Let the Lady Decide

by Gemma Blackwood

  "Bring them in at once!" cried Emily, clapping her hands together. "I'm so glad they got my messages! Sarah! Harriet!" she called out as her friends came in and curtseyed to the Duchess. "Thank goodness you're here – I would have been quite at a loss without you!"

  "Who could resist such a delicious scheme as the one you proposed in your letter?" asked Sarah. The Duchess was instantly on guard.

  "A scheme? Emily, what on earth –"

  "Please, do not concern yourself, Mama," said Emily soothingly. "In fact, I think you will be better off keeping out of our way for the time being."

  The Duchess hmphed and tutted, but she was too fond of Emily not to let her have her way. "Just keep out of trouble, that's all I ask," she said, gathering up her embroidery. "And if you happen to snag a future Duke in the course of your scheme, well, I won't be complaining."

  "Goodbye, Your Grace," said Sarah and Harriet, almost in unison, making two identical curtseys. The Duchess smiled gracefully and left them to it.

  "I cannot wait to get started," said Harriet, as the three girls gathered together to discuss their afternoon's plotting. "Honestly, Emily, you are so clever! I would never have thought of this by myself."

  Emily frowned. The scheme was not her idea at all, but James's. She could not admit that to her friends without revealing the nature of her agreement with James – and they would certainly think it was very scandalous.

  "I know exactly how we shall arrange it," she said, in a hushed whisper which befit their conspiracy. "Listen to me…"

  Some time later, the shadows of the afternoon growing long, Lord Henry Digby arrived at the Duke of Rawly's house to pay his morning call on Lady Emily. He had shadows under his eyes and a certain weariness of demeanour which were all too obvious to the lady as she received him. His exertions at the ball must have been very great indeed.

  "Will you take some tea?" asked Emily. She rang for hot water and a teapot without waiting for his response. The Duke bought in only the finest, most expensive tea, and, as was customary in fine houses, the servants were not trusted with it. Emily kept a key to the tea cabinet on a ribbon around her neck. The only other copy was in her mother's possession.

  Emily had been trained extensively in the most genteel and elegant way to serve tea to a gentleman. Digby made as good a choice as any to test her skills on. As she poured out the tea, she watched him for any sign that he had noticed her refinement.

  Digby was watching her with feverish eyes, but she suspected that was more down to his lack of sleep than any particular passion for her. He accepted his teacup with a nervous mumble of thanks.

  "Tell me, Lord Henry," said Emily, realising that the conversation would have to be held up at her end. "Did you enjoy yourself last night?"

  Digby passed a hand across his pale brow. "Would it be too much to say that the highlight of my evening was the all-too-brief dance I enjoyed with you?"

  "Not too much at all," said Emily, glancing down demurely. "I am glad you found something to entertain you."

  Digby leaned forwards, fixing her with an eager stare. "My lady, allow me to assure you that every moment spent in your company brings me the purest joy."

  Emily patted her hair. "Why, Lord Henry! I'm sure you must say such things to all the young ladies." She glanced towards her mother, who had resumed her position as chaperone, but was engrossed in her embroidery at a discreet distance to allow Emily and her visitor some privacy. All the same, Emily was certain her mother was paying close attention to every word that passed between them. Doubtless she would receive a lesson in accepting compliments the moment Digby was out of the room.

  Digby followed her gaze and lowered his voice. "I would never dream of speaking those words to another woman. Now that I have seen you, there is no-one else for me in all of London."

  "How very kind," said Emily blandly. "In that case I dare say you are longing to travel."

  "To travel, my lady?"

  "Well, if the women of London are so unappealing to you…"

  "My lady, you mistake my meaning!" Digby wrung his hands beseechingly. He looked in the very throes of agonised love.

  It was a wonderful performance. Emily could easily see how her friends were taken in.

  "I have come here today because you are the most beautiful, the most –"

  Emily cleared her throat. Holding up a finger to stop Digby mid-flow, she took up a slip of paper from the table and read from it. "The most beautiful, the most accomplished, the most entrancing girl you have been fortunate enough to encounter?"

  Digby's face froze. "My – my lady… You took the words right out of my mouth!"

  Emily folded the paper over, nodding contentedly. "But you have not yet called me an angel, Lord Henry. Or does that follow?"

  "I will call you any tender name which is pleasing to your ears," said Digby, attempting a smile.

  "Ah, yes. And I suppose –" Emily stopped to check her paper. "You will sail to the ends of the earth for me? You would walk to India and back to bring me a ruby fit for my dainty finger?"

  "I – I would –" Digby was growing red in the face. He looked back at the Duchess, who was still busily sewing. He struggled to keep the look of suspicion from his face. "That paper, my lady…"

  "Oh, this? Just a list, of sorts."

  "Who gave you that list? Let me assure you that my affections for you run –"

  "Deeper than the ocean, and twice as warm as the sun?" It was not Emily who spoke, nor the Duchess. The voice seemed to appear out of the air above Emily's head.

  Digby jumped up from his chair. "Who said that?" he demanded. Behind him, the Duchess put down her sewing, unable to hide her interest.

  Another disembodied voice floated out of thin air. "And if my words are not true, let me suffer punishment like no man has ever endured! Let me be beaten, cast out, let my family deny me my name, if any word I have spoken to you is a lie."

  Emily, unperturbed by the ghostly voices, reached behind the sofa to produce a long, whip-thing stick cut from an ash tree. "Beaten? My goodness." She swished the stick through the air, producing a crack which nearly startled the Duchess out of her seat. "That seems so extreme."

  "Tell me what is going on!" Digby demanded, backing away and eyeing the stick nervously. Emily laughed.

  "Ladies, it's time to put the poor fellow out of his misery." Emily cracked the stick again, and the curtains behind her twitched aside, revealing Sarah and Harriet in twin states of mirth. Digby staggered backwards.

  "Lady Sarah –"

  "What is it, Lord Henry?" Sarah fluttered her eyelashes. "Have my eyes blinded you again?"

  "No, Sarah, you are mistaken," said Harriet. "It was my eyes which blinded his lordship. He told me so himself."

  "That's right, Sarah," said Emily, running a finger down the list on her paper. "I have it written here."

  "Lady Harriet," said Digby, turning helplessly from one girl to the next. "Please believe me that when I told you that, I meant it from the bottom of my heart –"

  "Dear me, Lord Henry," said Emily, raising a hand to her mouth to hide a smirk. "And you were so close to having me believe there was no-one else for you in all of London."

  Digby drew himself up. "I see that there is no denying it," he said.

  "I'm afraid not." Emily handed him the paper. "You will see here that we have made a record of every young woman who has had the misfortune of receiving you. There's one thing we all have in common, Lord Henry: a large fortune."

  Digby hung his head. "I am sorry, my lady. It's true. The state of my fortunes is…lamentable. But I never intended anyone any harm!" He wrung his hands together. "I would have married any one of you the moment I thought you were falling for me. I would never have broken any hearts or led anyone astray!"

  "A woman is more than a marriage certificate and a large dowry," said Emily. Despite her stern words, she felt herself soften. He made such a wretched picture and he seemed so very desperate. "Remember that as you go on your wa
y."

  Digby lifted his eyes to her, a faint hope stirring in the blue. "You – you will not ruin my chances with the young ladies of the ton?"

  He was right to be afraid. One word from Emily or her mother and Digby would be cast out of Society – perhaps forever.

  Emily glanced at her friends. "What do you think, ladies? Has he been punished sufficiently for his crimes?"

  "As long as no harm came of his actions," said Sarah. "For all his wooing, I doubt there's a single girl in London who's fallen in love with him."

  Emily touched the tip of her ash twig to Digby's chest. "I charge you to choose one woman only to shower with your fine words, Lord Henry. See her as a woman – not the fortune she brings with her. I think you'll have better luck that way."

  Digby stared at her, a frightened rabbit, half-convinced she was about to beat him with her twig for good measure.

  "Good day, Lord Henry," said Emily meaningfully. Digby made her a hurried bow, and turned with a red face to bow to the Duchess also. She accepted his gesture with barely-concealed mirth.

  "Good day to you – good day – thank you, my lady – thank you!"

  He scurried from the room as fast as his legs would carry him.

  Emily sank onto the sofa, laughing. Sarah and Harriet collapsed in giggles beside her.

  "Oh, that was fun," sighed Emily.

  The imposing figure of her mother loomed above the girls. All laughter died.

  "That was most improper," the Duchess intoned. "You gave poor Lord Henry quite a shock. Honestly, you modern children! Your standards are too high. What on earth is a young man to do to better himself if not by catching a wealthy bride? He is hardly the only man in Society on such a quest."

  "It was his method we objected to, Mama," said Emily. "No girl deserves to be deceived."

  "And Lord Henry deceived us all quite horribly!" Harriet piped up.

  The Duchess wrinkled her nose. "Well, I cannot say whether I would have acted as you did under similar circumstances. You are very lucky that Lord Henry will likely be too ashamed of himself to spread gossip around about the way you treated him."

  "I needed to narrow my suitors down somehow," said Emily. "Papa has given me six men to consider – now there are only five. Five! Goodness."

  "Ah… Tilbury," said Sarah, with an exaggerated sigh. Harriet mimicked her, flinging a hand up to her forehead.

  "Oh, Tilbury, you're the handsomest Viscount in England!"

  "Stop it," laughed Emily, giving them both a gentle pinch. "Mama will think we've all gone mad."

  "Not that it would take much convincing," said the Duchess darkly. "I take it you're hoping to receive Viscount Tilbury this afternoon?"

  Emily rose from her seat, tugging Sarah and Harriet with her. "I'm sick of waiting around for gentlemen to appear. If he pays a call, he'll find me not at home. I've a much more diverting way to pass the afternoon." She thought of James, waiting for her at Clarence's, and glowed with pleasure to think how he would enjoy the news of his plan's success. "Come along, ladies. Let's take a walk down to Clarence's for a cup of chocolate."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Clarence's was not the usual sort of establishment much frequented by young gentlemen of the ton like James Marsden and Jacob Albemarle. The other clientele were restricted to courting couples and giggling young Misses. James let his eyes wander over the ladies sitting at the tables dotted around the small sunlit courtyard.

  No-one was a patch on Emily for good looks or charm. An uncomfortable thought, considering how often his mind had turned to her of late.

  He found himself waiting in great anticipation for her arrival. Something which her brother would certainly not appreciate.

  "Well, Ramford," he said, turning to Jacob, "did you have no morning calls to pay today? You danced with a few very pretty girls, I thought."

  "Morning calls only encourage them," grumbled Jacob. "You wouldn't believe the number of women who want to become the next Duchess of Rawly. It's truly insufferable."

  "Poor old Ramford," laughed James. "You do have a difficult life. Imagine how hard it is for me to be considered a flirt, without even a title to my name!"

  "You do quite well enough, by all reports."

  The voice which caressed his ear from behind was a silken purr that implied a set of sharp claws beneath. Only one woman's voice sent that shiver up James's spine.

  "Lady Emily," he said, rising from his seat and bowing low. How had he not noticed her coming in? It was all he'd been waiting for.

  His eyes flicked to the two girls with her, and he suppressed a groan of disappointment. With her friends about, it would be impossible to speak frankly with Emily.

  What was he thinking? Such a thing would have been impossible with her brother beside them, anyway.

  James pulled out a seat for Emily. She sat down, and Harriet and Sarah sat on either side of her, flanking her like a pair of guards.

  "I hope you don't mind, Mr Marsden," Harriet simpered, from James's chair.

  "Not at all." He sat opposite Emily. Where it was easiest to meet her clear hazel gaze. A dangerous position. "Would you like me to order for you?"

  "No, thank you." Emily raised an eyebrow, surprised at his courtesy. "We've taken care of ourselves."

  "This is a very pretty little place," said James, nodding towards the sprays of jasmine bobbing down from the trellis. "I'm glad you suggested it."

  "I doubt it's where you usually spend the day after a ball," said Emily. "No calls to pay?"

  "No-one has caught my interest, my lady."

  A mischievous flash passed behind Emily's eyes. Had she taken that as a challenge?

  The waiter brought over the girls' chocolate. James struggled not to lean in as he watched Emily lick pale cream from her lips.

  It must be the aftereffects of champagne and too little sleep. There was no other explanation for this disorienting feeling which attacked him whenever she was nearby.

  "Em had better fortune last night than any of us," said Jacob, winking at his sister. "You should've seen the stack of invitations which arrived for her this morning."

  "Invitations?" said Sarah, leaning in with interest. "Who from?"

  "Not Tilbury?" asked Harriet, with the same exaggerated sigh on his name. Emily rolled her eyes.

  "Not Tilbury, in point of fact. Not yet, anyway."

  "You seem very sure of his affections," said James, with a teasing smile. Emily shrugged daintily.

  "I am sure of my fortune and my father's position. Tilbury would be a fool not to chase me."

  "You'd be a fool not to accept him," gasped Sarah.

  "No proposals yet," Emily laughed. "Although the Earl of Corden has invited me for a drive about Hyde Park in his new curricle next Tuesday."

  "Corden?" asked James, surprised. "But he didn't even dance with you last night." What fool would pass up a dance with Emily, if he had the opportunity within his grasp?

  A strange look from Harriet reminded James that his position as Emily's advisor on gentlemen was not widely known. He sat back, trying to look disinterested.

  "I am also invited to attend a concert of new Italian music which the Marchese di Montecchio has organised." Emily gave a satisfied smile. "I happened to mention last night how much I love music."

  "Oh, Emily," sighed Harriet. "He's arranged a whole concert just for you?"

  "We don't know that for certain." But her smile said otherwise.

  "Good gracious," interrupted Jacob. "These Italians certainly know how to woo a lady, eh, Marsden?"

  James shrugged. He was trying not to notice the way Emily's smile had dimpled her cheeks.

  "And on Wednesday, Mama and I are going to Lord Jonathan Granger's house to take the tour of his mother's conservatory. Apparently she has an exquisite collection of exotic flowers."

  "I cannot imagine any flower more exquisite than the one sitting opposite me now," said James. Beside him, Jacob began coughing indignantly.

  "Steady on, Ma
rsden! We'll have none of that talk around my sister, thank you!"

  "My apologies," said James. He held Emily's eyes with his and dipped his head in apology.

  He almost missed the look of intrigue which crossed Harriet's face. Hmm. She didn't look at all put out. Perhaps her comment about blue eyes the night before had been directed at someone else.

  All for the best, poor girl. She was pretty enough, but compared to her friend she was a candle held against the sun.

  James was beginning to grow afraid that he wouldn't be able to look at any woman as long as Emily was in the room.

  "It will be quite the busy week," said Emily, changing the subject as soon as possible – whether to spare Harriet's blushes, or James's, or both, he did not know. "Papa has arranged a dinner party on Thursday, and all my suitors will be invited."

  "Has any man in particular caught your eye?" asked James. He asked before thinking what the consequences of her answer would be. In truth, he did not want to know. But he would hardly be doing his job as gentleman-consultant if he did not find out.

  Emily flushed red. "I can't say…"

  "Go on," said Sarah. That girl had a keen ear for gossip.

  Emily lowered her eyes, abashed. "I suppose the Marquess of Chiltern is the most gentlemanly."

  "Papa will be pleased," said Jacob.

  A lightning rod of alarm shot through James's body. An unpleasant, fiery sensation that he would rather he had not felt at all. It was not his place to be jealous.

  "Chiltern?" he repeated, thoughtfully. "Are you certain?"

  "I hardly know any of the gentlemen," said Emily. "You know I haven't spent a Season in London before. Do you disapprove of the Marquess?"

  James hesitated.

  By rights, he ought to say nothing.

  But in the face of Emily's preference, he found it impossible to keep silent. "I suppose you haven't seen his handkerchief," he remarked airily. Emily frowned.

  "His handkerchief?"

  "Pay close attention at your dinner party," said James, enjoying his air of mystery. "I'm afraid you'll be in for an unpleasant surprise."

  "Thank you," said Emily, a wrinkle of confusion forming between her brows.