A Proper Companion (18 page)

Robert turned her toward him and gathered her in his
arms. She buried her face in his neckcloth and sobbed. She tried to
talk. She choked out a few disjointed sentences about her parents
having been married, saying over and over that she was no bastard.
Finally she lost control of her voice altogether.

"Hush," Robert said, rubbing one hand up and down
her back, the other holding her head tightly against his chest,
taking care not to dislodge the blue satin fillet intricately woven
though her hair. "Hush," he repeated. "Don't talk."

She cried into his neckcloth for a few more minutes,
and then he felt her quieten and hiccup and he knew the storm had
passed.

She made a move to lift her head from his chest, but
he kept her pinned there. He was savoring the feel of her in his
arms and wasn't ready to relinquish her just yet. She didn't fight
him, but instead seemed to relax into his embrace.

"I'm sorry, my lord," she said, her voice muffled
against his chest, "but I believe I've ruined your neckcloth. Your
waistcoat, too, no doubt."

"Don't worry about it," he whispered, still stroking
her back.

"I've always hated them, you know," she said. "My
mother's family. I'd never actually met any of them. Until tonight.
They were so cruel to her."

Suddenly she couldn't stop talking. She told him all
about her mother's beauty and sweetness. About her father's
recklessness and bravado. About their love for each other and their
happiness as a family. About her mother's death and her father's
grief. About his drowning his grief in drinking and gambling until
there was nothing left. About her own anger and hurt that her
father could never seem to love her as much as he had loved her
mother. And about her own rage and hatred for her mother's family.
How even as a child she had blamed them for everything bad that
ever happened.

Robert listened in silence as she talked on, resting
his cheek against her silky hair, delighting in the faint scent of
lavender. God, but she felt good, although there was nothing
particularly sensual about their embrace. It was a gesture of
comfort and there was something very touching about her trusting
response. It was important that she trust him. He felt a
protectiveness toward her that almost overwhelmed him.

As he listened he knew instinctively that Emily was
telling him things that she had never told anyone else. He had
known from the start that she was a very private person, that she
didn't allow herself to get close to others. But a barrier was
being broken down between them as she spoke. As much as he
treasured her trust and confidence, he knew it could also be very
dangerous to completely break down those barriers. Something more
than a simple friendship would result. Something more precious.

But that could never be. Not now. He was engaged to
Augusta now. Bloody hell!

He loosened his arms, and Emily pulled back to look
up at him. She smiled so sweedy that his breath caught in his
throat.

He couldn't take his eyes from her soft, moist
mouth. He ran a thumb gendy along her lower lip.

"Are you feeling better now, my dear?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you, my lord," she replied, a bewildered
look in her eyes.

He forced his thumb away from her lips, knowing he
must avoid that danger. He moved it up to her cheek and wiped away
some remaining tears.

"You had better go freshen up," he said, moving his
hands to her shoulders and deliberately putting her away from him.
"You look terrible."

She smiled up at him and nodded. He turned to go,
but she put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Thank you again," she said. "You've been very kind,
my lord."

"Robert."

She looked at him quizzically.

"Anyone who cries into my neckcloth may call me
Robert."

"Thank you, Robert," she said. She reached up and
kissed him on the cheek.

He wanted nothing more than to gather her back in
his arms and kiss her properly. Instead he smiled and offered his
arm as they turned toward the French doors leading to the
ballroom.

Suddenly they were face to face with Augusta, who
was standing in the doorway.

They both stood silently, neither seeming to
breathe, as they watched Augusta turn on her heel and hurry
away.

"Damn!" Robert said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, my l—er, Robert," Emily stammered, "I am so
sorry. Shall I go to Miss Windhurst and explain? S-surely she will
understand if I—"

"No, no, Emily," he interrupted with a rueful smile.
"Don't worry about a thing." He tipped her chin up with a knuckle.
"You take care of your face, and I will deal with Augusta. Go on,
now."

He released her chin, and Emily nodded at him and
headed blindly into the ballroom. She had no idea where the ladies'
retiring room was located, but she decided to keep to the perimeter
of the room in hopes that no one would notice her. She was bound to
find a servant who could direct her. She kept her head down,
fearing someone might remark her ravaged face. She was startled
into a squeal when someone grabbed her arm from behind.

"Miss Townsend! Emily!" whispered Lady Lavenham as
she pulled Emily to her side and linked arms with her. "Where have
you been? Grandmama and I have been beside ourselves with worry
after seeing that dreadful man speak so rudely to you. I
practically had to physically restrain her from hunting the man
down and pummeling him with her reticule. I have never seen her so
upset! Are you heading for the retiring room? Good." Louisa looked
keenly at Emily as she hustled her along. "You've been crying,
haven't you?"

Emily turned her face away.

"Well, anyway," Louisa continued in her now familiar
breathless manner, "I had to talk a blue streak to convince
Grandmama to stay out of it. I knew she would only cause a worse
scene. After all, Rob had the good sense to lead you onto the dance
floor—I assume he got permission for you to waltz?—and so there
really wasn't much time for any kind of scandal to develop. It all
happened so fast, didn't it? But what a delicious setdown Rob gave
to Lord Pentwick! Wasn't he marvelous?" Louisa squeezed Emily's arm
in her excitement.

Emily was thankful that Louisa's natural
effusiveness made it unnecessary for her to comment, and she was
able to use the time as they circumnavigated the ballroom to
collect herself. The viscountess's vivacity made her a very popular
figure among the ton, and there were many who looked as though they
might approach them as they walked along. Louisa kept her attention
riveted to Emily in such an obviously private manner, however, that
no one was given the opportunity to interrupt, for which Emily was
grateful. Realizing with some embarrassment that she had stopped
listening to Louisa, unconsciously ignoring her in much the same
way as she often did with Lottie, Emily quickly returned her mind
to the woman at her side.

"But then, what happened to you?" Louisa was asking.
"One moment I saw you two on the dance floor, and the next minute
you were nowhere to be found. Then along came Miss Windhurst—I
don't mind telling you that I am finding it somewhat difficult to
warm up to her—and she was looking furiously for Rob, who had
apparently reserved this set with her. Of course we told her we had
no idea where he was, that he had disappeared somewhere with you,
and ..."

They had reached the retiring room, which was full
of young women chattering gaily. All conversation stopped when
Emily and Louisa entered. Emily felt the blood rush to her face as
all eyes turned toward her. She knew that gossip traveled with
lightning speed through the
ton
, but this was her first real
experience of it. Good God, would this evening never end?

Louisa whipped her around and led her out of the
retiring room and down the hall. She poked her nose into every
doorway until she found an empty anteroom. It was a small room with
a lit fire, obviously prepared for guests who needed a moment alone
or a private conversation. Louisa turned to Emily and took both her
hands.

"Are you quite all right, Emily?" she asked.

Emily nodded. "I'll be fine," she said. "I just need
to repair my face a bit."

"Of course you'll be fine," Louisa said as she
pulled a lace-trimmed handkerchief from her reticule. She circled
the room until she found a tray of wine and brandy decanters.
"Aha!" she said. "Just what we need."

Emily thought she meant the brandy, which she really
didn't want. But instead Louisa dipped her handkerchief in a
pitcher of water which was also on the tray. She turned back to
Emily, lifted her chin, and proceeded to bathe her face with the
damp cloth.

"I have two small boys, you know," Louisa said. "I
am quite good at this." She continued to bathe Emily's face, then
had her splash water from the pitcher in her eyes to reduce the
redness. "There," she said. "Don't you feel better now?"

"Yes, I do," Emily said. "Thank you, Lady
Lavenham."

"Please call me Louisa, as I have already taken the
liberty of calling you Emily."

"Thank you, Louisa," Emily said. "You've been very
kind to me."

"Nonsense. It must have been horrible for you to
have that awful Lord Pentwick say such things to you. David had
hinted to me that the man was wicked, but who would have thought he
would do such a thing? Well, you must know that your friends will
stand by you, my dear. I don't mean to sound arrogant, but most of
us have more consequence in Society than he does, despite his
title. So you just hold your head high, Emily, and walk back out
into the ballroom as if nothing had happened."

"Thank you, Louisa," Emily said with a catch in her
voice.

"Now, don't you start crying again!" Louisa scolded
as she closed her arms around Emily and gave her a fierce hug.
"We've only just gotten your face back in order." She released
Emily and kissed her on the cheek. "Now, where is your dance card?
Have you promised this set to anyone?" Emily handed her dance card
to Louisa, who moved to a nearby wall sconce so that she could
better read it in the light of its two candles. "Ah, good. Lord
Sedgewick has signed his name for this set. He is Rob's closest
friend, you know. He will take good care of you and keep any
troublesome biddies at bay."

After one last check in the mirror over the
fireplace, the two ladies returned to the ballroom. They were
immediately set upon by Lord Sedgewick.

"Miss Townsend," he said as he offered his arm. "I
am wounded. You have treated me most shabbily," he said, his wide
grin dispelling any anger his words might have implied. "You have
cheated me out of half the set already. You shall have to make
amends by giving me a second set later this evening." He reached
for her dance card. "Ah, I believe I'll take the third set after
supper." He grinned down at her and winked. "A waltz!"

He took Emily's arm and led her to the floor, where
they joined a group of three couples in a cotillion.

Emily absently walked through the cotillion and all
the following dances, while her mind was elsewhere. She did receive
many nods and smiles, several from people she'd never even met. She
wasn't sure what it all meant, but she sensed that it wasn't bad.
They weren't snubbing her, after all.

Later in the evening she made her way to the
dowager's side. The old woman immediately took her hand and gave it
a squeeze.

"You've handled yourself well, my girl," she said,
smiling affectionately at Emily. "I can name dozens who would have
indulged in a fit of the vapors, or at the very least made an early
discreet exit. You did yourself a service by sticking it out.
Society approves of such dignity, and you have won their hearts
tonight. That blasted uncle of yours has failed utterly in his
attempt to disgrace you, my dear. In fact," she said, laughing, "he
was the one who bolted early."

The old woman's laughter changed abruptly to a frown
as she seriously eyed her young companion. "The scoundrel!" she
whispered. "What can have possessed him? One would have thought
that if he had no intention of pleasantly acknowledging you he
would have preferred to simply avoid you altogether."

"I admit, ma'am," Emily said, "that I had felt that
way, too. I assumed he would ignore me as his family has ignored
mine for years."

"And yet," the dowager continued, "he seemed
hell-bent on causing a public spectacle. In point of fact, my
dear," she said, leaning close to Emily and lowering her voice, "I
think that very few heard his actual words to you. Obviously
something happened between the two of you, which alone will have
caused some degree of interest and speculation. But few have any
knowledge of the true nature of your confrontation, so you can rest
easy on that score. I happened to be sitting close enough to
overhear, and was only drawn to listen at all because I knew who
the man was to you. Most of the others seated nearby were paying
little if any attention, I assure you. But I did hear what he said
and I tell you I would have had his guts for garters if Louisa
hadn't clamped her hand on my shoulder like a vise. I was ready to
thrash the man with my reticule. The pistol inside would have given
him quite a wallop, I guarantee you!"

The image of such an attack caused Emily to burst
out laughing.

"You see," the dowager said, "you are feeling
better, aren't you? Louisa told me that you had been crying. I
don't blame you one bit, but I am glad that bully didn't completely
ruin your evening."

Emily was soon whisked onto the dance floor by yet
another partner. She stepped through the intricate patterns of the
country dance, as she had all evening, with an abstracted smile
planted firmly on her face. After all, she had years of practice in
schooling her features into an unreadable expression. Such was
expected of a woman in service. She had no way of knowing, however,
that her air of indifference went a long way toward increasing her
consequence with the
ton
. Those who had some notion of what
had happened with her uncle attributed her cool attitude to a
remarkable strength of character.