by Sandra Heath
“I want the truth, Stephen.”
“It isn’t any concern of yours.”
Her green eyes flashed. “How dare you say that!”
“It’s my business, and mine alone, Emma. I don’t wish you to pry into it, and I certainly don’t wish Father to—”
“I’ll warrant you don’t.”
“If I tell you, you will promise not to tell him?”
“I promise not to go unnecessarily to him,” she replied in a qualified tone.
He removed his hat and ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair. “Very well, Sis,” he said at last, “I admit that I broke my word last night. I didn’t mean to, but it happened. I lied to you about Donkey’s birthday, and went to Avenley’s club instead. Avenley wasn’t there at first, but when he arrived he seemed intent upon luring me to try a hand or two, something he’s refrained from doing before. In the end, to my shame, I gave in. I joined him at one of the tables, and at first I won handsomely. Naturally I thought I was on the proverbial winning streak, and so I continued, but of course I began to lose. Convinced that I would soon recoup my loses, I played on and on, but I merely succeeded in losing more. Much more.”
“How much?” Emma hardly dared to ask.
He drew a long breath. “Ten thousand guineas. Avenley holds my lOU’s.”
Emma stared at him. “Ten thousand!” she gasped.
“I fear so.”
“Oh, Stephen …”
“Don’t rebuke me, Emma, for I’ve felt dreadful ever since. Avenley says he does not mean to press me, so I’ll be able to manage somehow. But you must promise not to tell Father, for I could not bear him to be disappointed in me, and I certainly could not do without my allowance.”
“But, Stephen, ten thousand guineas—”
“I’ll manage somehow,” he said again, looking urgently at her. “I’m trusting you to keep my secret, Sis.”
“What if Lord Avenley calls the debt in?”
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take, but he says he will give me time.” He ran his fingers through his hair again. “I’m sorry I’ve let you down so badly, Emma, truly I am.”
She couldn’t bear to see him look so wretched, and she slipped her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder. He hesitated, and then held her tightly for a moment.
“Stephen, I have some jewelry that Father would not miss,” she suggested tentatively.
“This scrape is of my own making, Sis, and so I’ll get myself out of it without being low enough to use your jewelry.”
“Yes, but—”
“No, Emma, not your jewels.” He kissed her on the cheek, and then drew back. “Let’s be on our way, or we’ll never get to Hatchard’s.”
They walked on south toward the corner of Piccadilly, and the noise of London seemed to grow even louder. Bond Street was where the finest tailors made the clothes that were famous throughout the world, and it was also a street of gentlemen’s lodgings and hotels, so that the pedestrians were predominantly male. There were some ladies, however, and as an open landau passed by, Emma thought for a horrid moment that it was the Countess of Purbeck’s, but to her relief it wasn’t.
Stephen followed her gaze and guessed her thoughts. “It isn’t the chienne, Sis,” he said.
“No, thank goodness,” she replied with feeling. She glanced at him. “I met her last night at the theater.”
“The countess?”
“Yes.”
He pursed his lips for a moment. “What did she have to say?”
“She made it plain that she doesn’t like me.”
“Keep well away from her, Sis.”
“I intend to, just as I trust you intend from now on to keep well away from Lord Avenley.”
He nodded. “Last night taught me a lesson, Emma.”
“I hope so, Stephen.”
When they reached Piccadilly, there was such a flow of traffic that for several minutes it was quite impossible to cross to the far side. Emma found it all almost overwhelming, for it made Dorchester, Dorset’s county town, seem like a mere hamlet.
Directly opposite where they stood was the remarkable building known as the Egyptian Hall, which resembled a temple from ancient Egypt. It housed the Museum of Natural History, and there was nearly always a small queue of people waiting at the doors. Two doors further on, with a private dwelling in between, was Hatchard’s, and this morning there were three carriages drawn up at the curb.
A break appeared in the traffic, and Stephen seized Emma’s hand, making her run across the street. They reached the other side in safety, and then walked along the pavement to the bookshop. The doorbell tinkled as they entered.
Their visit to the bookshop had not passed unnoticed, however, for one of the three carriages drawn up outside bore the crest of the earls of Purbeck, and Raine was seated alone inside, waiting for some friends who were already in the shop.
She looked breathtakingly beautiful in a dove-gray silk pelisse trimmed with narrow black fur, and there was a curling black ostrich plume trembling in her gray silk hat. Her lilac eyes glittered spitefully, and there was a thoughtful twist on her lips, as with sudden decision she alighted from the carriage, following Emma and Stephen into the shop.
Chapter Ten
It was very quiet and dark in the bookshop, and the smell of coffee hung in the air, for it was fashionable for young gentlemen to be seen lounging at Hatchard’s, discussing literature with their friends. A small group of modish young men were gathered at one end of the counter, deliberating rather pretentiously over the finer points of a volume of poetry, while at the other end an elderly male assistant was assuring a fussy matron that the book she wished to buy was in every way suitable as a gift for a daughter who also happened to be the wife of a bishop.
There were shelves stretching from floor to ceiling, all of them crammed with books, and ladders were provided so that the topmost shelves could be properly examined. Two writing desks stood in a dark corner, providing all the implements necessary for letters, and a fat, rather wheezy gentleman with a red face was seated at one of them, scowling as he penned a communication that did not augur well for the recipient. Part of the shop stretched away toward the rear of the building, and several ladies and gentlemen could be dimly observed perusing still more shelves that were filled to capacity with all types of publications.
The young gentlemen sipped coffee as they argued over the merits of a particular poem in the book on the counter before them, but then one of them noticed Stephen.
“Rutherford! I say, do come and join us.” He gestured warmly, and waved the coffeepot.
Stephen hesitated, but then Emma smiled at him. “Join them if you wish, for I’m sure you have no desire to watch me choose a book.”
“If you’re quite certain—”
“I can manage perfectly well without you.”
He grinned, and then hurried over to join his friends, who welcomed him with obvious pleasure. Emma watched for a moment, thinking how strange it was that her brother had so taken to the ways of the more dandified section of London society. In Dorchester he hadn’t bothered at all with the vagaries of fashion, but here it seemed that he was like a duck to water. There was nothing at all effeminate about him, or about the friends he was with, for the glances they directed toward a rather pretty lady with bronze hair and a curvaceous figure were ample proof of that, it was simply that they enjoyed indulging themselves in the art of being fashionable.
Emma went to inquire of an assistant where she might find all the latest novels, and as she was directed to the furthest and least well-lit part of the shop, she remained unaware of Raine’s presence.
Raine had slipped quietly into the shop, not wanting to attract any attention, and to this end she drew back behind some shelves, pretending to examine a book of botanical illustrations. She watched as Emma made her way toward the back of the shop, and after a moment she slipped along behind her, waiting until Emma was alone and at her mercy.
/> The other ladies and gentlemen in this part of the shop had now gone elsewhere, and Emma had the shelves of novels to herself. She selected one with a particular melodramatic title, and began to glance through the pages.
“Well, well,” said a feline voice behind her, “how very vulgar the lady’s taste appears to be.”
With a gasp, Emma whirled about, almost dropping the book. She found herself gazing into Raine’s malevolent eyes.
Raine gave a venomous smile. “I trust you’ve begun to make arrangements for a swift return to the rustic homestead from whence you so unwisely chose to emerge, for if you have not, then I fear you’re going to suffer a great deal of humiliation, Miss Rutherford.”
Emma began to recover a little. “I have no wish to speak to you, my lady,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure you haven’t, my dear, but I’m not about to give you any choice in the matter. You are patently unsuited to the role of Lady Kane, and as for presuming that you can eventually carry off the role of countess, well, the mere thought is laughable. When the Earl of Cranforth sees you this afternoon—”
“You appear to be well informed concerning my social diary,” interrupted Emma, wondering how she could possibly know about the visit to Cranforth House.
Raine gave a soft laugh. “My dear, I know everything there is to know, and what is more, I have the information on the very highest authority.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have Gerald’s confidence, my dear.”
“Indeed?” Emma met her gaze as steadily as she could.
“Oh, yes, which is why I know that he is beginning to have second thoughts where you are concerned. He knows that his grandfather has set himself against the match, and he has also witnessed the flaws in your veneer of refinement. You are a provincial creature, Miss Rutherford, and I fear that there is something of the farm about you.”
“A preferable fault to yours, my lady, for I fear that you have about you something of the kennel,” Emma replied.
Raine’s eyes flashed with loathing and fury, and it was all she could do not to strike Emma’s face. “How dare you!” she breathed.
“You have not given me any cause to be civil to you, Countess.”
“I’ll make you pay dearly for your insolence, missy.”
Emma raised her chin defiantly. “Please leave me alone, my lady, for I have no desire to have your society forced upon me.”
“Oh, do not concern yourself that that will ever be the case again, Miss Rutherford, for you will not know my society, or the society of any other lady of consequence, you have my promise upon that. If you persist in your willful determination to cling to this match, I will see to it that you are snubbed. No one will send out invitations to you, and there will be a great many changes of heart concerning attendance at your betrothal ball, should it by some miracle still take place.”
A thin, malicious smile played on Raine’s lips. “I don’t want you here in London, Miss Rutherford, and what I want, I always get. Go back to the sticks, my dear, before you discover exactly how spiteful and cruel I can be when I’m crossed.”
With that she turned and walked away, the plumes in her gray silk hat streaming and her little shoes tapping coldly on the floor of the shop. Emma stared after her, too upset for a moment to do anything but stand there in wretchedness.
Then she slowly replaced the book on the shelf and pressed her shaking hands to her cheeks. She was trembling from head to toe, for the previous few minutes had been the most disagreeable of her life. Never before had she encountered such virulent hatred, or been threatened in such a way.
There was a burst of laughter from Stephen and his friends, and it aroused her from her silent torment. Taking a long breath to compose herself, she took the book from the shelf once again and then made her way toward the front of the shop.
Stephen glanced around and saw her approaching the counter with the book, and he got up to excuse himself from his friends. One of them caught his eye again. “I say, Rutherford, you will join us this afternoon, won’t you? It promises to be an excellent diversion, provided you have sea legs. The Thames may be the Thames, but it can still be quite choppy, and Jerry Warburton’s yacht is disgustingly small.”
One of the others, evidently the Jerry Warburton concerned, looked up indignantly. “She’s a damned fine vessel, I’ll have you know,” he protested.
The first young gentleman grinned impishly and leaned across to ruffle Jerry’s rather spiky sandy hair. “She’ll bob around like a walnut in a bathtub, and you know it,” he teased.
Jerry scowled, and then looked at Stephen. “You’ll soon know better than to believe a word he says. Join us this afternoon, for you’ll be most welcome. We’ll be at Old Swan Steps at three, when the tide should be just right.”
“I’ll be there,” Stephen promised, then picked up his hat, gloves, and cane, and went to rejoin Emma, who was just picking up her book, neatly wrapped in brown paper and string. “That didn’t take you long, Sis,” he said, taking the book to carry for her.
She gave him a light smile. “I happened upon the very work almost straightaway,” she said, having decided not to say anything at all about her confrontation with Raine.
They left the shop, and Emma did so gladly, determining that whatever happened, she would never again set foot into Hatchard’s. She glanced both ways along the pavement, but there was no sign of Raine, whose carriage had departed.
As Emma walked back to Grosvenor Square with Stephen, she tried to push the whole incident from her mind, but it was impossible. Try as she would, she could only dwell miserably upon all that Raine had said.
Stephen was not unaware of the change in her. “What is it, Sis? You seem a little quiet.”
“Mm?”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, of course not,” she replied lightly.
“Forgive me if I question that, for I can’t help noticing that you are oddly thoughtful.”
She managed a smile. “I’m just looking forward to reading the book, that’s all.”
“I thought perhaps you were beginning to work up a lather about meeting the earl this afternoon.”
“I’m trying not to think about that,” Emma said with some feeling, for facing Gerald’s grandfather was something from which she now shrank, for fear that Raine had spoken the truth, in spite of Gerald’s assurances to the contrary.
“It won’t be as bad as you fear.”
“No, of course not,” she murmured.
He glanced at her. “I rather fancy that my activities this afternoon will prove more torturous than your little excursion to Cranforth House.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been invited to go sailing on the Thames.”
“I seem to recall you went a peculiar shade of green when you went sailing in Lyme Bay,” she pointed out.
“That was then.”
“And now is different?”
He pulled a face at her. “How tedious older sisters can be at times,” he said with a long-suffering sigh.
They were nearing Grosvenor Square now, and the elegant mansions of Mayfair rose all around. Emma glanced at the exclusive doors and windows, and the gracious gardens with their tints of autumn. It was all so very beautiful, but increasingly alien. She was beginning to feel too out of place here, and to think longingly of the home she’d left behind in Dorset.
As they entered the southeast corner of Grosvenor Square, Emma knew that she had to do something, for it was out of the question that things could be left as they were. She had to know exactly what Gerald’s position was, and she had to know before they left for Cranforth House.
She would confront him when he called that afternoon, and this time she would not shrink from telling him exactly why she was so troubled. He would learn what the Countess of Purbeck was saying and threatening, and he would have to put his bride-to-be’s mind completely at rest, or she would withdraw from the match.
*
&
nbsp; Stephen had already set off for Old Swan Steps and his sailing friends, and Mr. Rutherford was dozing in the library, having succumbed yet again to the vicious circle of nighttime insomnia and daytime sleep that his son had predicted. There was an hour to go before Gerald was due to call, and Emma walked in the garden for a while before going to her room to change for the meeting with the Earl of Cranforth.
The September sun was bright, but lacked warmth, and she was glad of her shawl as she strolled in the sunken garden near the gazebo. She wore a long-sleeved apricot wool gown, and there was a lace-trimmed day bonnet on her head, its ribbons fluttering prettily free as she paused to touch one of the roses which still bloomed in this sheltered place.
There were doves in the garden next door, and they cooed gently in a cherry tree. A church clock struck the half-hour, and she made her way back toward the house, where Dolly would be waiting with the clothes they had both selected for this all-important meeting with Gerald’s grandfather.
She entered the house through the French doors of the library, and as she emerged into the hall, having tiptoed past her slumbering father, she heard a knock at the front door. Surely it couldn’t be Gerald already!
The butler opened the door, and Emma peeped out to see that the caller was Lord Avenley, not Gerald. Her heart sank, and she watched him with distaste. She had disliked him at the theater, but after what had now happened to Stephen, she loathed him more than ever.
Saunders bowed to him. “My lord?”
“Is Mr. Stephen Rutherford at home?”
“I fear he is not, my lord. He went out a little earlier, I believe to go sailing on the Thames.”
“When will he return?”
“I do not know, my lord, for he did not say.”
Emma did not realize that she could be seen reflected in the wall mirror in the inner hall, but Lord Avenley’s sharp eye had very swiftly perceived her hiding just inside the library. And now he made her start guiltily by addressing her.
“Good afternoon, Miss Rutherford,” he said.
She was horrified, and remained immobile for a moment.