After that, Philip joined them at all the parties the countess and her companion went to every evening. Lady Clara and Emily watched in some amusement as he joined in the marriage hunt. It soon became an on dit about town that the Earl of Yorkleigh was searching for a wife. All the matchmaking mamas who had given up on him years ago were suddenly introducing him to every young debutante not on the shelf. The countess could not help wondering why her son was so mule-headed that he couldn't see the obvious-that he need not look any farther than his own guest room. She knew he would be frustrated by his search for the appropriate bride, since it was obvious that he already had feelings for Miss Spencer. But she wisely held her own counsel and sat back to enjoy the spectacle he made of himself. Despite her love for and pride in her only child, she realized it would do him good to learn a little humility, and this experience was sure to provide that.
Lord Philip danced and chatted with many young ladies every night, and each day he took a different young woman for a ride in the park in his phaeton. He found the experience entirely insipid and dismissed each miss from his list of potential mates. He could not believe how alike they all were. The conversations were all the same:
"Wasn't the party at Lord and Lady What's-TheirName such fun last night?"
"Isn't the weather quite lovely today?"
"Have you been to see the play being presented?"
It seemed that none of them had an independent thought, and if he tried to delve further into the workings of their minds, they would turn wide eyes upon him and ask innocently, "Whatever do you mean, my lord?" None of the young wenches ever asked him anything meaningful, and while he was sure they had all been raised with the necessary skills to run a household, he strongly doubted if any of them would be able to engage his interest. He was hard pressed to remember their names, so alike were the girls he saw every day. The thought of spending the rest of his life with any of these young women made him realize what a boring existence it would be.
The only young woman whose company he enjoyed was Miss Spencer, and that would just not do. Maybe his mother was right; perhaps he needed an older bride. He cast about in his mind, thinking of the spinsters or widows in his acquaintance, but they too did not seem to meet his standards. Maybe it was futile; he was beginning to doubt he would find a satisfactory match. He broached the subject with his secretary late one afternoon, as they were finishing up their work for the day.
"James, can I pour you a drink? I would like to ask you something."
"Maybe I shouldn't have a drink-this sounds serious," joked James as he accepted the crystal goblet being handed to him.
"It is serious, but you will probably need the fortification," laughed Philip as he downed some of the strong liquid. "I've been thinking you should choose my bride for me"
James nearly choked on his drink. After his coughing fit, he turned watery eyes toward the earl, looking at him as if he had run mad. "Why would I choose the next countess? I think that would most decidedly be your job, my lord."
"I can see why you would think so, James, but I am quite fed up with trying to choose for myself. All these young ladies are so much the same. They are all varying degrees of pretty and can dance gracefully and no doubt could stitch a houseful of beautiful cushions, but each one is tedious. You know me best; you could make a good, appropriate choice.
"That seems a rather cold way to choose a wife, my lord. Why don't you wait until next Season if none of this year's ladies are to your liking?"
"I thought of that, James, but I am not getting any younger, and I think next year the girls will be even sillier when I am one year older and they are one year younger."
James nodded at this reasoning. "I can see what you are saying, but I just cannot see how I can be the one to pick your wife. If you do not feel that you can wait any longer to hold out for your heart to be engaged, then ask your mother to pick. She would be in a much better position to make an appropriate choice. And if you do not make a love match, your mother will probably spend more time with your wife than you do, so she actually has a vested interest in your choice," concluded James in an attempt to lighten the situation.
"You make an excellent point, James. Unfortunately, I already asked my mother for some suggestions, and the only woman she could think of was Miss Spencer"
"Well, Miss Spencer is a fine woman. You could definitely do much worse, my lord. And you seem to enjoy her company, so what is the problem?" questioned James reasonable.
"You too, James?" exclaimed Philip in consternation. "Why does everyone think I should marry my mother's companion?" questioned the earl pompously.
James merely looked at the earl with a raised eyebrow, wondering why his usually kind, intelligent employer was acting so out of character.
Philip looked back at James despairingly. "Yes, James, I am being a simpleton. Never mind, I will figure this dilemma out for myself. Maybe I should broach the subject with my mother again" With that he dismissed James for the evening and settled back to think. He decided he should let the matter rest for a while. There really was no urgency to the matter of his marriage. He had waited this long; he could wait a bit longer.
One sunny day Philip, remembering Emily's love of riding, invited her to take a ride in the park with him on an afternoon that had a surprisingly light list of engagements for the ladies of the house.
"I would love to go riding with you, my lord. Let me run up and change. I will be with you in ten minutes," Emily called out as she ran up the stairs.
Philip sent a footman to the mews to saddle up their mounts and bring them around. He was surprised to see Emily ready in less than ten minutes. He complimented her on her promptness.
"I have been so wishing to go riding, my lord. I didn't want to keep you waiting and thus risk having you change your mind," she explained with an impish grin.
Philip laughed in delight as he handed her up into her saddle. They rode away from the house in comfortable silence, pleased with each other's company and enjoying the afternoon more than any in recent memory.
"Are you having a good time here in London?" Philip asked conversationally, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
"I'm having the best time!" declared Emily emphatically. "Everyone has been so nice, and Lady Clara is the best friend I could ever have. There is certainly never a dull moment here in London, that's for sure. One would have to be a complete simpleton not to enjoy oneself"
"I hear we are to attend the ball to mark the come-out of the oldest daughter of the Duke of York tomorrow evening. That should be quite a squeeze," commented Philip.
"Yes, apparently so. I still don't quite understand why it's considered a success when you can pack your house full of twice as many people as you should. It isn't the most comfortable experience to be in such a crowd. But my lady assures me it's quite the thing, and one must be seen at all the most fashionable gatherings. And I'm sure she would say I must not admit to not enjoying myself immensely at such a gathering," she concluded with a roll of her eyes.
Philip laughed, enjoying her company and realizing they both felt quite the same about such things. He marveled that they always seemed to see eye to eye on various matters. He was having a good time chatting with Emily when he realized that an older woman was staring at them and beckoning.
Emily looked at him questioningly. "Do you know that woman waving to us?"
"Yes, that is old Lady Merrivale. She was my grand mother's dearest friend, and she's a huge gossip. I am sure she is wondering about you. Let's get this over with, shall we?"
Emily turned her horse toward the older woman's carriage, smiling at the lady. Lady Merrivale's sharp gaze focused on Emily's face as Philip performed the introductions.
"Miss Spencer, you say," barked the old lady loudly, being slightly deaf in one ear. "You look awfully familiar. I just can't place where I have seen your face before. Must have known your parents, or maybe even your grandparents. But I don't know any Spencers. Are you sure t
hat's your name?" she demanded somewhat rudely, so clearly she did believe she knew everyone.
Emily blushed and stammered out an acceptable answer. She was quite flustered and berating herself for so carelessly forgetting that in London she would be even more likely to have her identity discovered before it was safe. She did not quite know what to say and was relieved when Philip was able to excuse them after a few moments of polite conversation.
"My apologies, Emily. Lady Merrivale prides herself on always being in the know. She keeps track of all the comings and goings of the members of the ton. You must have one of those faces that people think they recognize. Remember Lady Fitzgerald at Rosemount being so convinced she knew you from somewhere as well?"
"I certainly remember that, my lord," Emily answered stiffly.
"Don't let it bother you, Emily. They are just old women with nothing else to occupy their time. They will turn their mind to something else once they realize you are not whoever they think you are," Philip consoled.
"I'm sure you are right," Emily replied politely, as she thought with terror of what would happen if they did place where they'd seen her face before. On her mother.
Philip was sorry to see the clouds of doubt in Emily's eyes and longed to comfort her. She was such a sweet thing, he thought with deep affection. He wished they could go for a gallop, but it was approaching the fashionable time to be in the park, and the place was beginning to get crowded. He knew the crowds would be especially bothersome to Emily now, so he decided to quit the park and show her some scenery outside of London.
"Come on, Emily, let's go for a ride. You don't have to be home for a couple more hours, right?"
"That's right. What did you have in mind?"
"Just follow me. I'll show you" And he took off at a canter, quickly leaving the fashionable park behind.
Once they left the crowd behind, Emily brought her mount abreast of Philip's, and they were able to converse as they rode out into the countryside. Emily shook off her disquieting thoughts and told Philip all about the sights she had been enjoying thus far in London. She asked him his opinion of some of the people she had met, and he laughed at her impersonations of some of the more ridiculous members of the beau monde.
They carried on companionably before Philip brought them to a halt on the brow of a small hill. Emily's breath caught in her throat at the beauty of the scenery. Tears sprang to her eyes as she turned to Philip and said, "It looks just like home!"
Philip racked his brain for what part of Yorkleigh or Rosemount she would consider similar to this, until he realized she meant her own home, wherever that was. He meant to console her when he reached over and took her hand and therefore was not prepared for the sizzle that jolted through him at the contact. She squeezed his hand in return as she gazed about her at the breathtaking vista, then turned shimmering eyes up to his face. "Thank you for bringing me here, my lord. This is just what I needed"
He whispered, "Please, call me Philip," as he leaned over and gently kissed her upturned face. Again they both felt the jolt of awareness they had experienced during their first kiss. Emily's eyes drifted shut as Philip kissed her more ardently. He knew she lacked experience and did not want to scare her with his enthusiasm. Not yet prepared to declare himself, after a moment he broke the contact and raised his head.
He almost lost what little control remained to him when Emily's eyes drifted back open and he saw the look of wonder in them. Her every emotion lay bare for him to see, and he knew she felt the same as he did. In that moment he gave up the struggle he had been fighting for weeks, maybe even months. Her background did not matter anymore; he accepted that he loved her. But then she blushed rosily, blinked rapidly, and managed to wipe her thoughts from her face.
She cast about in her mind for something suitable to say but came up blank, so she just gazed straight ahead and cleared her throat. There was an excruciating moment of silence before she finally said, "Well, I suppose we ought to be getting back. Lady Clara will be wondering what has become of me" With that she wheeled her mount around and started back the way they had come.
Philip watched her go in consternation. Did the chit expect him to apologize, he asked himself in incredulity. He realized she was getting away and spurred his horse after her. They continued back to the town house at a brisk pace in silence, both lost in their own chaotic thoughts. Emily was berating herself for being so foolish as to fall in love with someone she could not trust with her heart. Philip was wondering how his mother was going to take the news that he wanted to marry her companion. He was surprised at his own equanimity at considering marrying so below himself in station when he had been so resistant to the idea for so long. They were both deeply relieved when they arrived in the mews behind the house.
Emily jumped down without assistance, threw the reins to the waiting groom, and dashed to the house without a backward glance. She didn't stop running until she was in her room with the door locked. She knew she was being foolish, but she was at a loss what to do. She was half afraid he was going to follow her, and she was half afraid he wouldn't. She was unsure which would be worse. She wanted to sit down and cry out her frustration, but she refused to give in to such weakness. Instead she threw off her riding habit in exchange for a proper afternoon gown and ran down to the salon, where Lady Clara was at home to guests.
When she entered the room, Emily felt many eyes upon her. She curtsied to the room in general before going to join Lady Clara on the settee. The countess could tell there was something amiss with her young friend but knew this was not the time or place to ask what was wrong. She con fined herself to giving Emily's hand a squeeze while continuing her conversation with Lady Waddell.
Emily looked around the room to see who was there. She was relieved not to see Lady Merrivale. She had half expected the old harridan to be here, spreading doubts about her identity. Emily took a deep breath to steady her nerves before smiling at the young gentleman trying to catch her eye. Her thoughts were too scattered to recall his name, but he didn't seem to notice; he was more interested in telling her how wonderful he was. She suppressed a grimace while trying to look interested. She calculated in her mind the exact amount of time she had to listen to him so as to carefully balance not being rude with not leading him to have expectations. She was beginning to realize how foolish all this was and why her parents had chosen to leave it behind. When the prescribed amount of time had passed, she excused herself and went to join Miss Fitzgerald, who was sitting in the window seat, for the moment alone.
Julia was such a dear girl, and Emily was pleased to maintain the friendship. Both girls readily slipped into the effortless conversation that was their trademark, and Emily again felt at ease. She determined to put the interlude with Philip from her mind and sort it all out later. Their private conversation, though, was soon joined by others and became more general. When Philip entered the room, it was to see Emily at the center of a circle of young people, happily chatting and laughing joyously. He felt old and excluded for the first time in his life; but then Emily must have felt him looking at her, for she smiled briefly at him in acknowledgment, and all was right with his world again. Lady Clara had caught the exchange of looks and smiled delightedly.
That evening they were invited to a dinner and poetry reading at the Eastwicks'. Emily was looking forward to it with keen anticipation. She enjoyed the company of the literary philosophers with whom Lady Eastwick associated. One was guaranteed to be highly entertained with that group, since many were high-strung and temperamental. Emily enjoyed the good-natured banter and spirit of competition the artists shared. She wished she could participate in some other way than just as a spectator, but it was not to be, and it would be enjoyable nonetheless.
She dressed with great care, anticipating the evening spent in Lord Philip's company. Her nerves had settled after a short nap, and she realized she had been foolish to run away after that kiss. She really needed to face things head-on; she would try to speak to him a
t the first opportunity. It would be awkward, no doubt, but she couldn't have it hanging over them. Of course, since he was the gentleman, perhaps she should leave it to him to broach the subject. Maybe she would ask one of the philosophers that night, she thought to herself with a chuckle as she went to meet Lady Clara. It would be sure to spark a lively debate among the forward-thinking group.
Lady Arabella welcomed them warmly as her mother was already tied up with other guests when they arrived. Lady Clara went off to join a cluster of her friends while Emily and Arabella walked to a private alcove to enjoy a quiet conversation.
"I have not seen you about these last days at the parties. Is everything allright with you and your family?" questioned Emily in concern for her friend. "You actually look quite happy, so I should say there can't be anything too wrong"
"You are right, I am deliriously happy. John, I mean, my Lord Brooke, has asked permission to pay his addresses to me, and I have accepted. We are to be married this coming summer." The usually quiet young woman nearly squealed in her excitement.
Emily was happy for her friend but felt a momentary sense of envy darken her mood. This was the second betrothal of a close friend. Just the day before Jane had informed her that the details were all worked out, and she would be marrying her baron at the earliest opportunity. Emily felt lonely, considering her own uncertain future. She then realized that she was being a wee bit selfish and determined to be glad for Arabella. Emily smiled encouragingly and allowed Arabella to fill her ears with all the details of how he had proposed and what plans they had already made for their life together. She then carried on singing the praises of her fiance for several moments. After rattling on for some time, Lady Arabella stopped midsentence and slapped a hand over her mouth.
"I am so sorry, Miss Spencer! Here I am yammering on like a ninny. Your barely even know my John, so you must be bored to tears"
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