Marrying Mischief

by Lyn Stone

  Her question seemed to break his concentration. “No, not at all. In truth, it will take us hardly less time to get there than it will to get in and out of the carriage. We could walk it more swiftly than ride, but that’s not allowed,” he said in an amused and conspiratorial voice.

  He nodded at the ubiquitous Upton, who responded by opening the front door, and they were off to their first public occasion together as man and wife.

  A scant hour later Nick observed Emily as she mingled with the Hammersleys’ other guests after the serving of refreshments.

  The huge room, bared of all its furniture except for a long and elaborate buffet and the chairs placed along the walls, left plenty of space for those in attendance to circulate. Next door was the ballroom, similar to the one at Kendale House. There, Nick noticed, several dozens of chairs were set in lines for the audience. A temporary dais had been placed at one end to approximate a stage of sorts for the musicale.

  “She’s faring better than I thought she would,” said a voice directly behind him. “Actually she doesn’t look too shabby.”

  Nick turned. “Carrick, I’d not thought to see you here.”

  His cousin smiled, one blond brow cocked slyly. “I’m the toast of the town, hadn’t you heard? Lady Julia has agreed—once I mentioned my connection to you, of course—to allow me to paint Lord Hammersley.”

  “You had no right to presume upon my friendship with them,” Nick said through gritted teeth.

  Carrick blithely waved off the reprimand. “Well, I did come by to gain your permission, but you weren’t at home.” He leaned closer and admonished Nick, “You never contacted me as you promised you would when you refused me entrance at Bournesea. What was that all about, anyway? Your wife mentioned someone was ill at the time?”

  Nick wasn’t about to tell him there was cholera. It would be like Carrick to report him and there were laws about coming ashore in England with a contagious disease. “It is true we had a bout of sickness there. It would have endangered your health to enter.”

  “The coughing sickness?” Carrick asked, his face paling. “Or worse than that? Not influenza!”

  “What do you care? It hasn’t affected you, has it?” Nick snapped. “But to return to our former topic, which you are so adroitly trying to avoid, what makes you think I will endorse your employment by Lady Julia if she asks me about you? I’ve never known you to do an honest day’s work in your life. If I had reported all the minor thefts you performed at Bournesea when we were lads, Father would have hanged you on the premises. I warn you—”

  Carrick sniffed. “Oh, come now, Nicky. We aren’t children any longer. An artist must take his opportunities wherever he finds them. The Hammersleys won’t be disappointed. I’m quite good at what I do. You must come by my studio and be reassured. Friday evening would be an excellent time.”

  He tucked a printed card in Nick’s breast pocket, serious now, his expression indicating that he had something more important on his mind than showing off his painting skills. “Around ten, shall we say?”

  “No, I have plans for the evening,” Nick replied.

  The gray eyes narrowed and Carrick’s lips thinned as he spoke, betraying his concealed anger. “We have business to discuss, Kendale, and I am still your heir.”

  “Hopefully a temporary condition.” Nick observed his cousin closely to see how he regarded the possibility of a child supplanting him.

  To Carrick’s credit, he shrugged it off. “I have considered that.” He tapped Nick gently on the arm with his fist and forced a smile. “Fatherhood would make you age before your time, y’know. Gad, you already have wrinkles I should love to paint, old man.” He inclined his head in Emily’s direction. “More to the point, I would give my eyeteeth to paint your wife.”

  “You stay away from her or you’ll find yourself in the hold of a ship bound for a place you’ve never even heard of.”

  Carrick’s eyes rounded in mock fear. “I’m terrified.”

  Nick pinned him with a glare. “If you are not, you should be.”

  With his smile still in place, Carrick nodded. “I shall see you again soon, cousin.”

  He drifted away, quickly attaching himself to one of the ladies who seemed enormously flattered by the attention.

  Useless fop. Nick shook his head and sighed. There had never been anything but dissension between him and Carrick that had carried over from that of their fathers. If the ne’er-do-well had changed at all in the past seven years, Nick would be much surprised. Still, he supposed he must allow him the benefit of the doubt. That is, so long as the wretch never approached Emily again.

  Impatient with the unpleasant interruption, Nick searched for her. Much to his relief, she hadn’t moved far from where he’d last seen her, and she still appeared to be at ease.

  Lady Julia, at her own suggestion when Nick had spoken with them earlier, gave off the impression this evening that she and Emily were friends of long-standing.

  Guy had arrived and hailed Emily effusively, complimenting her as if he had known her forever, adding to her consequence.

  The ruse appeared to be working. Everyone greeted her pleasantly, at any rate, and there were no frowns or quizzical looks at the newest member among them.

  “She’s charming, your Emily,” Hammersley observed as he approached Nick and handed him a glass of wine. “Even the redoubtable Lady Fitzwaren appears less dour than usual in her presence. Look at that, would you? I had no idea the old crone knew how to smile. Perhaps we here in town needed the breath of fresh air your lady provides. Julia is quite taken with her, you know.”

  “Good. Emily will need friends,” Nick replied. “I can’t tell you how gratified I am by what you and Julia have accomplished tonight.”

  “Not us, my friend. You have that wife of yours to commend. Considering your worries this afternoon, I must admit I thought it would take more doing.”

  Michael scanned the room as if looking for someone, and changed the topic of their conversation. “There are only a few more guests due and then we can be seated. The ensemble Julia has hired are most accomplished.”

  “Will she be playing for us tonight?” Nick asked. On one of his brief business trips to London, Michael had invited him here for an evening. “She has such an extraordinary talent.”

  “Thank you on her behalf,” his friend answered, smiling with pride. “Perhaps you might suggest her participation. When I do so, she balks, thinking I am prejudiced about her unique abilities. You know how it’s frowned upon, a lady exhibiting willingness to show off her talent. One has to beg, so do me a favor and beg, will you?”

  “Gladly,” Nick promised, then thought he might broach the subject of Carrick. “Michael, speaking of talent—”

  Hammersley interrupted, his attention focused on the doorway. “Ah, here are our latecomers now. Excuse me while I go and do the pretty.”

  Nick’s heart dropped. The recent arrivals stood arm in arm, awaiting welcome. Dierdre and her father. Too late he regretted that he had made no mention of his contretemps with the Worthings to Michael and Julia.

  He should have known this run of good luck was due a turnaround. Hoping to take the brunt of the Worthings’ antipathy and to protect Emily’s sensibilities as best he could, he strode across the room to join her.

  This meeting could prove disastrous, a scandal to rival them all, one that would surely undo Emily’s efforts to win any friends here.

  As it happened, Worthing and Dierdre did not approach immediately. They made a quick round of the room, speaking to everyone else, shooting Emily and him the occasional dark look. Emily seemed blissfully unaware of the undercurrent of animosity radiating from them as she continued her conversation with Lady Fitzwaren.

  Nick wanted to warn her in the event she had not yet seen or recognized the Worthings. They were working their way closer.

  Just as the baron’s fiery gaze connected with Nick’s, Duquesne intercepted the older man and all but dragged him aside. In
Guy’s spirited attempt at distraction, Nick heard some questioning reference to market investments. That should keep him occupied for a while.

  However, no one knew to waylay the daughter, and Dierdre was making a beeline for Emily.

  “Why, Emily Loveyne, how marvelous to see you! Imagine our meeting here, of all places!”

  Lady Fitzwaren cleared her throat noisily, then corrected Dierdre. “That’s the Countess of Kendale you are addressing, y’know. Mind your manners.”

  Emily smiled at Lady Fitzwaren and returned Dierdre’s greeting. “Miss Worthing. Yes, this is a surprise.”

  Indeed, Nick thought, trying not to let his apprehension show. Her smile firmly in place, Dierdre acknowledged him with a fleeting glance. “Kendale.”

  “Miss Worthing,” he replied, wondering whether he dared hope Dierdre had been as in the dark about their fake betrothal as he had for all those years. About as likely as snow in the Sahara.

  Dierdre tapped Emily on the wrist with her fan and declared rather loudly, “Lord Vintley must be distraught at your decision. But I daresay you’ve done a great deal better for yourself than hiring on as his governess!”

  Emily smiled sweetly. “I daresay I have. Perhaps there is some other unwed lady you know who would be interested in the position you suggested to me?”

  Old Lady Fitzwaren coughed to cover a laugh.

  Nick envisioned two short fuses attached to either side of a keg of gunpowder. And sparks were beginning to fly.

  Michael’s hand landed on Nick’s shoulder. “What do you say we begin to round up this crowd and herd them in for the program? I expect our musicians are champing at the bit by now. If Julia provided them spirits, we might have to sober them up before they can play.”

  “Certainly. Excuse us, if you will.” Using the pretext Michael had conveniently provided, Nick took Emily’s arm and firmly escorted her away from Dierdre Worthing and the anticipatory attention of Lady Fitzwaren.

  Their path crossed with Julia’s and Nick recalled Michael’s suggestion. “My lady, I pray you’ll do us the honor of performing this evening.”

  There were several exclamations of agreement from people standing nearby. However, one of those rather stridently overrode the others. Dierdre had come from behind and boldly looped her arm through Emily’s. “Oh, but here is a new voice we truly must hear! Tell us, do you know anything secular at all, Emily?”

  Nick could feel Emily tense, but she sounded as calm as a day in May when she answered. “Why, yes, but I would not presume—”

  “But you must, my dear!” Dierdre insisted, withdrawing her arm and patting Emily’s shoulder.

  “Of course, you must,” chimed the old Lady Fitzwaren. “I, for one, would welcome something fresh in the way of entertainment. We’ll hear you, too, Julia. That is why we came, after all.” The dowager turned her bead-like eyes on Nick. “Well, Kendale, won’t you prevail upon your bride to entertain us?”

  He looked down at Emily, fully intending a rescue, but she was smiling winningly at the older woman as she answered. “If you require it, madam, then I should be most honored.”

  So it was settled with a chorus of encouragement from all save Dierdre Worthing, who remained quiet and somewhat smug that she had brought off her little scheme.

  Nick knew Emily could sing well. But that wasn’t the point. He hated to see her trapped into doing so before a crowd of people who would prove a damn sight more critical than her father’s congregation or a rowdy bunch of seamen. However, there was nothing he could do now but offer her what support he could.

  “Will you be all right?” he whispered as they were taking their seats.

  “Of course I shall,” she assured him, daintily adjusting her gloves.

  They gave Julia their attention as she took the floor and introduced the musicians. Apparently the group performing were to appear at the Holcomb Concert Hall at the end of the week. Nick only half attended as they began to play since he was so worried about Emily’s state of mind. She could pretend with the best of them, but he felt she must be roiling inside with apprehension. This was a trial by fire, no doubt about it.

  After two instrumentals and resulting applause, Julia returned to the dais and announced, “To our great delight, Lady Emily, Countess of Kendale, has agreed to honor us with the ballad ‘A Day Upon the Moors,’ written by Sir Joseph Trenton. I shall accompany her on the pianoforte.” She smiled and held out a welcoming hand toward Emily.

  Nick stood when she did and escorted her to the front of the room to join their hostess. That duty accomplished, there was little to do but to take a seat and see what would happen.

  Much to his amazement, Emily seemed perfectly at ease, her white-gloved hands folded primly at her waist, her untroubled gaze meeting that of a number of people in her audience as she waited for Julia to take her place before the keys.

  The melodic prelude wove its way around the cavernous ballroom. Then, on a clear note that began in perfect tune with the one Julia struck, Emily began her song.

  As soon as he recovered from his astonishment, he glanced around him. Every eye in the room was on her, gazing in awestruck wonder. She sang like a veritable angel, her voice clear and true, her own eyes closed as though savoring the heartfelt tragedy described in the words, their pathos enhanced by the minor notes the composer had employed and Emily and Julia’s poignant rendition.

  Tears leaked down the cheeks of Lady Fitzwaren. Nick thought he might weep, too, out of sheer relief. No one under the sun could find fault with Emily’s accomplishment here. How could he ever have doubted her?

  She was used to this, he realized. He wondered how many times in recent years her father must have called upon her to sing solo at his services. Nick had rarely heard her sing alone before.

  He didn’t know why it should surprise him. At every challenge presented thus far, she had excelled. Except that she could not muster any trust for her husband.

  And did you trust her? The voice of conscience echoed inside his head. No, he had not. He had expected her to fail at every turn. Somehow, his father’s ingrained notion that she would never make him a proper wife must have lodged somewhere inside Nick’s own brain. He needed kicking.

  As the last melancholy notes of the song trailed off into the breathless silence within the chamber, Nick vowed to himself and to Emily that he would place full faith in her from here on. She was no longer a girl, but a woman with capabilities he had not been giving her credit for having.

  When fervent applause erupted, and people began to stand, he added his own sincere accolade. She was wonderful and he meant to tell her so as soon as humanly possible.

  When she modestly declined an encore, he rose quickly and went to escort her back to their chairs. The remainder of the program, he barely heard at all, so engrossed was he in deciding just how to go about making up to Emily for his lack of confidence in her.

  At last the entertainment drew to a close and conversation began to buzz around the room.

  Everyone would spend at least an hour discussing the program and how much they enjoyed it. Then the guests would begin to say good-night and depart.

  He wished he and Emily could leave immediately, but he would never prevent her hearing all the compliments she was certain to receive. Even now, guests were surrounding her for just that purpose. He was saving his praise for later, when they were alone.

  He saw Dierdre whisper something in Emily’s ear. Emily gave a succinct nod and immediately accompanied Dierdre toward the doorway. He knew they must be headed for the retiring room, one of the bedchambers Julia would have set aside for the ladies to make repairs to their toilette and such. Not good, those two being alone. God only knew what Dierdre would say to her.

  There was nothing for it but to trust Emily to handle the awkward situation on her own. Here was a real test of what he had promised to do, have confidence in her. She could manage, he told himself. In spite of that, his mind’s eye pictured Dierdre Worthing dashing down t
he stairs in a few moments with half her hair yanked out.

  Suppose he followed them and they had only gone upstairs for obvious purposes?

  He bided his time, circulating among the guests and accepting their kind words about his wife.

  Baron Worthing came close enough to speak only once during that time, only to give Nick the cut direct. Though the intentional slight was obvious to everyone around them, no one commented and it drew only a few curious looks. That old device had been employed so often during the past century, it had lost most of its effect.

  Nick kept an eye on the doorway where Emily and Dierdre had disappeared. All he could do was hope for the best.

  Guy suddenly appeared at his elbow, his expression indicating that he had observed the goings-on with some interest. He was the only person in the room, other than Worthing himself, who knew of the potential disaster brewing.

  “Smile, Nicky,” he said. “After all, what is the worst that could happen?”

  Nick released a sigh. “Having met my wife as you did last evening, need you ask?” Then he shook his head. “Trust comes hard, but I must believe she will handle herself with decorum.”

  Guy laughed. “I suppose you must. Care to wager on the outcome?”

  “I already have,” Nick replied.

  Emily accompanied Dierdre Worthing to the retiring room to avoid a public confrontation she knew would embarrass their hosts. At least that was the primary reason. She had to admit she was also bursting with curiosity. There was a fire in Dierdre Worthing’s eyes that belied the purred invitation she had offered.

  And Emily knew very well that Dierdre had attempted to embarrass her royally with that suggestion that she sing.

  Though the Worthings remained in London most of the time, especially since Dierdre had her Seasons, they did own the relatively small manor house not six miles from the church where Emily’s father tended his flock.

  The family had become part of the congregation generations ago by invitation of one of Nick’s ancestors. The names of many Worthing births, marriages and deaths were recorded in the church registry. Emily and her father never visited the Worthings socially, of course, but she had gone with him in his duty as vicar to visit the sick on their estate and to offer comfort to their bereaved.