Lady Emma's Dilemma (9781101573662)

by Woodward, Rhonda

  To the Incomparable of Incomparables.

  Monteford

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “A bit over the top,” and immediately set the card aside and reached for the next bouquet. It was a simple, though massive, bunch of gorgeous pink roses in bud, tied with a wide green grosgrain ribbon. The only thing on the ivory vellum card was Devruex, written in a firm, bold hand.

  She stared at the card, her hand trembling ever so slightly. Picking up the roses, she breathed deeply of their alluring scent and wondered why he had sent them. The feel of dancing with him came back in a heady wave. The breadth of his shoulders and the feel of his strong arms filled her senses again. Her breathing quickened as a rush of piercing anger hit her full force.

  The feeling held her in its grip for several moments before she made herself set the flowers and card aside. In an attempt to gain control of her wayward emotions, she said aloud, “This is ridiculous. I will stop thinking of him.”

  Since early childhood she had been able to school her emotions to her needs and this time would be no different, she told herself sternly.

  After breakfast, she bathed and dressed in the new riding habit. Tugging on a fine pair of gloves, she turned to Milton and said, “Please put the peonies and the roses in vases.”

  “What about the other flowers?” Milton asked.

  “I had forgotten about those. Do whatever you’d like with them. I care not,” Emma instructed over her shoulder as she left the room.

  On the other side of town, Sally Willoughby crumpled the note she had just received from one of Lady Colhurst’s footmen. She had paid handsomely for the information, and to her great infuriation, she trusted every word.

  “Rivers! RIVERS!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as she ran up the stairs, cursing under her breath between shouts.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  Reaching the landing, she whipped around to see her stone-faced butler gazing up at her from the foyer.

  “Where have you been? Didn’t you hear me calling you?” She hated it when her servants were less than perfect.

  The butler’s shoulders rose slightly as he let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, I heard you. I apologize, ma’am. What may I do for you?”

  “I want the gig brought around now. I am going to the park.”

  “Very good, Mrs. Wil—”

  She turned away before he finished and stomped down the hall to her bedchamber. Upon entering the room, she saw her maid laying out her green walking gown and matching pelisse.

  “I hate him!” Sally shouted and slammed the door.

  “Now, ma’am, do not be gettin’ yourself in a state. You know you’ll just start crying and make your face red and puffy.”

  “I am too angry to cry! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! He cancels an evening with me to go to that ball and dance with Lady Fallbrook. After what happened at the theatre, it is an insult! And who is she anyway? She dresses oddly and is at least five years older than me!” She kicked her shoes off with such force that they sailed across the room, sending a crystal candy dish crashing to the floor.

  Cooper lifted her shoulders in a resigned shrug. “Well, she’s quality and very rich. Everyone knows his lordship is hurting for blunt and needs to be looking for a wife who is plump in the pockets,” she stated as she began to help her mistress off with her morning gown.

  “Ha! Shows what you know,” Sally snapped. “The Montefords are rich enough. He just doesn’t know how to manage his mama. Oh, why couldn’t I have captured Devruex? He makes me shiver and his money is his own.”

  The stout servant made no comment and Sally continued in a less strident tone of voice. “You are going to have to find out about that Fallbrook woman.”

  Cooper sniffed and retrieved the green gown from the bed. “I don’t know anyone at the Duchess of Kelbourne’s household. ’Tis going to cost you more than a dress or two to get anyone to tell me anything,” she said as she pulled the gown over Sally’s head.

  “I don’t care!” came the muffled cry from beneath the gown as she shoved her arms through the sleeves. “I have to know if Monteford sees her again. How dare she try to poach my man,” she said as her head emerged through the neck.

  Cooper snorted and shook her head. “That ain’t how things work an’ you know it. If she wants ’im, you don’t matter. What does a lady care about the likes of you? Ouch!”

  “Keep saying things like that and I’ll pinch you again!” Sally shouted.

  Rubbing her arm, Cooper shrugged. “I ain’t saying nothing that ain’t true. You are going to get yourself in trouble if you go treating the nibs disrespectful. Then where will you be?”

  “Hush and help me get ready. If I don’t get out of this house I shall go mad,” she ordered, turning to her vanity table.

  Less than an hour later, Mrs. Willoughby was tooling her shiny red gig, with its perfectly matched white ponies, through Green Park. She had no desire to go to Hyde Park, which was always more crowded and where she was likely to be recognized. Her ponies were so well-trained, and knew the route so well, that she barely needed to pay them any attention as she mulled over her disturbing thoughts.

  She was still stewing about that Fallbrook woman and Monteford.

  After all, she was the famous Sally Willoughby, toasted as an Incomparable from one end of Town to the other. Didn’t he have any idea how many men desired her? Didn’t he know how crowds gathered at her front door just to catch a glimpse of her? Monteford should be kissing her feet for deigning to bestow her favors upon him, she thought bitterly.

  As the little conveyance trundled along the smooth lane that delimited the park, a new and disturbing thought presented itself. What if he threw her over for Lady Fallbrook?

  It would be one thing if he married the average, dull, mealymouthed Society woman—Sally would not feel threatened by such a creature.

  But it would be quite another thing if he chose someone like Lady Fallbrook. When their eyes had met briefly at the theatre, Sally had instantly recognized the pride and strength in the lady’s features. She did not look like she would tolerate her husband squiring his flashy mistress around Town.

  Monteford would not get rid of her, she assured herself stubbornly, gripping the leather reins tightly. Yes, they had a contract, but he was a lord, and she was not so naïve to believe that any court would uphold such an agreement.

  Two years ago, when she embarked upon this path, her intentions had been to salt away as much money as possible and gain her independence. But her life had not turned out as she had intended. She passionately loved having all her bills paid and spending her sizable allowance, but there were so many pretty bits and pieces that caught her fancy and she loved to entertain lavishly.

  In truth, she had almost no money in reserve and she suddenly felt vulnerable about her future. Of course, she had the jewels, but they never fetched as much as they were worth. As she continued driving along in the warm spring air, she realized that from here on out she was going to have to be very careful.

  A horse and rider running flat out across the open stretch of grass before her caught her attention. Rarely had Sally witnessed a woman using a sidesaddle ride with such reckless skill. Impressed, Sally kept her gaze on the woman and horse, envying her ability. As they drew closer, Sally suddenly recognized the profile.

  “Think of the devil, or whatever,” she said aloud and flicked the ribbons to urge her ponies forward.

  Of course Lady Fallbrook would be an excellent horse-woman, she thought bitterly. Lady Fallbrook probably excelled at every ladylike skill one could think of. The perfectly perfect Lady Fallbrook, she thought resentfully as she steered the gig to intersect with her rival.

  Without thinking past the next moment, she lifted her green-gloved hand and waved at Lady Fallbrook, who was still riding at a bruising run. It took a few moments of vigorous gesticulations before she was sure she had attracted her attention. Lady Fallbrook slowed the horse, turned his direction slightly, and
began to trot toward her.

  Sally eyed the lady’s dove gray and lavender riding habit, smarting with jealousy at the elegance of the original design. The short lavender jacket was a feminine version of a gentleman’s frock coat and her gray silk tricorne hat had a short, sheer veil as its only adornment. The ensemble, right down to the elegant knot in the stock at her throat, looked simple yet dashing.

  Sally clenched her teeth against her rising ire, for she herself had been hailed as the standard of what was fashionable and abhorred the idea of anyone usurping that role.

  Lady Fallbrook brought her horse to a stop a little distance away. Her expression showed no emotion except polite self-assurance. Sally felt her anger rise higher, for no matter how she tried she had never been able to emulate the poise and composure that the upper classes wore so naturally.

  Doing her best to perform a bow from her seat in the gig, Sally said, “Good morning, Lady Fallbrook. I wonder if you might honor me with a moment of your time.”

  Looking down at her, Lady Fallbrook remained silent for a moment before saying, “I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”

  How did she do it? Sally asked herself with a feeling of seething vexation. Her tone was so courteous one could believe that Lady Fallbrook was used to being confronted by notorious courtesans.

  But that very politeness caused a frisson of alarm to rush up Sally’s spine. It would be foolish to forget that this woman wielded power in the world. After all, Lady Fallbrook was the sister of the Duke of Kelbourne. The words of her maid cautioning her not to disrespect the nibs came rushing back.

  But now that her rival was before her, meeting her gaze with an expression of polite—and very faint—curiosity, Sally’s inherent sense of pride and sudden insecurity about her future urged her to reckless measures.

  “Why, I am Mrs. Willoughby. And you are Lady Fallbrook. Could we, perhaps, move to that little stand of trees and get out of the sun? I am sure neither one of us would like to risk getting freckles.”

  After an instant of hesitation, Lady Fallbrook said, “If you would like, Mrs. Willoughby.”

  There it was again, that damned unflappable civility, Sally thought. She got down from the gig as Lady Fallbrook gracefully slid down from her horse. Sally left the gig where it was, knowing the ponies would happily graze on the grass and not wander far. She followed as Lady Fallbrook led her horse to the trees and, finding a low branch, secured the animal before turning to Sally.

  “I confess you have me rather curious, Mrs. Willoughby.”

  They stood on the grass facing each other beneath the spreading branches, the balmy morning air ruffling the transparent veil covering the top half of Lady Fallbrook’s face.

  Sally lifted her chin and took the plunge. “I shall not waste your time, my lady. You are aware that Lord Monteford and I have an understanding. I would ask that you respect our relationship.”

  Sally realized her nerves had made her tone more abrupt than she intended. What have I done? Sally wondered in rising panic. She cursed her willful temper, for she knew full well that if it became known that she had so much as said good morning to someone of Lady Fallbrook’s ilk, Monteford would send her packing in a flash.

  Furthermore, this insulting action could also jeopardize her chances with other gentlemen in the future—after all, a member of the demimonde should know her place.

  It was too late to take back the words now, she thought with trepidation. Holding her breath, she waited for Lady Fallbrook’s reaction.

  A moment later, she bit back a growl of frustration. Lady Fallbrook’s expression did not change a whit. How do you do it? she wanted to scream.

  “You really do think of yourself as Queen Willow, don’t you?” Lady Fallbrook said softly.

  The detached amusement in her voice infuriated Sally, and any lingering fear evaporated in the face of it. “What can you know of my life? You, who have never struggled, never wanted for anything. The perfectly perfect Lady Fallbrook,” she finished with a sneer.

  The subtle change that came over Lady Fallbrook’s features caused Sally’s fear to return in spades. One delicately arched brow rising over a dark blue eye had Sally cursing her wayward temper again. Lady Fallbrook could express more with that one little movement than Sally could with her whole body.

  “Since this is a most unusual situation, I shall set aside my natural tendency to give the cut direct to rude people and only say that you know nothing of my life either. But because I am feeling oddly generous this morning, I will tell you that I am not the least bit interested in Lord Monteford. I find Lord Darley much more attractive.”

  Sally stared at the elegant woman, for once speechless. Everything in Lady Fallbrook’s poised manner showed that she did not give a sixpence for Sally’s fears, yet Sally found it almost impossible to believe that she did not want Monteford.

  She opened her mouth to reply, when a movement behind Lady Fallbrook caught her eye. Tilting her head to the side, she saw a horse emerge from the stand of trees. Catching her breath, she saw Lord Devruex astride the great black beast. From beneath his angled beaver topper, he looked at her with glittering dark eyes and she found his expression as haughty and unreadable as Lady Fallbrook’s.

  Suddenly, Sally felt completely out of her depth. It was one thing to take on her rival woman to woman, but having a witness—and one as powerful as Devruex—was quite another thing.

  “Lord Devruex! How lovely to see you on this fine morning,” she said in a rush as she moved swiftly to her gig. “I am sure you know Lady Fallbrook. I must fly now. Good day.”

  She sent one last glance to Lady Fallbrook and almost stopped in her tracks at the look of stunned vulnerability that came across her face.

  Feeling satisfaction at Lady Fallbrook’s sudden discomfiture, Sally spared a moment to wonder what had cracked that cold façade before she quit the scene.

  Chapter Seven

  After watching Mrs. Willoughby rush to her gig in a flurry of green muslin, Emma turned to look at Jack Devruex in surprise and dread. Evidently, everyone she did not wish to see had risen early this morning, she thought with vexation, wondering if he had overheard any of her extremely strange conversation with Mrs. Willoughby.

  He sat astride the most beautiful horse she had ever seen. The beast danced and tossed its beautifully shaped head, as if to show himself to better advantage. Her gaze shifted to Devruex and she noted that his riding clothes were exquisitely tailored—which had not been the case thirteen years ago.

  The jacket, made of a charcoal superfine, accented his flawless pale skin and dark eyes. As a soft breeze fluttered her short veil, her gaze was drawn to the way his buckskin breeches defined his muscular thighs.

  “Making new friends?” he asked as he agilely dismounted and tossed the reins over the pommel.

  At his droll query, Emma surprised herself by laughing. “I doubt Mrs. Willoughby would say so. What are you doing here, Lord Devruex?” She knew her tone was peremptory, but after her disturbing confrontation with Mrs. Willoughby, she did not feel equipped to deal with the even more disturbing baron.

  He gave a negligent shrug. “I often take a morning gallop. But I shall confess that when I saw London’s most famous lady and most infamous courtesan in conversation, I had to make a closer inspection in case my eyes had hoaxed me.”

  At his sophisticated banter, she felt tongue-tied and awkward. The reality of seeing him twice in less than twenty-four hours overwhelmed her senses. She felt a hot blush flushing her cheeks, but strangely, it was not from embarrassment, but anger—the same inexplicable anger she had felt last night when they danced together and again this morning when she had received his flowers.

  Picking up the train of her habit, she moved toward her horse. In the distance, she saw her groom, Wallace, walking his mount by the pond. He probably assumed she had arranged this assignation and was keeping a respectful distance, she thought with some exasperation.

 
“Too bad it wasn’t Darley who had the good fortune to come upon you,” Jack continued in a tone full of mild amusement as he moved to lean against a tree, his dark gaze never leaving her face. “I assure you, at this moment, he would be exceedingly gratified.”

  So he had heard her comment about finding Lord Darley attractive. She did not care, she thought with a lift of her chin. It instantly sprang to her mind that there had been a time when Jack Devruex would not have been so sanguine about her finding another man attractive.

  “Do you think so?” she asked coldly.

  He eyed her with thinly veiled amusement mixed with curiosity. “Lady Fallbrook, I must say I find your behavior toward me rather troublesome. You have claimed that the past has been laid to rest, yet I would swear that you are angry with me about something. I cannot imagine what it could be since we have not so much as exchanged a greeting in thirteen years.”

  Taken aback by his perceptive remarks, Emma honestly did not know how to reply. Inexplicably, her anger grew. “I am not angry, sir. What an odd notion.”

  He made an offhand gesture and she noticed the strong length of his fingers. “Nevertheless, there it is.”

  With an impatient movement, she kicked her train behind her and wondered why she just did not leave. “Because I do not fawn over you like some silly girl just out of the schoolroom does not mean I am angry.”

  She had been such a creature once, she thought with bitter self-recrimination—never again.

  He kept his glittering dark gaze on hers for a long moment. Soon she found his speculative attention too unsettling and had to look away from his disturbingly masculine face. She was beginning to resent his effortless ability to disconcert her.

  “What has brought you to London after all these years?” he asked in a different tone of voice.

  Again, she did not quite know how to reply. “I have grown rather bored with country life,” she said after a long pause.