A Proper Companion

by Candice Hern

  He dipped the quill into the inkwell and began a letter to James Huntspill, his man of business.

  Chapter 15

  This surely had to be the strangest week she had ever spent, Emily thought as she stood in front of the cheval glass and fastened the bodice of her dark rose pink spencer. She had experienced the distress and anguish of her uncle's public insults, followed by the unsettling confusion of her cousin's strange apology. She had begun to develop a very strong and entirely inappropriate affection for Lord Bradleigh, ironically offset by hours spent writing out invitations to his engagement ball. And she had received the unexpected attentions of two very different gentlemen.

  Emily had little experience in handling the attentions of gentlemen. Of course, there had been Squire Mowbray's son Thomas, who had secretly courted her as a young girl, but who had disappeared entirely upon the death of her father when it became common knowledge that she had been left without a sou. There had also been the Reverend Jenkins in Wiltshire, who had shown a marked interest in Emily while she had been employed by Lady Fitzhugh. The reverend, however, had very abruptly left the village to take up another post, just at the point when Emily thought he might declare himself. He had not even said goodbye.

  With only those few dubious incidents behind her, along with the less than admirable behavior of her male relations, Emily's opinion of the male sex in general was often dispassionate at best. Her current popularity was an entirely new and unfamiliar experience for her. It was not, however, at all disagreeable.

  She smoothed out the skirts of her white cambric muslin dress, printed in a delicate floral pattern of pink and yellow, and studied the effect of the spencer.

  "Well, Lottie," she said, smiling in the mirror at the young maid standing behind her, "I believe the braid you added to the spencer is just what it needed. I am certain Madame Dubois in Bath would not look amiss at the alteration."

  "Oh, it weren't nothin', miss," Lottie said, smiling shyly. "Just a idea I had."

  "It was a fine idea, Lottie. Thank you," Emily said as the maid handed her a charming chip straw cottage bonnet bought on a recent shopping trip with Lady Lavenham. Emily tied the dark pink satin ribbon in a perfect bow beneath her chin. Lottie eyed her skeptically.

  "What is it, Lottie?" Emily asked.

  "Well, miss," Lottie said hesitantly as she surveyed the bonnet, "if you will allow me, I think I can tie it in a way that looks more... well, more the thing."

  Emily nodded her consent, smiling at Lottie's concentration— she chewed on her bottom lip—as she untied the ribbon and retied it in a jaunty angle beneath one ear. Emily studied her reflection and frowned. Surely such a style was much too bold for someone in her position.

  "Lottie," she said with some reluctance, not wanting to offend the girl, "are you quite sure—"

  "Oh, yes, miss," Lottie said with enthusiasm. "It's much more dashing this way."

  Emily smiled and wondered where Lottie had picked up such a term.

  "Now, miss, if you'll just let me arrange your hair a bit..." The young maid began to tug forward the curling tendrils around Emily's face, freeing them from the confines of the bonnet. While Lottie worked, Emily's thoughts drifted back to the new gentlemen in her life.

  Her drive with Mr. Hamilton had been quite pleasant. He was a very quiet, soft-spoken gentleman about the age of Lord Bradleigh, or perhaps a bit older. Strands of gray peppered the dark auburn hair at his temples, giving him a very distinguished air. Sober-minded and restrained, he was not, however, of a shy or retiring nature. He was quite at ease and was quick to make Emily feel comfortable as well.

  "I understand you were at university with Lord Bradleigh," Emily had said as they headed toward the Park Lane entrance to Hyde Park.

  "Yes," he had replied, "Bradleigh and I have known each other these many years."

  "He mentioned that you and he shared an interest in the classics."

  "Did he? I'm surprised he mentioned it. He was an excellent scholar, though I'm sure he would not like me saying so. It goes against his ... er . .. reputation."

  "I take it you disapprove of Lord Bradleigh?" Emily asked.

  "Good heavens, no! True, he has led a somewhat ramshackle existence these last few years, but I have never known anyone to face the world with such unrestrained joy. I admit I have often been jealous of Bradleigh's zest for life. But then it has never been in my nature to act in a frivolous or illogical manner. I suppose I have always felt old whereas Bradleigh has been forever young. I suspect he will settle down now that he is to be married."

  "No doubt," Emily said as she pondered this new perspective on Robert.

  Their conversation continued on impersonal and varied topics. They nodded politely to acquaintances as they made their way through the afternoon crowds. The even-tempered Mr. Hamilton became most animated when Emily chanced to mention that she had spent the afternoon reading Tacitus. Though his level of knowledge was scholarly and thorough, his conversation was completely fascinating. Emily was especially pleased to find that he did not talk down to her simply because she was a woman, as many men were wont to do. He seemed pleased enough to be able to discuss his favorite subject with anyone. Emily was almost completely unaware of the other drivers, strollers, and riders who crowded the Park, so immersed was she in Mr. Hamilton's conversation.

  She had been unashamedly pleased when Mr. Hamilton had asked to see her again. She was scheduled to accompany him on a visit to the British Museum next week.

  Emily accepted the soft yellow kid gloves from Lottie and slowly tugged them on as she considered the second gentleman to take her driving this week.

  Lord Sedgewick was about as different from Mr. Hamilton as it was possible to be. In her brief acquaintance with him she had already learned that he was almost incessantly cheerful. As they had driven through the Park in his high-perch phaeton, they had been unable to move more than a few feet without being hailed by friends and acquaintances of Lord Sedgewick's. He was obviously a very popular gentleman. He was open and friendly with everyone from the most Friday-faced old dowager to the most timid young miss. He had the pleasant habit of including some personal reference in his conversation with each acquaintance. How was Mrs. Cartwright's new granddaughter? Had Lady Fleckney tried that herbal remedy he had recommended for her husband's rheumatism? Did Miss Chillington enjoy the novel he had seen her purchase at Hatchard's? What did Lady Rosalind Twyford think of last week's performance of La Nozze di Figaro? Emily had been thoroughly charmed. His conversation with Emily herself was witty and lively, and at the end of their drive Emily found her face aching from constantiy smiling.

  "Thank you, my lord," Emily had said as they arrived back at Grosvenor Square. "It has been a most enjoyable afternoon."

  "The pleasure has been all mine," he'd said as he reached up to help her down from the phaeton.

  Emily had felt a moment of awkwardness as she eyed the ground below from her high perch. There was no way to simply accept a proffered hand and step out. If she didn't accept Lord Sedgewick's assistance, she would have to jump. There was nothing for it but to place her hands on his shoulders while he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her down. But the maneuver was handled so gracefully and so quickly that there was no awkwardness at all. Once firmly back on solid ground, Emily placed her hand on Lord Sedgewick's arm as he led her to the entrance of the town house. He turned to face her before sounding the knocker, taking the hand on his arm and holding it for a bit longer than was absolutely proper.

  "I have enjoyed your company this day, Miss Townsend," he'd said. "I hope I may be so bold to suggest that we spend more such pleasant afternoons together."

  "I would like that," Emily said, feeling as shy as a schoolgirl.

  "Shall I see you at Lady Lichfield's rout on Saturday?"

  "Yes, I believe Lady Bradleigh is planning to attend."

  "Then I shall look forward to seeing you there." He had flashed his irresistible grin, which had no doubt broken the hea
rt of many a young miss.

  Emily smiled, recalling that grin as Lottie handed her a parasol of yellow shot silk with deep Chinese fringe.

  "You look fine as five pence, miss," Lottie said as she opened the door for Emily. "Lord Faversham is sure to be impressed."

  Emily's good mood evaporated at the words reminding her of today's gentleman caller. Her third drive in one week was bound to be the most unsettling. She was unable to forget Robert's excessive concern over Lord Faversham and had followed his advice. The dowager had eagerly agreed to accompany her. "Ha!" she had exclaimed. "For once you must allow me to play the proper companion."

  Emily still felt somewhat confused about her cousin. She hadn't quite made up her mind about him and hoped she could remain objective, despite Robert's warnings. As she headed down the stairs she met a footman on his way up to tell her that Lord Faversham had arrived. She took a deep breath and continued on down.

  Her cousin was smiling up at her as she made her way to the black-and-white-tiled entry hall, and he bowed over her hand when she reached his side.

  "Ah, Cousin," he said, "I should have known you would be so prompt. And you look especially lovely. That's a very fetching bonnet you're wearing."

  He kept a smile planted firmly on his face, but his eyes traveled the length of her person. Emily had the odd sensation that he was not ogling her but studying every detail of her costume. The thought crossed her mind that he might find her dressed in much too fine a manner for one in her position, and she felt a momentary stab of guilt that she had allowed the dowager to lavish such gifts on her. Before she could give much consideration to that notion, the dowager entered from the corridor leading toward the library.

  "Ah, Faversham," she said as she approached, peering at him through her etched gold quizzing glass.

  "Lady Bradleigh," he said, bowing over her outstretched hand. "I see you are dressed to go out. May we drop you somewhere on our way to the Park?"

  "Actually," she drawled, "I intend to accompany you to the Park."

  "Oh?" His brows drew together, and his gaze shifted toward Emily. "I admit I am astonished to find that you feel the need for a chaperon, Cousin."

  "Don't be such a nodcock, Faversham!" the dowager exclaimed. "Of course Emily doesn't need a chaperon. I am simply inviting myself along. If you must know, the friend I was scheduled to drive with has canceled at the last minute. Since I am already dressed, and anxious to be outdoors, I was sure you wouldn't object to my accompanying you."

  "I am sure Lord Faversham has no objections, do you, my lord?" Emily asked.

  "How could I possibly object to the pleasure of escorting two such beautiful women?" he replied with a toothy smile. "Mind you, I have brought my curricle, so we will be quite ... cozy."

  "We are none of us so very large, Faversham," the dowager said as she pulled on her gloves. "We shall do nicely in your curricle."

  It was clear to Emily that her cousin had determined to make the best of a situation that had so obviously annoyed him at first. He was as charming as he could be throughout their drive, keeping the conversation light, taking care not to appear too familiar. He was deferential to the dowager and polite to Emily. Despite their cramped closeness on the seat of his curricle, Lord Faversham was very careful not to touch Emily in any way that was not absolutely necessary. She wondered how he might have behaved had they been alone together.

  They were stopped in the drive several times by acquaintances of the dowager who seemed agog with curiosity to find Lady Bradleigh and her companion in a small sporting vehicle with the likes of Lord Faversham. Emily was momentarily abashed when the dowager publicly acknowledged her relationship to Lord Faversham. "You remember Miss Townsend," she had said. "And this, of course, is her cousin. Lord Faversham." Emily was not unaware of the quickly suppressed astonishment of each of the acquaintances to whom the dowager had repeated the introduction. Lord Faversham's behavior toward each of the dowager's friends was all that was proper. At one point Emily noticed her employer's nod of approval while her cousin spoke politely with an elderly couple and their granddaughter. She suspected Lady Bradleigh might be revising her opinion of him.

  Although her own thoughts regarding her cousin were for the most part generous, Emily was unable to ignore Robert's impassioned warning completely. Though at the time his impertinence had irritated her, she understood that he was sincere in his concern. It was hard to push his words from her mind. She was not yet ready to abandon all caution, and so kept a wary eye on Lord Faversham.

  * * *

  Robert was unconscious of the noisy traffic, lounging comfortably in his carriage as it made its way to Cavendish Square. Both feet were propped against the opposite seat, and his arms were stretched along the top of the velvet squab. Luckett would surely succumb to apoplexy, thought Robert, if he were to view such a pose and the effect it would have on his meticulously pressed black evening coat.

  Robert was on his way to escort Augusta and her mother to Lady Kendall's musicale and then on to Lady Lichfield's rout. He was not looking forward to the musicale, which was to feature an Italian soprano whose high notes, in Robert's opinion, were reminiscent of the screeching of a rusty gate. He would try to steer the Windhurst ladies away early as the Lichfield rout was bound to be more lively. Sedge would be there. And Jack. Lady Lichfield always provided a card room, so there should at least be some amusement.

  Grandmother and Emily would be there as well.

  Emily. Lately his thoughts were always somehow drawn back to Emily. He knew that she had ridden with Faversham today, but hadn't seen her since. She had promised to take Grandmother along, and he hoped she had actually done so. He was still uneasy about Faversham and his father. There was something not quite right about the way they were singling out Emily with their varied attentions. First Pentwick and his public assault, and then Faversham with his contrite condescension. It simply did not make any sense that they should give such obvious regard to a penniless relation heretofore ignored by their family.

  Considering Faversham's reputed state of affairs, the only logical explanation had to involve money, or at least the means to money. And Emily had none. Or at least, she assumed she had none.

  Robert had spent the afternoon with Huntspill, his man of business, who had been gathering information at Robert's request.

  "Pentwick's solicitor did not work for the old earl," Huntspill had said. "Even in his cups he was unable to provide any information about the old earl's will."

  "Were you able to track down the old earl's solicitor?" Robert had asked.

  Huntspill nodded. "Eventually, yes. His name is Chalmers. He is still alive, although apparently quite elderly."

  "And he has never worked for the current earl?".

  "No, Pentwick has used his own man for some years. Chalmers was a longtime and loyal retainer of Pentwick's father. I don't know why he would not have also worked for the son, but he did not. He retired immediately upon the old earl's death. He is said to be living with a daughter in Cambridgeshire."

  Robert had instructed Huntspill to locate Chalmers and find out what he could about the estrangement with Emily's mother. Chalmers would know if the thing had been done legally as well as in fact. Whether or not the old man would be willing to talk about his former employer was another matter. But Robert trusted to Huntspill's tact and discretion, and hoped for the best. Huntspill was to leave for Cambridgeshire tomorrow morning.

  Later that evening Robert was again reminded of the afternoon's conversation when he and the Windhurst ladies arrived at Lady Lichfield's rout. The musicale had been every bit as excruciating as Robert had anticipated—with the frequent shrill exclamations of Lady Windhurst vying with the soprano's caterwauling— and so he was already in an ill-humored mood when they arrived at the bustling rout. Almost the first sight to meet his eyes was that of Faversham in earnest conversation with Emily. His hand was at her elbow, and he was steering her to a somewhat secluded area of the crowded drawing ro
om protected by a large Chinese screen. Emily was frowning and shaking her head. What the devil was that cur saying to her?

  Robert made an impulsive move toward the Chinese screen when he felt Augusta's hand tighten on his arm. He looked down into pale blue questioning eyes and suddenly felt like the world's worst cad. In his anger and frustration at the sight of Emily and Faversham together he had actually forgotten all about Augusta. Poor Augusta. He realized he had been treating her rather shabbily. It was not her fault that Emily was in the clutches of a scoundrel and that Robert felt somehow compelled to rescue her. But he couldn't do that just now. He really must give some attention to his betrothed. He placed his hand over Augusta's and smiled down at her.

  "Shall we search out our hostess and pay our respects?" he asked.

  "Of course," she said, letting out the breath Robert suddenly realized she had been holding. She returned his smile, and he once again felt as low as the ground.

  He forged a path through the crowd and glanced once again toward the Chinese screen. He was surprised to see Lord Sedgewick—eyes crinkled almost shut as he flashed the famous grin—chatting comfortably with Emily and Faversham. So, Sedge had done the deed for him. Emily was smiling, he noticed, as they came upon Lady Lichfield, and his attention was diverted.

  Robert did his best to act the proper escort to Augusta for the rest of the evening, keeping her arm on his and introducing her to those of his acquaintances who were unknown to her. He couldn't help it if, when someone engaged Augusta in conversation, his eyes roamed the room in search of Emily. He simply wanted to make sure that Faversham wasn't annoying her. He meant no disrespect to Augusta, despite the thunderous looks she tossed at him more than a few times. She simply didn't understand, and he was in no mood to enlighten her.