Let the Lady Decide

by Gemma Blackwood

  Sadly, as the dance began, the reason for the Earl's reticence became all too obvious.

  The Earl was nearly completely incapable of dancing.

  The steps of the quadrille were not complicated, but the Earl's booted feet managed to go left when they should have gone right and forwards when they should have gone backwards. He bumbled around the dance floor like a bear in a blindfold. Emily had to improvise some hasty extra steps of her own to save her delicate satin slippers from being trampled. The Earl had been blessed with a tall frame and wide, square shoulders, and these he managed to bump into their neighbouring couples with painful regularity.

  The worst part was that he knew exactly how awful and ungainly he looked. Emily watched his face growing redder with every stumble. The poor Earl looked as though he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him! She almost took it upon herself to take his hand and lead him out to the safety of a chair. But that would only have shamed him more.

  The music switched to a livelier beat. Emily's heart sank inside her. The Earl jumped when he should have clapped and clapped when he should have jumped, a beat behind every other dancer. This part of the dance required Emily to twirl beside her partner. It was a relief to be able to take her eyes off his misery – until the Earl blundered sideways and sent her spinning away, almost crashing into another dancing pair! Emily struggled to keep her feet, apologising profusely in the face of two judgemental stares.

  The whole situation was too ridiculous. She was dancing with the Earl of Corden, for goodness' sake! A fine, tall, handsome, wealthy young Earl – who couldn't dance for toffee. And all the while her heart was filled with thoughts of another man. It was like a scene from a farce at the theatre.

  To her horror, Emily felt the beginnings of a giggle bubbling up from her stomach. She bit her lip and attempted to lose herself in the rhythm of the dance.

  That became impossible when the Earl's flailing arm almost clocked her in the face.

  Emily dodged, seized the Earl's shoulder to keep her balance, and let out a merry burst of laughter.

  The Earl's face turned almost maroon with shame. Emily gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth. She could not believe she'd been so rude.

  Then, the Earl's shoulders began to tremble. His lips wobbled. His jaw tensed.

  He threw back his head and let out a booming burst of mirth.

  Emily and the Earl stood in the middle of the dance floor, giving up all pretence at dancing, and laughed until their sides ached. They were attracting stares from all over the room, but that only made it funnier. The Earl offered her his arm and tried to lead her aside, but they both dissolved into giggles before they could make it.

  Emily's mother was frozen in horror on the other side of the room. She looked as though she were caught between storming forwards to rush Emily away, or backing off and disowning the whole situation.

  Eventually, thankfully, the music stopped. The Earl made Emily an extravagant bow, which she returned with tears of laughter in her eyes.

  "Well, now you have danced with me," said the Earl, finally managing to lead her away from the dance floor. "And I hope you will not be tempted to do so again."

  "I am so terribly sorry," Emily gasped. She had only a few moments. Her mother was marching through the crowd with murder in her eyes. She felt as though everyone in the room was staring at them. But it had been worth it. Just to shock them all, it had been worth it!

  "On the contrary," said the Earl. "I owe you a debt of gratitude. I have never had such a pleasant time on the dance floor."

  "I am very glad to hear it!"

  Emily's mother seized her arm. "You have made an absolute spectacle of yourself!" she hissed, dragging her away. Emily waved to the Earl helplessly. It was probably for the best. Their disastrous encounter would already be the talk of all the coffee houses the following morning. She ought to have been mortified. Her mother certainly was.

  Just as she was whisked out of Lady Helena's ballroom for good, Emily took a quick glance around the crowd to see what James had made of it all. She hoped he had enjoyed it as much as she had.

  But he was nowhere to be seen. What could have made him leave early? James was ordinarily the last to leave a lively ball.

  The memory of him and the quiet moment they had shared together put a tarnish on Emily's thoughts of her latest dance. It seemed to her that the cause of his sudden absence must be something she had done. She had either offended him...or he had realised the danger he was putting her in. Neither was an appealing thought.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was not lost on James that the Earl of Corden was now Emily's only option. The heir to the dukedom of Lathkill, no less! A man of impeccable breeding and unimaginable fortune.

  The thought irritated him like a hair shirt.

  It was not that he wanted her to spend her life single. He had committed to finding her a husband, and he intended to honour that commitment. But the thought of Emily married to Corden – the thought of her married to anyone at all – caused James a surprising amount of pain.

  They'd been flirting. That, he couldn't deny. But he was accustomed to paying meaningless compliments to the ladies of the ton. He was an expert, in fact.

  No, what had passed between him and Emily was different. Something more intimate. Something horribly real. He'd even told her about his father! Fears and half-healed wounds he'd never shared with anyone! What demon had possessed him?

  It was all a nonsense. He'd known she was beautiful from the moment he saw her; why should it affect him now? There were plenty of other beautiful girls.

  Though none with quite that shade of piercing hazel in their eyes, he had to admit. None whose hair had been so delightfully soft twined through his fingers. That sigh she'd given as he brushed his hand against her neck, so soft and so quiet he almost thought he'd imagined it – he'd never heard anything so enticing.

  He'd never understood what it meant to ache for a kiss before. Now, he was aching for her. A new experience. Not a welcome one.

  James tried to tell himself that the motives which brought him to the Duke of Rawly's residence the morning after the ball were innocent and honest. He tried to tell himself that he'd left the ball immediately after Emily had kissed his cheek because he was tired.

  He was a passable liar, but lying to himself was another matter.

  "You don't seem quite well this morning," said Mrs Wrenn, as they rattled along in the hackney carriage. "Was it a late night?"

  James made a face. "I don't want to talk about balls when you have no prospect of attending them. My problems are so slight compared to yours."

  "But I want to hear about them," pressed Mrs Wrenn. "You don't know how I miss my old life."

  "Of course you do." James twirled his hat in his hands. "Well, the music was pleasant, the girls were silly, the food was bland, and the talk was shallow."

  Mrs Wrenn's mouth twitched up at the corners. "And I thought there was nothing you loved more than dancing the night away at a ball."

  "Well, I've lost my taste for them."

  "My poor friend! Are the ladies not pretty enough for you? Or is it that you've lost your touch with them?"

  James was not in the mood for this sort of teasing, but he didn't dare show it. Susan Wrenn was too perspicacious to trust with even a morsel of the truth. "Perhaps I'm showing my age," he said, sighing dramatically. "I'm becoming a stuffy old bachelor, interested in hunting dogs and books of genealogy."

  "I would never accuse you of being stuffy," said Mrs Wrenn. She looked out of the window as the carriage came to a stop. "Oh! My goodness! This can't be the place!"

  "Is something wrong?" asked James. Mrs Wrenn turned to him with desperation in her eyes.

  "It's just so terribly grand. I'm not dressed to visit such a fine address."

  James knew full well that she had sold all her fine clothes, and what she was wearing now was the very best she owned. He patted her hand soothingly. "Lady Emily isn't the sort to c
are about dresses. And she knows your circumstances. That's partly why she asked to meet you."

  "They'll send me round to the servants' entrance!"

  "Don't be ridiculous. Have a little courage! This could well be your ticket back into high society."

  "I have never met a Duke's daughter before," protested Mrs Wrenn. "What on earth will we talk about?"

  James's mouth quirked up. "Mathematics," he said firmly. "And architecture."

  "You're teasing me," said Mrs Wrenn, shaking her head. "Oh, well. I am Andrew Wrenn's wife, after all. What's a Duke compared to that?"

  "That's the spirit," said James. He stepped out of the carriage first and offered her a hand down. Mrs Wrenn looked up fearfully at the ornate stone façade of the Duke's London home.

  James had to admit that he was no less fearful himself, though he was forced to hide it. He did not quite know how Emily would receive him after their encounter at the ball. Worse, the morning after was the traditional time for suitors to come calling. What if the Earl of Corden were in there with her?

  Hang it all! James fought to stop his imagination constructing the dreadful image of the Earl getting down on one knee before Emily's delighted smile. They were barely acquainted, after all. A man who needed multiple hints to ask a woman to dance would hardly be proposing the following morning.

  The butler let them into the waiting room, where both James and Mrs Wrenn chewed over their private nerves. Once they were summoned into the drawing room, they found Emily sitting at the harp with an expression of shock on her face.

  A lock of hair had fallen to her shoulders and was gently tracing the contours of her neck. James's fingers itched to touch it.

  "Mr Marsden! This is such a surprise!"

  "You were expecting someone else," said James, bowing. On the sofa, Jacob folded up his newspaper. James hadn't noticed him at first. Emily was all he could see.

  "Oh, it's only you, Marsden. Good morning! Didn't have a chance to chat much last night. And you've brought company! Do introduce us."

  "May I present Mrs Susan Wrenn," said James, willing Susan to keep her confidence in front of the Duke's heir. "Mrs Wrenn, this is the Earl of Ramford."

  "Delighted," said Jacob, bowing low. Mrs Wrenn stifled a nervous giggle.

  "It's a pleasure, my lord."

  Emily rushed towards them the instant she heard Mrs Wrenn's name. "Why, you are the dear woman who did me such a kind service! I feel as though we are friends already. I am Lady Emily Albemarle, but I would be honoured if you would call me simply Emily."

  James felt his friend relax. "Then I am Susan."

  "Susan," Emily repeated, clasping her hands. "It's such a pleasure to meet you! Let me ring for some tea, and then we can become properly acquainted."

  "What's all this, Em?" asked Jacob. "What service has Mrs Wrenn done you?"

  "Never you mind," said Emily. James could tell she rather enjoyed the mystery. He was gladder than he could say to see how well she'd recovered from her nasty experience with the Viscount.

  Jacob laughed heartily. "You ladies and your secrets! Very well, I won't press you. Come down to the stables with me, Marsden? My father's got a stunning new stallion I know you'd like to see."

  "Later, perhaps," said James, nodding towards Mrs Wrenn. "It would be churlish of me to abandon my friend so soon after arriving."

  Jacob frowned – it was plain to see that the women were already chatting away like old friends – but he didn't object. He walked away to the stables, whistling merrily. James was grateful that neither of his friends seemed to have caught wind of his real motive for staying in Emily's company.

  By the time the tea arrived, Emily and Susan had decided that they had so much in common it was a wonder they had not known each other since they were children. James warmed to see Emily so skilfully putting the other woman at her ease. Susan had once been the most sociable and confident of his female friends, but the loss of her husband had changed her greatly. He began to see some of her old self resurface under Emily's careful guidance.

  "Is my brother absolutely gone?" asked Emily, as she poured the tea. "Then we may speak freely, thank goodness." She moved with a studied grace, doubtless the result of many lessons under her mother's watchful eye. She really was the perfect Society hostess, James realised. It felt like a kick to the stomach.

  She was too perfect, too titled, too beautiful – too far above him in every way. Even if he were inclined to give in to his rising attraction to her – even then, what could he do about it?

  She was not for him.

  He smiled through his discomfort. If he knew nothing else, in a world which the nearness of Emily had turned on its head, he knew how to be charming.

  "I think you were expecting some company other than ourselves this morning, Lady Emily," he remembered. Now that Susan had been invited to call Emily by her first name, he resented having to use the title – not that he could bear to show it. "May I make a guess as to who?"

  "It would not be very difficult," said Emily, wrinkling her nose in the most adorable fashion. "There is only one man remaining out of all of my six suitors – oh! And the time I had with him last night! You were not there to see it, Mr Marsden – it was too, too amusing! Mama was so scandalised, it's a wonder she's allowing me to receive visitors at all this morning. She was too cross this morning to sit with me herself, you know. So poor old Jacob was roped into it."

  "Six suitors?" asked Susan. Emily pressed a hand to her cheek, pretending to be embarrassed.

  "Yes – a very indiscreet number, is it not? My dear Papa approved no fewer than six gentlemen for me, and left it entirely up to me to decide which one I ought to accept. Well, I don't mind telling you that I did not feel at all equal to the task – and that's where Mr Marsden stepped in!"

  "He did not tell me that," said Susan, giving James a look that was altogether too knowing.

  "He has been the greatest help to me," said Emily. She didn't even blush! Was the memory of their almost-kiss the night before so inconsequential to her?

  James found he could hardly stand the turn the conversation was taking. There was nothing he wanted to hear about less than Emily's experiences with the Earl. "Very enlightening it has been, too," he said, a good deal more sharply than he intended. Emily jumped, surprised by his tone.

  "Of course, Mr Marsden is good enough to remind me that we are not here to discuss my own affairs," she said, avoiding James's eye. She laid a hand on Susan's arm. "I must apologise - prattling on like this about matters of no consequence is simply unforgivable! I know your own troubles are so much greater than mine."

  "Oh! Please!" Susan rolled her eyes. "All I ever hear from people is how sorry they are, how dreadfully awful they imagine my life is. There's nothing I need less than pity."

  "Then let us work out what you do need, and provide you with it immediately," said Emily. "Honestly, Susan, I owe you such a great deal. If you had not told Mr Marsden the Viscount's true nature... I shudder to think! And you are still suffering because of his cruelty – it's too much!"

  "Mr Marsden and his brother have provided me with ample funds to seek legal assistance," said Susan. "I really cannot ask for more than that. Until I am comfortably-off again I fear it will be impossible for me to re-enter Society."

  "That is too awful," said Emily. "But in that regard, at least, I think I can help you. I have more social engagements at present than I know how to manage, and I should be very grateful to take a friend along as my guest. My close friends and I all meet together at least once a week – it's only silly, frivolous talk, of course, but it is quite diverting – and I'm sure they'll be delighted to meet you, if you'll agree to come."

  "I wouldn't want to impose on you..." said Susan. James could almost see the worries whirling through her mind: what dress she would wear; what she would find to talk about; how Emily's friends would react when a penniless widow was flung into their midst...

  "I quite understand if it would be too much
for you," said Emily gently. "But let me assure you – and I don't mean to brag – but my influence is great enough that you will be welcomed with open arms wherever I take you. Do think it over. I think there is no ill so great in all the world that it can't be lessened by the comfort of friends." She smiled ruefully. "Sometimes I find them a shallow bunch – rather too occupied with French lace and handsome gentlemen – but they have good hearts, all the same. It would do us all good to lend assistance to someone in need. Please come along to one of our little meetings."

  "I'll think about it," said Susan. She was already half won over. Emily beamed.

  "And if you're at all worried about what to wear, put your mind at rest. I only mention this because everyone nowadays is so concerned with fashion, but I couldn't help noticing that you and I are about the same size. I don't want to make presumptions about your circumstances, but –"

  "Would you really lend me a dress?" asked Susan.

  "Of course."

  "Then I will gladly meet your friends!" Susan glanced at James. "I imagine you think it frivolous, Mr Marsden, but a woman's clothes are her armour."

  "I quite understand," he said. He had noticed the gorgeous lilac muslin Emily wore the second he entered the room; it would have been churlish to deny that he understood how the right gown could make or break a woman's confidence. "You would be horrified to hear how long it takes me to dress, Mrs Wrenn."

  "You ought to give Jacob some tips," said Emily, with a mischievous smirk. "He is always pestering me for advice. I think sometimes he needs to swap his valet for a French maid!"

  "On the contrary, I applaud him for taking advantage of your expertise. With such a master at hand, what man could not seek guidance?"

  No sooner had James spoken than he succumbed to a daydream of life with Emily on hand to adjust his cravat and tease him about his vanity. Where did these visions come from? He had never suffered them before. How he envied Jacob – yes, even her brother – that he could pop across the hall and take Emily's advice at any hour of the day! He hoped the man appreciated it.