A Proper Companion (25 page)

"You liked her?"

"Very much."

"I'm glad. I'm very fond of her and I was hoping you
would like her. I know she liked you, too." He flashed a grin. "I
trust in time you two will become bosom friends. Almost like
sisters, you might say."

Emily had felt the heat of a blush color her face
and had quickly made her way into the house. It was impossible to
ignore the implication of Lord Sedgewick's comments. Emily felt
sure he was going to offer for her. She was less sure of her own
feelings. Would she accept?

A page floated unnoticed from Emily's lap to the
floor. Should she accept? She was fond enough of Lord Sedgewick.
She enjoyed his company, his conversation, his grin. But when he
had kissed her hand yesterday, there had been no warm, tingling
sensation running up her arm and down her back—the sort of
sensation she felt whenever Robert touched her, or, truth be told,
whenever he so much as looked at her.

But, no, she would not compare Lord Sedgewick to
Lord Bradleigh. Lord Sedgewick was a wonderful man, and she would
be foolish to overlook his advantages in favor of something that
could never be. No, she would not be such a widgeon.

She retrieved the page that had fallen to the floor
and found its proper place among the rest. As she stacked the pages
neatly, she determined that Lord Sedgewick would indeed be the hero
of her London tale. But for now, she must concentrate on the perils
of Sir Percy's gothic heroine.

She gave a sigh and continued to read.

* * *

This had all been his idea, so if he was less than
pleased, it was his own fault. When Robert had suggested to his
grandmother that he might host a small party in his box at the
Opera, she had latched on to the idea with enthusiasm. It had been
her idea to include Sedge.

"For Emily's sake," she had said.

When he had cocked a questioning brow, she had
glared at him as if he were some kind of idiot.

"You cannot have failed to notice," she had drawled,
"his partiality toward Emily. His attentions have been most
particular."

"Have they indeed?" he replied, matching her
drawl.

"Oh, don't be so provoking, my boy. I have not
missed your scowling presence in the background whenever he comes
to call or to take her out, or even when he dances with her. I
thought he was your friend. Why do you so clearly disapprove?"

Robert had turned away from his grandmother, unable
to meet her steely gaze. Had he really been so blatant? He hoped
only his grandmother with her keen perception had noticed any
difference in his manner. He must be more cautious. Damnation, he
must be more than cautious. He must stop altogether feeling, and
apparently behaving, in such a possessive manner toward Emily.

He had no business interfering in her life. She was
not even a relation. Besides, what possible objection could he have
to Sedgewick? The man was one of his closest friends. Emily would
be fortunate to snare such a prize.

And, of course, Sedge would be the most fortunate of
men.

He cleared his throat and turned back to face the
dowager. "It's not that I disapprove, Grandmother. It's just that I
know Sedge so well that I have been unable to imagine he intends
anything more than a ... a dalliance."

"A dalliance? With Emily?"

"Or perhaps only a light flirtation," he added
quickly. "I just don't want to see Miss Townsend hurt."

"Well, neither do I, Robert. But I think you are
wrong about Sedgewick. I believe he is serious. He even brought his
sister along yesterday."

"The devil he did!"

The dowager smiled and nodded.

"Well, then," said Robert, forcing a smile, "I must
have been mistaken. Sedge wouldn't bring along Mrs. Ingram unless
he was serious. You must be quite proud of yourself, my dear."

"I am pleased." There was a definite note of triumph
in her smile. "He's a fine young man, and Emily deserves some
happiness in her life at last. Sedgewick will do very nicely."

Robert could not help but recall that earlier
conversation as he watched Emily and Sedge, seated next to each
other in his box. They spoke quietly together, their shoulders
almost touching, while Emily's hand rested on Sedge's arm. There
was something different about them this evening. Or perhaps he was
simply more attuned to every nuance of their behavior, in light of
his grandmother's comments.

The truth was, though, that Sedge did appear more
attentive than usual. His conversation had not been as gregarious,
encompassing the whole party, as was Sedge's usual manner. He stuck
to Emily's side and spoke almost exclusively to her. His
grandmother must have been correct, thought Robert. Well, good for
Sedge, then. Good for him.

Robert turned his attention back to the stage but
could not for the life of him have recounted later what he had
seen.

At the interval he rose and offered his arm to
Augusta seated at his side.

"Shall I get you some punch, my dear?" he asked.

"If you wish," she replied in a surprisingly
petulant tone.

Robert looked more closely at his betrothed. Her
blue eyes were dark with some emotion, and her chin was tilted at
an indignant angle. What on earth had vexed Augusta this
evening?

"I'll just be off, then," he said. "Perhaps while
I'm gone you would prefer—"

"Oh, la, you mustn't worry about me, my lord," she
interrupted in a suddenly girlish voice. "I am sure Lord Haselmere
will keep me company while you're gone."

The ubiquitous marquess had appeared at Augusta's
side, and she had actually taken his arm, much to that young man's
astonishment. What game was the little vixen playing? If she meant
to make him jealous, Robert thought, she was far off the mark. He
would have to care first.

"I will leave you in good hands, then, my dear,"
Robert said, nodding toward his cousin.

Augusta hunched a pettish shoulder and then turned
away. Robert smiled as he contemplated the chit's hopeless attempt
to stir his jealousy. His smile faded as he watched his cousin gaze
longingly at Augusta. She would indeed make him angry if she
trifled with poor Ted's feelings. The man was an innocent,
unaccustomed to the flirtatious wiles of Society misses. True, he
must eventually learn how to go about, but Robert would have
preferred that his own future bride not be the cause of Ted's first
broken heart. Robert gave a rueful sigh and turned to leave the
box.

The box had become crowded with friends and
acquaintances come to pay their respects to the dowager, and it was
therefore a slow progress toward the door. Before he reached it,
Lord Faversham had entered and shouldered his way to Emily's side.
Robert instinctively made a move toward them but was stopped by the
crush of bodies. He was determined to protect Emily from Faversham,
as he was more than ever convinced that the man was a rogue with
less than honorable intentions. Emily was bound to receive him, as
he was her cousin, but her sweet nature would not recognize him for
the dastard he was. Robert must protect her.

As he watched, he noticed Sedgewick kept Emily's
hand firmly attached to his arm and placed himself between her and
Faversham. Robert gave a resigned sigh as he realized Emily did not
need his protection. She had Sedgewick's.

Robert gave himself a mental shake as he left the
box and headed down the crowded corridor toward the refreshment
stall. He would accept the situation between Emily and Sedgewick
like a gentleman, he told himself firmly. He would relinquish all
feelings of protectiveness or possessiveness toward her, as he had
no right to them. He would go on with his life, marry Augusta, and
forget about Emily.

No, he would not forget about her. He would want to
keep her friendship. He found that he relied on that much at
least.

In the spirit of friendship, then, he really ought
to tell Emily and Sedge what he suspected about Faversham. He had
received a note from James Huntspill stating—rather too
enigmatically, Robert had thought—that he was returning from
Cambridgeshire with "interesting news" regarding Miss Townsend. His
note hinted that she might have a more prosperous future than
expected. Damn Huntspill's circumspection! Robert wanted facts.
Huntspill should return in a few days, and then he would have those
facts. In the meantime, it was probably best to keep his suspicions
to himself. He might be completely wrong, but he doubted it.
Nevertheless, he would wait until he had proof before going to
either Emily or Sedgewick.

Until then he was reluctantly forced to admit that
Sedgewick seemed to be handling Faversham well enough. Although
they had never spoken of it, Robert was sure that Sedge was aware
of Faversham's reputation. Sedge would protect Emily.

He'd bloody well better, or Robert would have his
head.

"Well, my dear," the dowager said as she patted
Emily's hand, "you've been a terrific help in organizing the ball.
Everything certainly seems to be in order." She peered through gold
spectacles, nodding as she scanned the list in her hand. She was
ensconced among a mountain of satin pillows beneath the tented
canopy of her bed. Charlemagne's black eyes peeked out from beneath
one tiny lace-edged pillow. "You're sure the florist understands
what I want?" she asked, looking up from the list.

"I am sure he does, my lady," Emily replied, half
reclining on the blue silk
duchesse en bateau
situated next
to the bed. The dowager had sent for her after she had already
undressed for the evening, and she was wrapped in an old,
comfortable, and somewhat shabby dressing gown of dark forest green
merino. The white smocked muslin gown beneath, and the white satin
slippers, however, were new—another gift from her employer.

"The box trees are to arrive early tomorrow
morning," she said. "They are promised to be trimmed to the shapes
you specified."

"Excellent! And the flowers?"

"Blue gentium, lobelias, irises, monkshood,
hydrangeas, and bluebells, have all been acquired in massive
amounts, I am assured. At great expense, I hesitate to
mention."

"Hmph!" The dowager waved away that concern with her
long-fingered hand. "I particularly wanted shades of blue to
complement the Bradleigh livery. Besides, everyone else decorates
their ballrooms in pinks or whites or yellows. Blue presented a
delicious challenge that will not go unnoticed."

"Indeed. The effect will certainly be striking,
especially with the occasional golden accent provided by the
narcissuses and jonquils. Are you not afraid, my lady, that the
footmen in their blue and gold liveries will be invisible against
such a background?"

"That is just the point, my dear."

Emily laughed. "Brilliant! This will surely be the
most talked-about ball of the Season."

"Due in great part to your efforts, my dear. I trust
you haven't been working so hard that you have not had time to
enjoy your first London Season?"

"I have enjoyed it tremendously, my lady, as you
well know. Everyone has been very kind."

"And the gentlemen?" the dowager asked, removing her
spectacles.

"As I have said," Emily replied in a quiet voice,
"everyone has been most kind."

"And what of a specific gentleman? Sedgewick
certainly seems forever underfoot. Do you think he will offer for
you?"

"My lady!"

"Well,
do
you?" The dowager fixed Emily with
sharp brown eyes.

Emily sighed and tore her eyes from her employer's
demanding gaze. She swung her legs down from the duchesse and rose
to stand next to the bed. "I have begun to suspect that his
intentions are serious, my lady."

"Emily, my girl, that is wonderful!" The dowager
held out her arms, and Emily bent down to be embraced. "I am so
pleased for you." She pulled back from Emily, who remained seated
on the edge of the bed. The dowager reached down to take both her
hands. "You will accept his offer?" she asked.

Emily dropped her eyes to their joined hands and did
not immediately reply. It was the same question that had been
tormenting her for days. "Yes, I suppose so," she said finally,
without conviction.

The dowager reached up and gently tilted Emily's
chin so that she was forced to look into her eyes. The old woman
cocked her head to one side and held her gaze for a moment. "You
must do whatever you think is best, my dear."

"Yes, my lady." Emily kissed her on the cheek and
rose from the bed. "Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I will
curl up with Miss Edgeworth's new novel for a while before going to
sleep. I began it last night and am shamelessly anxious to return
to it."

"
The Absentee
? Oh, dear," the dowager said
when Emily nodded. "I admit that I, too, was taken in by that tale.
I asked one of the maids where it had gotten to—I remember we had
purchased it a few weeks ago at Hatchard's—and she must have found
it in your bedchamber. I'm afraid I pored over it all afternoon and
have left it downstairs in the library."

Emily smiled. "Then I shall have to go down and
retrieve it. Did you enjoy it?"

"I did indeed. Why, I was quite overcome when Grace
Nugent—"

"Stop!" Emily interrupted, laughing. "Please, don't
tell me how it ends. Well, of course I know how it ends. All
romantic novels end the same way, but it's the process of getting
there that provides all the enjoyment. I shall have to find out for
myself what becomes of Grace and Lord Colambre."

Emily said goodnight to her employer and went across
the hall to her own room. She grabbed a candlestick, lit the candle
from the one next to her bed, and headed down the hall toward the
stairs. She paused for a moment on the landing, wondering if it was
quite proper to wander downstairs in her dressing gown. But it was
very late, after all—just an hour short of midnight—and no servants
would be about. She knew Lord Bradleigh to be out at some card
party or other and would likely not return for several hours. It
would surely be safe to dash quickly into the library, find the
novel, and head back up to her bedchamber. No one was likely to see
her. She looked down at her shabby dressing gown. There was
certainly nothing provocative about the comfortable garment. It was
eminently suitable to a lady's companion or governess and had
served her well for years. Even if all the world were to see her,
she would suffer no more than a moment of embarrassment.