A Proper Companion (21 page)

She was as confused as she could be. She wanted to
believe him, but it was so hard to let go of the anger that she had
lived with every day of her life. Could a lifetime of anger and
bitterness be washed away in only a few moments? Could she so
quickly dismiss her mother's grief and pain?

No, she could not. She must not allow herself to be
so easily swayed by her cousin's eloquent plea for understanding.
For all she knew of him, he might be a consummate actor
manipulating her for his own purpose. But what that purpose might
be Emily could not imagine. In fact, she was inclined to believe
him, but she somehow felt that she must not yet let him know that.
She allowed that she may in time grow to trust her cousin, but she
knew she should not be so quick to make that judgment.

She glanced at the dowager, who was still scowling,
but this time those brows were furrowed at Emily. She gave her
employer a tiny nod to indicate that she knew she must think twice
before committing herself.

"What would you have me do, my lord?" she asked in
an indifferent tone which hopefully masked the turmoil of her
emotions.

He smiled brightly. "I only ask that you allow us to
become better acquainted," he said. "Let us spend some time
together and get to know one another. As I have said, if nothing
else I would be your friend. As a first step, I would request the
honor of taking you up in my carriage this afternoon for a drive
through the park."

"I am afraid I am engaged this afternoon, my
lord."

"Thursday, then?"

"I am also engaged Thursday afternoon, my lord," she
replied truthfully, remembering Lord Sedgewick's invitation.

"
Please
, Cousin." His voice took on a
beseeching tone, and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees
and his hands clasped together. "Believe that I am serious and
completely honorable in my intentions. I only seek to become better
acquainted with one of my nearest relations. If you will only name
the day, I am at your service."

Emily glanced at the dowager, who shrugged in
resignation. There was no polite way out of this, even if she
wanted out. But Emily was willing to give him a chance, a very
small chance, to convince her of his sincerity.

"Saturday, then," she said.

Lord Faversham stood and bowed over Emily's hand.
"You honor me, Cousin. Saturday it is. I will take my leave until
that time." He turned toward the dowager and Lady Dunholm.
"Ladies," he said, bowing crisply.

The morning room door was opened before he could
reach for the handle. Claypool must indeed have been standing
by.

"Well," the dowager drawled when the door was once
again closed. "What an interesting development, to be sure. What do
you think, Dolly?"

"I don't trust him."

"Neither do I," the dowager said. "But I think you
were wise, Emily, not to reject him out of hand. It would be well
to see what game he is playing. But take care, my girl. Do not
forget that he is his father's son, after all."

"Do not worry, my lady," Emily said. "I shall never
forget that."

"I thought I might find you in here."

Emily looked up with a start from the book she had
been reading to find Lord Bradleigh standing in the doorway of the
library. "Oh," she said, slightly flustered.

"I learned in Bath," Robert said as he sauntered
into the room, careful to leave the door ajar, "that whenever you
weren't with Grandmother—who, by the way, is still in the morning
room sharing gossip with Dolly Dunholm—you could most likely be
found with your nose buried in a book. What better place than
here?" he asked as he indicated the walls of books with a sweep of
his arm.

"I beg your pardon, my lord," she said.

He cocked a brow. "I thought we had dispensed with
my title ...
Emily
."

"Yes, of course," she said, feeling the unmistakable
heat of a flush on her cheeks. "Robert." His wary expression melted
into a warm smile. She was immediately at ease and smiled in
return. "I am sorry to be making so free with your library. I only
came in to see if I might find something interesting to read, but
found myself enchanted with exploring the shelves." She looked
around the room with admiration. "What a magnificent collection.
Goodness, I had no intention of sitting down and making myself
quite so much at home. I'll just take this volume and be on my
way." She closed her book and made to rise from the leather
armchair.

"The library is at your disposal, Emily." He placed
a hand gently on her shoulder to prevent her from rising. "There is
no need to leave. Please feel free to make use of it at any time. I
am happy to know it is affording pleasure to someone besides
myself." He stood next to her and reached down for the book in her
hand. He noted the title and looked back at her, eyes wide with
feigned astonishment. "The
Agricola
of Tacitus?"

She grinned and retrieved the book. "I have always
wished to further my knowledge of the classical authors," she said.
"Of course, I read the
Histories
and the
Annals
of
Tacitus while still in the schoolroom. I have never, however, had
the privilege of reading the
Agricola
. I find it quite
fascinating. I was just now reading of the revolt of the Britons
under Boudicca."

"And her subsequent rout by Paulinus," he added.

"True, the Romans were quite thorough in their
victory. Nevertheless, one cannot help but admire Boudicca's
courage and leadership. Tacitus even reluctantly admits that had
Paulinus not acted quickly, Britain would have been lost to Rome.
All due to the fury of one woman."

"Indeed," Robert said as he eased himself into an
adjacent chair, "it seems our ancestors made no distinction of
gender in their leaders, and even Rome faced Boudicca with all the
respect due any great warrior."

"And rightly so," Emily said, enjoying the ease with
which she and Robert were able to converse. As she looked at him,
sprawled casually in a leather armchair—legs outstretched and
crossed in front of him and that wayward lock of hair falling
inevitably over his brow—she was reminded of the warmth of their
encounter the night before. But she deliberately forced such
thoughts to the back of her mind, and gave herself up to the pure
enjoyment of his often lively conversation. While in Bath she had
most enjoyed those discussions in which they disagreed. He was a
man of strong opinions, but was also able to listen to opposing
views with some objectivity and offer intelligent debate on the
issues at hand. More than once she had thought how much she would
like to hear him speak in the House of Lords, which she knew him to
do from time to time. Out of sheer contrariness, Emily decided to
bait him.

"I suppose," she said with a wistful sigh, "that one
could mark Boudicca's defeat as the beginning of the end of the
right of women to play an equal role in the destinies of their
lands, their families, and even their own lives."

"Good lord," Robert groaned, eyeing her with some
suspicion. "I hope you are not going to start preaching
Wollstonecraft to me. That woman was a menace to society as far as
I'm concerned. And hypocritical to boot, since she couldn't seem to
live without the company of those same men she so vehementiy
denounced for their treatment of women."

"Regardless of how she may have conducted her
private life," Emily replied, sitting forward in her chair, eager
to explore this debate with Robert, "there can be no question as to
the truth of her arguments about the emancipation of women. As a
man, you cannot possibility appreciate the frustration and
indignity of being required, purely on the basis of one's gender,
to always identify oneself in terms of persons one neither admires
nor respects."

"Do you condemn us all, then?" Robert asked. "Do you
have no admiration or respect for any man?"

"Of course I do," Emily replied with some
impatience. "But you must admit that in my own life men have done
little to inspire admiration." She at once wanted to bite her
tongue. She hadn't meant to turn the discussion toward personal
matters.

"For example . . ." Robert prompted.

Emily's immediate reaction was to cut short their
conversation rather than embark on an analysis of her reprehensible
family. She looked across at Robert and sighed as she gazed into
his soulful brown eyes, his brows slightly raised in invitation.
All at once she experienced, as she had the previous night, an
overwhelming sensation of compassion and companionship which made
her want to share her most private thoughts with this man. In fact,
as she recalled her monologue on the terrace last night, she
realized there was little she had not already shared with him. So
she plunged ahead.

"Well," she began with some hesitation, "there was
my grandfather who disowned his own daughter for failing to obey
him and my father who succumbed to drink and gambling because he
was too weak to face the realities of life. Then, of course," she
said with a sneer, "there is my Uncle Pentwick, who—"

"Who insults his own niece in public. Yes, I must
agree that your male relations have not been all that is admirable
in their treatment of you."

"Oh, Robert," Emily said. Her shoulders sagged as
she slumped back into the chair and dropped her face into her
hands. "I am so sorry you had to witness that scene last evening. I
am mortified that you overheard my uncle's words." She lifted her
head and once again looked up at him, and was almost lost to the
warmth and concern in those dark eyes. She took a deep breath and
continued in a soft voice. "But I am also very grateful for your
intervention. I was so stunned I was unable to speak. I suppose my
uncle would have continued to stand there and hurl insults at me if
you had not come along and hustled me away. I cannot apologize
enough for my own missish behavior afterward. I have no right to
condemn weakness in others after I so shamelessly sobbed into your
neckcloth."

"I did not consider your tears a sign of weakness,
Emily," Robert said in that low, deep, almost seductive voice that
so often unnerved her. "You had every right to react as you did. In
fact, you handled yourself better than many I could name if faced
with the same situation."

Emily gave him a thin smile in response, wanting to
believe him, but still somewhat embarrassed by the whole incident.
Suddenly she recalled the image of Augusta standing in the doorway,
eyes wide with shock and anger. "Good heavens," she said, "I had
almost forgotten about Miss Windhurst. Were you able to set things
right with her? I hope she did not draw the wrong conclusions from
my ... from our... from what she saw."

"There seems to have been no permanent damage done,"
Robert replied in a drawl worthy of his grandmother. "But what
about you? I lost track of you for the rest of the evening. Did the
tabbies get their claws into you?"

"On the contrary, your sister and grandmother went
out of their way to shield me from scrutiny, for which I shall be
forever grateful. In fact, Lady Bradleigh made an even more valiant
effort on my behalf this afternoon as she received callers."

"I suppose they all came to unearth the story of
what really happened with your uncle?"

"Almost to a person," Emily replied with a grin.
"But your grandmother was marvelous. Not a single caller left with
any information that wasn't already well known."

"Yes," Robert said, nodding in understanding, "she
can be fiercely protective of those she loves. She is a powerful
ally. And she has great credibility among the
ton
. She will
be able to combat whatever scheme Pentwick may have in mind."

Emily watched as Robert leaned his head on the back
of his chair and gazed up at the ceiling, stretching his legs out
farther in front of him.

"I wonder," he continued lazily, "if Pentwick will
quietly disappear now, or if he intends to continue to force
himself on you anytime you happen to meet in public? Or perhaps he
will take a new tack and try to make himself agreeable to you. He
would have seen the impact of Grandmother's influence—and mine—so
that he must know that you will continue to be protected in
public."

"As a matter of fact," Emily said, "when Lord
Faversham called this afternoon—"

"
What
?" Robert suddenly sat bolt upright, his
hands tightly grasping the arms of his chair. "Faversham was here?
You received him?"

"Yes," Emily said, somewhat alarmed at Robert's
angry reaction. "He came after all the other callers, save Lady
Dunholm, had departed. Lady Bradleigh was convinced that I should
hear him out, so he was admitted."

"And what did he have to say?" Robert asked, slowly
enunciating each word through tightly clenched lips.

Emily told him all that Lord Faversham had said,
leaving out her own ambivalent reaction to him. Robert remained
quiet while she spoke, offering no comment, though his brows were
tightly knotted and his eyes black with fury.

"And so," he said when Emily had finished speaking,
"you are to drive with him on Saturday?"

"Yes," she replied hesitantly.

Robert leaned forward with his elbows on his knees
and looked down at the floor. He did not speak. Neither did Emily.
She had never seen him look quite so dangerous. She was almost
afraid to speak. She held her breath and waited, the only sound in
the room that of the ticking of the mantel clock. After a few
moments, Robert looked up at her with an unreadable expression.
Leaning forward slightly, he reached out for Emily's hand.

"Promise me," he said in a commanding tone she had
never before heard him use, "that you will take Grandmother along
with you on Saturday."

"I hardly think I need a chaperon at my age, my
lord."