A Proper Companion (24 page)

"Pentwick's solicitor did not work for the old
earl," Huntspill had said. "Even in his cups he was unable to
provide any information about the old earl's will."

"Were you able to track down the old earl's
solicitor?" Robert had asked.

Huntspill nodded. "Eventually, yes. His name is
Chalmers. He is still alive, although apparently quite
elderly."

"And he has never worked for the current earl?".

"No, Pentwick has used his own man for some years.
Chalmers was a longtime and loyal retainer of Pentwick's father. I
don't know why he would not have also worked for the son, but he
did not. He retired immediately upon the old earl's death. He is
said to be living with a daughter in Cambridgeshire."

Robert had instructed Huntspill to locate Chalmers
and find out what he could about the estrangement with Emily's
mother. Chalmers would know if the thing had been done legally as
well as in fact. Whether or not the old man would be willing to
talk about his former employer was another matter. But Robert
trusted to Huntspill's tact and discretion, and hoped for the best.
Huntspill was to leave for Cambridgeshire tomorrow morning.

Later that evening Robert was again reminded of the
afternoon's conversation when he and the Windhurst ladies arrived
at Lady Lichfield's rout. The musicale had been every bit as
excruciating as Robert had anticipated—with the frequent shrill
exclamations of Lady Windhurst vying with the soprano's
caterwauling— and so he was already in an ill-humored mood when
they arrived at the bustling rout. Almost the first sight to meet
his eyes was that of Faversham in earnest conversation with Emily.
His hand was at her elbow, and he was steering her to a somewhat
secluded area of the crowded drawing room protected by a large
Chinese screen. Emily was frowning and shaking her head. What the
devil was that cur saying to her?

Robert made an impulsive move toward the Chinese
screen when he felt Augusta's hand tighten on his arm. He looked
down into pale blue questioning eyes and suddenly felt like the
world's worst cad. In his anger and frustration at the sight of
Emily and Faversham together he had actually forgotten all about
Augusta. Poor Augusta. He realized he had been treating her rather
shabbily. It was not her fault that Emily was in the clutches of a
scoundrel and that Robert felt somehow compelled to rescue her. But
he couldn't do that just now. He really must give some attention to
his betrothed. He placed his hand over Augusta's and smiled down at
her.

"Shall we search out our hostess and pay our
respects?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, letting out the breath Robert
suddenly realized she had been holding. She returned his smile, and
he once again felt as low as the ground.

He forged a path through the crowd and glanced once
again toward the Chinese screen. He was surprised to see Lord
Sedgewick—eyes crinkled almost shut as he flashed the famous
grin—chatting comfortably with Emily and Faversham. So, Sedge had
done the deed for him. Emily was smiling, he noticed, as they came
upon Lady Lichfield, and his attention was diverted.

Robert did his best to act the proper escort to
Augusta for the rest of the evening, keeping her arm on his and
introducing her to those of his acquaintances who were unknown to
her. He couldn't help it if, when someone engaged Augusta in
conversation, his eyes roamed the room in search of Emily. He
simply wanted to make sure that Faversham wasn't annoying her. He
meant no disrespect to Augusta, despite the thunderous looks she
tossed at him more than a few times. She simply didn't understand,
and he was in no mood to enlighten her.

Robert was watching Emily as she spoke once again
with Sedgewick when a hand grabbed his shoulder and a familiar
voice whispered in his ear. "In case you have failed to notice,
Bradleigh, your beautiful fiancée has abandoned you in favor of
young Haselmere."

Robert turned and smiled at his friend Lord Jack
Raeburn. The younger son of a marquess, he was known throughout the
ton
as Black Jack, for a variety of reasons, not the least
of which was his coal black hair. He had no more than a year on
Robert, but his harsh, angular features made him appear older.

"Hallo, Jack," said Robert as he glanced toward
Augusta, who was chatting amicably with his cousin Ted. "You know,
I have never known Ted to pop up so often at Society events. I seem
to be tripping over him at every turn these days."

"Indeed," said Jack, arching a brow. "'Tis a
mystery, I'm sure."

"At least he is useful in entertaining Augusta from
time to time. I tell you. Jack, it's a trial having to dance
constant attendance on one's future bride."

"I warned you, Rob. This betrothal business was an
idiotic notion."

"Yes, I seem to recall you told me so once or twice.
But I have my reasons, as you know, and I truly believe the
marriage will work out just fine. If I can only survive the
betrothal."

"You won't survive the fury of the lovely Augusta if
you can't keep your eyes off the golden beauty with Sedge. Who is
she?"

Robert's eyes strayed back to Emily and Sedge. "My
grandmother's companion," he said. "Miss Emily Townsend."

"Your grandmother's companion?" Jack's eyebrows
raised with interest. "That beautiful creature is residing under
your roof, Bradleigh? And you never told me?" He raked Emily with a
gaze that was nothing short of a naked caress. Robert suddenly
wanted to plant his friend a facer.

"Forget it, Jack," he snarled.

"So. Sedge has your approval whereas I do not," Jack
said in that blood-chilling tone he often used to such
advantage.

"She's a lady, Jack. Granddaughter of an earl.
Pentwick's niece, if you can believe it."

"You're joking!" Jack's momentary anger was replaced
by intense curiosity.

Robert shook his head.

"That means Faversham must be her cousin," Jack
said. "I had noticed him buzzing around her hive. Well, this is
most interesting, Rob. But where does Sedge fit in?"

"I'm not sure. He seems genuinely interested in
her."

"And that bothers you?"

"Of course not," Robert snapped, "as long as he's
serious. Emily would never countenance a dalliance. Besides,
Grandmother would have his head."

"The beautiful Augusta will surely have your head,
or more likely your horns, if you're not careful. If you will drag
your eyes from the blonde for five minutes you will see your
betrothed flirting outrageously with Haselmere."

Robert turned his attention once again to Augusta.
"As I said before, Jack, I am happy for Ted to take her off my
hands now and then. I tell you, it ain't easy being engaged."

"Look again, Rob. The puppy's besotted with
her."

"Ted? Besotted? I don't believe it. He hasn't been
out much. He's just susceptible to a little flirtation from a
pretty young girl."

"If you say so," Jack said, grinning.

Robert watched in fascination as Ted actually took
Augusta's hand to his lips.

Emily's eyes strayed once again from the scrawled
pages in front of her. She couldn't seem to concentrate on these
latest chapters sent by Sir Percy Whittaker for her opinion.
Whereas once the adventures of Sir Percy's damsels in distress had
amused and entertained her, she found her thoughts more often than
not drifting toward the events in her own life. Emily smiled as she
realized that this was the first time she could remember when her
own life held more interest for her than that of some gothic
heroine.

She had certainly been kept busy. The last few weeks
had found Emily's days occupied with plans for the engagement ball.
The dowager knew exactly what she wanted in order for the affair to
be a highlight of the Season, and Emily was charged with the
overall organization. She had interviewed musicians, linen drapers,
furniture rental agents, and carpenters. Five different florists
were consulted before one was found who agreed to provide all that
the dowager required.

"But, my lady," Emily had pleaded, "it will be
prohibitively expensive. Are you absolutely certain—"

"Gammon!" the dowager had said with a decidedly
Gallic flick of her fingers. "It is of no consequence. I know what
I want and I shall have it."

Never altogether comfortable with such a cavalier
attitude toward expense, Emily had given a disparaging cluck and
gone on to other items on her employer's list.

At least she needn't worry about hiring a caterer.
Anatole and Mrs. Dawson had both flown up into the boughs over such
a suggestion, claiming that with a few additions to the kitchen
staff they could manage very well. The two chefs had developed the
complete menu, which was approved without modification by the
dowager.

If Emily's days were filled with ball preparations,
her evenings had been no less busy. The dowager insisted on Emily's
company on every occasion. They had attended routs, balls, soirees,
musicales, suppers, and card parties. Emily smiled as she
considered the seemingly indefatigable constitution of her elderly
employer. The dowager apparently thrived on the constant social
whirl of the London Season. More than once she had told Emily that
she might consider coming to Town more often, since Bath was such a
bore these days.

Emily looked down at the pages in her lap. Perhaps
Sir Percy should come to Town more often as well, she thought. His
weepy, helpless heroines had definitely begun to bore her. Besides,
there was quite enough excitement in Town without the need to
escape into tales of dungeons and haunted castles and mysterious
murders. If she were Sir Percy, Emily thought, she would pen tales
of modern heroes and heroines set in the drawing rooms of London.
Perhaps she would recommend the idea to him in her next letter.

If she were the heroine of such a tale, she knew
precisely how she would model the villain. It would have to be her
cousin Hugh, Lord Faversham. Her brow furrowed at the mere thought
of him. Truly, he had been the only blot on an otherwise thoroughly
enjoyable time.

At almost every gathering, Emily was sure to be
approached by her cousin. Although perpetually charming, his
constant attendance had become an annoyance. He also called
frequently in the afternoons and sent large bouquets of flowers
several times a week. Despite his repeatedly expressed good
intentions, Emily was becoming heartily sick of the man. Besides,
something about him made her feel uncomfortable, and she simply
could not like him.

But who, then, should be the hero of her London
tale? Lord Bradleigh? He was certainly handsome enough. Of course,
he had actually rescued her that time at the Rutland ball. But, no.
He was Miss Windhurst's hero, not her own. She must choose
another.

Her other two most constant admirers, Lord Sedgewick
and Mr. Hamilton, had also continued to shower Emily with
attention, though with considerably less obsequiousness than her
cousin. She continued to enjoy both gentlemen's company, until Mr.
Hamilton's enforced departure to his Norfolk estate gave Lord
Sedgewick a decided edge.

Knowing Emily had never before been to Town, he had
often taken her to popular amusements, attractions, and galleries.
Just yesterday she had accompanied Lord Sedgewick and his sister,
Mrs. Ingram, on a visit to the Tower of London. Emily had been
fascinated by the armories, the weaponry collections, the Bloody
Tower, Traitor's Gate, and the charming Norman chapel inside the
White Tower. She had been less impressed by the Crown Jewels, which
had inexplicably left her cold. She had been visibly distressed as
well when viewing the menagerie with its collection of pitiful,
mangy-looking creatures, including an ancient elephant and a
sad-eyed bear.

"How I would love to set the poor things free," she
had muttered.

Lord Sedgewick had patted her hand, resting on his
arm, and smiled. "They would probably not stir an inch, even if you
were to fling the gates wide." He had then taken her chin in his
hand and looked deeply into her eyes. "You have a tender heart, my
dear. Perhaps you will soon have a more worthy object for your
affections."

Emily had been unsettled by the comment, which had
been spoken in a low voice out of the hearing of Mrs. Ingram.
Before she could react, his face had broken into a wide grin, and
his eyes had all but crinkled shut. She could never resist that
grin and found herself unconsciously smiling in return.

She did not mistake his meaning. He had spent a
great deal of time in her company and yesterday had made a special
point of bringing along his only sister, whom he obviously held in
great affection. It was clear, at least to Emily, that she was to
be the object of Mrs. Ingram's inspection and that Lord Sedgewick
sought his sister's approval. Fortunately Emily had taken an
immediate liking to Mrs. Ingram, who was much less gregarious than
her brother, but very friendly and pleasant nonetheless. The three
of them had spent a very comfortable afternoon together.

When Lord Sedgewick had escorted her to the door of
Bradleigh House, he had taken her hand to his lips and held it just
a bit longer than was absolutely proper.

"I hope you have enjoyed the afternoon," he had
said.

"Indeed, I did my lord. How fortunate we are to have
so much history, right here in the heart of London. It is most
humbling."

"Ah, dear lady," he said, still holding her hand,
"you humble me. You have caused me to see much of our city through
fresh eyes. I have never so enjoyed touring our local
attractions."

"And I thank you for taking the time to show them to
me." She discreetly retrieved her hand, conscious of Claypool's
presence behind her, holding open the door. "Thank you as well for
introducing me to Mrs. Ingram."