To Victor’s irritation, she looked like a country mouse afraid of her own shadow, but that seemed to positively delight Lord Greville.
“I’m sure we will be,” he purred. “Tell me, my dear, are you one of the Scottish Allensbys, or perhaps you hail from Herefordshire?”
“Neither of those, Lord Greville. I am from Swandon, close to Devon.”
“Ah, a beautiful little swan from Swandon, I see.”
Victor’s eye twitched, but Emily, instead of answering tartly, merely laughed a little and protested, shaking her head and making such a little cake of herself that Victor thought he was going to be sick.
He stood by as long as he could bear their talk, and then he excused himself abruptly to stand elsewhere.
“Oh, excuse me, your grace, I do not know if you remember, but the Earl of Wendington introduced us a few weeks ago.”
He stared at the matronly lady with the young girl standing close by. To his eye, the girl looked a simpering fool, too dark, too short, and he glared.
“I see.”
Even if the older woman was taken aback, she forged onward.
“Well, there is to be dancing, and we, that is she...”
“Madame, have the grace to let your daughter ask me herself if she wishes to dance. And as for you...”
Victor realized that the girl was looking up at him with wide wet eyes, her lower lip trembling, and he felt a pang of guilt go through him.
“I’m sorry. You look lovely. I have no interest in dancing, but I know there are plenty of young men who will be happy to take you onto the floor.”
He hoped that mollified the pair. He cut through the crowd to find some air in the garden outside. Victor knew that he had been an ass to that poor girl, but a part of him couldn’t help wondering why, for God’s sake, she didn’t just speak up against him and tell him how terribly he was acting.
It took Victor a few moments to realize that he was expecting her to act like Emily, and that was the farthest thing from fair. Emily could cut a man to ribbons just by looking at him. It was hardly appropriate to expect that from other women of the ton.
Tonight, though, Emily was doing her best impression of a woman who couldn’t ask for a dance herself and had to let her mother do it. She’d showed up dressed like a mousy schoolgirl, and the divide between what she looked like and her actual self was so great Victor wanted to storm onto the dance floor and demand that she change.
I am behaving like a madman. Victor took several deep breaths and told himself that he was doing precisely what Emily wanted. The sooner he got her what she wanted, the sooner he could get on with his life, which was what he really wanted. Wasn’t it?
After some time, he was able to reenter the ballroom. The hour had grown later, and the floor was packed, turning into a real crush. Victor frowned; Emily had said something about not liking the crowds when they had first met, hadn’t she? Perhaps it was time to find her and suggest they leave.
He started to search for her, but Lord Greville found him first.
The older man’s face was flushed with exertion or drink, and he clapped Victor on the shoulder with a wide grin.
“Wellford, you sly dog. I would never have thought you had it in you.”
“It is your grace, not Wellford,” Victor said icily. He might have helped Emily to marry this terrible creature, but that did not mean he had to let the man become familiar.
Lord Greville sagged momentarily but shrugged.
“Your grace, as I was saying, thank you so much for introducing me to Lady Emily. She’s a fine girl. I’m surprised you didn’t want her for yourself.”
Victor shrugged, his dislike for the man ramping up.
“We are not in accord on many things. Perhaps the two of you will do better.”
“In accord, well, I suppose I have never heard it called that before. Do not worry, my friend, she is in good hands. Hell, I’m half convinced I could get her on the road to Gretna Green tonight, as shy as she is and with no one but that aunt of hers to watch her.”
Victor stared at the man.
“You want to elope with her? Tonight?”
“Well, that’s what she’s meant to think, isn’t it? No interest in actually getting there with the chit, but I’m sure it would be a diverting few days before she figured out what I was really about. There’s a good reason to find the mousy ones, don’t you think?”
He winked at Victor, and Victor saw red. He had a brief and extremely satisfying vision of simply breaking the man’s nose, but he realized that was not going to help matters in the slightest. Instead, he smiled, showing his teeth.
Lord Grenville started to smile back, but then something in Victor’s gaze made him blanch.
“If you ever wink at me again, Lord Grenville, I will see it as an extreme provocation, and I will be forced to remove the eye.”
Lord Greville paled immediately, but he tried to laugh it off.
“Military humor, eh?”
“No military humor about it,” Victor said coldly. “I mean every single word of it. And if I see your ragged hide come sniffing anywhere near Lady Emily again, if I ever hear that you have been speaking about her, or that you have even been thinking of her, I will break your leg. Is that clear?”
Lord Greville looked at him with unmitigated horror, and it did not escape Victor that some of the people around them were doing the same. This would be all over the ton in a matter of hours, but Victor could hardly bring himself to care.
“You’re a mad dog who should have never been invested with a title,” Lord Greville huffed.
Victor permitted himself a small smile.
“Likely so. But that doesn’t change anything. I might be thrown in a gaol, but you’ll still have a broken leg.”
The old lord sputtered and spun around. Victor was content to let that lie, but then, of course, Emily appeared.
She materialized out of the crowd with what Victor could tell was a patently false smile on her face.
“Lord Greville, I had thought to come and find you...”
She gasped when Greville thrust her aside, shooting her a look that was full of the fury that he did not dare direct at Victor.
“Out of my way, you little tart.”
Victor had had enough. In two steps, he was directly behind Lord Greville, and with a single smooth motion, he grasped the man by the shoulder. Lord Greville shouted as he was spun about, and that shout turned into a gurgle as Victor punched him hard across the jaw. The man stumbled back but did not fall. For a moment, he was dazed, and then, like a falling pine, he toppled toward the ground.
That was a good punch. Victor surveyed his work with grim satisfaction. If he stands up, I will be able to do it again.
Instead of simply stumbling flat to the ground, however, Lord Greville reached for the nearest thing he could reach as he fell, which turned out to be the skirt of an older Society matron. There was a ripping purr of fabric giving way, and then a venerable older lady of the ton stood with her skirts in tatters around her hips. Her shriek was nearly operatic, and frantically, still shouting, she reached for something to cover herself with.
Then the shouting started, and the crowd moved around them like a mad thing. Some were trying to stumble back, others were trying to push forward to see what was happening, and Emily...
Victor leaped to her side as her eyes rolled up in her head and she started to slump to the ground. The clamor around him was less loud than a battlefield, but he wouldn’t say by how much. He ignored it, supporting her with one arm as he pushed back the crowd with the other.
“Emily, come on, stop shamming...”
His first impulse was that she had chosen the most direct and ladylike way to excuse herself from the situation, but then he realized it was no sham at all. She was quickly turning into a dead weight, and with a muttered curse, he simply swept her up, carrying her through a crowd that hadn’t decided whether it was actually going to turn into some kind of trampling stampede
.
“Damn it, Lady Caverly, where are you?” Victor bellowed, and to his relief, she appeared by his side, quick as a battlefield medic.
“Oh, how did I know that I would find you and Emily in the middle of this?” she asked. “Goodness, what happened to poor Emily?”
“She fainted,” Victor said grimly. “We need to get her out of here.”
Together, they made their way out of the crush and out to the street, where for once luck was on their side and Victor’s coach was readily available.
Lady Caverly produced a small container of smelling salts, and even as Victor winced from the ammonia reek, Emily stirred weakly, trying to push it away.
Lady Caverly nodded, handing the jar to Victor.
“Probably just a combination of being laced overly tight and having that high collar around her throat. She’s never liked them. Here, your grace. Hold these under her nose until she’s completely awake.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, I need to wade back into that mess and find Genie—that is, Sir Eugene—and I need to find out how bad whatever it is you have done has turned out.”
Victor felt a faint flush of shame at that.
“Fairly badly, I’m afraid.”
“Well, cry God for England and St. George and all that,” Lady Caverly said with a sigh. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She turned with a nearly military flair to re-enter the house, and Victor was left holding a foul-smelling jar to Emily’s nose, wondering what the hell he was going to tell her when she woke up.
* * *
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CHAPTER EIGHT
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The first thing Emily realized was that she didn’t want to wake up. Surely, her own bed wasn’t so comfortable and didn’t curve to hold her so snugly. Her room was also never so warm. Why in the world wasn’t her bed this wonderful?
“Come on, Emily, you’re frightening me. Open your damn eyes.”
“Don’t swear at me, it’s dreadfully unattractive,” she said, inadvertently obeying Victor’s command.
She had a moment to wonder what in the world Victor was doing in her bedroom, and then she realized that they were in the carriage, and she and Victor were still in their formal clothes. Slowly, images started coming back to her.
She shook her head.
“Victor, I have had the worst dreams.”
“Have you?”
“Yes. I dreamed... Oh, I dreamed you punched Lord Greville.”
“Ah. Well, you might have dreamed that because I actually did it.”
For a moment, Emily was certain she had stopped breathing. Then she started to laugh, because after all, what in the world could she do?
“Oh, my God, you punched Lord Greville.”
“I did.” Victor gave her a look that she could only see as hopeful. “Perhaps you are not terribly upset by this.”
“Oh, God, you punched Lord Greville.”
She was still laughing as she lunged for the coach’s door. Emily had actually gotten it open an inch before Victor reached past her and slammed it shut again.
“Emily, no!”
“I need to get out there! I might be able to talk to him, explain that whatever it was that you did was some horrible misunderstanding.”
“You don’t even know what I did or what he did!”
“I know what you did,” Emily cried impatiently. “You thought you knew better than him, you tried to tell him what to do, you swore at him, and then, for one reason or another, you punched him!”
Victor paused for a moment.
“Actually, in my defense, I did not swear at him.”
“Oh, well done, I applaud your restraint. Now let me pass!”
“Absolutely not. Emily, sit the hell down, and listen to me.”
“Why in the world should I do that? You say that you are going to help me, and then it all goes wrong!”
“Damn it, Emily, stop!”
He seized her wrists in his hands, dragging her close to him so he could trap her against his body. Emily tried once more to reach across him toward the door, but it was like struggling against iron bands. She went limp, hoping he would let down his guard.
Victor shook his head.
“Not falling for it. Back against the other side of the coach, please. And that door’s kept bolted to prevent theft.”
Emily made a sound that was shockingly like a snarl and threw herself into the seat opposite him, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at him in helpless fury.
“Aren’t you even curious what happened?” Victor asked.
“What could possibly have made you punch a peer at a ball?”
“The man was, not to put too fine a point on it, a monster, Emily. He was going to ruin you. He wanted to seduce you, say he was taking you to Gretna Green, and then abandon you on the road. It sounds like he’s done this before, and I have every intention of finding someone to open an investigation against him. He wanted to hurt you.”
Emily went still for a moment, and she took a deep breath. Her heart was beating fast in her chest, and if she didn’t stop and gather herself, she would scream. She would just start screaming.
“All right,” she said at last. “This is fine.”
“It... is?”
“We can still make this work. Perhaps I can talk to him somewhere, maybe arrange to be ‘accidentally’ alone with him. We can start off on the journey to Gretna Green...”
“Did you strike your head somehow? Are you insane? The man wants to ruin you and walk off whistling without consequences!”
Emily shot Victor a dire look.
“Oh, I certainly know that, Victor. I also know a little something about plans taking unexpected detours. Like the man who is supposed to be getting me married suddenly turning around and punching my potential husband.”
“You still think that Greville is the man you should be marrying? He doesn’t even want to marry you. How many times do I have to say it?”
“He may not want to marry me, but I’m sure he will when you show up to discover us.”
“And what, force him to the altar with a threat of pistols at dawn? What in the name of God would make me do that?”
“I don’t know! I just assumed that since you were willing to punch a man at a ball that you may not shy away from forcing him to the altar!”
“I am not going to force a terrible man to marry you. What the hell is the matter with you, Emily? The man’s a nightmare, not to put too fine a point on it! You’re intelligent, you’re beautiful, you’re clever as the dickens when you want your way, so why him?”
Something in Emily broke then, and she swore that her vision was tinged with red.
“Because I don’t have a choice! I need a husband!”
She tried to dash for the door again, but Victor caught her, folding her up in his arms. She could feel the passion in her boiling over, twisting and turning until she wasn’t sure if she hated Victor or if there was something far more complicated underneath. For a moment, Emily was sure that she was going to slap him, box his ears until they rang. Somehow though, instead of striking, her hand cupped the back of his neck, and they were so close to each other that they could not help but give in to the urge to be closer yet.
Their kiss burned through them both, and this time, there was no mistaking the raw sensuality that tore at them. Victor’s tongue breached her mouth, and to her delirious shock, she drew her lips along it, almost faint with the pleasure it gave her. She was so close to him, closer than she had ever been with another person, but it wasn’t enough. It was far from enough. Suddenly, she wanted to feel his bare skin under her fingertips, wanted him free to touch her.
“God, what are you doing to me?” Victor muttered, and she thought that was quite unfair.
“Don’t you know?” she whispered into his
mouth. “I was hoping at least one of us did.”
Victor’s laugh was a strangled sound, and his broad hand ran up and down her spine. She arched against him, and he nuzzled her chin and the space right under her jaw. Suddenly, she wished she was wearing one of her low-cut dresses, so she could feel what his hands felt like there. What his mouth might feel like.
“When it comes to you, Emily? I barely know which way is up.”
Some sixth sense made Emily break free from his embrace, throwing herself into the bench opposite his. Victor started to reach for her again, but there was a sharp rap on the carriage door and it swung open, letting Winnie back inside.
“Oh, my dear Emily, are you quite well?” asked Winnie as the coach lurched into motion. “You look quite flushed. Are you coming down with a fever?”
Emily blushed hard enough that she probably could have convinced her aunt that she did indeed have a fever.
“No... no, the crush was just overwhelming though, Aunt Winnie. Were you all right?”
Winnie waved her off.
“Oh, my dear, I am quite the veteran of these battles, and what’s more, I had Genie—that is, Sir Eugene—by my side. We cut our way through the crowd, and soon enough, we heard what had happened, though there is some debate, of course. There always is when it comes to a scandal.”
Emily blanched.
“A scandal?” Was she going to see her hopes die with a whimper in this very coach?
“Oh, yes. The ballroom is buzzing about how Lord Grenville somehow got deep in his cups and ended up not only provoking his grace, the duke, and insulting you, but also insulting the person of none other than Lady Castlereagh!”
Emily’s eyes went wide. The patronesses of Almack’s were the arbiters of taste, style, and propriety for all the ton, and the idea of one of them being so very insulted was nearly terrifying.
“Is Lady Castlereagh all right?”
“Oh, her dignity is a little scuffed up, but she was fine after Lady Sefton saw to her. I can tell you that Lord Greville will not be entering Society ever again, not if those two have anything to say about it.”
Natalia’s Secret Spinster’s Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 27