Shutting off thoughts about Leathem, Emily returned to her current problem. She must dismiss an unexpected heartache, and forget Kendall.
“I believe we are done here, Mr. Kendall,” Emily stated, firmly. “Meeting you today was a terrible mistake.”
“Emily…” A flush colored his pudgy cheeks. She discerned a whine in his voice as well when he said, “I dare say…what I mean was…err…it is simply not the proper time to spring a relationship out-of-the-blue upon my parents, that’s all. I didn’t mean—”
Emily interrupted him abruptly, adding a lofty rejoinder. “I heard you loud and clear before, Mr. Kendall.” She spoke smoothly, even smiled. “I told you, I quite understand.”
“Well then, you must agree I am being nothing but reasonable? I do have family to consider, you know. My father is a baron and—”
“And my uncle…my adopted uncle…is a criminal accused of being a French spy who currently resides in the Tower of London.” She snapped back at him blithely. “The two don’t fit at all, do they? Not how I see it.” She arched an inquiring eyebrow at him. “As I see it, you are more worried about your family than you are about me or my feelings. So, you see, Mr. Kendall that suits me fine. You said something earlier, and I must agree with you. When one’s reputation is soiled, it will never be accepted by London’s ton. Not after three months or six months. And I s’pose I may never see favor in their eyes. When my uncle is found guilty, he will probably be hanged or transported. I will then be remembered as the niece of a convicted spy.”
Emily shrugged her shoulders and went on. “Oh, but don’t let it bother you. I’ll face up to it, because I must. I know you better now, and I realize you don’t have the courage of a—a poor, little, miserable dormouse. Any emotion you may have felt for me was never strong enough when pitted against your parents’ wishes or challenged by London’s gossips. I need a true gallant knight in shining armor to stand up for me.”
Tony jumped up from the table. “Well, if that’s how you feel—”
Emily rose, matching his rigid stance and his scowling countenance. Tensing her shoulders, she raised her chin a notch higher. “I’m afraid I do.” Meeting Kendall’s gaze head on, her eyebrows arched haughtily. She spoke crisply with affirmation, her gaze sharp and unswerving. “I suggest we go our separate ways now—with no further acrimony, shall we?”
Tony coughed once or twice, covering his lips with manicured fingers.
Emily remained silent a few seconds longer. Then, with a tight smile, she suggested, “You had better see a physician about that cough, Mr. Kendall. I believe you may be coming down with something nasty.”
Kendall looked at her askance, his expression doubtful. When he didn’t answer immediately, she said, “Well, good day and goodbye, Mr. Kendall.”
Emily spun about and walked briskly away from the table. Stunned by the unexpected contretemps between herself and Kendall, she couldn’t believe what took place moments ago. She had scolded him point-by-point and fiercely—then left him to figure out what happened. She would never see him again, so it didn’t hurt as much as she thought it might.
Tony watched Emily strut away from him, his lips hanging slightly open. For seconds he was flabbergasted and speechless, until he blurted, “Wait! Emily! Where are you going?”
She blithely flung a curt reply over her shoulder at him. “Today is my free afternoon, Mr. Kendall. I’m going shopping.” She kept going, her steps quickening when she reached the street. She hailed a hackney and never looked back.
And Anthony Kendall didn’t chase her.
* * * *
In the hackney, Emily’s heart still beat a little too fast, reminding her bruised ego that she was well rid of Anthony Kendall. He certainly accepted her decision fast enough! In her secret heart, she hoped for a different outcome. If only Tony had brushed her arguments aside. If only he told her connection with Eustace Dancy didn’t matter. If only he flatly refused to let her go, and said she needn’t worry.
Sadly, Emily knew she was dreaming. Her wishful thinking was outrageous nonsense. She smiled wearily to herself, aware she should have known better. Staring out of the cab’s grimy window, she watched pedestrians rushing by on the busy walkway. How could she have been so in error about him? Obviously, he fooled her simply because she was countrified and trusting. And also, young and naïve. Kendall was her first experience at flirtation. But she vowed never again to be bamboozled by London’s males.
Her pride had been damaged—rather painfully battered. She felt scarred and dismayed emotionally by what just happened. Not totally captured by his easy charm and good looks, she still might have fallen in love with Tony Kendall. Since their first encounter in Hyde Park, she felt attracted to him. Instead, he had turncoat and showed himself to be a selfish, uncaring cad, almost as unsavory and unworthy as her uncle. He would never be the fine gentleman the earl was. Her pride still stung, raw and hurtful, but she tried not to dwell upon it. Instead, she added Tony’s name to a mental list of forgettable males.
She also reminded herself what the earl told her to watch for about a man’s true feelings. “Maturity alone doesn’t make a man or a woman wise,” he said. He was probably correct. After all, Leathem was years older and more astute than she.
Meanwhile Emily had aged quickly during the past months, mostly because of Eustace. She should have expected foibles lurking in today’s world by now. My goodness, had she not almost reached the ripe age of twenty and one? She should have known better even though she had no intimate knowledge with men in London or elsewhere. Nor did she comprehend a nobleman’s role in London’s aristocratic world concerning truth, honor, and gallantry.
Emily sighed. Thank goodness she could believe in a few other differences. Ones between men like her uncle and Kendall, opposed to ones like her father and the Earl of Leathem.
She called for the cab to stop and stepped down, paid the jarvey and ambled along Regent Street. She hadn’t planned to shop but the afternoon’s weather felt spring like and balmy, a fine day for a stroll along the busy thoroughfare. So she browsed. She would purchase something small, a pretty ribbon, or an embroidered handkerchief to assuage her downcast mood.
Shoppers meandered along the walkway beside her or stopped to gaze into store windows. Regent Street’s pedestrians seemed in charity with the sunny day. Unfortunately, Emily didn’t feel like them after reading the Tattler. Nor was she happy after her tryst with Kendall. Silently, she scolded herself to cheer up, put on a smile, forget her uncle, and flush away lingering thoughts of Tony Kendall. Nothing, she told herself, was worth being forlorn and blue-deviled on such a lovely day.
Just then, a harried-looking woman came toward Emily dragging two sulky children with her. She brushed rudely against Emily who tried to move aside. Instead, she was spun round rather roughly and suddenly found herself face-to-face with Lady Wilma Porter.
The elegantly dressed lady exclaimed excitedly, “Emmie? Oh my God, is that you?”
Emily’s eyes opened wide as she clapped a gloved hand over her mouth. “Wilma? Oh, good heavens! Is that really you?” Her face beamed with unfeigned pleasure. “What a delightful surprise!” she said, her face glowing with a happy grin.
Vociferous exclamations escaped simultaneously from them.
The pair attended Reverend Everhard’s church school in the village of Toynton-under-Hill as young girls. Until two years ago, Wilma was a Traymore. After she came out, she wed Viscount Harry Porter.
“I knew that was you!” Wilma twittered. “Oh, my Lord, Emily, you haven’t changed a bit since last I saw you!”
Wilma was petite, a slender, fragile-looking creature. Her head never grew any higher than Emily’s shoulder. She was blessed with wheat-colored hair, an amiable smile, and blue eyes that seemed to sparkle like sapphires from a pleasantly pretty countenance.
“How absolutely marvelous to run into you like this on Regent Street! Where are you bound, Emily? Coming or goi
ng?”
Emily smiled, again noting Wilma’s birdlike curiosity.
“It’s my half day off, Willy. I’m employed as a governess to an earl’s ward.”
“Oh! How very interesting. May ask to whom?”
“Lord Leathem, Gavin Fielding. His ward, Lilianne, is to be presented this Season.”
“Ah, yes, I recall that Harry mentioned the earl had acquired a ward. But I didn’t know you were the governess Leathem hired to teach the girl how to behave. Well, now, that really is interesting.”
Wilma winked broadly. “By the by, the earl is quite a catch, you know, Emmie. Handsome, titled, and rather wealthy. And a widower. I never met him, but Leathem’s a member of Harry’s club. Men like them tend to flock together like roosters, don’t you know?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Emily answered, chuckling. She remembered all too well what a chatterbox her friend was as a young girl.
Leaning close, Wilma went on to whisper, “I came back to Town only yesterday after a week in Toynton-under-Hill. You remember my sister. Poor Meg suffered from an inflamed appendix. It was a scary time for all of us. She’s feeling better now, thank heavens, although her recuperation has been touch-and-go. But I was finally able to return to my dear husband, Harry, whom I missed dreadfully.” Wilma took another breath. “We’re staying in London for the season, you know. After that, it’s on to a warmer clime at Bath.”
Wilma suddenly reached out and tugged on Emily’s arm, drawing her out of the crowd of ambling strollers. “I know,” Wilma said with a slanted glance across the street. “Come on, Emmie, let’s you and me have a spot of tea? Its ages since I’ve seen you. I want to catch up and hear what else is new with you.” Wilma looked around, her expression dimming slightly. “Dear me, I hope you are not here with someone.”
Emily shook her head. “I’m free as a bird for the next few hours. I was enjoying the fine weather and doing some window shopping. My afternoon has suddenly turned quite wonderful since I bumped into you.”
“I’m ecstatic that I ran into you, too, really I am.” But then Wilma’s smooth brow furrowed beneath her fashionable, silk bonnet. “I often wondered, Emmie, what happened to you. I missed you terribly when we lost touch.” Then her face brightened. “Now that we found each other, we must be good friends again. I wish to know everything that happened since your parents passed on.”
You don’t want to know, Willy. And I can’t possibly share what happened to me since then. Certainly not the months I spent with my uncle.
“Come on, I’ll order tea. I’m famished, but I didn’t wish to sit in a tearoom alone. I hope you don’t have to rush off, Emmie. There’s a place farther along the avenue. Hurry, we can have a nice long coz. Harry is at his club this afternoon, so we can gossip to our heart’s content.”
Imperiously, Wilma swept Emily along the walkway with her. They entered the tearoom Emily left only a short time ago where Tony ordered refreshments. During their animated argument, however, neither of them touched their tea.
After they were seated, Wilma’s curious gaze beamed at Emily across the table. Wilma quickly ordered a pot of tea and plate of pastries. “Now, my dear, you must tell me everything. First, about your position with the earl. And you dare not leave anything out, you hear?”
Emily’s heart banged against her ribs. Wilma must not have read today’s Tattler. She would learn more when she spoke with her husband after he returned from his club.
“You say Leathem offered you a week’s holiday when he hired you, Emmie? How generous of him.”
“Yes. He’s been quite…kind,” was all Emily said. Thoughts about the earl jumped into her head. The good things she learned about him today plucked Emily’s heartstrings.
Wilma’s bright eyes glittered like an inquisitive English wren’s. “I take it being in his employ suits you. When will you take your holiday? Before the Season begins, or will you wait until it’s over?”
“Before,” Emily replied, sipping at her tea “But I must arrange it with Lord Leathem.”
While riding in the hackney Emily decided on a holiday soon, because her stomach roiled after the awful half hour spent with Anthony Kendall. She would need her mind clear when the Season began, and a week away from London and Kendall would help. But where should she go?
“Hmm…may I say something, Emily?”
“Of course.”
“Well, it’s just that you look a bit ragged around the edges. Are you not feeling well?”
Wilma hadn’t lost her touch. Early in their friendship, her friend sensed when things went awry for Emily.
“You look pale and a little worn. I suppose it is because being a governess isn’t easy.” Wilma scarcely took a breath. “Not as serendipitous as I thought, hmm? Is it more daunting than you expected? If so, how can I be of help? But wait. Tell me where you plan to spend your holiday.”
“I haven’t decided where, Willy. I may remain in London; explore what the metropolis has to offer in the way of amusement. I daresay my holiday will pass too quickly. Before I know it, the hustle and bustle of the season will consume all of my attention.”
“Oh, Emily!” Wilma paused, putting down her teacup, the delicate porcelain clinking against its saucer. “I just came up with a most scrumptious idea.” Wilma’s blue eyes sparkled. “Forget about visiting old, musty buildings and museums. You can do that any time.” The viscountess’ lips spread into a brilliant smile, her white teeth glistening, her happy laugh chirping quite birdlike, and filled with girlish glee.
“Listen to me, Em,” she said, inhaling another excited breath. “Harry and I are invited to a house party at the Duke of Carlisle’s castle in Surrey a week from now. My sister was invited, but she can’t accept because she’s not feeling well enough.”
Wilma leaned across the table toward Emily, her expression totally animated. “Remember the Duke’s fabulous estate, Em? We trespassed on it enough times crossing Wyndemere land as youngsters.”
Emily nodded.
Wilma’s tone burst out an octave higher than normal. “Here’s my idea, Em.” Wilma’s face shone animatedly as she clapped her gloved hands together.
Emily smiled, hearing the happy squeak in her friend’s voice whenever she was extremely excited about something.
Wilma’s flushed cheeks glowed. “Emmie, it’s going to be a fabulous week. And I’m certain we may bring a guest to the Carlisles’ party, so you absolutely must come with us! Remember how you dreamt of seeing the inside of the castle? Well, here’s your chance!” Wilma squeezed one of Emily’s hands. “You shall be our surprise guest.”
“Oh, good heavens!” Emily’s breath fluttered from startled lips. “But—but, Wilma, that’s not possible. I’m not a proper guest. You forget. You may be married to a viscount, but I’m just a—”
“You’re my best friend, Emily Dancy, and you are quite acceptable. If my sister was good enough to be invited, why shouldn’t you be? Believe me, not everyone there will be wearing coronets.”
Wilma squeezed Emily’s fingers a bit tighter. “I simply won’t hear of it. I shall see to it that Harry writes your name as our alternative guest instead of my sister when we accept the Duke and Duchess’s invitation.”
“No, no, Wilma. Thank you for the very lovely invitation, but—”
“But why? You said the earl offered you a week off. And if he disagrees, I shall write to him directly and tell him he must excuse you, because I believe you look peaked and need a week’s respite from your governess duties.”
“Wil—lee…please, listen. There is still another problem.”
“Another problem? Whatever it is, Emmie, I’ll get this done one way or another. Just trust me.”
“Wilma,” Emily groaned. “It’s my wardrobe. It’s not at all elegant. I’ll need proper attire for such an aristocratic gathering.”
“Humph! Well, that does it. That’s no problem, Emily. I’ll simply add a few new dresses to my clothing all
owance.” Wilma winked. “My darling husband is very generous. He permits me to purchase whatever I desire, because he wants me looking grand when I’m hanging on his arm. Men are odd in so many ways. They are really quite ego-driven, Emily, don’t you agree? Although, I must say Harry helps me out of my clothes almost as often as he likes seeing me wearing them.” Wilma’s wink, this time, was wicked and not all viscountess-like.
Emily had to chuckle at her friend’s obvious wink. “I couldn’t let you do that, Wilma,” she said.
“Emily, please let me to do this. I want to. It’s…well, it will be like a-a reunion gift.”
“Uh, uh, no, I really can’t allow it.”
“Please, pretty please?” Wilma pleaded.
Again, Emily refused, dismissing Wilma’s suggestion out of hand. That is, until a sneaky, little voice in her head prodded her.
You deserve a treat after today’s disturbing news. First, your uncle’s arrest and next Anthony Kendall’s rejection. Two devastating blows to your ego, one after the other. Why not accept a delightful invitation when it is handed to you so freely? You would be very foolish—and very sorry—if you turned it down.
Emily thought about the Carlisles’ fabulous house party, exploring the Duke and Duchess’s gorgeous home, being part of an exciting week of entertainment, and socializing with people with whom she had always hoped to mingle.
The idea blossomed. And took root. The persistent, wheedling voice pestered her.
Invitations like this come once in a lifetime. You squirreled away funds you received from Mr. Grafton. Plus you saved most of your wages from the earl. Go ahead. Enjoy yourself. Agree with Wilma.
Listening to the voice in her head, she came up with no excuses.
I won’t need a trousseau since Tony Kendall and I are definitely through.
That thought still hurt, but she let it go.
And there was another reason to accept rather than refuse.
I will use those same gowns for Lilianne’s come out. I was wise to save the funds for a rainy day.
The Marriage Bargain Page 3