Rogue Grooms

by Amanda McCabe

  Emily was ordinarily excessively fond of baked salmon, lobster tarts, white soup, and pineapple (indeed, she knew that if she was not equally fond of exercise, she would soon be quite as large as Lady Birtwhistle in her orange satin). Yet tonight she could do no more than nibble at a few grapes. And that was due entirely to the man who sat beside her.

  They were seated at a small corner table with Alex and Georgina, who asked David a myriad of questions about his plans for Combe Lodge. Emily herself managed to articulate a few comments, but mostly she just watched David—this new, fascinating David—and listened to him as he spoke.

  It still felt quite unreal—dreamlike, really—that he had suddenly appeared back in her world. His smile still held echoes of the friend she had once known, but it was not as open as it had once been. His laughter held a wry, hard note under its dark music.

  Well, it had been many years. And no one knew better than Emily the toll that time could take. Nothing stayed the same for even a moment—not even friendship. She was not the same wild, carefree girl she was then. He could not be the same boy who spent patient time with her and was her faithful friend and playmate.

  She listened to him speak of his English home, and longed to ask him about other things, things she knew of only from books. Monsoons, ghats and bathing in the sacred Ganges, rajahs atop jeweled elephants, dancing girls in bright silks and belled bracelets. Did the air truly smell of spices and jasmine in India? If she leaned close enough now, could she smell its echoes in his midnight hair?

  She even moved toward him, just the merest fraction, when she was brought up short by the sound of her brother speaking her name.

  Emily sat up straight, and blinked innocently across the table at Alex. Surely no one looking at her could have even an inkling that she was just about to sniff a gentleman’s hair!

  “I beg your pardon, Alex? I fear I was examining Mrs. Harcourt’s extraordinary turban and did not hear you.”

  “I was just telling Lord Darlinghurst that you are quite the expert on the most modern farming techniques, and he should ask your advice as well as my own concerning the fields at Combe Lodge,” Alex said, with an obviously puzzled frown. Emily was not usually so concerned with such things as turbans, and she had often expressed disdain for the fashion, which of course her brother would remember. She should have conjured up a better excuse for her rude inattention!

  Emily gave him another smile, and thought what a very unromantic subject farming was compared to jasmine and spangled silks and moonlit nights in Hindu ruins. But she had kept up with new farming theories, regularly reading the agricultural reports. As much as she longed to, she could not leave her past work behind her entirely. Whenever she rode over Fair Oak, she thought of planting and crop circulation. And, if all that meant she could converse with David a bit longer, she was glad for it.

  “Indeed,” she said. “While Alex was so bravely fighting for his country, I did what I could to learn about agriculture. The landscape and soil conditions at Combe Lodge are, of course, very similar to those at Fair Oak. I will be happy to share anything I have discovered.”

  “Thank you, Lady Emily. You are most obliging,” David replied, giving her one of his small, wry smiles. She noticed then the tiny lines that smile etched about his dark eyes—lines carved there by the brilliant Indian sun. “I have much to learn. While I read a great deal on the voyage to England, books are no substitute for experience.”

  Amen to that, Emily thought. She sometimes felt that all she had ever seen of true life was in the pages of books. First, because books were the only amusement she could afford while she lived alone with her mother in the country. And now—now books were her anchor to a different reality, in the midst of this glittering, artificial world.

  “Ah, but I hope you are not going to abandon Town for the country just yet!” declared Georgina, with one of her merry trills of laughter. “The Season may be almost over, yet there are many delights still to be had. The theater, of course, is always amusing, and there is the Merryvale rout and that ridiculous affair the Innises have devised to display their treasure one last time. And you must see the Elgin Marbles!”

  Emily nodded in fervent agreement, pushing aside the distressing mention of the forthcoming Innis ball. She had already seen the Greek Marbles once, in their dark, cramped display room at the British Museum, and had been caught up by the life of them, the flowing, eternal beauty. “Oh, yes, you must see at least that before you leave London, Da—Lord Darlinghurst.” She felt her face warm anew at that near faux pas. Though she could not think of him as anything but David, it would never, ever do to say it aloud. She turned away to take a cooling sip of wine.

  But he appeared not to notice her discomfiture at all. Or perhaps he was just being polite? “Thank you, Your Grace, Lady Emily. I would enjoy all of those things, especially the marbles, I am sure, but I do hope to leave soon for Combe Lodge. I have my nine-year-old daughter with me, and I fear she may grow bored in Town.”

  “Our children are also here in Town, Lord Darlinghurst, and I know very well the importance of keeping little ones amused and out of mischief!” Georgina said. “They are probably too young to be company for Lady . . .” She paused, one dark red brow raised in inquiry.

  “Lady Anjali,” David answered.

  Georgina nodded, not even batting an eyelash at the exotic name. “For Lady Anjali, but perhaps she would enjoy some of the same amusements they do, such as Astley’s Amphitheatre or some of the museums of curiosities. And the Park is always most pleasant.” Georgina paused again, a speculative glance turned onto Emily.

  Emily held her breath. Whenever her sister-in-law got that look in her eye, mischief was soon to follow. Georgina had recently been the orchestrator of her friend Mrs. Rosalind Chase’s marriage to the poet Viscount Morley, and the success had put matchmaking into her blood.

  “Indeed, Lady Emily knows Hyde Park very well, she is always riding and walking there, often with my children,” Georgina continued. “Perhaps she could show you—and your daughter—the best sights.”

  David glanced at Emily—a quick, unreadable look. She fancied she saw some uncertainty there.

  But when he spoke, his voice conveyed no hint of reluctance or sense of being coerced. He smiled at her, and said, “I would be very happy if you would consent to drive with me in the Park, Lady Emily. We have many years to catch up on, after all.”

  “Thank you, Lord Darlinghurst,” Emily answered politely, quietly, as if her stomach was not turning over with excitement. And all over a simple invitation to drive in the Park! “We have no engagements tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Excellent. Tomorrow it is,” David said.

  Georgina gave a satisfied little smile. “And I hope you and Lady Anjali will take tea with us next week, as well. It is always pleasant to get to know one’s neighbors!”

  Alex laid his hand over his wife’s, and nodded in agreement. “Indeed, Darlinghurst, we will be happy to see you at any time it is convenient. And now that my wife has arranged everyone’s social schedules to her liking, shall we find some fresh air on the terrace? It has grown quite close in the dining room.”

  “A wonderful idea, my dear!” Georgina declared. “We shall all go together.”

  Emily watched as Georgina and Alex rose from their chairs and ambled happily away, arm in arm, everyone moving out of the way of their ducal path. Then David’s gloved hand appeared before her, waiting to help her from her seat.

  She gazed up at him, and could not help but grin yet again in abject happiness. Her uncertainties about this new David, her fears about what might happen when he found out the fate of his family’s Star, were pushed aside—at least for the moment. For now, for this one evening, she was just glad to see her friend again.

  “Shall we join them, Lady Emily?” he asked. “I can send one of the footmen for your shawl.”

  She slipped her hand into his, reveling in the feel of his fingers closing over hers, holding them safe. �
�Thank you, Lord Darlinghurst. Some fresh air sounds most—bracing.”

  David studied Emily carefully in the flickering light of the Chinese lanterns strung along the Wiltons’ terrace. She appeared to be everything a young English lady should be—serene, polite, charming, and oh so beautiful in her fashionable gown and jewels. Her gloved fingers were light as a butterfly on his sleeve, and her smile was perfect as she chatted with him about a myriad of inconsequential topics—the weather, the Wiltons’ elegant arrangements in their ballroom, his voyage from India and his new London townhouse.

  Everything but the things he really wanted to ask her. What had she been doing in the years they were apart? She was obviously not engaged, but was there a young swain she favored? Above all, what was it that burned so behind her monsoon eyes, beneath the serene mask of her pretty face?

  For there was something. He had not imagined the flare of some strange panic in her expression back in the dining room. They had been talking and laughing with her brother and his wife, when suddenly Emily’s eyes widened, her breath caught in a sharp gasp, and she withdrew into some secret room deep inside herself. She dwelled in that room still, despite her smiles and polite questions.

  He remembered that she would do that sometimes as a child, when she was roundly scolded by her governess or when the wicked Damien broke one of her dolls. What could be affecting her so now? She was obviously a Diamond of Society, admired and lovely. But something plagued her, something that made her go from laughing and open to quietly withdrawn in only a moment.

  He would give his newly acquired phaeton to know what it was, to take the burden from her slim shoulders.

  “I trust your mother is well now?” he said, trying to fill the silence between them as they turned and made another circuit of the terrace. Several feet ahead of them walked the duke and duchess, arm in arm, laughing together softly, intimately. “I understood she had an accident of some sort.”

  “Yes,” Emily answered quietly. “Many years ago, she was thrown from her horse during a hunt. She has been confined to a Bath chair ever since.”

  “I am so sorry, Lady Emily,” he said, chagrined. “I should not have brought up such a painful subject.”

  “Not at all! You and your father were always good friends to my parents—it is only natural you would want to know how she fares. And she is very well now. She is at the dower house at Fair Oak now, but she spends part of every year in Bath, taking the waters and enjoying concerts and card parties. She will be happy to hear you are back in England.”

  “And I am happy to hear she is doing so well.” Ahead of them, he saw the duke and duchess stop and speak to another group. Soon, he and Emily would not be alone—or nearly so—any longer. He turned to her, and said quickly, “Lady Emily, shall I call on you at three o’clock to go driving with me in the Park tomorrow? I would so much like to hear more about your life.”

  She paused for an instant, her eyes wide and uncertain, and he feared he had pushed too much. But then she nodded, and said, “Oh, yes. I would like that very much. Thank you, Lord Darlinghurst.”

  Chapter Five

  “Aunt Emily, may I go driving in the Park with you, please?” Emily’s little niece, Elizabeth Anne, caught at Emily’s skirt with her chubby fingers and leaned against Emily’s chair in her most beguiling manner. “It is such a beautiful day!”

  Emily laid down the book she was halfheartedly reading, but before she could answer her niece’s entreaties, Georgina broke in.

  “No, my darling, not today,” she said, barely glancing up from the sketchbook on her lap. Only her tiny, secret smile revealed that she heard all of her cajoling and was vastly amused by it. “Aunt Emily is going on a grown-up outing this afternoon. No little girls allowed. I will stay home, though, and we can have a drawing lesson.”

  Elizabeth Anne smoothed her palm over the sleeve of Emily’s pale yellow silk walking dress. “Is that why you are so dressed up, Aunt Emily? Do you have a suitor coming to take you to the Park?”

  Emily laughed, and caught up Elizabeth Anne’s tiny hand to kiss it. “You are becoming a wild romantic, my cherub! Just like your mama. I have an old friend coming to take me to the Park, someone I knew when I was not much older than you are now.”

  Elizabeth Anne’s brow wrinkled in confusion. This did not fit into her Cenerentola view of life as one long vista of Prince Charmings! “A child is coming to take you driving?”

  Emily could hardly contain her mirth. She pressed her hand to her mouth, and only when she felt she could speak without bursting into laughter did she say, “No, my dove. He was a child many years ago, as I was, but now he is grown up. He is as old as your mama.”

  Elizabeth Anne’s green eyes widened. “As old as that?”

  Emily could not help it—she let her laughter run free. “I know, angel. It is difficult to believe.”

  Georgina tossed a velvet cushion at Emily’s head, and cried out in great indignation, “Oh, thank you very much, sister dear! If I only had my walking stick to hand, I would hobble my decrepit self over there and beat you soundly with it. But we elderly folk must content ourselves with our quiet seat, where we may nurse our gout.”

  Elizabeth Anne glanced from her mother to her aunt, obviously now thoroughly confused. “So, an old person is coming to call on you, Aunt Emily? And a child?”

  “Neither, my darling,” said Georgina. “Aunt Emily’s caller is a most handsome gentleman of thoroughly youthful age.”

  “Ah.” Elizabeth Anne nodded thoughtfully. “Will he bring flowers, then?”

  “If he knows what is good for him. Now, leave your auntie alone for a time. You will wrinkle her gown and muss her hair.”

  Elizabeth Anne immediately removed her hand from the vicinity of Emily’s sleeve. “Oh, no! You must not be mussed when your suitor comes here.” She retreated to the window seat, where Georgina’s white terrier, Lady Kate, was nursing her new litter of puppies. Next to clothes and fairy tales, the pups were Elizabeth Anne’s first priority in her young life.

  Georgina laid aside her sketchbook, and leaned over to be sure baby Sebastian still slept in his basket. “He is very handsome, is he not?”

  “Sebastian?” Emily said, pretending to be thoroughly ignorant of Georgina’s meaning. “Undoubtedly. He looks just like Alex, or shall in fifteen or twenty years.”

  “Of course not Sebastian! It goes without saying that he is handsome. And you know perfectly well who I mean. Your Lord Darlinghurst.”

  Emily could feel that curse of a flush returning, spreading warmly down into her ruffled white gauze chemisette. She turned away from Georgina’s searching gaze, and riffled through the pages of her book. “He is not my Lord Darlinghurst, Georgie.”

  “Hm. Perhaps not yet, but judging from the way he looked at you last night, he very soon will be. Or could be, if you wanted him.”

  “Georgie! I have not seen the man for nigh on fourteen years. How should I know if I wanted him? We are merely two childhood friends becoming reacquainted.”

  “Of course, Em. But perhaps, as you become reacquainted, you will find you have things in common. Things that might lead you to—become friends again.”

  Emily could not pretend to herself that she had not contemplated the same sort of thing. Last night, and in the carriage coming home from the ball, and alone in her bedchamber, all she had thought about was David. How he had grown into a very handsome, fascinating man. How strong and warm his arm felt beneath her hand as they strolled along the Wiltons’ terrace.

  His dark eyes and rich voice, his air of something exotic and undefinable, made all her London suitors fade away into pale nothingness. But . . .

  “Our lives have been so very different all these years. Almost as if we lived on two different planets. I am sure that after the Indian ladies he would find me as dull as dishwater.” As washed-out as she thought her English callers.

  Georgina gave an indignant huff. “How could he possibly find you dull, Em? You have more wit a
nd conversation that any other miss in London! Not to mention a curiosity and intelligence he could not find anyplace else, as well as your quite à la mode prettiness. I have wished all my life to change this red hair of mine into golden curls. You give yourself too little credit. Once he gets to know you again, he will be yours.”

  Emily just laughed. She could think of no reply to make, as was so often the case with Georgina’s pronouncements. Emily wished that Georgina’s words were true, but doubts plagued her so that she could not quite believe them. Her life had been very different from David’s. And then there was the matter of the Star.

  He would ask about it eventually, she was sure of that. The sapphire rightly belonged to him, to his family, and her family had done him a great wrong. She could never make the matter of the jewel right for him, no matter how much she twisted herself into knots about it. She would simply have to confess the ugly truth.

  But not yet. Not until he asked. For now, she would be a selfish creature and enjoy having his company again.

  “Is this him?” Elizabeth Anne cried, pressing her nose to the window. “It must be; he is stopping here. Oooh, he is handsome! But very dark. Do you suppose he stayed too long in the sun, Mama?”

  Georgina hurried over to the window beside Elizabeth Anne, pressing her nose against the glass in the exact same manner as her small daughter. “He has been living in India, darling, and sometimes people there are dark. Remember the story Aunt Emily has been telling you?”

  Elizabeth Anne nodded. “About the blue god with many arms?”

  “Exactly. That tale also comes from India, dear.”

  Emily smiled at Elizabeth Anne’s memory. Perhaps it was not strictly proper to read wild tales of “heathen” India to an English duke’s daughter, but Elizabeth Anne loved them far above tame Anglo fables. And Emily loved reading them to her—it was good to have someone to share her interest in India with, even if it was just her little niece.