A Proper Companion (14 page)

Emily had listened in astonishment as Lady Windhurst
exclaimed over the proportions of the room, the quality of the
furnishings, the pleasing prospect of the gardens from the drawing
room windows, the elegance of the Worcester tea service, and on and
on. Lady Lavenham's mouth had been set in a tight line, and she was
uncharacteristically quiet. Emily also noticed that the dowager's
brows had not unfurled since the arrival of the Windhurst ladies.
She knew her employer well enough to recognize that she was rigidly
curbing her annoyance. Emily had prayed that the old woman would be
able to maintain her cool.

"I simply adore your collection of Italian
paintings, Bradleigh," Lady Windhurst said.

Emily had almost choked on her tea and noticed that
Lady Lavenham's eyes were wide with astonishment. Had the earl
actually given this woman leave to drop his tide?

"The Italians are so much more tasteful in our
English decor than, say, French paintings, don't you agree? So
large and dark and atmospheric and all. Most complimentary to your
delightfully old-fashioned furniture," she said as she eyed a
Chippendale arm chair. She turned to the dowager and laid a hand on
her sleeve. "Bradleigh has surely told you of the extensive
renovations we have made to our drawing room in Cavendish Square.
All new furnishings. In the Egyptian style. Quite fashionable,
don't you know."

"Yes," the dowager drawled between clenched teeth as
she deftly extricated her arm from Lady Windhurst's touch. "I'm
sure it is quite ... up to date."

"But, Mama," Augusta had interjected, "you must
admit there is a certain elegance to this room. I quite like
it."

"It is indeed charming, my dear," Lady Windhurst
replied. "Are you responsible for this charming decor,
Bradleigh?"

"I'm afraid the credit must go to my mother, Lady
Windhurst," the earl replied in his most polite tone. Emily had
never seen him appear so subdued.

"Well, then, I am sure my Augusta will make her own
changes, just as your mother did. Isn't that so, my dear?"

"Of course," Augusta replied, her eyes roaming the
room.

"I do admire the paintings, though," Lady Windhurst
said. "Do tell me, Bradleigh, which of your paintings is the most
prized? To me, they are all quite wonderful, of course, but surely
there is one that you most treasure? That is most valuable?"

Emily had closed her eyes and stifled a groan at
such an impertinent question. She looked up to see that the dowager
had risen and walked across the room to stand next to a very small,
very beautiful painting which Emily had noticed the previous
evening. It depicted a group of ladies and gentlemen dressed in the
style of the early part of the last century. The colors were
jewel-like and the style very delicate and decidedly
un-Italian.

"This," the dowager drawled, "is the greatest
treasure in the house. It was given to my husband and me as a
bridal gift from the Duc d'Orlèans. It is a Watteau." She locked
eyes with Lady Windhurst. "French, don't you know."

Emily hid a smile behind her teacup. Lady Windhurst
was momentarily flustered but recovered almost immediately to
comment on the extraordinary selection of pastries and breads on
the tea tray. Emily could not help but look over at Lord Bradleigh,
who had caught her glance and flashed a crooked grin.

Emily felt some pity for Lord Bradleigh, who would
have to deal with that vulgar creature as a mother-in-law. No
wonder the dowager had been so upset at his betrothal! But then she
recalled Miss Windhurst and realized that her mother would be a
small price to pay in order to wed such a beauty. Exquisite was the
only word Emily could think of to describe the lovely, aloof
Augusta Windhurst. She had very dark hair, styled in fashionably
short curls that framed her heart-shaped face and set off her
alabaster skin. Her eyes were very pale blue, almost turquoise, and
were accented by delicately arching brows. She was not quite as
tall as Emily, but carried herself with such a regal air that she
seemed much taller. She had spoken only once or twice during the
entire visit and had not smiled even once.

Emily did not think that shyness was the cause of
Augusta's reserve, as her cool blue eyes seemed very keen, almost
calculating. She had all but ignored her mother's monologues while
she intently observed the dowager and Lady Lavenham. She was even
caught closely watching Emily herself once or twice. Only
occasionally had her glance fallen upon her betrothed, Emily could
not help but notice. She seemed to be judging the ladies' reaction
to her mother. Emily suspected she was storing the information for
later use in her behavior as the Countess Bradleigh. For no reason
that Emily could articulate, she felt certain that Augusta
Windhurst would have no qualms about cutting the connection with
her own mother if it raised her distinction in the eyes of the
ton
.

Despite Augusta's beauty, Emily found it hard to
believe that Lord Bradleigh was to marry such an iceberg. He was so
warm and compassionate, and ... well... likable. Could he really be
so superficial as to want this young girl for her beauty alone? To
act as an ornament on his arm, to be paraded before the
ton
to increase his consequence? Emily wanted to dislike Lord Bradleigh
for such shallowness, but found it difficult to temper her growing
admiration for him. She scolded herself for being so hasty in her
judgment of Miss Windhurst after only one meeting. Surely there
were qualities other than her exquisite beauty that had attracted
Lord Bradleigh. She was determined to uncover them, if only to
convince herself that the girl was worthy of him.

Emily's attention was diverted from her reflections
when she realized the carriage had come to an abrupt stop. They had
apparently reached Portman Square, but the streets were jammed with
traffic. She looked over at the dowager, who shrugged in
resignation.

"You may as well make yourself comfortable, my
dear," the dowager said as she settled herself more snugly against
the plush velvet squabs. "It will surely be half an hour or more to
best this throng."

Emily peeked out the window and saw an enormous
house at the end of the block bathed in the light of dozens of
torches. She realized that this was their destination and was
momentarily incredulous that it should take them thirty minutes to
travel a single block. And yet as they inched their way along the
square, it was clear that the dowager had not exaggerated. Emily's
inclination was to get out and walk the short distance, but she
knew that such a thing was simply not done.

As the carriage finally made its way through the
crush of vehicles, Emily took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
It had been a very strange day, but she suspected that a few more
surprises were in store this evening as she recalled the earl's
promise to introduce her to some of his acquaintances. She had no
doubt that the dowager would make sure that this promise was put
into practice at once.

She was helped down from the carriage by a liveried
footman and took the dowager's arm as they made their way to the
crowded entrance of the impressive town house.

* * *

Robert noticed them at once. He had been doing the
pretty with Lord and Lady Windhurst and Augusta, but couldn't keep
his eyes from straying to the entrance. He hadn't even been aware
that he had been watching for her until he saw her. But then he
realized he had been most anxious to see how she would look
tonight, dressed in her new finery for her first
ton
event.
He was not disappointed as his eyes followed her as she and the
dowager made their way toward their hostess. She looked beautiful.
His attention was snapped back when he suddenly became aware that
Lord Windhurst was addressing him.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," Robert said, "but the
noise is so great that I missed what you said. Oh, but there is my
grandmother. I must go pay my respects. If you will excuse me." He
bowed to the Windhursts, turned to Augusta, and took her hand to
his lips. "My dear," he said, as he took his leave, ignoring her
petulant look. He really ought to spend more time with the girl, he
thought as he elbowed his way through the crowd. But not just
now.

He was forced to stop and acknowledge greetings and
congratulations along the way. He tried all the while to keep his
grandmother and Emily in sight, as they were fast disappearing into
the crowd, and he feared he might lose them forever in such a
crush.

"Bradleigh!" a familiar cheerful voice rose above
the din. Robert turned to find a tall, fair-haired gentleman making
his way toward him.

"Sedge! Well met," Robert said, clapping the
gentleman on the back. Lord Colin Sedgewick was one of Robert's
oldest friends. He also happened to be at the top of the list of
eligible gentlemen Robert had considered for introductions to
Emily, who by now, he realized, was completely lost in the crowd.
He sighed and looked back at his friend.

"I haven't seen you since the great announcement
appeared in the Gazette, old man," Lord Sedgewick said, grinning
broadly.

Robert had often thought that Sedge had the most
infectious grin he had ever seen. His eyes crinkled up into tiny
slits, and he looked positively impish. It was nearly impossible
not to grin in return.

"I almost choked on my morning coffee when I read
it," Lord Sedgewick continued. "Put me off my feed for the entire
day. Why didn't you tell me?"

"No time. Sedge," Robert replied. "I hared
straightaway off to Bath to tell Grandmother before she heard it
through the grapevine. Unfortunately I was too late. She had read
the Gazette only moments before my arrival."

"Poor boy. How did she react?"

"She boxed my ears."

"Ha!" Lord Sedgewick shouted. "I always liked the
old girl." His eyes narrowed as he caught someone in the crowd.
"Well, speak of the devil."

Robert turned to see three purple plumes bobbing
above the crowd and heading in his direction.

"Robert!" His grandmother's familiar drawl reached
him before he actually saw her emerge from between two animated
groups, her plumes striking one outraged gentleman in the eye.
"I've been searching for you this age," she said, ignoring the
irate gentieman. "What a crush! Ah, Sedgewick. How delightful to
see you again." She cast a meaningful glance at Robert.

Her meaning was not lost on him.

"Lady Bradleigh," Lord Sedgewick said as he took the
dowager's hand to his lips. "You are a vision, as always. Bath
agrees with you, ma'am, though we miss you here in London. What
brings you to town?"

"Robert's betrothal, of course," she replied. "I
have come to organize an engagement ball." She tossed another
significant look at Robert.

He knew his role and glanced quickly at Emily, who
was standing slightly behind the dowager. She looked positively
delicious, he thought, like peaches and honey. Although the room
was very brightly lit with hundreds of candles, it was nevertheless
a flickering sort of light which caused Emily's dress and hair and
eyes to shimmer. He could hardly tear his eyes from her. Suddenly
the image of her at her dressing table filled his mind, and he
realized the very sight of her was having a physical effect on him.
Good God, this was madness. He blinked his eyes in order to regain
control and rearranged his face into a polite smile as he reached
out a hand toward her.

"Lord Sedgewick," he said, drawing Emily forward,
"may I introduce Miss Emily Townsend, my grandmother's friend and
companion. Miss Townsend, this is my good friend Lord
Sedgewick."

"Your servant, Miss Townsend," Lord Sedgewick said
as he bowed over Emily's hand. Robert did not miss the appreciative
gleam in Sedge's eyes before they crinkled up into a smile.

"I am pleased to meet you, my lord," Emily said.

She was no less susceptible to Sedgewick's smile
than anyone else, Robert thought as he watched her face light up
with a dazzling smile of her own. Sedge asked her a question, which
Robert missed as the dowager tugged on his arm and led him slightly
apart from the other two.

"Good work, my dear," she whispered. "Sedgewick will
do nicely. Who else have you lined up?"

"No one," he said with some exasperation. "I hadn't
actually 'lined up' Sedge. We just happened to bump into each
other."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "It was smoothly
done. Who else have you seen tonight?"

"Before I met up with Sedge, I had been with the
Windhursts and Augusta. I'm afraid I haven't had time yet to act as
scout for your little campaign."

"Well, hop to it, my boy. I am counting on you." She
glanced over at the other couple. "I suppose they have had
sufficient time to become acquainted," she said as she returned to
Emily's side.

"Well, Sedgewick," the dowager said, "I'm afraid you
must excuse us. This is Emily's first visit to Town, and there are
so many people I want her to meet. We must move along," she said,
taking Emily's arm. "Shall we see you at the Rutland ball Thursday
night?"

"I wouldn't miss it," Lord Sedgewick replied. He
turned to Emily. "I hope I may be permitted a dance. Miss
Townsend?"

"I would be honored, my lord," Emily replied.

When the two ladies had moved away, Robert turned to
his friend and cocked a questioning brow.

"What a beauty!" Sedge exclaimed. "Where have you
been hiding her?"

"In Bath," Robert said, frowning. "With
Grandmother."

* * *

Emily stood near the refreshment table sipping a
glass of champagne. She seldom indulged. In fact, having watched
her father sink into dissipation after her mother's death, she had
scorned spirits in all forms. But it was so warm, and she was so
thirsty. Surely a single glass could not be considered
objectionable. She felt the knots in her stomach begin to
uncoil.