be married soon and her actions would be Lord Hartwell's issue. Yet, she had many sleepless nights.
That was easier thought than done. If Emma had inherited anything from Lady Sheridan, it was her stubbornness. She refused to admit she was wrong in berating her daughter. So, she simply narrowed her eyes.
“Go to your room immediately.”
Emma raised an
eyebrow at her mother. A small part of her wanted to retort and insist she was not to be ordered around anymore. But, it was late, after all. She was tired and her bed was calling out to her. Emma decided to be a dutiful daughter and appease her mother.
“As you wish.” She walked over to her mother and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night.”
In shock from the unwarranted display of affection, Lady Sheridan could do little other than stare up at her daughter as she ascended the stairs. Lewis smothered a burgeoning smile.
“Is there anything you require, My Lady, or am I free to also retire?”
“Hmm…what? Oh yes, please carry on, Lewis. You can sleep. The hour is late and we should all be asleep.” She straightened her posture, assuming her role of Countess. Lewis bowed as she swept past him and climbed the stairs. The butler then finished up his duties of closing up the house for the night.
Emma opened the door to her chamber, surprising Mary, her maid. The young woman had been bent over a stack of books upon Emma’s desk, furiously rifling through one.
“Mary! I did not know you to be such an avid reader,” she announced.
The maid dropped into a curtsy. “I just like the feel of the pages, my lady.” She slammed the book shut. “Shall I help you undress?”
“Yes, please. I am exhausted.”
Caroline had insisted since they first began visiting London to have the room overlooking the street. Lady Sheridan had insisted that she should take the bigger room that overlooked the garden. It was quieter, more fitting for a lady. But Caroline had ignored her and demanded the smaller room. She liked the drama of the street view. Granted, they did live in Mayfair, so it was perhaps not as interesting as she might have wished. But, with the small balcony, she could sit outside when the weather was nice (wearing a large sun hat though) and be admired.
But it was March and far too cold to recline in the sunshine. Instead, she took to staring mournfully out the windows into the pitch-black night sky. This night, after a dreadful time at Almack's, she was awaiting the arrival of Emma. Everyone in the house was. She had disappeared in Almack's. Not quite disappeared, Caroline had seen Lord Hartwell and her walk out onto an empty balcony.
In Caroline's esteemed opinion, it was far too cold for any dilly-dallying outside. Emma was new to courtship so she could be forgiven. The blonde had thought nothing of this occurrence. They were engaged and despite what many believed, she had no plans on breaking their betrothal. Emma was her sister and she had always been infatuated with Lord Hartwell. It was nothing for Caroline to give him up to her. It further helped her plans.
Shortly after the couple had disappeared outside, an unknown woman accosted Caroline. After the encounter, she learned this woman was Lady Genevieve Carradine, newly arrived from the Continent. She was also a fright. Caroline disliked her on sight because Lady Carradine's looks nearly matched her own. Close, but did not surpass. Despite Caroline's own ignorance of this new face, Lady Carradine greeted her by name.
“Lady Wren, have you seen Lord Hartwell?”
“Even if I did know his whereabouts, why would I give them to you?”
“I am an old friend of Lord Hartwell's. I want to see him and he will be most pleased in seeing me again. I do light up this droll ballroom.”
“I am sure you are aware, if you are approaching me for his location, that he is betrothed to my sister.”
Lady Carradine had wrinkled her nose. This thought was far too distasteful for her to even comprehend. “I had heard such news, yes.” She fanned herself absently. Caroline's eyes focused in on the silk fan edged in lace. The quality of it was extraordinary; it must have cost a small fortune.
“I am afraid I am neither my sister's nor Lord Hartwell's keeper. Perhaps you could ask Lady Worthing. She keeps an eye on them both better than I do.”
“That foul blonde girl with her insipid friends?” She asked, tossing her head back. “I visited them first and she would not tell me.”
Caroline did not find this news shocking. Lavinia may want Lord Hartwell for herself, but she was not so low as to direct a dreadfully beautiful woman to his location. That was simply too cruel.
“Then I simply do not know what to tell you.”
Lady Carradine looked Caroline over, eyes searching her face. She shrugged her shoulders. “It is no matter. I always end up getting what I want.” Her bow-shaped lips quirked into a smug smirk, before she took her leave.
As soon as she was a respectable distance away, Lavinia and her friends surrounded Caroline. They all spoke out-of-turn, their voices jumbled together and she could not make out their explanations. With a hand, Caroline silenced the trio.
“You, Lavinia, explain.”
“That is Lady Carradine, formerly Miss Worthing. She has spent most of her life on the Continent and knows many of the young men. It is rumoured she has been a mistress of the Prince Regent and many other high-profile men. That is how she got her marriage to an earl. Lady Jersey is even afraid to cross her because of the powerful men behind her.”
“How intriguing,” Caroline replied. She was impressed despite her disapproval of the woman. Women who commanded respect, no matter how they achieved it, were always of interest.
“She's absolutely horrid. All of our suitors have been far more impressed with her than us tonight,” Mademoiselle La Roux whined.
“If they are truly interested in you then why would they be so distracted by a married woman? She is unattainable,” offered Caroline.
“According to the rules of marriage, yes, but I am not so sure,” Lavinia whispered. This topic of conversation was highly inappropriate for the hallowed walls of Almack's. If any of the proprietresses heard, surely they could be banned. Since none of them had any good marriage prospects, it was best to keep this topic quiet.
The clip clopping of horse's hooves echoed throughout the empty streets. It was past the time of the steady rumble of carriages as the ton returned to their dwellings. The coach was slowing to a stop in front of the Sheridan townhouse. It must be Emma.
Sure enough, her short sister hopped out of the carriage with all the grace of a newborn fawn. She, of course, slipped on the ice and barely kept her balance. Lord Hartwell, ever the gentleman, was quick to aid her. Caroline clucked her tongue.
“They're like something out of a romance novel,” she murmured, face pressing against the glass.
In minutes, Emma was safely inside. The coach disappeared down the street towards the more impressive lodgings of the Duke of Kellaway. Caroline left her perch at the window. She walked over to her writing desk and picked up the note she received today.
It came from some unknown admirer. Perhaps admirer was too kind of a term since the contents were vaguely threatening. Whoever it was, this person had awful handwriting. At least have the decency to perfect your script before sending notes to daughters of earls.
Dear Lady W,
Your sister’s nuptials draw ever more near. Would you care to hear of some news that will surely send Lord H sprinting back into your arms?
It, naturally, remained unsigned. Caroline wondered if this “news” had much to do with those rumours of Emma with a soldier. No one of any sense gave that tale much credit. The ton actually rallied behind the younger daughter even while she was away in the country. That could not be the secret.
Her sister hardly had a stellar life, so she could truly not think of any event or secret that would cause every upright man to forsake her fortune. Especially not Lord Hartwell.
“That reminds me...,” she said to herself, rifling through the papers on her desk. Two days ago, she had received a note from the man himself. He asked for her aid in setting up a surprise for Emma. He was also employing the help of their aunt, who was already in town. Quite odd of her to not send around her card to announce her arrival. But Aunt Lucille always did whatever she wanted and had not suffered for it. It was still dashed odd.
Lady Wren pulled out her chair and sat down into it. She pulled o
ut a sheet of paper and her fountain pen and began to write a reply. She was more than happy to assist in this plan. But it would do well to her reputation to remain haughty.
Upon finishing the note, Caroline decided to retire to bed. The farthest thought from her mind was the troubling letter. It really could not be so bad.
“What do you mean Aunt Lucille is missing? How would you know that? She has not yet left the Continent.”
It was Wednesday evening in the Sheridan household. Emma was in the middle of dressing for the evening. Mary was putting the finishing touches on her ensemble, a fetching mauve gown constructed out of thin Indian silk. Emma had been peering closely at her reflection in the mirror when her father rushed into her room. Normally a calm man, it unnerved his daughter to find Lord Sheridan in such a panicked state.
“Lucille...is missing!” He announced, throwing down a missive. It was then that Emma halted Mary’s nimble fingers. She turned to her father to inquire further.
“It seems...that...” He stopped to catch his breath. Sprinting was not something in which he often engaged. He was a titled gentleman after all. He had done his duty; he did not need to run anymore.
“Come, Papa, sit down,” Emma implored, rising to her feet. She guided her father to a low settee. He thanked her and sunk into it, overcome with despair.
Emma turned to pick up the letter, quickly skimming over it. “She has been in London for nearly a fortnight? Why did she not tell us? She disappeared from her townhouse?”
“She arrived early and ran into Lord Hartwell almost immediately. He convinced her to help with a surprise so she did not announce her arrival. That letter is from Lord Hartwell. He has been meeting with the police all day and will arrive here shortly. Perhaps we must skip the theatre tonight. Lady Sheridan thinks it will cause rumours, but the news will surely be spread around by then.”
Colors of a Lady Page 6