“How are you, dearest?” whispered Olivia, staring at her closely, her blue eyes clouded with concern. “You look a little pale.”
Emmeline took a deep breath. “I shall survive,” she replied. “I promised Mama I would attend this party, and I shall see it through.”
Olivia smiled slightly. “You make it sound as if you are going into battle, Emme,” she said. “No one here is out to hurt you. We are here just to have fun.” She hesitated. “It will be good for you. You must be driven to distraction staying at home all the time.”
Emmeline smiled at her sister. Olivia could never understand that home was a haven for her. She knew that her sister started climbing the walls after merely three days at Lambeth House with no social engagements. But then she and her sister were very different people.
Her gaze softened as she kept gazing at her. Olivia looked radiant this afternoon in her crisp white muslin gown, easily the most beautiful lady in the room. Her heart swelled with pride. Her beloved little sister, who was always the life and soul of the party, charming anyone within her radius. Olivia truly was like the sun.
She gazed down at her own gown. A cream muslin equally as pretty as her sister’s, but somehow it just didn’t look the same. She could never be as beautiful and charming as Liv, nor did she wish to be. She was quite content being in the shadows of her sister’s sun. It meant that no one paid her any particular attention – which was just the way she liked it.
She took another deep breath as her heart started to race. Two ladies were approaching them, bearing down upon them like hawks pursuing a rabbit. At least that was how it felt to Emmeline.
She squared her shoulders, trying to calm herself. It was only Miss Edwina Carpenter and Miss Harriet Green, after all, ladies with who she was well acquainted, even if she had never been the best of friends with them.
“Why it is Emmeline,” cried Harriet, swooping on her and taking her arm. “I declare I almost did not recognise you, my dear. It has been a veritable age since we have seen you in public!”
“Indeed, it has,” said Edwina, staring at her sharply, almost avidly. “My dear mama declared that she thought you an invalid now, as it has been so long since you have been out in the district.” She paused, her eyes raking over Emmeline. “But I said that dear Olivia would have told us if there was something so drastic.”
Olivia’s face darkened imperceptibly. “I have always told you both that Emmeline is quite well,” she said quickly. “You both know that as well as I do, ladies.”
There was an awkward pause. Emmeline felt a fierce blush colour her face. It felt as if it were aflame. Dear Olivia. Her sister was just trying to deflect the barbs of the ladies. She was trying to protect her as always. Shame washed over her. It wasn’t Olivia’s job to defend her; she was the elder sister, after all.
It hadn’t always been this way. How had it come to this?
For a moment, she was tempted to turn around and run out of the room. She wanted to climb into the carriage and simply sit there, waiting until her sister was ready to leave the party. But she knew that would cause more talk. It would be fuel for the gossips, and she simply could not do it to her family any longer.
“I am perfectly well; I thank you,” she said, lifting her chin, as she gazed at the ladies. She turned to her sister. “Shall we go outside, Olivia? I must admit the thought of a game of croquet is rather tempting.”
***
Emmeline picked up her teacup, staring over the gardens. There were still people playing croquet but not as many as there had been; most were drifting inside as the sun cast a long shadow over the lawn. Her heart lurched with relief. It was almost time to leave.
She had tried very hard, indeed. Two games of croquet that she had not enjoyed in the slightest, but it had pleased Olivia to see her playing. She had joined groups and attempted to chat with various ladies and gentlemen. At first, it had felt like the words were being dragged out of her mouth, but it had got easier.
Her sister had dragged her from one group to the next, introducing her to various gentlemen. She knew very well what Olivia was up to but had endured it. The gentlemen were all perfectly respectable and charming. Some of them were even handsome. But all she felt as she attempted to talk with them was a deep weariness at the bottom of her soul.
She put down the teacup, casting her eyes around for Olivia. Her sister seemed to have disappeared inside. Determinedly she set off. Hopefully, they could say goodbye to their hosts and be gone within the half-hour.
She was almost inside when she saw a gentleman move deliberately towards her. She hesitated. She didn’t want to speak to him at all, but it was obvious that she had seen him approaching her, and it would be rude to ignore him. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile onto her face.
“Miss Vaughan,” he said, bowing slightly. “I have been waiting to introduce myself to you all afternoon, but alas, you always seemed occupied.”
Emmeline tried not to let her surprise at his words show in her face. How did he even know who she was? She studied him covertly for a moment.
He was obviously rather well to do, judging by the cut of his clothing. The gentleman was in his early thirties, perhaps, of medium height, with light brown hair receding slightly over his head. When he smiled at her, his pale blue eyes crinkled at the edges.
“Of course, sir,” she said, curtseying. “I would be most pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“My name is Lewis Hardy,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I have only recently moved into the district from further north.”
Emmeline smiled. “And pray, where in the north are you from, sir?”
“Lincolnshire,” he said. “My family have rather substantial land holdings there, as well as shares in a foreign company, which is the reason for my visit here.” He paused. “I am staying with my aunt while I conduct my business. Perhaps you have heard of her. Mrs Desmond of Charing Street?”
Emmeline nodded. She did indeed know Mrs Desmond, who resided in Farnstoke, one of the local villages. A widow whose husband had died many years prior and who owned quite a lot of property in town. Mrs Desmond was also known to be a voracious gossip with her nose in everyone’s business.
“And how long shall you be in the area, Mr Hardy?” asked Emmeline, inching towards the door. She was suddenly so weary of making polite conversation that she did not know how she would endure another minute of it.
“An indeterminate length of time.” He smiled. “I must admit I am rather enjoying being so far away from home.” He paused. “I might extend my stay for even longer. Everyone who I have met has been so very kind and hospitable.”
“You have been to many social engagements in the area then?”
He nodded. “Indeed! I have barely had a quiet night in with my aunt since I arrived.” He smiled. “But this is the first time I have seen you, Miss Vaughan. I would have remembered your face. I am sure of it.”
Emmeline blushed slightly. “That is very kind of you to say, Mr Hardy. I am afraid that I am not very social. In fact, this is the first engagement I have attended in a very long time.”
“That is a pity,” he replied slowly, his eyes lingering on her face. “A beautiful lady such as yourself languishing away at home. Why, it is a travesty, Miss Vaughan.”
Emmeline’s eyes widened with alarm. Was this gentleman flirting with her? It had been so long since any such thing had happened to her; she simply did not recognise it for a moment. But then his pale blue eyes started to twinkle, and there could be no doubt.
Her blush deepened as pure panic overcame her. This was so very awkward. He seemed like a perfectly nice enough gentleman, but she had no interest in him in the slightest. She kept edging towards the doorway, seeking her escape as her eyes darted from side to side, seeking her sister. Where was Olivia?
She took a deep breath, trying to deflect him from his intent. “You say you are in the district on business, Mr Hardy?”
He nodded. “Indeed. Have you he
ard of the East India Company by any chance? It operates on the Indian subcontinent.”
She nodded, although she had only ever heard of it in passing. But the last thing she wanted was to draw him into a lengthy explanation about his business.
“My family has a business associate who lives in this area,” he continued. “Lord Richard Montagu. Perhaps you know him?”
Emmeline was starting to feel a bit faint as beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead. She had not heard mention of the aged Lord Montagu in a very, very long time. So long ago that it almost seemed as if he had been a character from a book.
She nodded slightly. She suddenly wanted to be sick. But Mr Lewis Hardy pressed on, not noticing at all.
“He is rather infirm now,” he said slowly. “He has been struggling to keep up in our meetings. But I have been assured that his son and his nephew, who is staying in the area as well, will take over the meetings from now on. A charming fellow, so they say …” He frowned, rubbing his chin. “I have forgotten his name. Benedict, perhaps? Yes, that is it. Lord Benedict Montagu.”
Emmeline swayed slightly. The whole world started to spin.
“I say,” said Mr Hardy, jumping toward her in alarm. “Are you quite alright, Miss Vaughan? You look rather faint.”
She couldn’t answer. It was as if she was falling down a dark tunnel. She heard his voice, but it was as if he spoke to her from very far away.
Suddenly, Olivia was beside her. Her sister’s blue eyes were wide with shock. Gently, she took Emmeline’s arm, guiding her back into the house. Emmeline could see people staring at them, but she was beyond caring. She dug her fingernails into her arm to keep herself from falling to the floor.
Her worst fears had come true. He was back. After all this time.
Chapter 3
Lord Benedict Montagu wrestled with the arms of his jacket as he ran down the grand staircase at Derby Hall towards the drawing room. His Uncle Richard was waiting for him there with his cousin Ralph. The summons had come ten minutes prior, and he knew that his uncle did not suffer tardiness lightly.
His eyes flickered around the foyer of the house as he quickly passed through it. It had a white marble floor, with a sweeping ornate ceiling, from which hung a huge chandelier. He had only been here for two days so far after many years away. But this house was as familiar to him as the one he had been born and raised in. A house that was as familiar to him as the back of his hand.
His heart clenched. It was strange being back here, almost as if he was inhabiting the hallways of a dream. But then, everything had felt that way since he had returned to England. Why should it be any different here?
He stopped, gazing out the side window next to the doorway. He could see a sliver of green hills in the distance and a pale blue sky. How different it was from the place where he had been all these years. A muted palette, compared to the blazing yellow sun and intense azure blue of the sky there.
His heart clenched again. India. He did not want to think about it at all.
When he entered the drawing room, he saw that Ralph was standing at the window, gazing out at the landscape as well. What must his cousin be thinking about it all? It was all as strangely familiar to Ralph as it was to him. Did his cousin think that he was suddenly inhabiting a bizarre dreamscape too?
His eyes slid to his uncle, who was sitting in his wheelchair by the mantelpiece, a brightly coloured rug tucked carefully around his legs. Uncle Richard turned, hearing him approach.
“Ah, there you are, Benedict,” he said, in his habitually croaky voice. His eyes slid to the clock on the mantel. “Just in time, I see. Take a seat.”
Benedict did as his uncle commanded, taking a seat on the green chaise longue opposite the mantelpiece. Ralph walked over from the window, taking a seat beside him. His cousin didn’t look at him at all. Not even once.
Benedict sighed heavily. A wall seemed to have descended between him and his cousin. Ralph had barely spoken two words to him since he had arrived at Derby Hall, avoiding him like the plague. It was disappointing but also understandable, he guessed. They had been through such a lot together, and neither of them knew how to bridge it. They didn’t know how to make sense of what had happened to them both in India, nor how to comprehend that they were abruptly home and everything was seemingly the same as it had always been.
Life had gone on, in this sleepy pocket of England, without them.
Uncle Richard cleared his throat. “I will get straight to the point,” he said, his bushy grey eyebrows rising slightly. “I have been loath to involve you both in the family business since your return from India. I know you have both needed space to deal with what happened there and pick up the pieces of your lives.” He took a deep breath. “But the time has come that I must ask you both to get back into it. I am an old, ill man, and I can no longer handle the business as I once could.”
Benedict felt Ralph bristle beside him. Even mentioning India caused a reaction in his cousin. He felt it too, that sudden tightening of his chest, that constriction in his lungs; it was as if he wasn’t able to breathe for a moment. But then it passed, as it always did. Just like the clouds over the sun on an overcast day.
It will get better. It will get better every day. Have faith.
He wished he could tell his cousin that. But Ralph was still struggling with his demons and would not listen to him even if he could talk of it, which he could not. Not yet, at any rate.
Benedict took a deep breath, focusing on his uncle. “Your health has declined further, Uncle?”
The man nodded irritably. “It has steadily declined in the years since you have been gone, Benedict,” he said. “I am quite shocked that I have lived long enough to see you both again. I was certain that I would be gone to the other side before now.” He paused. “Perhaps our Lord has seen fit to grant a dying old man his last wish.”
“Do not say such things, Father,” said Ralph, in a quiet but determined voice. “You shall live for many years yet …”
The old man waved his hand in the air dismissively. “It no longer bothers me, lad. As I said, my last wish was to see you both return to England alive and well, and it has happened. Now any day is a bonus as far as I am concerned.”
Benedict stared at his uncle. He had once been so fit and strong. In his heyday, Lord Richard Montagu had seemed like a giant amongst men to him. A tall, strapping man with flashing green eyes and a quick impatient step, pulsing with energy.
Benedict felt sadness overwhelm him. That man lived only in his mind’s eye. Now, Uncle Richard was a withered old man in a wheelchair, so infirm that even going to the edge of his property was a struggle. Sometimes, he fell asleep abruptly in his chair mid-sentence. How he had kept up with the running of the business since he and Ralph had been gone was beyond him.
He sighed deeply. Uncle Richard had always been like a father to him since his own had died when he was young. His mother had remarried, but he had never been particularly close to his stepfather. His uncle had stepped in and bridged that gaping hole in his life. He had spent countless summers here as a boy and youth, and Uncle Richard had taught him everything from riding to hunting. And he had also taught him something else.
He had brought him into the family business. The East India Company.
His eyes slid to Ralph again. His cousin seemed miles away in his mind. Was he back in India thinking about all they had endured there once more? Just like he often was?
But Ralph wouldn’t talk to him anymore, so he simply did not know.
“I have a business associate staying in the area,” continued his uncle, coughing slightly. “His name is Mr Lewis Hardy. We have had many meetings, but I am afraid that it is getting beyond me; I cannot keep up with the intricacies of it all any longer.” He paused, staring at the two men steadily. “And that is where you both come in. As well as being younger and more energetic than me, you both have the advantage of knowing the situation in India and the problems we face there first-hand.�
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A Lord's Flaming Return: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 2