“Well, my compliments to your valet, then,” Emily said with a smile, “but you do look quite the catch tonight, Victor.”
“You look like the stars come down to earth.”
Victor uttered the sentence so flatly that it took Emily a moment before she realized what he had said.
“I... thank you.”
“Well. You will be receiving many such compliments tonight, I shouldn’t wonder. I thought... perhaps I should be the first.”
“I doubt I will like any as well as I like yours,” Emily said softly.
Victor frowned and turned to the window, but the entire ride to the Hartley house on Park Lane was charged with a kind of expectation in the air. Emily did not quite know what to do with her hands, and by the time the driver opened the coach door for them, she was almost relieved.
That relief turned to a nearly stomach-churning anxiety when she saw the lights of the Hartley house, the windows brilliant golden rectangles against the night. A small mob of people were already jostling for entrance, and this early in the evening, Emily knew that that number could easily treble or quadruple by the time the ball ended at dawn.
Victor seemed to sense her dismay. He reached over and below the normal line of sight, he squeezed her hand gently.
“Take heart,” he murmured. “It’s just a party, after all, and if this does not serve your madness, we will find something that does.”
“You promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
For some reason, that made Emily feel more like crying than anything had before, and she had to stare hard at the glowing windows before her before she was quite certain she wouldn’t disgrace herself by weeping in the streets.
* * *
The Hartleys’ ball was just as luxurious as Emily had supposed it would be. Every corner of their enormous ballroom was lit up, and in the balcony above, what looked like at least a dozen musicians were tuning up their instruments. The women of the ton fairly glittered in the light, their colors bold against the darker hues of their male counterparts.
Emily felt a pang when Winnie spotted Sir Eugene, his back to the wall to keep his balance and a glass of punch in his hand.
“My dear, do you mind?”
“Not at all, Aunt Winnie,” she said, only fibbing a little. “His grace, the duke, and I will get along fine.”
“I wouldn’t, but I want to be sure no one knocks into him, and he did promise to finish telling me that delightful story about the time he went to all the way to Mersin in Turkey...”
“We will, you know. Get along fine, I mean.” Victor offered her his arm, and Emily took it gratefully.
“I am glad of that, your grace,” she said. “But really, how in the world are we going to find anyone in this crush?”
“The same way we would try to locate insurgents in the mountains, I am afraid.”
“A deep and laborious search that stretches you to the point of madness and despair?” she guessed.
Victor turned that bright grin on her again. Dear God, who in the world could think of a thing like a scar when he could smile like that?
“I’m very much afraid you are right. Come. Let’s get this over with.”
Emily was braced for a deluge of people, for feeling crushed and breathless and as if she were wading through a mire made of silk and velvet and satin. There was certainly some of that, but it was so much easier to bear on Victor’s arm. He was like a bulk she could rest against, and sometimes, when the crowd grew especially bad for her, she could look at him and take some comfort in his grim face. Some of it was the realization that he truly liked all of this as little as she did, but there was more than that. It felt like as long as she had him on her side, nothing else in the world mattered.
They found one of her first candidates fairly quickly, a Lord Kinnock, but a hawk-eyed young woman camped out on his arm, laughing at his every word and looking around her as if she would cheerfully eviscerate any and all comers.
“I’m not saying she acted badly,” Emily said from the shelter of one of the rear walls. “I’m just saying that now I’m too scared to get close to Lord Kinnock in any situation. Did you see that she had somehow cleared three square feet around them in this mess?”
“I’ll tell you what, if you want Lord Kinnock that much, I’ll provide you with a rapier. That’ll even things up a bit, but I warn you, I am still betting on her.”
“Thank you for your support, but I do not want Lord Kinnock enough to fight for him with a rapier. We are moving on.”
For a while, it felt as if they could go less than ten feet in any direction in ten minutes, but when the crowd opened up, Victor glanced over and gestured with his chin.
“There’s Lord Dunnering. I think he was a maybe, and I don’t see an assassin perched on his arm. Shall we?”
“Yes, let’s.”
They made their way across the floor toward Lord Dunnering, but before they could engage the elderly marquess, someone bellowed, “Colonel Sommerset! Didn’t expect to see you in this mess!”
The shouter was obviously used to parade ground formation, but his call barely lifted above the din of the Hartleys’ ball. The man cutting through the crowd toward them was hale and hearty, twice as wide as Victor and possessed of a rather manic look in his eye.
“He’s a no,” Victor hissed in her ear. “He’s got half a dozen illegitimate children in Spain, and he spends all his money at the races.”
“Oh, dear...”
The military man hit them like a storm striking the shore, clapping Victor hard on the back and bellowing for some drinks. Of course, it was at that moment when the crowd around them surged again, and Emily found herself separated from Victor as neatly as an apple was plucked from a tree.
She thought about trying to get back to him, but she decided that she was not such a baby as to need his minding at all times. Emily decided he had not looked at all pleased to see the man, which meant that he would likely be disengaging himself soon. She knew instinctively that Victor would come find her again. She could wait.
* * *
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
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The crowd swept Emily along to the tall windows that stretched up to the ceiling on the east side of the Hartley mansion. During the morning, they would let in vast amounts of eastern light, turning the ballroom to gold. At the moment, they revealed the velvet black of the night outside.
Even the well-sealed glass let in a chill, so the area around the windows drew a thinner crowd, something for which Emily was quite grateful. She accepted a tiny but delicious bite of salmon and cream from a passing server, and for a moment, she only concentrated on catching her breath.
“Excuse me, Lady Emily. Surely, you remember me?”
She blinked at the man standing before her, an unctuous smile on his face. It took her a moment to place him, but then she did with a faint inward wince.
“Lord Bagley. Of course. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
He was one of the men she had met at her disastrous turn at Almack’s, and even then, she and Aunt Winnie had not been all that thrilled with him. He was not poor, but he was notoriously stingy, and he never seemed able to lift his gaze above her neckline.
He bowed over her hand, but then he did not release it, making her blink with surprise. Instead, he tucked it around his arm, and with a sinking feeling, she realized that she could not get away easily without making at least some sort of scene.
“Lord Bagley, I apologize, but I was just thinking I should find my Aunt Winnie, you understand—”
“Ah, it gives me such pleasure to see a woman all unmindful of her scandal, raising her head high in public.”
Emily felt a chilly chasm open up in the pit of her stomach.
“Scandal, Lord Bagley?”
“No need to play so very coy
with me, Lady Emily.” He winked at her, making her want to shudder a little. “We both know that you are a woman with a bit of a past, hm?”
“Lord Bagley, I am afraid I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Emily’s voice sounded frosty and level in her own ears, but inside she was shrieking with panic. Did he know about Swandon and who lived at Everly? How did he find out? What in the world did he want, and would she be able to provide it?
He only chuckled. There was a greasy sound to it, and he leaned closer to her.
“Now, don’t fret, my dear. I am not one of those who judges, you see? I only think that after Lord Greville, you may not mind... well, a gentleman of my disposition.”
Relief flooded Emily so powerfully that she nearly went weak at the knees. However, that would have meant clinging to Lord Bagley for support, and she refused to do that.
“My goodness, Lord Bagley, what a ridiculous story! I should be embarrassed to try spreading that one around, were I you.”
He scowled at her before he remembered himself and painted that smile over his face again.
“Why, everyone knows...”
“Everyone knows that Lord Greville’s reputation is his own problem. I had the occasion to speak to the gentleman at that ball not long ago, where he so cruelly outraged Lady Castlereagh. I’m afraid I was quite overcome by the shock and fainted. And that, my lord, is the extent of my contact with Lord Greville. You may take that one to the bank.”
She wondered darkly how far Lord Bagley had gotten picking up what he considered Lord Greville’s leavings. The important thing, however, was that his grasp loosened enough that she could step back from him.
“I wish you joy of the evening, my lord. I really must find my aunt.”
Lord Bagley’s face darkened like storm clouds rolling over a sunny day, and he stepped closer to her.
“I think you should be more concerned about what a lord can do to your reputation, you silly little bit of—”
“Lord Bagley! I see you there!”
In shock, Lord Bagley stepped back from her, and they both turned to see Charles Hartley striding toward them. The smile on his face was cheerful, but there was no warmth to it at all as he approached them.
Lord Bagley put that disgusting simper back onto his face, bowing to Charles.
“My lord...”
“It’s good I caught you, Lord Bagley. I believe you are wanted.”
“Wanted, my lord?”
“At home. Immediately. Out of my sight.”
Emily watched the scene unfolding in front of her with fascination. Lord Bagley turned several shades of green, and Charles watched him with an utterly remorseless chill despite his friendly smile.
“I... take your meaning, and I shall be off to attend to matters.”
“See that you do,” Charles said shortly. He waited until Bagley had disappeared into the crowd, and he turned to Emily.
“I’m dreadfully sorry about that. I don’t even know how he got onto the invitation list. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I am. Thank you for the interruption, believe me, it is very welcome. But how did you know I was in trouble?”
“Oh, I didn’t, but Bagley’s a known toad, and he was hanging on to you rather tight. And I thought, well, if I get there before Wellford does, I can perhaps keep things a bit quieter while having something like the same effect. You’re a little pale, if you don’t mind my saying so, Lady Emily.”
“Yes, I am... I just feel a bit faint.”
“Ah. You know, I just saw my sister in the green drawing room. Perhaps I could escort you there?”
The prospect of a quiet room out of the crush was too tempting.
“Yes, please, and thank you, Lord Hartley.”
He grinned at her.
“I don’t think Victor would forgive me if you came to harm. Come on, just this way.”
* * *
The green drawing room was a beautiful little space, lined with bookshelves and arranged with beautifully appointed but somehow still comfortable chaise lounges. Cherry Hartley turned out to be a nineteen-year-old with Charles’ bright eyes but hair as dark as a raven’s wing, and she leaped to her feet immediately as Charles brought Emily in.
Charles gave Cherry a brief and expurgated version of events, and Cherry turned a sympathetic gaze to Emily.
“Oh, you poor thing. Auntie Charlotte never puts as much thought into her lists as she ought. Come sit with me, I have secured the loveliest pear cordial from a friend I met earlier.”
“Cherry! What are you doing with cordial?”
“Oh, do hush, Charles, I promise, it is delicious but quite weak. We ladies deserve to have our hurrahs as well, don’t we?”
“Rightly so, Lady Cherry,” said Emily, who instinctively liked Cherry a great deal. “Thank you so much for sharing.”
Charles muttered about girls running wild in the streets of London, but he sat with them and had a sip of Cherry’s excellent cordial as well. It was, as the younger Hartley sibling promised, quite good, though perhaps a little stronger than she had implied.
“I can’t thank you both enough,” Emily found herself saying. “I truly can’t. It’s a lovely ball, and your aunt’s home is so very beautiful...”
“But Auntie Charlotte does rather like a spectacle, it is very true. And unless you are willing to be quite brave, it’s horrendous to deal with all the pushing and the people.” Cherry patted Emily’s hand. “Don’t worry. I need to go out and to meet some people in a bit, but then it is straight back here to enjoy Auntie Charlotte’s collection of French novels.”
“Cherry, you are not meant to know about those!” yelped Charles.
She waved him away.
“Well, you aren’t either, but you certainly do. I think all our cousins do as well.”
They bickered on with so much familiarity and love that Emily found a deep and wounding melancholy fall over her. Without knowing it, her eyes filled with tears as she listened to them.
“Oh, my goodness, Charles, she’s crying. Oh, Emily, poor dear, whatever’s the matter? Is Charles being a terrible brute? Should I make him leave?”
“Thank you,” Charles said wryly. “But yes, Emily, I’m sorry about rabbiting on in front of you. Should I leave?”
“No, no, please, stay. It is only that I am not from London, you see. I’ve only been here a short while, and... and before that, I lost my sister, and hearing you two talk, oh but I miss her...”
To her dismay, the tears that she had held back for so long, spilled over. Cherry came immediately to sit on one side of her, hugging her as close as if they had known each other for years and not just for half an hour. After a moment, Charles did, too, placing his arm over her shoulders.
Emily’s tears dried up, and she took the handkerchief Charles offered her gratefully.
“I’m sorry to you both for acting such a ninny. And thank you for comforting me. If I can ever repay the favor, please know that I will.”
“Well, no favor at all, for we are friends now, aren’t we?” asked Cherry. “All will be well, or at least that’s what Father always used to say.”
Charles started to add something to that but then the door crashed open, and Victor stood in the doorway.
He took in the scene in a split second, crossed the room, and took Emily’s hand in his.
“We are going the hell home.”
* * *
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CHAPTER TWELVE
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Colonel Brimingford was never one of Victor’s favorite people, and one reason why was because the man would keep talking even when the French were on the next rise. There were no enemies that wanted to stab them at the Hartleys’ ball, but Victor was only willing to let the man reminisce for so long before he excused himself.
He turned around to locate Emily, and
when he saw that she wasn’t there, he felt a trickle of panic run down his spine. He knew that she was a capable young lady, able to look after herself, but he couldn’t stop himself from walking a little quicker as he looked for her. He located Sir Eugene and Lady Caverly, but neither of them had seen her. After a short while of quick walking and subtle shoving, he had to conclude that she was nowhere to be found in the ballroom.
“Where the hell are you, Emily?” he murmured.
It was rude in the extreme, but he had spent enough time in the Hartley house to navigate it very well. The servants were busy with the event, and he slipped away easily. They weren’t in the ladies’ solar or the library, but he heard murmurs from one of the drawing rooms. He released a sigh of relief when he recognized one of the voices as Emily’s and another as one of Charles’ female relatives, but he stiffened when he heard Charles’ voice as well. What the hell was going on?
He opened the door, and nearly growled when he saw Charles sitting close to Emily, one hand over her soft shoulder, that warm look on his face.
Anger washed over him, and he stepped forward, snatching Emily’s hand in his.
“We are going the hell home.”
She blinked at him, her eyes not quite focused.
“Victor? What in the devil are you doing?”
“Just as I said. Taking you home. Charles, is the west passage for the servants still in use?”
“Yes, and it takes you down to the gardens the way it always did. Wellford, for God’s sake, calm down. Cherry was with us the whole time. Nothing happened.”
“And nothing is going to happen either. Please let Lady Caverly know that I have taken Emily home. I am not going to wait another moment.”
Emily protested weakly behind him as he tugged her out of the room and toward the west passageway, slamming the door in his wake.
Natalia’s Secret Spinster’s Society (The Spinster’s Society) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 29