A Proper Companion (22 page)

"Promise me!" he commanded, squeezing her hand so
tightly that she almost cried out. "I don't like to think of you
being alone with Faversham, Emily. There is much you do not know
about him. He has a rather ... questionable reputation."

"This, from the notorious Lord Bradleigh?" Emily
asked with a teasing smile, hoping to lighten his mood.

Robert returned a crooked grin and relaxed his hold
on Emily's hand. "
Touché
," he said. He looked down at her
hand in his, covered it for a moment with his other hand, and
finally let it go. "It's just that my own reputation is based on my
... er ... my ... Oh, good lord. There is no polite way to put
this."

Emily grinned. "Shall we say that you are well known
for adventures of a somewhat amorous nature?" she asked.

"Thank you, Emily," he said, grinning in return.
"Very nicely put. And for the most part, although I'm sure some
ladies might disagree, my
adventures
have been quite
harmless. But, you see," he said turning serious once again,
"Faversham has a different sort of reputation. Suffice it to say
that he is known to frequent some fairly unsavory hells in the East
End and to associate with men of rather sinister character."

"Oh, dear."

"Even though I have no reason to believe that he
means you any real harm," he continued, "and I realize you are
probably anxious to mend the rift with your mother's family, I
would nevertheless feel more at ease knowing that you were not
alone with him. I can't explain it, but I simply don't trust the
man. If he truly wants to spend time getting to know you, he can
just as easily do so with Grandmother along. Please, Emily, humor
me in this."

Emily stared into those plaintive brown eyes for a
moment, and then dropped her gaze to the hands in her lap. She had
no actual objection to Robert's suggestion. In fact, as she was not
entirely comfortable with Lord Faversham or more especially with
her own irresolute feelings toward him, she was inclined to
appreciate the notion of a chaperon. It was simply Robert's
implication that she could not take care of herself, that she might
be helpless against some imaginary danger presented by her cousin,
that made her out of reason cross. She looked back up at him, her
mouth set in a grim line as she fixed him with an indignant
gaze.

"If you insist, my lord," she said, "I shall do as
you wish."

Apparently disregarding her obvious irritation,
Robert flashed her a brilliant smile. "Thank you,
Miss
Townsend
," he said, once again falling into that low, seductive
tone against which Emily was powerless. How could she possibly
maintain an attitude of peevishness toward a man who smiled at her
like that? And whose voice flowed over her like the smooth strains
of a cello? "You have put my mind at ease," he said.

Emily felt the last vestiges of her annoyance melt
away like a spring frost. She smiled back at him.

"I am sorry," he said, "that your first drive
through the park— a much cherished ritual of the Season—must be in
the company of your erstwhile cousin. I should like to have driven
you and Grandmother myself."

"Oh! Good heavens!" Emily said, rising abruptly and
placing her hands on her cheeks. "I almost forgot."

Robert looked at her in puzzlement as he rose. She
moved her hands away to clasp them at her waist. "My cousin shall
not be the first to drive me in the park," she said. "I am promised
to Mr. Hamilton this very afternoon. I fear I have completely lost
track of time. I must hurry and change before he arrives."

"Giles Hamilton?" he asked. "Well, well. It seems
Grandmother's matchmaking campaign has met with early success."

Emily was mortified to recognize, yet again, the
heat of a blush. In all her life she could remember blushing only a
handful of times before she met this man. Lately she found herself
put to the blush at almost their every encounter. She was at a loss
to understand the strange effect he had on her.

"Lady Bradleigh," she said after composing herself,
"introduced me to Mr. Hamilton at Lady Bessborough's rout. He was
kind enough to dance with me at the Rutland ball last evening."

"And to invite you to drive with him." He paused
briefly, a serious expression marking his brow, before continuing.
"I have known Hamilton for years, you know. We shared an interest
in classics while at Cambridge together. He is a good man, though a
trifle serious- minded." He stopped, though Emily got the distinct
impression that he was about to say more. He ran a careless hand
through his hair, pushing back the wayward lock hanging over his
brow in a gesture Emily had come to recognize as one of
discomfiture or nervousness. "So," he said finally in an odd
clipped tone of impersonal politeness. "You are to enjoy two drives
in the park in a single week. How pleasant for you."

"Three, actually."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Lord Sedgewick, who called today, has also invited
me to drive with him," she said.

"Good lord! Sedge, too?" He forced a weak smile.
"Gad, but Grandmother must be beside herself with glee over your
extraordinary popularity."

Emily smiled uncertainly at him, puzzled by the
sudden awkwardness of his manner. "I believe she is quite
pleased."

"No doubt," he mumbled.

"And now you must excuse me as I really must hurry
if I am to be ready when Mr. Hamilton arrives."

Robert nodded absently.

"And Robert," Emily added as she made her way to the
open door, "please do not worry about Lord Faversham. I promise to
be careful."

"Of course," said Robert as he reached for her hand
and brought it to his lips. "And give my regards to Hamilton."

Emily smiled at him over her shoulder as she left
the room.

* * *

Robert stood staring at the empty doorway for a few
moments before closing the door and walking back into the library.
The faint scent of lavender still clung to the air. He stopped
before the chair recently occupied by Emily, closed his eyes, and
savored the sweet fragrance.

"Hamilton!" he muttered, shaking his head in
disbelief. He wandered toward the mullioned window which looked
onto the back garden. He threw the latch, pushed the window open,
and let the cool afternoon breeze waft into the library to
dissipate Emily's fragrance, which was having a strangely
intoxicating effect on him.

He propped one arm against the windowframe and
leaned heavily against it while he gazed out into the garden. He
was insensible of the lush spring plantings painstakingly arranged
by his excellent gardener, as his thoughts were full of the idea of
Giles Hamilton and Emily. Hamilton! His mind was loathe to accept
such a bird-witted notion. The man was certainly warm in the pocket
and with an impeccable lineage. Robert supposed that women might
find Hamilton good-looking enough. But, blast it, the man was dry
as an old stick. Emily would be bored within a sennight.

As far as Robert was concerned, Hamilton had not
changed one whit since their university days when he could
endlessly discourse on some obscure piece of classical literature.
At the time Robert had found his conversation stimulating,
challenging, even entertaining. But while Robert moved away from
academic pursuits in favor of the more varied enticements of
Society, Hamilton had clung to his classics. He still penned the
occasional article for one scholarly journal or other, although
Robert would never dream of admitting that he was aware of such
matters.

I have always wished to further my knowledge of
the classical authors
, she had said. Could Emily be brushing up
to impress her afternoon escort? Could she be more interested in
his grandmother's matchmaking schemes than she had let on?

No, he was forced to admit that such machinations
were not consistent with the Emily he had come to know. He was
almost ashamed for allowing that thought even to cross his
mind.

The curious thing, though, was that Hamilton could
not even remotely be considered in the petticoat line. It was
inconceivable that such a dull dog would set up a light flirtation,
regardless of the woman's beauty or accomplishments. Robert was
forced to admit that Hamilton must surely have a serious interest
in Emily.

He shifted his position and propped one hip on the
windowsill. He moved his back against the closed shutter and
stretched one thigh along the wide sill, absently swinging the
Hessian-clad leg back and forth. He crossed his arms over his chest
and sighed as he contemplated the other gentleman mentioned by
Emily, one who must be considered from a completely different
perspective.

Robert had known Lord Sedgewick since they were boys
together at Harrow. Despite their long friendship, Robert would
have to concede that Sedge was a shameless flirt without a serious
bone in his body. The pranks they had perpetrated as boys—almost
all, Robert recalled, conceived and orchestrated by Sedge—were
legendary at Harrow. Even now, with his lanky good looks and impish
grin, he cut a wide swath through the female population of the
ton
, where his deceptively boyish charm was the undoing of
many a Society matron who wanted to mother him.

But the fact was that Sedge generally limited his
liaisons to matrons or widows and perhaps the occasional actress.
Along with Robert and their friend Jack Raeburn, Sedge had always
given a wide berth to innocent young misses on the hunt for a
husband, preferring the sadder but wiser females of a certain
age.

Robert was not quite sure how to interpret
Sedgewick's apparent interest in Emily. He could not imagine that
Sedge hoped for a dalliance, which would be awkward at best given
her position in Robert's household. Perhaps he merely sought a mild
flirtation. She was a beautiful woman, after all, and so he could
hardly blame Sedge for that. But Robert was somehow unable to rid
himself of a niggling doubt that Sedge might be just as serious in
his intentions as Hamilton.

His grandmother had been right, he thought, that
once introduced to Society, Emily would take. The old girl must be
well pleased with her efforts, he thought as his boot banged
unconsciously against the wainscotting in an increasing rhythm.
Perhaps after all her years of service Emily was at last to find
happiness. Perhaps with Hamilton. Or Sedgewick. Both gentlemen were
upright, honorable men worthy of Emily's good opinion. Yes, he
ought to be pleased for her. This was the object, after all, of the
plan he had agreed to while in Bath. This was his grandmother's
fondest wish, her ultimate goal in taking on Emily in the first
place, the goal toward which he had readily agreed to lend his
assistance. He ought to be pleased. He really ought to be
pleased.

Robert shoved himself away from the window, walked
toward the large oak desk in the center of the room, and threw
himself into the old leather chair behind the desk. The chair
responded with an audible whoosh as Robert sank into its familiar
warmth, comfortably molded to his own form through years of use. He
forced aside the confusing thoughts of Emily and her suitors and
turned his attention to the far more unsettling problem of her
cousin, Lord Faversham.

He hadn't wanted to be specific when telling Emily
of his concerns about Faversham's reputation. Robert was only
slightly acquainted with the man, and all he had heard over the
years was secondhand gossip. It was true that most of the gossip
was generally founded on fact, but he was reluctant to say anything
without first verifying his information. He reached in a drawer and
pulled out a sheet of stationery. He took a quill from the inkstand
and began to trim it.

Faversham was said not only to frequent seedy gaming
hells, but also to lure young flats into those same hells, probably
for a cut of the profits from the owner. He had never heard any
word of cheating. Such an accusation would have spread through the
clubs like wildfire and forced Faversham to leave Town. No, it was
not his honesty at the tables that was in question, only his manner
of livelihood. Though he no doubt stood to inherit lands and title
from his father, the earl's affairs were said to be in questionable
order. Faversham was forever under the hatches and was known to
dance attendance on the occasional heiress.

Which all added up to a curious and puzzling
situation in regards to Emily. Why would Faversham so ardently
pursue the friendship of his penniless cousin? How was Emily likely
to figure in any scheme of his? What could she possibly have to
attract his attentions?

Robert mentally apologized to Emily for such an
ungenerous thought, but the truth was that he did not believe her
beauty and character would be enough to entice one such as
Faversham. There was something missing—some piece of this puzzle
that would make sense out of it all. And Robert was determined to
find that piece.

He dipped the quill into the inkwell and began a
letter to James Huntspill, his man of business.

This surely had to be the strangest week she had
ever spent, Emily thought as she stood in front of the cheval glass
and fastened the bodice of her dark rose pink spencer. She had
experienced the distress and anguish of her uncle's public insults,
followed by the unsettling confusion of her cousin's strange
apology. She had begun to develop a very strong and entirely
inappropriate affection for Lord Bradleigh, ironically offset by
hours spent writing out invitations to his engagement ball. And she
had received the unexpected attentions of two very different
gentlemen.

Emily had little experience in handling the
attentions of gentlemen. Of course, there had been Squire Mowbray's
son Thomas, who had secretly courted her as a young girl, but who
had disappeared entirely upon the death of her father when it
became common knowledge that she had been left without a sou. There
had also been the Reverend Jenkins in Wiltshire, who had shown a
marked interest in Emily while she had been employed by Lady
Fitzhugh. The reverend, however, had very abruptly left the village
to take up another post, just at the point when Emily thought he
might declare himself. He had not even said goodbye.