"Robert's betrothal, of course," she replied. "I have come to organize an engagement ball." She tossed another significant look at Robert.
He knew his role and glanced quickly at Emily, who was standing slightly behind the dowager. She looked positively delicious, he thought, like peaches and honey. Although the room was very brightly lit with hundreds of candles, it was nevertheless a flickering sort of light which caused Emily's dress and hair and eyes to shimmer. He could hardly tear his eyes from her. Suddenly the image of her at her dressing table filled his mind, and he realized the very sight of her was having a physical effect on him. Good God, this was madness. He blinked his eyes in order to regain control and rearranged his face into a polite smile as he reached out a hand toward her.
"Lord Sedgewick," he said, drawing Emily forward, "may I introduce Miss Emily Townsend, my grandmother's friend and companion. Miss Townsend, this is my good friend Lord Sedgewick."
"Your servant, Miss Townsend," Lord Sedgewick said as he bowed over Emily's hand. Robert did not miss the appreciative gleam in Sedge's eyes before they crinkled up into a smile.
"I am pleased to meet you, my lord," Emily said.
She was no less susceptible to Sedgewick's smile than anyone else, Robert thought as he watched her face light up with a dazzling smile of her own. Sedge asked her a question, which Robert missed as the dowager tugged on his arm and led him slightly apart from the other two.
"Good work, my dear," she whispered. "Sedgewick will do nicely. Who else have you lined up?"
"No one," he said with some exasperation. "I hadn't actually 'lined up' Sedge. We just happened to bump into each other."
"It doesn't matter," she said. "It was smoothly done. Who else have you seen tonight?"
"Before I met up with Sedge, I had been with the Windhursts and Augusta. I'm afraid I haven't had time yet to act as scout for your little campaign."
"Well, hop to it, my boy. I am counting on you." She glanced over at the other couple. "I suppose they have had sufficient time to become acquainted," she said as she returned to Emily's side.
"Well, Sedgewick," the dowager said, "I'm afraid you must excuse us. This is Emily's first visit to Town, and there are so many people I want her to meet. We must move along," she said, taking Emily's arm. "Shall we see you at the Rutland ball Thursday night?"
"I wouldn't miss it," Lord Sedgewick replied. He turned to Emily. "I hope I may be permitted a dance. Miss Townsend?"
"I would be honored, my lord," Emily replied.
When the two ladies had moved away, Robert turned to his friend and cocked a questioning brow.
"What a beauty!" Sedge exclaimed. "Where have you been hiding her?"
"In Bath," Robert said, frowning. "With Grandmother."
* * *
Emily stood near the refreshment table sipping a glass of champagne. She seldom indulged. In fact, having watched her father sink into dissipation after her mother's death, she had scorned spirits in all forms. But it was so warm, and she was so thirsty. Surely a single glass could not be considered objectionable. She felt the knots in her stomach begin to uncoil.
She could never have imagined such a gathering. Every inch of the staircases, reception rooms, anterooms, and corridors was packed with the cream of London Society. The human din was almost deafening, and Emily wondered why Lady Bessborough had even bothered to hire the musicians, who could not be heard at all. Beautifully dressed men and women stood shoulder to shoulder in a sea of swirling colors and flashing jewels. It was certainly not what Emily had expected of a "small rout." As for her plan to disappear into the background—well, there simply was no background. There was only a mass of teeming humanity as far as the eye could see. If she were not so exhilarated she would have to admit that such a gathering was not conducive to comfort or conversation, and therefore not very enjoyable. Perhaps she would consider such parties with more nonchalance as she spent more time in London. But for now, she was simply enjoying herself.
She had been so anxious about this evening, but she felt the tension melt away as she sipped more champagne. It hadn't really gone so badly thus far, and everyone had been surprisingly friendly and welcoming. Even the dowager's matchmaking efforts hadn't been too obvious or awkward. The several gentlemen she had met this evening had all been quite unexceptionable. She had never been made to feel uncomfortable. She was grateful that the first gentleman to whom she had been introduced had been so open and friendly. Lord Sedgewick had certainly put her at ease. She smiled as she recalled that introduction and her initial trepidation.
She had just been presented to Lady Bessborough, who had been most effusive in her welcome to the dowager. But before Emily had a chance to say two words to their famous hostess, she had felt her arm gripped tightly.
"There's Robert!" the dowager had hissed as she nodded toward the other side of the room. She had proceeded to pull Emily along none too gently in his direction.
Oh, Lord, Emily had thought, now it begins. She had taken a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and followed her employer. When they had at last squeezed their way through the room and reached Lord Bradleigh, Emily had noticed that he was speaking with another gentleman—but her eyes were automatically drawn to the earl. He looked very elegant in his black evening clothes and snowy-white linen. She caught the glint of a discreet diamond pin nestled in the folds of his neckcloth. His hair was once again combed straight back from his forehead, giving him a more severe look that set him apart from many of the other gentlemen whose artfully styled and oiled curls owed nothing to nature. Not for the first time, her eyes traced with admiration the clean cut of his profile, the firm set of his chin, the even white teeth revealed as he smiled at his companion. Emily had thought that even amidst this assembly of London's finest, he was surely one of the handsomest men she had ever seen.
Suddenly he had caught her eye. For what seemed an eternity, his intense brown eyes had held hers with an expression she couldn't read. She had been so caught up in his gaze that it seemed for a time that they were the only two people in the room. Then he had blinked, and the expression was gone, replaced by a puzzled frown. Emily had felt herself blush and dropped her eyes in confusion. Heavens, how long had she been staring at him? What must he think of her? And why did it seem that no one else had sensed the awkwardness of the moment? When she looked up again. Lord Bradleigh, smiling somewhat stiffly, reached out for her and drew her forward, and she realized he was about to present her to the gentleman at his side.
All at once, this first of the scenes she had so been dreading seemed preferable to the suddenly discomfiting proximity of the earl. She had recollected herself in time to be introduced to Lord Sedgewick. He was a tall, somewhat lanky, pleasant-looking gentleman about the same age as the earl, she guessed.
"I am pleased to meet you, my lord," she had said as he bowed over her hand. When he looked up and smiled, Emily had been instantly captivated by one of the friendliest, most open countenances she had ever seen. She smiled in return.
"Are you enjoying the rout. Miss Townsend?" he had asked.
"Frankly, I find it somewhat overwhelming, my lord," she replied.
"What? This insignificant little gathering? Surely you jest." He grinned down at her.
"I'm afraid I do not, my lord," she replied, smiling more in response to his own smile than his teasing banter. "The assemblies in Bath were never so ... well... so..."
"So crowded?" he completed for her. "So stifling? So noisy? So, shall we say, fragrant of humanity?"
"As you say, my lord," Emily had replied, smiling in response to the impish twinkle in his eyes..
"Yes, it does take some getting used to," he said. "Did you come from Bath with Lady Bradleigh?"
"Yes," she'd replied. But before she could continue, the dowager was back and leading her away. She had been pleased, however, when Lord Sedgewick had asked for a dance at the ball she was to attend with the dowager on Thursday.
Really, she thought, as she r
ecalled the meeting, that hadn't been so very difficult. Except for that strange moment with the earl. She wasn't quite sure what exactly had happened, but something about the way he had looked at her made her feel somehow uncomfortable. Just the thought of the intensity of his look caused her to feel suddenly warm all over. Nonsense. It was just the effects of the champagne. She put her empty glass on the tray of a passing footman.
Well, she thought, Lord Sedgewick seemed pleasant enough, and he had the most marvelous smile. In fact, she had felt surprisingly at ease with him. Moreover, his friendliness had given her the confidence to face with greater equanimity the subsequent introductions engineered that evening by the dowager and Lady Lavenham.
And there had been many. Not all of them, of course, eligible gentleman. The dowager was well known in Town and seemed to be acquainted with everyone. Lord, how was Emily to remember all their names? Despite the fact that she had managed better than she had expected this evening, it was nevertheless a relief to steal a quiet moment alone away from her employer's sometimes overbearing manner.
She felt someone touch her arm and turned to find the dowager with a yet another handsome gentleman in tow.
"My dear," she said, "allow me to introduce Mr. Giles Hamilton. The Honorable Mr. Hamilton, that is. Giles, this is Miss Emily Townsend."
Chapter 10
"I insist, madam," Anatole said, "that your excellent port aspic be used with my foie gras. It will be,"—he brought his fingers to his lips—"trés magnifique."
"And if you will agree to roast those lovely little game hens," Mrs. Dawson replied, her blue eyes twinkling, "I will be happy to provide the puff pastry to encase them."
"Aussitôt dit, aussitôt fait, madame," the Frenchman replied with a sharp bow and a click of his heels.
Emily smiled as she listened to the two chefs reviewing the menu for this evening. No longer at odds, the two presented an almost disgusting display of mutual admiration. The dowager had sent her down to confirm that all was in order for her impromptu dinner party, but after listening to these two practically bill and coo over each other's talents, Emily decided that there was no need for her interference. She quietly slipped out the door without either chef paying her the least notice.
The dowager had decided to hold a small family dinner party in honor of Lord Bradleigh's betrothal. It was true that several of the earl's relatives were in Town for the Season, and it was proper that they should all gather to toast his engagement, but Emily suspected other motives had prompted her employer to organize this rather spur-of-the-moment evening. Emily had been called upon the morning after Lady Bessborough's rout to help write out the invitations, and to work with the Claypools to prepare the house and the staff to receive the dinner guests. She had been kept so busy that she hadn't had a moment to speak with the earl in private about his odd behavior at the rout. In fact, she had seen little of him in the last two days. Ah, well, perhaps it had only been her imagination that caused her to feel that she had somehow offended him. She had best forget the incident entirely.
Once upstairs, she ran Mrs. Claypool to earth and inquired about the preparations for the evening. The dowager was most particular about the flowers, and Emily was relieved to hear that everything had arrived from the florist. She volunteered to help with the floral arrangements but was told that two of the housemaids had almost completed the work. As if on cue, the housemaid called Sally entered from the service door carrying a large silver epergne decorated with a variety of lilies as well as freesias and irises. Emily followed Sally into the main dining room, holding the door open for her.
"Thank you, miss," Sally said. She placed the epergne near one end of the long mahogany table. Before Emily could close the dining room door, another housemaid entered carrying an identical epergne, which she placed near the opposite end of the table. The two maids fussed briefly with their arrangements, then headed out the door, bobbing politely at Emily as they passed.
Emily surveyed the table, which was set for twenty. The china was a delicate Chinese export with the Bradleigh crest in the center. Several stemmed glasses of Irish crystal glistened at each setting, and the silver flatware shone as brightly as the epergnes. Even as she watched, a footman was giving a final polish to each setting. Emily checked the place cards. The seating arrangement had been specified by the dowager and owed nothing particular to rank. She was especially puzzled by the request to seat Lady Windhurst at the dowager's right, particularly considering her disdainful reaction to the woman two days ago. She sensed one of the dowager's schemes afoot.
Emily had earlier asked that she be excused from the dinner, as she did not wish to intrude on a family gathering.
"Oh, no, my girl," the dowager had replied, "you are definitely needed. Without you the numbers are uneven."
Emily knew, however, that Sir Richard Kingsley, one of the dowager's old beaus, had been included on the guest list specifically to even up the numbers. If Emily had been excluded, there would have been no need to invite Sir Richard. But she had kept her own counsel.
"Is everything in order, my dear?"
Emily turned to find the dowager strolling into the room.
"Yes, my lady," she replied. "I was just checking the place cards."
"Ah." The dowager wandered to the opposite side of the table. "You will have noticed, then, that I have placed you next to Lord Windhurst."
Emily's brows had shot up in surprise. "Me?" she asked, for she had not yet, in fact, noticed.
"Yes. And I want you to charm the fellow and take his measure. I'll work on his wife, and I've put Augusta next to Ted."
"The marquess?"
"Right. He is Lord Haselmere. His father, the fifth marquess, was the brother of Robert's mother."
"Is there some significance to seating him next to Augusta?"
"We shall see, my dear," the dowager replied. "We shall see."
* * *
The guests began gathering in the drawing room, and the atmosphere was lively and informal. Emily attempted, per her normal routine at the dowager's gatherings, to make herself inconspicuous by seeking a chair along the wall. Before she could so much as locate one, her arm was claimed by Lady Lavenham.
"You must let me introduce you to my husband, Miss Townsend," Louisa said as she tugged Emily along to the side of a handsome gentleman laughing at some remark of Lord Bradleigh's. "David," she said as she maneuvered the gentleman away from her brother, "I would like to present Miss Townsend, Grandmother's companion. Miss Townsend, this is my husband, Lord Lavenham. Isn't he magnificent?" She gazed fondly up at her husband. "After eleven years of marriage he is still quite the handsomest man of my acquaintance."
"I am pleased to meet you, Lord Lavenham," Emily said, smiling at the flustered viscount. He was indeed handsome, with light brown hair and expressive blue eyes. The sprinkling of silver at his temples and the lines etched at the corners of his eyes somehow added to his attractiveness.
"Your servant, Miss Townsend," the viscount said as he bent over Emily's outstretched hand. "You must excuse my wife's foolishness," he said, smiling. "I keep her close by so that she can periodically puff up my consequence."
"Nonsense!" Louisa said. "I only speak the truth, as you well know. Now, darling, you must excuse us. I want to introduce Miss Townsend to the others." She tugged Emily away so that she was able to do no more than nod at the viscount.
Louisa proceeded to introduce Emily to various aunts, uncles, and cousins. They were a motley group, to say the least, but they were each open and friendly toward her, and she liked them all. She especially liked the Marchioness Haselmere, a gregarious matron, introduced affectionately as "Aunt Doro," whose distinctive laugh could be heard frequently over the hubbub of other conversations. Her late husband had played an active role in the House of Lords, and Lady Haselmere had long been a political hostess of some renown. She was opinionated and loud, with a biting wit that left no one unscathed. Her rather stately proportions gave her the look of a ship'
s prow as she sailed from group to group. She quickly summed up Emily as having Whig tendencies and therefore felt compelled to rant about the Regent's apparent betrayal of his Whig associates now that he had the power to create his own government, the lack of strong Whig leadership since the death of James Fox, and on and on. Louisa was obviously bored, although Emily was, in fact, fascinated.
"Oh, here's Uncle Tony," Louisa said. "Please excuse us, Aunt Doro," she said, tugging Emily in the direction of a newly arrived older gentleman in a startling waistcoat of fuchsia and gold stripes. "He's the black sheep of the family, you know," she whispered as they approached him. "He's Grandmother's younger brother."
Emily was soon face to face with the tall, silver-haired gentleman who was introduced as Lord Anthony Poole. He leered openly at Emily.
"Enchanted, my dear," he drawled as he took her hand to his lips.
Emily had an almost overwhelming desire to wipe the very wet back of her hand on her skirt, but her good manners would not allow such rudeness.
"Behave yourself, Uncle Tony!" Louisa said in mock outrage. "Miss Townsend, I only introduce him out of duty, but I recommend you avoid him at all costs. He's a rogue of the first order. We suffer his presence merely because he is a sometimes entertaining raconteur"—she grinned fondly at her uncle—"although most of his stories skirt the very edges of decency."
"Ah, my darling girl," he replied, placing a possessive arm around Louisa's waist, "you were always most fond of my ribald tales. Never one to blush. Takes after Frances. My sister," he said to Emily.
The Windhursts arrived in due time and were introduced to the other guests by Lord Bradleigh. Emily was chatting with Simon and Julia Cameron when Lord Bradleigh approached with the Windhursts in tow. Simon, a jovial young man, was Lord Bradleigh's cousin and heir presumptive. His new bride, Julia, was very young and almost painfully shy. Emily had been attempting to put Julia at ease when they were confronted by the Windhursts. Julia took one look at Lady Windhurst, extravagantly draped in silver gauze and sporting a jeweled turban, and visibly retreated into her timid shell. Lord Bradleigh performed the introductions. Lord Windhurst was polite though obviously somewhat overawed by the level of the company. He was a short, compact gentleman with a head of thick, unruly gray hair and a pair of bushy gray eyebrows that moved constantly up and down as he spoke. Emily was momentarily distracted by the animated brows and missed some of the subsequent remarks, but was snapped back to attention by the shrill voice of Lady Windhurst.
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