by Allison Lane
Yet escaping notice from her friends wasn’t enough to assure the solitude she needed. Lady Sheridan was too competent a hostess to leave any guest alone for long. So when a chattering group of girls set out around the lake, Emily quietly joined them. As soon as they entered the woods, she dropped back and slipped off the path, heading for a sunbeam visible through the trees. It marked a tiny dell containing a convenient boulder where she could sit.
With heavy heart, she reviewed Jacob’s hurtful words, hoping to find another interpretation. But there was none. Not only did he not believe in love, he had no intention of being faithful to a wife.
This explained why he never bedded the same courtesan twice. And it explained why he changed interests so often. He might not believe in love, but he feared it existed. So he made sure that he would never become attached to anyone or anything.
She released a shaky breath. Now she knew why he’d fled ten years ago and never returned to Hawthorne Park. She had misread him completely. He didn’t want her love and would throw it in her face if she offered it. But he needed it even worse than she’d thought.
What had hurt him so deeply? Nothing she’d learned from either Richard or Lady Hawthorne could explain it. But his pain was real. She’d heard it threading his voice.
Movement in the nearest tree momentarily caught her eye, but birds held little interest for her today.
This changed everything. Jacob would not be sweeping her away to declare undying devotion. And if she pressed, he would likely flee. So she must concentrate on deepening their friendship. He admired the way Westlake had wed a friend.
They had truly become friends that summer. If she offered only that, maintaining the ennui that was customary in town, he might welcome her as his wife. Then she could teach him to love.
She was recalling his most recent interests – as related by Lady Hawthorne – when a voice interrupted.
“There you are!” Charles erased his frown as he entered the clearing. “Is something wrong? What are you doing out here alone?”
“Watching a robin feed her young.”
“You shouldn’t wander off,” he chided.
“I know.” She took his arm and headed back to the path. “But I’m unaccustomed to crowds and needed a few moments to recover.”
“London can be hectic,” he agreed, patting her hand. His eyes twinkled. “Not that you need to fret. Not only are you a diamond of the first water, but you possess kindness and sense as well.”
“What fustian.” She shook her head. “Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, Charles, but you must confine your exaggerations to the realm of possibility if you hope to be believed. Else you will be considered naught but an empty-headed flatterer.”
“I? A flatterer? My dear Emily, you cannot have such a low opinion of yourself. Do you not know that sunlight turns your eyes to pure gold? The Graces are clumsy compared to you. I look upon your face and see a goddess, a—”
She laughed so hard, she had to grab his arm to keep from falling. “Too, too droll,” she finally gasped. “You have lightened my day immeasurably. Now be a friend and tell me about the man rowing with Harriet.” She’d changed boats while Emily was away.
“Borden?”
“If that’s his name. Will he do as a suitor for her?”
“You want her settled soon.”
“Of course.” She met his eyes. “Wouldn’t you?”
He nodded, then dismissed Borden, along with most other guests. Those who might do were an unprepossessing bunch that Harriet would reject without a second glance.
Emily sighed.
Chapter Five
Emily felt numb by the time she left for Lady Horseley’s rout that evening. Rekindling her friendship with Jacob would be difficult. He spoke of nothing but Harriet when they were together, putting her in an impossible quandary. If she criticized Harriet or even alluded to her intransigence, he would think envy made her exaggerate, unless he concluded she couldn’t handle the simple task he’d assigned her.
Yet she could hardly claim that all was well. Harriet’s expression had been surprisingly satisfied since leaving Lady Sheridan’s. The look was so at odds with her complaints that Emily feared she’d arranged an assignation. Such behavior would ruin her.
She’d rehearsed several warning speeches for Jacob that she hoped would demonstrate her concern without condemning Harriet out of hand, but she still didn’t know which one to use. The uncertainty kept her tense as she entered Lady Horseley’s drawing room.
He wasn’t there. Was he not coming?
The question kept her on tenterhooks for the next hour as Richard introduced a dozen people she’d not yet met. Her heart leaped into her throat when Jacob finally appeared in the doorway.
But in the end, she had no chance to use any of her speeches. Jacob swept Harriet away without even pausing to greet Emily or Richard. The only glance aimed in her direction had been full of fury. What had she done now?
Only Charles’s arrival a quarter hour later cut short her brooding. His droll wit soon had her laughing.
* * * *
Jacob wanted to tear his hair out. Two cubs in the receiving line had been parodying Harriet in a most unflattering fashion. He’d dampened their humor, but it was clear that her ignorance was drawing notice. If she didn’t settle soon, that notice would turn to censure.
What was worse was his reaction to Emily. His tongue had nearly hit the floor when he’d spotted her. That yellow gown had turned her eyes amber, but tonight’s green added flecks that made him think of sun-drenched forest glades. Her gown was simplicity itself, but the cut emphasized her curves, the effect making him want to sweep her away to the country and devour her at his leisure. He’d never reacted to anything this strongly, and it terrified him.
He’d had to abandon the idea of hiring a chaperon for Harriet. Hughes House was too small. So he must continue dealing with Emily – which made his sudden lust an even bigger problem.
To regain control of himself – and to make sure Harriet behaved – he took his ward firmly in hand to complete the introductions he’d begun at Lady Penleigh’s. Without approval from the hostesses, she would receive no invitations.
He also intended to warn her against alienating potential suitors. Her conduct at Lady Sheridan’s made it unlikely that she would receive attention from any of the gentlemen she’d met there.
Yet she was no better tonight.
He soon realized that she disdained women, casting new light on Lt. Stevens’s claim that Wentworth had kept Harriet confined. Jacob suspected that Harriet had refused invitations she considered boring, especially those afternoon teas beloved of the wives.
He backed her into a corner where they could speak without being overheard. It was too late to cancel her come-out, so he must make her understand that her interests would best be served by following the rules.
“Your manners are atrocious,” he hissed, brushing her hand from his sleeve.
“What about theirs?” she hissed back. “They treat me as though I’d crawled out from under a rock.”
“In their eyes, you did,” he said in a milder tone. “Not because of your breeding,” he added over her protest. “But because of your manners. You cannot snub people with impunity.”
“That’s not what Miss Hughes said,” snapped Harriet. “She told me to ignore anyone who made me uncomfortable.”
“You misunderstood. She was referring to rakes and lechers. Stay away from such men if you value your reputation. But you must be scrupulously polite to everyone else.”
“She was not talking about men. I’d asked about the ladies who glare at me.”
“Nonsense.”
“You mean she lied?” Tears shimmered in her blue eyes, turning them to a transparent window to her soul. Or so a gullible fool might think. Her mother had used the same trick. He’d seen the woman practicing it in front of a mirror.
“Ladies don’t lie, Miss Nichols. You were confused.”
“No. She did it deliberately so I would ruin myself. She wants me to fail. How can you force me to live with such horrible people? They gloated because I couldn’t go to court yesterday and laughed in my face when I didn’t receive vouchers to Almack’s. Miss Hughes threatened to turn me out on the street if I told you about it. You must take me away from there before they ruin me. I can’t—”
“Stop this fustian at once,” he snapped. “I’ve known the Hughes family for years. They would never harm a guest.”
“You don’t know that,” she continued, pressing against his arm. “Miss Hughes resents me. She hates sharing her Season.”
Fury nearly choked him. “She has too much sense to play childish pranks. Pay attention, Miss Nichols. It is your own misbehavior that threatens your reputation. This is your last chance. If you annoy any more hostesses, you will receive no invitations.” He again reviewed the rules, pointing out evidence that she was eroding her credit with each new infraction.
But as he listed her errors, her charges echoed through his mind. How well did he truly know Emily? He’d not seen her in ten years. Even Richard was rarely home to observe her for himself. Many likable young girls grew into selfish ladies who might well resent having a Harriet thrust into their homes – especially for a come-out that had been postponed so often. Might Emily sabotage Harriet’s chances out of pique?
He thrust the question aside, unwilling to believe it. But he would have to watch her closely, just in case. Tomorrow would offer an excellent opportunity. Harriet had no invitations, so everyone was attending Astley’s. Without the press of society around them, he could study how the girls got on together.
“I knew she hated me,” Harriet swore when he finished his lecture with another injunction against arrogance. “That’s the opposite of what Miss Hughes said. She is trying to turn me into a savage.”
“Nonsense. You are hysterical.”
“It’s so different here.” Her grip tightened as she moved closer. “It frightens me that I can ruin myself without realizing it. It’s more frightening to realize that you are the only one I can trust.”
He cursed, recognizing the power of her eyes even though he knew it was an act. If she turned that look on Richard or Charles, she might drive them to do her bidding. He must warn them.
In the meantime, he would make one more stab at penetrating her selfishness. “England is different only in your mind, Miss Nichols. Now pay attention. Routs are places to meet people and discuss the latest news. Your goal is to befriend as many hostesses as possible so you will have something to do this Season.”
“But you—”
“—can do nothing further. I wrested a few invitations for you on the promise that you were presentable. But now that the hostesses have met you, only their opinions matter. We will continue around the room. Either treat everyone with deference, or I will send you home. I won’t risk my own reputation by claiming you are civilized when their own eyes prove different.”
Her eyes blazed briefly, then softened. “I will do my best, my lord. But you cannot leave my side. Without you to support me, I’m sure I will make more mistakes.”
Manipulative wench. He wanted nothing to do with her. But escorting her was the only way to prevent a scandal that would reflect badly on Richard’s family, so he grudgingly nodded. “Tonight only. After this, you are on your own. Linking your name with mine will destroy you.”
Fuming, he led her back into the crowd, determined to find someone to take her off his hands. Too bad Bates avoided insipid entertainments like routs. He and Harriet were two of a kind, both wanting more than they deserved. Bates had women panting after him wherever he went.
Sir Bertram was absent, too. He’d looked for the man ever since Lady Beatrice had recommended him, but Sir Bertram seemed to have vanished.
* * * *
Emily nearly groaned when Jacob and Harriet rejoined their group two hours later. How could he let Harriet cling so tightly? It made her look brazen and him look smitten. Finding her a suitable match would be harder than ever.
His words to Charles echoed ominously. Surely he didn’t think Harriet would make an acceptable wife! No matter what he thought of love, he owed the earldom an heir with impeccable breeding.
Shaking off her sudden fear, she turned back to Charles, who was entertaining her with descriptions of society’s leaders.
“I see Lord Sedgewick Wiley is gracing us with his presence this evening,” he said as an Exquisite paused in the doorway to survey the room. “After Brummell fled his creditors, Lord Sedgewick became the highest authority on fashion and manners. Note the perfectly tied cravat, the refined line of his coat, the discriminating choice of waistcoat, the elegant use of his glass.”
Lord Sedgewick was so well turned out that other men seemed either overdressed or too plain. He leisurely quizzed Miss Lutterworth, taking in her blue crape gown with its vandyked bodice, full sleeves, and white crape rouleau above the flounce. More vandyking at the bottom drew eyes to her trim ankles and blue satin slippers. Simple, yet elegant. When Lord Sedgewick nodded approval, Miss Lutterworth seemed happier than when the princess had complimented her gown at yesterday’s Drawing Room. Her modiste’s credit would soar by morning.
“Watch him with young Bailey,” murmured Charles, tickling her ear with his breath. “The lad’s manners are rough. There was an incident yesterday that demands censure. I’ve no doubt Lord Sedgewick means to straighten him out.”
A brief comment turned Bailey’s face red. Another elicited a vigorous nod, followed by a deep bow. Bailey immediately left.
“Off to make amends, I’ll warrant,” said Charles.
“Surely such power is dangerous.” Emily shook her head.
“In the wrong hands it could be, but Lord Sedgewick won’t abuse it. He takes his position as society’s conscience seriously, and he wants everyone to succeed. But you needn’t fret about him. He will judge you a valuable addition to London. Your gown is elegant without excess, a perfect foil for your beauty. I especially like the way those knots of ribbon set off the flounce. And the color adds green flecks to those astonishing amber eyes. They remind me of the sun.”
She blushed. Despite her afternoon objections, he continued pouring the butter boat over her head. The compliments sounded strange coming from a man she recalled as a scrawny boy who’d broken his arm falling from an apple tree at age twelve. But it fit his reputation as a flirt. If only Richard hadn’t demanded he help look after her. Charles must resent wasting his talents on someone so negligible.
But he couldn’t abandon her at the moment. Richard had disappeared. Jacob was busy with Harriet. Sophie was surrounded by her usual court, augmented tonight by the dark-haired man. Emily still hadn’t discovered his name. None of the Beaux had introduced her, though she’d noted several mothers pushing their daughters in his direction, so he must be a desirable party.
“Who is that?” she asked Charles, nodding toward the newcomer.
“Lord Ashington.” His voice turned to a growl. “What the devil is he doing bothering Sophie?”
“I can’t see that he is.” She stepped forward to prevent him from charging. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s the worst rogue in town. Underhanded. Dishonorable. Why is he even here? He never attends routs.”
“He’s talking. Just like we are. Relax, Charles.” She laid a hand on his chest. “He isn’t hurting Sophie, but if you attack, the scandal will reflect on both of you. And there’s no need. See? He’s already moving off. He only wanted a word with Mr. Pierce.” Or he’d noted Charles’s glare and decided to play least in sight.
“Apparently.” Tension drained from his shoulders. “Thank you for stopping me.” He covered her hand and smiled.
“One day you must tell me why it was necessary.” If there was a point to Charles’s reaction, she must warn Sophie, though the girl obviously expected trouble. Why else was she so secretive? But if Charles was right to condemn Ashington, Sophi
e must listen to reason.
Yet Emily couldn’t demand information in the middle of a rout. Too many people would notice if Charles lost his temper. It was almost as explosive as Jacob’s.
Suppressing a sigh, she retrieved her hand and turned to greet Mr. Larkin.
“My dear Miss Hughes!” he exclaimed. “How delightful to see you this evening. I trust an afternoon outdoors did not weary you overmuch.”
“Of course not. I am accustomed to the country, you might recall.”
“Certainly. Certainly. My apologies for impugning your constitution. It is obvious that the Season agrees with you. Your eyes glow like twin suns, warming everything they touch.”
“No need to exaggerate,” she said, nearly rolling the eyes in question. It sounded even less sincere because Charles had said nearly the same thing.
“But he exaggerates so well,” laughed Sophie, drawing them into her circle now that Ashington was gone. “My very first Season he convinced me his horse could jump a ten-foot wall.” Her head shook.
“Now, I’m sure I never said ten feet,” said Mr. Larkin.
“If it’s the horse he rode to hunt that year, I doubt it could clear three.” Jacob joined them, grinning.
Emily’s heart leaped, despite the way Harriet plastered herself against his side. She deliberately focused on Mr. Larkin while she brought her breathing under control.
“That was quite a different beast. One I sold as soon as possible – to Delaney.”
From the groans emanating from every male throat, Emily deduced that Delaney was not a respected horseman.
“The horse Lady Sophie recalls was Pegasus, a wondrous animal.”
“But not the flyer his namesake was,” said Jacob.
“Not quite,” Mr. Larkin admitted, winking at Emily. “But can you blame a man for bragging on his favorite?”
“Of course not.” She smiled. “No man could resist.”
Sophie laughed.
Emily shifted so she no longer faced Jacob, then threw herself wholeheartedly into the banter.
When she next took stock, Jacob was gone, as was Charles. Richard had returned and was taking his turn at chaperoning the girls.