by Regina Darcy
“Emmeline, why do you not take Lord Blackwood for a walk? I am sure the fresh air would benefit you both.”
Emmeline hesitated for a moment and then said, “Very well, Mama.” With her most composed demeanour she sailed out of the room, leaving Lord Blackwood to follow in her wake. They entered the garden and began to walk through it at a leisurely pace. She wasted no time in asking the question that burned on her tongue.
“Pray tell, what is of such urgency that it necessitates an early morning call.” Emmeline found it awfully vexing that she had to contend with Lord Blackwood’s presence. She sincerely hoped he was not there to declare himself. Although her affections for the Count were newly formed, she would not have considered any future with the viscount even if the case was otherwise. On the many occasions they had met, he had appeared to her as cold.
A man lacking in passion, must also lack in conviction. A man without conviction she was loath to admire.
“Of course,” said Lord Blackwood. “I will not take up too much of your time at all, I assure you. There is an urgent matter I need to bring to your attention.” He cleared his throat. “It concerns the Count de Coligny,” said Lord Blackwood. “I beg you to set any affections you might have developed for him aside as swiftly as possible.”
Lord Blackwood paused. Emmeline continued to stare at him, incomprehension written all over her face. “I heard him speaking of exacting vengeance upon a family that wronged him. Apparently everything was going according to plan. The man is clearly a blackguard.”
“Lord Blackwood,” Emmeline replied softly as if she were talking to a man straight out of Bedlam, the insane asylum. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
“The Count is not who he seems,” said Lord Blackwood. “He has some sort of sinister plot, and I assure you that his courtship of you is a part of this plot. A plot to ruin you.”
“Why would he do that?” asked Emmeline. “What would he have to gain?”
“He bears your family ill will for some imaginary injustice that was done to him in the past,” said Lord Blackwood, desperately trying to connect the dots. “Your grandfather knew his father, did he not? Perhaps they were engaged in some kind of business arrangement, and perhaps his father was wronged in some way. There are many possibilities, but what I am sure of is that he certainly has some kind of plot. And I am sure that you are a central figure in that plot because all he has done since he has come here has been to try to court you.”
Emmeline took a deep breath. She had never been one to be lost for words, but at the blatant insult leveraged by Lord Blackwood, she found herself stunned. She soon regained her wits, however. It was a pity that Lord Blackwood felt that her social standing was of such unimportance. Clearly he believed that the Count the Coligny could not look beyond birth and peerage. She might not be the greatest beauty in Berkshire, but she had no doubt the Count had succumbed to her charms.
“Lord Blackwood,” said Emmeline. “I understand, now, the purpose of your visit. You have seen the way that the Count de Coligny looks at me and do not believe me to be his social equal.” Emmeline clenched her fists.
It took some time for her words of indignation to sink in. Her words left Lord Blackwood perplexed. She had misunderstood him.
“No, you are mistaken,” he replied curtly.
“Am I? The only other cause for your distressing behaviour, would be jealousy. That would require passion, and you are not a man of passion or any other strong emotion,” Emmeline exclaimed, looking very put out. “I do hope that you are not making all of this up, for someone of sound mind would not do such a thing.”
“I assure you that I am not fibbing,” replied Lord Blackwood in an unemotional voice. Matters were progressing swiftly in an unwanted direction. He tried once more to make her see sense. “I admit that I do hold you in the warmest regard and have a great admiration for you,” he acknowledged, “but please don’t take this to mean that I would ever lie to win your affections. I am not so vile a person I would resort to lies. Your stubbornness in this matter will lead to disastrous consequences.”
“I shan’t hear any more about it. Please show yourself out.” Emmeline turned and walked back to the house, her mind firmly set on avoiding Lord Blackwood and his lunatic accusations for the foreseeable future.
CHAPTER 6
The next day, Emmeline enjoyed a lovely lunch with Phoebe Alexander. She was one of her dearest cousins, come to visit from Derbyshire. It was a welcome break. After the viscount’s visit, her mother had been incessant in her pursuit to find out his intentions. Despite Emmeline’s reassurance that he had no intentions to offer for her, she nattered on about it all morning. With relief, she had welcomed cousin Phoebe’s visit. She could barely restraint herself from telling her the entire story as they strolled through the common areas of Basildon Park, enjoying the spring blossom. Such beautiful weather was a rather rare occurrence, and Emmeline was determined to make the most of it.
“I understand completely,” Phoebe said, nodding her head. “Lord Blackwood, sounds like an awful bore.”
“Well, I would not go that far,” Emmeline replied, suddenly annoyed that her cousin had such low regard for the very man she herself was criticising, but a moment ago. Phoebe regarded her with a puzzled look.
“More of a cold fish and an old fuddy-duddy.” Both girls giggled at the statement.
Suddenly, Emmeline heard a deep voice greeting her from behind. She turned and saw, to her immense delight, the Count de Coligny standing before her.
“Miss Knight, you are a vision at all times, it seems,” said the Count. “I am utterly mesmerised.”
“Your lordship, that is high praise indeed,” Emmeline replied, blushing profusely, as she curtsied. She proceeded with some introduction.
“This is my dear cousin, Miss Alexander, come to visit us from Derbyshire.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Alexander,” the Count said as he elegantly kissed her gloved hand.
“Good afternoon my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
“You will excuse my continental manners Miss Alexander, but I have a matter of importance to discuss with Miss Knight and must beg your leave to whisk her aside for but a moment.” Phoebe smiled and gave her consent with a nod.
“Shall we walk together?” the Count asked Emmeline, “that is, if this is agreeable to you.”
“Of course,” said Emmeline. “I would love to.” She nodded to her cousin who proceeded at a slower pace until she was far enough to provide privacy, but close enough to act as a chaperone.
The Count cleared his throat and turned towards Emmeline.
“I hope I am not being too bold, but from the moment I laid my eyes upon you I realized that you are not an ordinary woman. I would deem it fair to call you a woman truly remarkable in every way. I would not be remiss in saying you are, quite possibly, the single most beautiful woman that I have ever met.”
“Oh, Count de Coligny,” Emmeline replied, looking away bewildered. She had her fairy tale come to life before her. All she had ever envisioned. But in that very moment, she could not shake the image of Lord Blackwood, pleading with her to have a care. She frowned, annoyed that the image of him was ruining her moment. “I am very honoured by your kind words, my lord.”
“I can assume, then, that I was not too bold in my declaration?” the Count asked.
“Yes,” Emmeline replied with a smile. “I would say that you were most certainly not too bold. Matters of the heart are a passionate affair.”
“Well, then, permit me to say something else,” the Count replied. “I am thirty-eight years old and have met many women over the course of my life, but none of them have been quite like you. You are everything that a man could ever wish for in a bride.”
Emmeline felt as though her heart had stopped in her chest. Such a beautiful declaration of sentiment, and that, too, from a member of the French peerage.
“My dear Cou
nt,” she replied, looking up at his handsome face. “Please rest assured that your sentiments and affections are reciprocated. Never have my feeling for any gentleman run as deep.”
While Emmeline was experiencing this lovely declaration of love in Basildon Park, her brother was facing a distinctly more uncomfortable situation back at home. He was about to tell his parents that he had lost a great deal of money while gambling with the Count de Coligny.
“Mother, Father” said Archibald, cautiously entering the drawing room.
“I am afraid that I have a most unpleasant matter to discuss with you.” His father looked up frowning.
“During my visit with Emmeline at Count de Coligny’s soiree I was too eager and confident in my own abilities and lost a significant sum of money at the cards table.”
“What do you mean by significant amount of money,” his father asked confused.
“Five hundred pounds,” Archibald answered, looking decidedly embarrassed.
“My word,” Mrs. Knight cried, fanning herself.
“Five hundred pounds! Boy have you lost your mind?” his father exclaimed. “The money you so easily threw away, was hard-won by me and my father before me. You are not a child anymore; you are a young man of eighteen. I have cautioned you on many occasions not to try to imitate those who are above your station. To them the loss of such a fortune is but a pittance.”
“I understand, father,” said Archibald, lowering his head in shame. “I will be a lot more careful next time.”
“Indeed you will,” Mr. Knight replied irritated. “Your monthly stipend will be reduced to help you reflect on your behaviour and you are forbidden from gambling with the Count de Coligny ever again, is that understood?”
“I understand, father,” Archibald replied, repentant. “I will not play cards with the Count under any circumstances.”
As Archibald walked away, he felt miffed. The Count had been cheating, he just knew it. It simply wasn’t possible for someone to be that good at cards unless they were the Duke of Hazard.
The Count had won every single hand, in every game, even the ones that he played against other people. Archibald sighed. There was no way to prove the Count had been using unfair means to win the card games. Since this was the case, Archibald, and everyone else who had lost a great deal of money playing against him, would have to accept the money was gone and there was no way to get it back.
CHAPTER 7
Emmeline was a tad more excited than was seemly. But she cared not a jot. After all, at this rate she would be a Countess before month’s end.
A card had been left inviting the entire Knight family to Mr. and Mrs. Grove’s residence for an evening of entertainment. Emmeline had high hopes the Count would be in attendance.
Mr. and Mrs. Knight presented their apologies, since Mr. Knight had caught a chill during the day. They both were of the opinion there could be no harm in Emmeline attending though, as long as her brother Archibald was there to act as a chaperone.
Just as she had suspected the invitation had been extended to the Count, and he had graciously accepted.
The evening flew by. The Count focused all his attention on Emmeline.
“Your beauty is truly breath-taking!” he exclaimed, giving her a short bow and kissing her hand. He was acting almost appropriately today, which was odd. However, he had a glint of mischief in his eyes.
The only slight disturbance was the realisation that Lord Blackwood had also been invited to the soiree. He had been watching her interaction with the Count with a frown from the outset. Emmeline had no intention of letting his sour mood dampen her joy.
As the guests ate, Emmeline had to sit a small distance away from the Count as the difference in their social standing would not permit a closer proximity. However, the Count continued to give her sly looks and smile her way. He praised her looks and flirted with her across the table, without a care for what anyone else might think, and Emmeline blushed the whole way through. She did not mind, however. The room was abuzz with scandalous whispers.
After the dinner was over, the woman were to retire to the drawing room to have a spot of tea, whilst the men were to stay in the dining room with their cigars and port. However, the Count gave her a look and snuck outside on a pretext. Emmeline felt her heart flutter, and she deviated on her way to the drawing room and instead followed the Count into the garden. She was surprised at her own scandalous behaviour, however in that moment she was too caught up in the romantic nature of the night, to have her wits about her.
“Emmeline,” the Count said, grasping her hands.
“Your Lordship,” Emmeline replied.
“How wonderful it is to finally be able to display my love for you,” he continued. “To be able to hold your hand and not have to pretend like there is nothing between us.”
“You were hardly pretending very well,” Emmeline replied in a mischievous, teasing tone. “You pay me too much attention, your lordship. More than in proper.”
“Well,” said the Count, “there is only so much that I can do to stop myself. After a certain point, my admiration of you flows out of my and I can do nothing to make it cease.”
“I don’t mind,” said Emmeline, though she blushed and looked away. “It is rather pleasing to hear you speaking of me in such a way. I...I did not think that I could be so admired.”
“And why would you think that?” asked the Count. “You are pleasing, not just to the eye but to the spirit as well. Talking to you is as talking to a person of true culture, something that I have found sorely lacking ever since I came to England. Forgive me, mademoiselle, I hope I do not offend, I simply mean to say that the people of this country, and this city, are just not as...culturally refined as the people I am used to being with. You, however, have made me miss my home far less. Your personality reminds me of the women of my home, and that is a great compliment, I can assure you of that.”
“It is a wonderful thing to be admired so,” said Emmeline. “It is doubly wonderful since I admire you the same way. My mother has been very eager to marry me off to somebody, anybody, but I always felt that waiting for the right man was paramount. And yet, everyone would ridicule me for what they thought of as childish fantasies. A dashing gentleman that is handsome, cultured and charming all at the same time, does not exist. And yet, here you stand, and here I stand vindicated.”
The Count hesitated for a second and then said passionately, “Run away with me to Gretna Green, we can become husband and wife in but a few days.”
“My lord!” Emmeline replied, fanning herself. She was honestly lost for words, but she had to admit that she liked the idea of it. The Count was, after all, the man of her dreams. When one finds a person they truly love, marriage is the right path to take.
“Yes,” said Emmeline after giving it a few seconds thought. “Yes, I would love to marry you, I would be honoured, in fact.”
The Count grasped her hands again and looked as though he would hug her but stopped himself for fear of causing offence. “Oh my dear,” said the Count, “you have truly made me the happiest man in England. We shall elope tomorrow evening. Pack lightly my dear, for my fortune is enough to afford all the clothes that you would ever desire. I shall call on you in the evening and we will run away to be married.”
Emmeline and the Count parted ways, with Emmeline headed towards the drawing room, where all the women were congregated. However, Emmeline’s approach was interrupted by Lord Blackwood intercepting her. He had a stormy look about him.
Without preamble he looked at her sternly and said, “Emmeline, I forbid you to elope with this man.”
CHAPTER 8
“Were you spying on me, my lord?” Emmeline asked indignantly.
“Heavens, no!” said Lord Blackwood. “I was out for a walk, the men were smoking and I had to get some air. As I was walking, I heard you and the Count talking and I heard your plans. You cannot go with him, Emmeline. Stop this foolishness now before your reputation is completely t
arnished.”
“You know nothing of our love,” Emmeline replied. “He loves me truly; I know it in my heart. I know it from the way he speaks to me, from the way he looks at me.”
“Emmeline,” Lord Blackwood exclaimed, exasperation colouring his features, “If you do this, the Count is going to ruin you. Can you not see how he’s trying to charm his way into your good graces? If you go with him, you are going to end up ruining your family!”
Emmeline was shocked at Lord Blackwood’s boldness.
“What do you know of love, sir? There is not a passionate bone in your body.”
“You want passion?!” Lord Blackwood replied, his voice velvety smooth, lethal. Emmeline stopped dead in her tracks.
“Eh…yes. I mean, you are a cold man,” she stuttered. Lord Blackwood moved closer. Emmeline took a step backwards.
“You think me cold for not declaring myself with poetry and flattery?” A fire burned in the Viscount eyes, such as she had never seen.
“My love for you burns like an inferno. It touches such depth that cannot be explained by mere words,” he whispered. Emmeline stood mesmerized.
“When I see you with him, jealousy flows like lava through my veins,” he whispered only a hairsbreadth away. Had he tried to force her she would have resisted. But he did no such thing. No, instead he let the love that he had held to himself for so long shine through his eyes. When he finally kissed her, it was with such tenderness, it took her breath away. He pulled away from her slowly, the heat of his passion assaulting her senses.
The world stood still for a moment. Then Emmeline regained her sanity and did the only appropriate thing in such a situation, she slapped Lord Blackwood across the face.
He did not move an inch further away. Instead his gaze continued to hungrily devour her. Unsure of what to do she opened her fan with a flick of her wrist and started frantically fanning herself.