Georgina Devon

by The Rakes Redemption

  Juliet flushed. ‘You are right. I can only plead that my life has been very busy this past year, and I have spent little time in Town.’

  Emma knew George Hawthorne’s sister spoke the truth. Juliet Glenfinning was also Charles’s sister. What a tangled mess. ‘What brings you here?’

  Emma took the last step and moved until she was close enough to see the starburst of navy in the other woman’s eyes—eyes very like Charles’s. Juliet looked unsure, a plight Emma doubted the other woman found herself in much.

  ‘This is very forward of me, to be sure.’ Juliet stopped and seemed to carefully consider her words. ‘I heard,’ she waved one elegantly gloved hand, ‘that you and your sister are invited to Lady Johnstone’s country estate for a house party.’

  Emma stepped back as though she had been slapped. ‘Who told you that? I only just now received the invitation.’

  Juliet’s flush deepened. ‘Ah…well, Lady Johnstone.’ She sighed. ‘Can we go somewhere more private?’

  With a start, Emma realised Gordon stood by the still open door. She could refuse to spend time with Juliet, but she had always liked the other woman. Rumour said Juliet’s first husband had been too old to care what his young bride did. Rumour also said her current husband was totally reformed and as devoted a spouse as any woman could wish for.

  ‘Yes. Come into the parlour.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Juliet said, following Emma.

  ‘Please be seated.’ Emma indicated a threadbare chair.

  Juliet sat down gingerly. ‘Lady Johnstone is godmother to George, Charles and myself.’ She seemed more embarrassed than before they entered the room. ‘She told me she intended to invite you because she could sympathise with your situation. Her first husband was a heavy gambler, and she only achieved her current stability when she married her second husband. She always says she was blessed her first husband expired before he gambled away the roof over their heads.’

  Mortification made Emma blanch. ‘Does everyone know?’

  Juliet didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘Perhaps not everyone, but many do. Your brother has made no secret of the duel and wounding Charles. He used his success to open previously closed doors. Not since Charles James Fox gambled away a fortune and Brummell fled to the Continent because of his debts has anyone played so deeply that their entire life was ruined.’

  ‘Thank you for putting my brother’s actions into perspective,’ Emma said dryly. ‘I suppose I should be flattered that Bertram is in such exalted company, but I am not.’

  ‘I didn’t think you would be.’ Juliet laid her palms up as though laying her cards on the table in full view. ‘I am making a mess of this. I have come to offer you and Amy a ride in my carriage to the house party.’ She smiled. ‘I am invited, too.’

  Emma tapped one finger on the arm of her chair. This wasn’t making sense. These people had no reason to concern themselves with her and her sister unless it was a sense of debt owed over that dratted broken engagement.

  ‘It is best if I speak openly, I think.’ Emma waited for Gordon to deposit the tea tray and leave. ‘My broken engagement to your brother was over two years ago. Since then, we have seen nothing of your family except your younger brother. Why this sudden interest on your part?’

  She poured tea, adding sugar and cream as indicated by her guest, and waited. Juliet took her drink and sipped it. Emma decided she had got to the heart of the matter and Juliet was uncomfortable.

  Finally, still holding her cup and saucer, Juliet said, ‘It is numerous incidents. Everyone in the family was uncomfortable over what happened between you and George. But we all knew it was best for him. More importantly to me, is the way Charles has been behaving.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘He is a scapegrace where women are concerned. I believe that had he not encouraged Amy, she would have found another party to interest her. As it is, he behaved shamefully—as I have told him many times—and now with your brother’s gambling debts, I worry that anyone else she might become interested in will be scared away.’

  Emma choked on a sip of hot tea. ‘You are definitely being honest.’ She carefully set her saucer down. ‘I believe Mr Hawthorne thinks his attentions to Amy will draw the interest of other men to her. I definitely know Amy believes that.’

  Juliet snorted. ‘That is well and good as far as it goes. Other gentlemen may have noticed her, but if she didn’t notice them or—worse—fobbed them off because she was focused on Charles, then his attentions did more harm than good.’ She speared Emma with a look. ‘Am I correct?’

  Emma set her tea cup down. ‘Yes, you are.’

  ‘I knew so.’ Juliet’s tone was one of vindication. ‘I told him repeatedly to leave off, and he continued to ignore me.’ She leaned forward and put her hand gently on Emma’s arm. ‘I am so sorry he made things more difficult for you.’

  Emma looked at where the other woman touched her. There was a loose thread on the hem of her sleeve. Gently, she pulled her arm free. ‘So you decided to arrange this house party at Lady Johnstone’s to help remedy the situation your brothers created.’

  Juliet’s pale skin deepened to a damask rose, but she lifted her chin. ‘Yes, I did. Will you help me?’

  Emma sighed and wondered when her life had become so destitute that she needed this much and this kind of help. Surely not until after Mama’s passing.

  She plucked at the loose thread on her sleeve. Someone finally shared her concern over the matter. If only this had happened earlier. Except, a traitorous desire curled through her, she would not have got to know Charles Hawthorne as well as she now did.

  Oh, she had met him when engaged to his older brother. Had even attended events where he was, but he had ignored her or watched her with eyes that spoke volumes of disapproval at her engagement to his sibling. She had been haughty to him, knowing he didn’t think much of her. Why he started pursuing Amy, she didn’t know. Nor did it really matter.

  She met Juliet Glenfinning’s watchful gaze. ‘Yes, we will come.’ She shrugged and spread her hands. ‘We have very few choices left if Amy is to have a chance at finding a suitable husband.’

  Juliet nodded in satisfaction. ‘We will accomplish it. Lady Johnstone is inviting several eligible gentlemen.’ She smiled roguishly, the curve of her lip reminding Emma of Charles Hawthorne. ‘But not the Dowager and Mr Kennilworth. I have seen him with Amy and know she does not consider him.’

  Emma laughed, a weak chuckle that barely lifted above the noise of a carriage going by outside the window. Her pride was beaten down by this exchange, but better that than give up on Amy’s future. At this moment, she didn’t care if the gentleman who took Amy’s fancy was wealthy or not. If Amy cared for him and he cared for her, she would support them against Papa. If need be, she would help them elope to Gretna Green.

  ‘Thank you, Juliet.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emma looked around the bedchamber given to her by Lady Johnstone. It was larger than her room at Hopewell, the Stockton country estate. Finely tooled cream leather covered the walls and deep forest green paint trimmed the corners and ceiling. Elegant furniture in the latest style filled the room in scattered groupings. The bed had satin hangings that matched the ceiling colour. A beautiful room.

  She moved to the large bank of windows and looked down on a rose garden in full bloom. In the distance a lake and pagoda took pride of place. Sheep grazed in the bucolic setting.

  Tension that had held her shoulders stiff for so long she had forgotten she carried it slid away. Her muscles relaxed and she breathed a silent thank you to Juliet Glenfinning for arranging their invitations.

  She moved to the desk where writing paper embossed with Lady Johnstone’s crest, several quills and ink sat ready. She should tell Papa where they were, not that it would matter much. But he was their parent. She dipped a quill and began.

  ‘Em.’ Amy burst through the door without knocking. ‘You will never guess who is about to arrive!’

  Thankful she had fin
ished her brief note. Emma carefully folded it and dripped a blob of wax which she pressed down to seal the letter. She turned to face Amy. The girl sparkled. Her eyes glittered like sapphires, and her lips glistened like ripe cherries. Amy was too excited.

  A sense of dread and anticipation filled Emma.

  She had an awful presentiment of who Amy meant. There was only one person who excited Amy like this. Nor would it be unusual for him to be here since his sister was.

  ‘Do tell me,’ Emma said, keeping her tone dry.

  ‘Charles Hawthorne!’ Amy did a pirouette, her afternoon dress of fine white muslin belling around her.

  ‘Mr Hawthorne,’ she corrected Amy’s informal naming.

  Emma ignored the thump of her heart as it jumped and seemed to restart itself, pumping faster than it should. She had been afraid of this. Now, if there was an eligible gentleman here, Amy would have no time for him. She would be thoroughly engrossed in pursuing the very unacceptable Mr Hawthorne.

  And instead of relaxing in the country, Emma would find herself in the same position she had occupied in London: The spinster older sister whose responsibility was to put a damper on anything that might be even remotely construed as improper. There would be no peace and quiet for her. No respite from constant surveillance. Or chance to have fun. She would be consumed with watching Amy.

  Emma sighed and rubbed her temples.

  ‘Em,’ Amy stopped twirling and rushed to kneel in front of her sister. ‘Are you unwell? I had thought you would like being here. You love the country.’

  Emma dropped her hands. ‘No, I am fine, Amy. Just tired from the travelling.’ She made herself smile when all she wanted to do was grimace. No matter how her body had responded to the news of his presence, her mind knew only trouble would come of it.

  ‘Tea is being served soon. We should go down and have some. We can also meet everyone.’ Amy stood back up, her slim figure vibrating with anticipation.

  Emma remembered this was also Amy’s first house party, other than the type they had exchanged with their parents’ friends many years ago. But Amy had not been introduced to Society and had spent most of the time in the nursery. This was all new and wonderful to Amy. Charles Hawthorne’s presence added more spice.

  Too much spice.

  Emma rose. ‘You are right, Amy. We should attend. It is expected that house guests participate.’ She smoothed down her skirt. ‘There might even be an eligible gentleman or two.’

  ‘Like Mr Hawthorne?’ Amy arched one eyebrow, evidence that she knew her words needled Emma.

  ‘More eligible than Mr Hawthorne.’

  Emma’s words were tart even as a sharp stab of anticipation made her stomach tightened. She wasn’t interested in the man. Far from it.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Amy said archly, ‘but not as attractive or as well received. Everyone knows Charles Hawthorne and many of the most important men in England follow his lead.’

  ‘More the fool them.’ Emma moved to the fireplace and pulled the cord that would tell Betty she was needed. ‘I need to get this letter out before we go down.’

  Amy frowned. ‘Is that to Papa?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He won’t like that we’ve come here.’

  ‘And why won’t he? He should be thankful we have not had to run home with our tails tucked between our legs.’ Emma’s voice was as hard as the look on her face. ‘He and Bertram have certainly done everything in their power to make this a difficult if not impossible Season.’

  Amy’s eyes rounded. ‘Why, Em, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak this way. You are always so…so accepting of whatever they do.’

  Emma sighed as the exhaustion from the carriage ride settled on her shoulders like heavy bricks. ‘Perhaps I am just tired, Amy.’

  ‘Or perhaps you are fed up with what they do. I certainly am!’ She planted her feet and anchored her fists on her hips. ‘It is because of them that we find ourselves in this position. Why, if not for Lady Juliet Glenfinning we couldn’t have even accepted this invitation. We had no means to get here.’

  ‘So true. Now, please, Amy. I need to lie down for a while before joining the rest of the guests.’

  Amy’s lips pouted, only to instantly soften into compassion. ‘This has been hard on you, Em. I’m sorry. I always seem to think of my own pleasure first—much like Bertram, I suppose. And I definitely don’t want to be as selfish as he is.’

  Emma paused in midstride to turn back and look at her sister. ‘Amy, I think you are growing up.’ Pride swelled her heart. ‘Mama would be so proud to hear you say that.’

  ‘But Mama isn’t here, Em. It is you and me. I am telling you these things because neither Papa nor Bertram cares. But you do.’

  She moved to Emma and wrapped her arms around her older sister. Emma, nearly in tears, held onto Amy and wondered when her devil-take-the-hindmost young sister had started to change. Emma had been so caught up in her own worries she hadn’t noticed.

  Amy squeezed tight and released Emma. ‘I am often a chore to you, I know, because I want what I want when I want it. I am sorry for the trouble I cause. I will try to be better.’ Contrition knitted her brows. ‘But I don’t think I will be able to always remember my good intentions.’

  Emma laughed, a loud, free explosion of amusement. The release was so liberating she kept laughing until the tears she had managed not to shed when Amy hugged her broke free and streamed down her cheeks.

  ‘Oh, Amy, just to know you realise this much is more than I could have hoped for. If only Mama— But she is not.’

  Emma clamped down on lips that wanted to talk about Mama and what Mama would want and expect from her daughters. Instead, she waited until Amy left and then sank into one of the silk-covered chairs pulled in front of a roaring fire—for the country was still cool.

  Looking at nothing, Emma thought about her epiphany of minutes before. For the first time since Mama’s passing, Emma felt as though she was a person in her own right. No longer was she Mama’s daughter, promised to do the best for the family. On her deathbed, Mama had asked her to care for everyone and she had done her best.

  She finally had to accept she could not make Bertram stop gambling or force Papa to set a proper example for his son. Nor could she make Amy accept a man she didn’t want. Truth be told, and she was finally facing many truths, she couldn’t even ensure Amy behaved within the parameters polite society dictated.

  Perhaps it was her failure to keep Amy from behaving recklessly or her inability to prevent the duel between Bertram and Charles Hawthorne, made worse by Bertram’s celebratory gaming. Maybe it was all of that and the loss of Mama’s pearls, the reminder she had worn constantly of who Mama had been and what Mama had wanted for her family. Or it was all of that, but as of this moment, she was done trying to control her family.

  All she could do was love them.

  With luck, Amy would find a nice gentleman here. After Amy was settled, Emma would look for a position as a governess. Before then, she wanted to enjoy some small part of her life. After she got a position minding other people’s children, she knew her dreams and goals would become intertwined with the people she worked for. No longer would she have an opportunity to live her own life.

  Bittersweet thoughts. Freedom mixed with future servitude. Emma felt exhausted and exhilarated, opposing emotions.

  This urge for freedom and the unfettered desire to enjoy life felt strange and exciting. She wondered if this was how Charles Hawthorne felt, if this was the emotion that kept him doing as he pleased regardless of the consequences. If so, she could finally understand.

  She stood and started undoing the ties and laces that held her muslin gown on. Down to her chemise, she climbed into the beckoning bed with its coverlet of spring flowers. A nap was what she needed.

  Charles Hawthorne reined in his bay, ignoring the twinge of pain in his shoulder. The doctor had said he was healing well, but hadn’t wanted him to travel this far. Charles had ignored the advi
ce and done as he wished, as usual.

  He looked over the rolling hills that marked the outermost boundary of Lady Johnstone’s land. A day’s ride from here was his small estate, Cloudchaser, spread over land as verdant as this. He had plowed a large part of his earnings into his property so that today it turned a tidy profit. Not enough to support a lavish life in London, but enough to provide a comfortable style in the country.

  If the success of his import business weren’t so satisfying, he would sell it. Several businessmen had offered. The establishment had paid off the last of his gambling debts from several years ago and the remainder was going into the funds. But he wasn’t ready to live the life of a country squire. He might never be ready.

  Clouds filled up the sky and he smelled moisture. Soon it would rain.

  He turned his horse around and made for Lady Johnstone’s. Unless he missed his guess, and he was very good at determining the time of day by the sun, he would have an hour or so to change before everyone gathered for tea.

  He wanted to see Emma Stockton’s face when he walked in for tea. This should be a very amusing house party.

  Emma tweaked an errant strand of hair into place and looked critically at herself in the mirror. Her neck still felt bare without Mama’s pearls. But she felt free emotionally. She wasn’t sure if one was better than the other. She had no other jewellery. She settled a paisley silk shawl around her shoulders and left.

  Amy should be ready by now, so she knocked at her sister’s door. When no one answered, she peeked in. The room was empty. Amy had gone without her. She swallowed a sigh of irritation. She could no more control Amy than she could control the weather. She needed to remember her thoughts before napping.

  She could love her sister and try to guide her. But she could not make Amy do what she did not want to do. She had to stop trying.