Chapter Eleven
“Despite your earlier trepidation, I would hazard to say that you are now enjoying yourself,” Amelia said, leaning close so that Emma could hear her over the jig being played by a nearby quartet and the raucous noise coming from the other supper boxes.
Sending a quick glance to the other end of the table, Emma saw, through the flickering flames of a stout brace of candles, Devruex’s profile and deep dimples. Mrs. Bruce, seated next to him, threw her head back and laughed uproariously at something he said.
Again, that inexplicable flash of anger flared within her. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to Amelia.
“I can say that I am, thanks to you.” She sent Amelia an affectionate smile. “You were very adroit at making sure Devruex and I were in different coaches for the ride here.”
Amelia grinned as the server refilled their goblets with potent arrack punch. “Easiest thing in the world! As it was, we needed two conveyances, and placing you at opposite ends of our supper box proved just as easy. With all this music and laughter you can hardly be expected to shout at each other across the length of the table.”
“No, indeed,” Emma said, “and if Mrs. Bruce keeps his attention focused upon her, I shall not have to speak more than ten words to him this evening.”
This was true, for when Devruex had arrived at the Spence-Jones townhouse, looking disturbingly handsome in his dark blue jacket, he barely had time to do much more than bow and fix her with his dark, amused gaze before Amelia had whisked him off to meet the ebullient, auburnhaired Mrs. Bruce.
Roger had then presented to Emma the stout Mr. Bosworth, Mrs. Bruce’s brother. Moments later, they had all left the townhouse in a merry hurry.
Mrs. Bruce’s hearty laugh pulled Emma’s thoughts back to her engaging dinner companions.
“And how do you like Vauxhall Gardens, Lady Fallbrook? I know you have never been here before. Does it meet your expectations?”
Emma turned to Penelope’s dashing husband with a smile. “It does, sir. I could not have imagined such a place existed. The lanterns and faerie lights illuminate the promenades with such beautiful and fanciful colors that it quite chases the night away. I had no notion that the crowds would be so dense and diverse.”
He sent her a mischievous look. “Did you notice the transparencies?”
Emma laughed and tapped him playfully on his arm. “Ah, I see the roguish twinkle in your eyes, Tunbridge. You must have seen the way I practically jumped when I saw that ragged hermit, only to find out on closer inspection that it was just a clever illusion,” Emma said, meeting his smiling hazel eyes with her own.
Lifting his goblet he said, “A toast to you, Lady Fallbrook. And may I say that it is good to have you gracing Society again? We have missed your bright company.”
“Oh, sir, no wonder Penelope never ceases to sing your praises,” she said with warm affection.
To her surprised amusement, she could see a ruddy flush come to his handsome features.
“Does she?” he murmured.
Before Emma could reply, Penelope turned from her conversation with Mr. Bosworth on the other side of the table and said, “Lady Fallbrook, you must come to the Severly races next month! It absolutely cannot be missed.”
Emma recalled that Grandmère had mentioned the Severly Stakes this afternoon, and that Devruex had a horse entered. Just then, the smooth, deep timbre of Devruex’s laugh drew her gaze to where he, Roger, and Mrs. Bruce sat less than two yards from her in deep conversation.
“I have not had the honor of an invitation,” Emma said, dragging her attention back to Penelope.
“I am sure that is only because Severly has no notion that you are in Town,” the petite blonde said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I will make sure that you receive an invitation. Although it is only an hour or so out of Town, it is much more pleasant to spend the night at Longdown.”
“I thought the Severlys lived in Derbyshire.” Emma had known the Duke of Severly years ago, for he and her brother, Kel, were old friends. She had not seen the duke since his marriage a couple of years ago.
“They do, but Severly purchased Longdown because of its proximity to London and the good stretch of flat land on which to run his horses,” Tunbridge supplied. “The races started informally, but for the last few years it’s become the most talked about meet of the Season. By a complex method of preliminary heats, five horses are entered into each of two races. The first is for fillies.”
“It was terribly exciting last year,” Amelia interjected. “The weather was perfect and we all drove out together and claimed a spot on the grass near the finish line. We brought picnic baskets and visited with everyone because nothing starts on time, which makes it all perfectly lovely. The Severly races have become all the crack.”
“I confess myself surprised,” Emma said. “I always thought Severly was quite private. It’s difficult to imagine him sponsoring such an event.”
At a sudden burst of nearby music, Penelope set her cup down and leaned toward Emma. “Severly has softened a bit since he’s married the beautiful Celia. Tunbridge says that so many of the important races have become a bore—too crowded, too ripe for corruption. The Severly Stakes are kept small, but the side betting is enormous. The prizes are presented to the winning owners at the ball later in the evening.”
“Some people,” Amelia interjected, “who know they don’t have a prayer of being invited, put it around long before the invitations are sent that they have obligations in Town during the Severly races.”
As she smiled at the vanities of Society, Emma’s attention was again caught by Mrs. Bruce’s laugh, and she glanced down the table to see Devruex smiling at the auburn-haired beauty.
“It would seem that Mrs. Bruce is also enjoying herself,” Amelia said, giving Emma a sideways smile.
“Is her laugh rather shrill or is it just me?” Emma was beginning to find everything about Mrs. Bruce irritating.
Amelia grinned. “I do find her a little too jolly, but Mr. Bosworth is Roger’s particular friend.”
At that moment, Roger, sitting on the widow’s right, pushed his chair back and stood up. Smiling at his guests, he said, “Come now, we must all make haste if we are going to gain a good view of the fireworks.”
Amelia rose and moved to her husband’s side. “Yes, we must stay close. The crowds are terrific.”
As Lord Tunbridge assisted his wife, then Emma, from their chairs, Emma glanced again at Jack. He offered Mrs. Bruce his hand to help her rise, and with a huge smile she took it, holding it for longer than was necessary.
Taking a moment to carefully adjust her heavily embroidered lilac blue shawl to drape at her elbows just so, Emma told herself sternly not to look in his direction again.
They all left the semiprivate supper box and were instantly immersed in a sea of excited merrymakers. The red-and-gold lanterns dazzled Emma’s eyes and she was fascinated to see that many people wore fanciful masks and gamboled about the promenade like children around a maypole.
She continued to weave through the crowd, finding it difficult to keep up with her friends. As warm bodies seemed to press around her, she paused to catch her breath. She had never been in such a large crowd and found it a little unnerving.
“Lady Fallbrook! I knew I could not be mistaken! It is you.”
At the vaguely familiar voice, Emma whipped her head around and met a pair of smiling, warm brown eyes.
“Lord Darley!” She was quite surprised to see him, perhaps because she had hardly given him a thought since they had danced last night.
“Good evening,” she said, feeling a true smile come to her lips. Even though she had practically forgotten him, she had to admit that she found his eager, admiring expression quite flattering.
“How delightful to see you, Lady Fallbrook. It is a very fine night for fireworks—if a bit crowded,” he said in vast understatement.
Someone jostled him, seemingly to confirm his statemen
t. He made a comical face and Emma laughed at his charming good nature. Glancing around, she saw that the boisterous crowd had separated her from the others, and her friends were now some distance away. “Oh, you are correct. I am here with the Spence-Joneses and the Tunbridges but we have already become separated.”
“I came with Lords Trevor and Monteford and Mrs. W—er—and other friends, but I fear they are lost to me.”
Emma tried to hide her smile as he flushed red at nearly making the uncouth mistake of mentioning Mrs. Willoughby to her. Glancing past Darley’s shoulder, she could not mistake Devruex’s broad back moving away from her. Mrs. Bruce clung to his arm, and even from here, Emma could hear her hearty laugh above the din.
“Are you well, Lady Fallbrook?”
Pulling her gaze away from Devruex, she attempted to smile at Darley. “I am fine, sir. It is just that I am unused to such crowds.”
“If you will allow, I can escort you to a less crowded area of the gardens. It won’t have as clear a view of the fire-works display as we have here, but it will no doubt be less crowded.”
Tilting her head to the side, Emma admired the fit of his claret-colored jacket while considering his offer. She was tempted. After all, she came to London seeking what her life in Yorkshire so obviously lacked. With a last glance at Devruex’s back and a sudden stubborn sense of thrill, Emma decided that Vauxhall Gardens, of all places, seemed exactly the right place for a walk with a handsome man.
Glancing back in the direction the others had gone, she spared a worried thought that Amelia and Penelope would think she’d gotten herself lost and send a search party.
Just then, she caught sight of Penelope’s bright curls. Penelope turned and scanned the crowd with a slight frown. A moment later, their eyes met.
Holding Penelope’s gaze, Emma tilted her head in a significant way toward Darley, hoping her friend would take her meaning.
Even from this distance, Emma could see her friend’s delighted and encouraging smile. With a cheery wave, Penelope turned back to her husband.
Feeling free to be daring, Emma gave Lord Darley her most dazzling smile. “I would like that very much.” Her voice sounded a little firmer than she intended.
With a winning grin, he held out his arm to her and began to lead her through the raucous throng—even passing the odd sight of a man on stilts—until the numbers began to thin. Moments later they turned through a gap between the hedgerow onto a tree-lined lane that was much less illuminated than the Grand Walk they had just left.
Lord Darley kept up a steady stream of conversation as Emma admired the firmness of the arm beneath her fingers. The festive voices and music became a distant drone, and their feet crunching along the graveled path, with the soft sounds of birds roosting in the tall trees, brought a quite unexpected feeling of intimacy to the situation.
Suddenly, the memory of Devruex teasing her about the wagers being placed on her possible marriage to Darley made her defiantly glad that she had gone off with him.
They walked farther down the quiet path until a break in the line of trees and hedges brought them to a different view of the river.
“Here we are, Lady Fallbrook. We shall be able to see at least part of the fireworks from here.” He stopped beneath a tree where a lone Chinese lantern swung from a low branch.
Gazing up at his engagingly handsome face, she wondered if he would attempt to kiss her and what she would do if he did. With a thumping heart, she decided this was preferable to watching Mrs. Bruce simpering over Devruex.
“Now this is better, is it not?” Darley asked softly.
“Much.” She gazed up at him, the lantern casting a deep red glow over his broad, handsome features.
Their eyes held for a moment and he said, “Lady Fallbrook, I must tell you how honored I am that—”
To her amusement, he cleared his throat and tried again. “That is, I am above honored that you would entrust me—”
“Good evening, Lady Fallbrook.”
At the sharp voice cutting through the warm night air, Emma jumped and whipped her head around to see Lord Monteford approaching them along the shadowed path. An immediate feeling of annoyance rushed through her at the unexpected interruption.
“Evening, Monteford,” Darley said, and Emma could see that he also appeared unpleasantly surprised by the visitor.
Monteford, dressed in a dark evening coat with a ridiculously high collar, bowed deeply to Emma. She refused to hold her hand out for him to salute. The niggling instinct that had warned her against him last night solidified to avid dislike. “Good evening, Lord Monteford,” she said coolly, determined not to be more polite than necessary.
Ignoring her slight, he turned to his friend. “Good evening, Darley. Mrs. Pennyworth is wondering where you got off to,” he stated pointedly.
Emma did not care who Mrs. Pennyworth was, and she did not like Lord Monteford’s scolding tone of voice. She sent an encouraging look to Darley, fully expecting him to give Monteford a proper set-down for his barely veiled impertinence.
Instead, to her surprise, Darley stood there looking down, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“So shall we escort Lady Fallbrook back to the fireworks?” Monteford said with a sharp look to Darley.
Lord Darley, clearly uncomfortable, frowned and said, “Er, certainly, Monteford.”
Emma shot Lord Darley a look of exasperation, disappointed that he would allow Monteford to bully him this way. She was certainly not going to stand for this insufferable cheek from Lord Monteford another moment.
Sending him a scathing look of contempt, Emma said, “Such attentions are certainly not necessary, my lord. I am perfectly capable of finding my way. Good evening,” she finished abruptly and turned away.
“Oh! Please permit me to escort you back, Lady Fallbrook,” Darley called.
Already striding down the graveled pathway, she tossed over her shoulder, “There is no need,” and kept walking, aware that they were following her.
A feeling of deep disappointment hit her hard. She would certainly be striking Lord Darley off her list of potential lovers and would definitely not be driving with him in the park tomorrow. She had no interest in someone so unwilling to stand up to his overconfident friend.
She heard Monteford say, “Darley, why don’t you toddle along? Lady Fallbrook may trust me to make sure she returns unmolested.”
Glancing back, she paused when she saw Darley’s abashed expression. Pressing his lips together, he made a shallow, quick bow and muttered, “Good evening, Lady Fallbrook,” and walked quickly past her down the lane.
Staring after him and gritting her teeth in annoyance, Emma hitched up her shawl and continued marching up the path, back toward the main promenade.
“Lady Fallbrook, allow me to offer you my arm.”
Insulted beyond speech, Emma turned her head to see that Lord Monteford had caught up with her. His unctuous smile caused a repulsed shiver to ripple through her body.
“No, thank you, Lord Monteford. I have no desire for your company,” she said coldly and resumed walking. She could no longer see Lord Darley.
An instant later, a hard grip on her arm abruptly halted her steps. The unwanted contact startled her to the point that she stared at his fingers gripping her flesh for a moment before looking up at him. A searing anger brought heat to her cheeks. No one had ever touched her person so roughly, not even Charles.
“Now we cannot have this, Lady Fallbrook,” he said in a patient tone. “After your bold glances at the theatre and last night, I would not have expected such coyness from you.”
Unable to think clearly for a moment, she shook off his grip and continued to stare at him. “In the face of such insufferable presumption I hardly know what to say.”
“Come now,” he said with a chuckle and took a step closer, “there really is no need for these artful displays of shyness, my lady. We both know what is between us. I will not think less of you for your boldness. Unle
ss this is a hint that you would prefer that I sweep you off your feet. Actually, you impress me as a woman who would enjoy such a display of my passion.”
Emma closed her mouth, for she knew that she must have been gaping at him like a caught trout.
“You know, I do not believe that I have ever met anyone with less reason to be so arrogant. You will cease to importune me, sir.” Turning on her heel, she took quick steps to place as much space between them as possible.
“Is it possible that you mistake my intentions?” she heard him say as he came up behind her.
She walked faster. “I do not give a fig what your intentions are, sir.”
“Oh, but I believe you will when you learn that they are completely honorable, my lady,” he said as he practically trotted alongside of her.
This pronouncement slowed her pace and she almost laughed at the ridiculousness of this scene.
“You must be mad! I do not even know you. If you think I will feel any different because of your professed honorable intentions, you are seriously misguided.”
Lord Monteford had the gall to look affronted. This time, when she felt his harsh grip on her arm, she was prepared.
Spinning around, she jerked her arm down and then kicked his leg as hard as she could. The impact caused her toes to sting through her soft leather slippers. When he landed on his backside with a thud she looked down at him in complete shock, surprised that her hastily planned defense had been so successful.
Gathering her trailing shawl, she watched his stunned face and thought that this sort of thing was not at all what she had in mind when she had decided to come to London for some excitement.
He quickly scrambled to his feet, and she turned to run from him, but his speed was such that he was in front of her before she could take more than a few strides.
“Not so fast, my lady. You will pay for this insult.”
For the first time, she felt a frisson of fear. Despite the fact that only some trees and hedges separated her from thousands of people, she knew by the harsh frown distorting his handsome features that he did not intend to let her go so easily.
Lady Emma's Dilemma (9781101573662) Page 11