Emma glanced over at the mantel clock and decided that a nap would be just the thing, for she felt unusually fatigued after being out so late last night and experiencing the disturbing events of the morning.
Not bothering to ring for her maid, she kicked off her slippers and managed to undo enough buttons on her afternoon gown to remove it by herself. Tossing the garment over the back of a chair, she crossed the room to the windows and pulled the drapery partially closed to dim the room.
Once settled beneath a light green satin coverlet on the downy bed, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her plans for the church bazaar in the autumn. Back home, the festive weekend, always one of the highlights of the year, took months of detailed preparations to ensure its success.
To her great vexation, glittering black eyes and broad shoulders intruded upon every thought. No matter how she tossed and turned she could not vanquish Jack Devruex from her mind.
Everything about him confused and angered her—especially angered her. This was quite odd, for nothing ever angered her.
What did he mean by saying that if she was looking for romance she should leave the field open? She mulled over his outrageous comment as she punched the feather pillow.
He was a stranger to her, no matter what had transpired between them years ago. She knew nothing of the life he had lived after he had broken her heart. Broken her heart and left her to a life she had, at eighteen, never imagined she could endure.
Yet she could not deny that there was something completely, agonizingly familiar about Jack Devruex. Frowning, she tried to sort her jumbled thoughts. He was not necessarily familiar in the physical sense, for he was quite different from the near boy she had known. No, what was familiar was how she felt when she looked into his eyes.
Beneath the inexplicable anger that assailed her senses when he was near stirred the feelings he had awakened in her the first time they met. Feelings that she had told herself were a figment of her imagination during the last thirteen years. Charles had certainly never made her feel this thrilling awareness of exciting and unknown possibilities.
Kicking off the coverlet, she sat up and looked across the room to the massive bouquet of pink roses Milton had placed upon the petite desk.
It suddenly occurred to her that she had not been completely honest last night when she had proclaimed to her grandmother that Charles had never hurt her. In truth, he had. Not deeply, not permanently, but enough to have taught her a powerful truth.
For she had realized early in her marriage that Charles’s petty attacks would have been devastating if she had loved him. If she had ever loved her husband the way she had once loved Jack Devruex, the desolation of their marriage would have left her an empty hull of her former self.
A shiver traveled over her flesh as she stared at the flowers.
She must cease these painful and futile regrets. Life had taught her too well how pointless it was to look back. It was beyond foolish to permit any lingering, wistful memories of what might have been to throw her into confusion.
Feeling her unsettled emotions beginning to calm, she relaxed again into the sumptuous bedding, and finally fell into a restless slumber.
Chapter Ten
Because she was quite curious about Amelia’s mysteriously worded invitation, Emma had not minded having to dress earlier than expected, for it was a welcome distraction from her muddled thoughts. She was growing quite frustrated, for it seemed that no matter how much she reasoned with herself, she could not forget the feeling of looking into Jack Devruex’s eyes.
At least Grandmère had not noticed anything amiss when they had met in the foyer before she left for her musical evening at Lady Burlton’s.
Using the time in the coach to take herself in hand, Emma felt much more her usual sanguine self when she reached the Spence-Jones’ fashionable townhouse in Cavendish Square.
Upon entering Amelia’s salon, which was exquisitely decorated in the latest Chinese style, she saw that Penelope had also managed to get herself ready early for the evening—quite a feat for the countess, who was notorious for her tardiness.
“Now isn’t this lovely?” Amelia said after greetings were exchanged. “I shall tell you of our plans for the evening and then we shall have a nice gossip before the other guests arrive.”
With glasses of sherry in hand, the ladies walked to the French doors leading to the Spence-Jones’s beautifully landscaped, terraced garden. The sun had not completely finished with the day and still cast a purple-and-orange glow over the lush space.
“You have arranged for a perfect evening, Amelia,” Penelope said as they all stood looking out over the garden, the heady scent of gardenias wafting around them.
“Yes, perfect. We shall be a merry party,” Amelia began, looking flushed with excitement. “I am so glad I persuaded you to arrive early, Emma, for I wanted to let you in on our plan before the others arrive. Penelope has already heard.”
Emma lifted her glass to her hostess. “No need to persuade me to do anything. You desired my presence now, so here I am. I confess you have me on tenterhooks of anticipation about your plans.” Because of Amelia’s obvious excitement about the evening, Emma decided to wait until later to tell them about her bizarre encounter with Mrs. Willoughby. She had already decided not to share her unexpected meeting with Devruex; she felt too confused about her inexplicable reaction to speak of him.
Amelia led them down onto the next terrace and they seated themselves in comfortable wicker chairs. Emma thought her friends looked beautiful. Penelope complemented the sunset in her glowing gown of bronze-and-apricot silk and Amelia’s milky complexion and dark hair showed to advantage in her layers of strawberry satin.
Emma again had left her choice of evening wear to Milton, who had presented her mistress with a sophisticated confection of icy blue silk, net, and seed pearls. The gown was lovely, but the little cap sleeves looked so delicate Emma wondered if they would stay up. However, here in the balmy dusk she was pleased with the garment.
Taking a deep breath of the perfumed air, Emma looked at her friends expectantly, and noted a look of concern in Penelope’s large green eyes.
“There will be only eight of us tonight,” Amelia began. “When everyone arrives we shall all go on the merriest silliest frolic. My dearest husband has arranged for us to spend the evening at Vauxhall Gardens!”
“Vauxhall Gardens!” Emma had once harbored a desire to visit the famed pleasure gardens but Charles refused her request to attend when they had come to London during their marriage.
Before that, during her first Season, Jack had promised to take her. Why do I remember things like that? she chided herself as Amelia continued.
“I know you must be wondering what has become of our senses. Our set has always thought the place too crowded, too overblown. I admit the whole atmosphere is rather over the top. But that’s just what we are all in the mood for, don’t you think?”
Emma laughed with pleasure at Amelia’s charming enthusiasm. “Yes, I think that sounds perfect on this warm eve. A bit of over-the-top fun will keep us all from becoming too stiff-necked and pleased with ourselves.”
“Oh, I was hoping you would say that! If you go along in the proper spirit of the thing, then so will everyone else. I’ve been in such a mood for a good romp. We will have a grand time, don’t you think?”
“I do. I too am desirous of a good romp, as you so succinctly put it,” Emma agreed.
“I would not be so sure about that,” Penelope, sitting across from Emma, put in.
”Amelia, tell Emma who shall make up our party.”
Emma sent Penelope a questioning look, as Amelia set her glass down on a nearby table and began counting off the guests on her fingers. “Well, there is Roger and I. Penelope and Tunbridge. Emma, of course. Mr. Robert Bosworth and his sister, Mrs. Dorothea Bruce. They are the grandchildren of the Earl of Nottingham. I believe you are acquainted with that family. And the charming Baron Devruex rounds out our merr
y troupe.”
Emmaline, in the act of reaching for her glass of sherry, knocked it over at the mention of Jack’s name.
Jack Devruex! That explained Penelope’s mysterious comment.
“How clumsy of me. I’m so sorry.” With a quick movement, she righted the glass, grateful the liquid had not splashed on her gown.
Frantically casting about for something to say, she glanced from the beautiful garden, basking in the last glow of the setting sun, into the drawing room, where the servants were busily lighting the chandelier and performing the final preparations before the other guests arrived.
He would arrive anytime now, she thought in rising panic.
The thought of a whole evening spent in his presence, after what occurred in Green Park that morning, was intolerable. But how to extricate herself from this awful situation without upsetting Amelia? Biting her lip, she looked at her friend’s smiling face. Under any other circumstances she would never consider bowing out of a social obligation, especially to such a good friend.
Well, needs must, she told herself. “Amelia, I hate to upset you, but I must beg off tonight.”
“What? You must be teasing me,” Amelia looked flabbergasted.
With an inward sigh, Emma realized she would not so easily make her escape.
“I would not tease on such a subject. In truth, I-I do not care for Lord Devruex and would much rather avoid making anyone else uncomfortable with my disregard. If you would please have my carriage brought around, I shall take my leave before the others arrive.”
Amelia, looking crestfallen and bewildered, jumped up from the chair and began to pace the flagstone terrace, her strawberry satin evening gown rustling with every turn.
“But my dear Emmaline, you must know that Devruex is a very close friend of my husband and any number of gentlemen you are acquainted with. They have all run in the same set since they were schoolboys. My Roger, Tun-bridge, Severly, Haverstone, Monteford, Westlake, even your own brother, I might add—they are all as thick as thieves. If you intend to ignore Devruex, then you will have to avoid all his friends. I cannot imagine why you dislike him so. Has he insulted you in some way?”
Of course Emma knew that Jack was closely associated with her brother and his friends. No matter how she had tried to ignore news about him over the years, she had not been able to completely avoid hearing about his exploits.
Penelope, who had remained uncharacteristically silent during this exchange, leaned forward and said gently, “Don’t you think it’s time to tell Amelia what happened?”
Emma looked from one friend to the other, and saw the concern on Penelope’s features and the anxiety on Amelia’s. Instantly, she felt horribly guilty for causing such reactions—and completely silly for her behavior.
She threw her hands up, in a gesture of confusion and dismay. “For a woman who has long prided herself on self-possession I am displaying a shocking want of it at this moment. Forgive me for discomfiting you, dear Amelia.”
“Good heavens! Penelope makes it sound as if there is a mystery afoot. Tell me at once! What happened to make you take Devruex into such dislike?”
Taking a sip of what was left of her sherry, Emma leaned back in her chair as Amelia reseated herself. Penelope sent her a reassuring smile.
“’Tis a simple story, really,” Emma began, striving for a light tone. “I made a complete fool of myself over Jack Devruex a long time ago. He quite broke my heart.”
Amelia looked stunned. “Devruex? You knew him? When? Oh, do please tell me what occurred.”
Penelope nodded in agreement. “Yes, do tell us. Even I have not heard the details for years and I believe it will do you good, Emma.”
Encouraged by their earnest, concerned expressions, Emma took a deep breath and plunged ahead, feeling an odd sense of relief to be able to speak of it. “I met Jack Devruex during my come-out year. I was eighteen and thought I was so wise in the ways of the world. Almost instantly we fancied ourselves in love,” she said with a half-embarrassed smile.
“Well, who would not? Those eyes! He’s terribly fascinating, and so masculine,” Amelia interjected.
“Do let her speak before she changes her mind,” Penelope scolded, flapping her hand at Amelia.
“I am sorry. Do please go on. I shan’t interrupt again for I must hear what happened.”
Looking off into the distance, Emma continued. “Jack’s reputation was beyond the pale and his prospects were not impressive. My uncle Chilcrest took him into dislike and Mama thought him a certified rakehell in the making. Who could blame them for their opinion? I saw for myself how he swaggered about Town with his friends, spurs jingling, creating a stir wherever he went. I thought him terribly dashing.” She was painfully aware that her tone had lost the lightness she had strived for, but she continued, urged on by the rapt expressions of her friends.
“He approached my uncle, who refused his suit out of hand. The very next day, Jack and I began to make plans to elope.”
“Elope! How could you dare? Oh, I am sorry. Do continue, please.” At the cross look Penelope sent her, Amelia clapped a hand over her mouth.
Emma’s smile was a little wan. “So, on the designated night I sneaked out of Kelbourne Keep to run away with him, uncaring that I risked social degradation. I was frightened and tired, and I despised the idea of hurting my family, who had done nothing but indulge and love me the whole of my life.”
She took a deep breath before continuing. “When I arrived, I was distressed to see him in a phaeton, of all things. Can you imagine a more inconvenient vehicle for an elopement—especially since we were so far from Scotland? Jack was so very cavalier, as if the whole thing were the merriest prank. He made jokes and it became clear that he was a little bosky. I became alarmed. Despite how much I loved him, I could not dismiss the thought that I could be making a dreadful mistake. I do not believe that he had the foggiest notion of just what I would be sacrificing to be with him. Suddenly, all the stories my uncle had regaled me with, about how dissolute and irresponsible Jack was, came back to haunt me. I began to doubt my decision.”
“That is perfectly understandable,” Penelope interjected, ignoring the look Amelia sent her. “After all, you were so terribly young. So carefully brought up and sheltered. I am surprised that you had the temerity to sneak out of Kelbourne Keep in the first place.”
Emma shrugged, feeling the evening air caress the tops of her shoulders. “I suppressed my doubts and we rode off in the phaeton, but he drove the wrong way. For miles he went in the opposite direction and did not even notice. On top of everything else … well, I panicked and bolted. As I stood on that dark road, soaking wet from the rain, tired and frightened, I realized that he must not have really loved me.” She stopped abruptly, startled at the rough catch of lingering pain and sorrow in her own voice.
The three of them sat in silence for a moment until Amelia said softly, “But you were only eighteen and Devruex was not much older. Maybe he truly did love you and when you ran away …”
Emma shook her head as Amelia’s voice trailed off. “No. I am coming to the end of my sad tale,” she said, attempting a self-deprecating little laugh. “The next day, when I had calmed down, I knew my feelings for him had not changed. I waited, confident that he would come to Kelbourne Keep, sober and more serious about the action we intended to take. It never entered my love-struck little brain that he would not come back. I waited and waited like a besotted fool with my nose pressed against the windowpane. But he never came back. I did not receive so much as a note. So you see, his professed love for me was obviously not very deep or enduring. Three months later, I married Charles.”
“Oh, Emma,” Amelia said, her eyes full of tears and her tone full of awe. “I hardly know what to say. I never would have suspected that you had something like this in your past. Since I have known you, you have been the model of all that is poised and circumspect. This is so tragically romantic. I feel quite teary just thinking of how much th
is must have hurt you and I never knew. But, surely, it is behind you now?”
Spreading her hands wide, Emma said, “I do not know why his presence should throw me into such confusion. Last night, when we danced, I had every intention of behaving as if I barely recalled Lord Devruex. Instead, I behaved like a shrew. I am certain that he is gloating over the fact that I have never forgotten him. It’s ridiculous to be this angry after nearly thirteen years, for heaven’s sake. My life has been so busy that I have scarce given him a thought. Yet now …” She could not put into words the bewildering emotions that had gripped her heart since seeing Jack again.
Penelope nodded her blond head in understanding. “Yes, you organized your homes with impeccable skill and you played hostess to your husband’s family and friends. After dealing with such a terrible tragedy early in your marriage, then coping with the loss of Charles, you built and directed the management of not only a school but an orphanage as well. You have also championed the rights of children working in mills in Yorkshire. And you are an accomplished harpist and gardener. Lord only knows what else I have left out of your hectic schedule.”
Emma turned to look at her old friend, a puzzled frown furrowing her brow. “And what is the point of this recitation of what is on my calendar?”
Penelope sent her a look of keen understanding. “To illustrate that you have finally run out of things to occupy every moment of your time. Mind, I am not saying that you do not enjoy all those activities, but keeping so busy has held the past at bay. Don’t you know, Emma,” Penelope said with uncharacteristic gravity, a suspicious sheen in her large green eyes, “that in matters of love it does not signify how much time has gone by, the heart never forgets.”
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