Amanda Scott (21 page)

Martha’s expression softened as she left the room, leaving her mistress feeling thoroughly ashamed of herself. Despite what she had said to the contrary, Emily did not have to think overlong to recognize the full cause for her surge of temper. Having suspected earlier that Meriden’s interest in her was a fleeting one at best, she now believed her suspicion confirmed by the quick and easy way in which he had recognized Saint Just’s transitory attraction to Dolly. Both men were being forced to live for a time out of the world they knew best, and Meriden had done so even longer than Saint Just, for the earl had been tied by the heels to Staithes Priory since the first of the year.

Saint Just had had his school friends and no doubt more than one bolt to town, as the young man called their jaunts to London, to amuse him. And if the earl thought Saint Just bored, could it be for any reason other than recognition of his own boredom in the younger man? And what better cure for ennui than a brief dalliance with an attractive, conveniently handy young woman? Indeed, Emily had amused herself in fashionable flirtations to cure her own boredom more than once, knowing that since she was no great prize on the Marriage Mart, there was little possibility of anyone being hurt. She knew the rules and she abided by them.

The problem now was that the rules didn’t apply. She cared too much about the Earl of Meriden for her own peace of mind, and knew that he could hurt her much more than Stephen Campion had done if she but gave him the opportunity to do so. One kiss from Jack had sent her senses reeling, had turned her to wax in his hands. Though he must know she would not stoop to become any man’s mistress, for him to realize that he could stir her passions so easily must, she told herself, provide a tremendous boost to his self-esteem. Playing with her sensibilities no doubt amused him, would—if she but gave him the chance to do as he wished—even provide him with an opportunity to punish her whenever he decided she deserved punishment. And the worst of it was that she wasn’t by any means certain she could resist him even if he put his mind to seducing her. No doubt, sooner or later, someone would notice his interest in her and make him a wager. That, she decided miserably, would be that.

By the time Martha returned, Emily had managed to regain her customary composure. She apologized for her earlier behavior and then turned her attention to the important matter of deciding what to wear to dinner. Forty minutes later, neatly attired in a pale-rose silk gown decorated with embroidered chains of dark-pink flowers along the hem, and a dark-pink sash, the ends of which trailed to the hemline from a bow tied just beneath her bosom, she descended the stairs to the gallery to discover Dolly and Harry Enderby engaged in hot-tempered conversation.

Mr. Enderby, precise to a pin in proper evening attire, was remonstrating with Dolly, who wore a low-necked bright-blue silk evening dress with a demitrain. Pink silk roses, fastened with true lovers’ knots, decked the skirt and bodice, and a nosegay of roses was tucked into Dolly’s plunging décolletage. She wore pink satin slippers, a brilliant diamond necklace, and a number of bracelets clinked on both of her white-gloved arms.

Emily assumed that, in his usual fashion, Mr. Enderby was taking her niece to task—and quite rightly, too, she thought—for her dashing but most inappropriate appearance, and interrupted their conversation without a qualm.

“Dolly, where did you get that appalling gown?”

Dolly flashed a glance at her. “From Lettie Bennett,” she said. “Her mama wouldn’t let her wear it after her godmother very kindly sent it to her all the way from London, so she gave it to me today. Is it not beautiful?” She turned, preening.

“Ought to be ashamed of yourself,” muttered Mr. Enderby.

“Well, I’m not,” snapped Dolly, turning on him, “and I am not dressed up like Christmas beef, either, and I do not think it was at all gentlemanly of you to say such a thing to me.”

“Dolly,” Emily said gently, hoping her calmer tone would provide an example for the girl, whose voice had risen, as was its wont when she was displeased. “Please, Dolly, you must know that that dress is not the thing for you to wear. Mr. Enderby is quite right to point that out to you.”

“Well, if you must know, he never said a word about the dress,” Dolly retorted. “He is vexed because he says I am always trying to attract Mr. Saint Just’s attention. He says it is not at all the thing for me to do. But I have not tried to attract Mr. Saint Just, Aunt Emily. I don’t have to try, so it is most unfair of Harry to say so. Indeed, I had rather he tell me the dress is unbecoming than accuse me of such stupid things.”

“I like the dress,” said Mr. Enderby simply.

Emily hid a smile. “Whether you like it or not, sir, it is not the thing for a young girl to be wearing in company. Nor should you be wearing that necklace, Dolly. Your mother will have a fit when she sees you.”

“I don’t think she means to come down to dinner tonight.”

“Well, Miss Lavinia will be here, and Meriden will no doubt be here as well, for he had a pile of work on the library table when last I saw him.”

Dolly shrugged. “I doubt that even Cousin Jack will send me from the table for wearing this dress, Aunt Emily. It is so pretty, and it does become me, whatever you say.”

“Mind your manners, my girl,” Mr. Enderby said sternly. “Not the thing to talk to your aunt that way.”

“No,” agreed Emily, “it certainly is not.” She could say no more, however, for Oliver and Saint Just chose that moment to join them, and their enthusiasm for Dolly’s attire silenced both Emily and Mr. Enderby.

Miss Lavinia was already in the drawing room when they entered, seated with her tatting by the fire, and Meriden entered the room several moments later. When his gaze lit upon Dolly’s gown, he stopped where he was and raised his quizzing glass to his right eye.

Emily held her breath.

Dolly, seeing him and rightly guessing his opinion, glared back at him but said not a word, and both she and her aunt breathed a sigh of relief when he lowered the glass without comment and moved to exchange pleasantries with Mr. Enderby. Sabrina, to everyone’s surprise, entered the room just before the butler announced that dinner had been served.

“I could not stay upstairs,” she said lightly, “once I heard that Mr. Enderby had accepted dear Oliver’s invitation to dine.”

Harry bowed, but Oliver said with a laugh that she was mistaken. “Harry met us on the road. Said two gentlemen were not enough to protect Miss Lavinia and Dolly from footpads and that he would ride along to help us out. The truth of the matter is that Lady Enderby’s cook has gone to care for an ailing sister, and Harry knew he’d dine better here than at home.”

“Oh, dear, perhaps we ought to have sent her ladyship an invitation to join us too, ma’am,” Sabrina said to Miss Lavinia.

Chuckling, Miss Lavinia informed her that Lady Enderby was perfectly content with her undercook. “Told me last time I spoke with her that the man likes making every decision himself and don’t even trouble her to look over the menus.”

Sabrina’s countenance when she saw her daughter’s dress was as revealing as Meriden’s had been, but she, too, held her tongue, clearly unwilling to take Dolly to task before their guests. When the ladies had left the gentlemen to their port, however, she was not so reticent.

“You go straight up to your bedchamber, Dorothy Rivington,” she said in an angry undertone the moment William had shut the dining-room door behind them, “and don’t you dare to show your face again tonight. I have never been so angry with you. How you dared to wear that dreadful gown or my diamond necklace in company, I do not know, but I daresay you have vexed Cousin Jack again, and I would not have had you do so for the world.”

Dolly began to protest but soon realized she was wasting her breath when both Emily and Miss Lavinia added their remonstrances to her mother’s. Finally, in tears, she turned away, saying pitifully, “I do not know why everyone is so unkind to me.”

Firmly suppressing a strong desire to shake her niece, Emily followed the others into the drawing room, wondering how long it would be before the gentlemen joined them there. She thought perhaps Jack would wish to speak to her, for he had sat opposite her throughout dinner, and although she had been perfectly civil, she had avoided his eye and, ignoring the fact that everyone else had talked across the table at will, had punctiliously confined her conversation to Mr. Enderby, seated at her right, and to Miss Lavinia, at her left.

Half an hour later, Oliver, Saint Just, and Mr. Enderby entered the drawing room, but Jack was not with them and none of the three remained long once it was explained to them that Dolly had retired. Emily told herself firmly that since she had no wish to continue her earlier conversation with the earl, she was not the least bit disappointed by his absence.

The following morning, when Emily went downstairs, Jack was leaning against the library doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest. He straightened when he saw her.

“I’ve nothing of importance on my plate today,” he said, “so I thought perhaps you would like to go riding with me.”

“No, thank you, sir,” she said calmly. “I have promised to help Miss Lavinia in the garden this morning.”

“She won’t miss you,” he said, moving toward her. “You are only trying to avoid further conversation with me.”

Eyeing him warily, she said, “I cannot think why I should do so, sir.”

He stopped directly in front of her, much too close for her comfort. “Look here, Emily,” he demanded, “are you still vexed with me for what I said about Campion?”

“Why should I be vexed, sir? I simply have no time for games of the sort that seem to amuse you at the moment.”

He was silent for a moment, looking sternly down at her. “What games?”

“Need you ask?” she said, proud that her tone of voice gave no indication of the thrill of fear that raced up and down her spine as a result of the way he was looking at her. “I am no fool, Meriden, nor am I a woman with whose sentiments a man may lightly trifle. You had a wish to indulge yourself, to set your boredom at bay with a little light dalliance. I had no objection at first, but I have been otherwise engaged these past days and expect to be so engaged in days to come, so you would do better to choose another pastime.” For a moment, when his expression hardened and his color heightened, she thought she had gone too far. She had seen that look before and knew he was angry.

“I do not trifle with anyone’s sensibilities,” he said at last, grimly.

The absurdity of the remark brought involuntary laughter to her lips, and her eyes glinted with mockery. “That statement is so patently untrue that I wonder you don’t turn to stone on the spot, sir. I have watched you trifle any number of times in the past, and I recognize your motivation now just as easily as you recognized that of Mr. Saint Just in his dealings with Dolly.”

He reached for her with a purposeful look in his eye, but Emily had anticipated such a move and evaded his hand. “Do you dare to deny what I say, Meriden?” she demanded.

“Damn you, Emily, you ought to know what I meant when I said I wasn’t trifling. If you think turning yourself into a pillar of ice will alter anything between us, you will soon come to recognize your error, I promise you.”

“’Tis you who have made the error, my lord, by thinking I would be so easily ensnared by your charm. Your words yesterday proved that you hold none of the tenderer feelings for me. Did you not learn anything about me last Christmas? Or has there now been some new wager made of which I have not been told?”

With a snarl of fury, Meriden turned from her and strode back into the library, slamming the door shut behind him.

Emily waited for a sense of triumph to surface within her, but it didn’t come. Unhappily, belatedly, she realized that the last thing she had wanted to do was to enrage him. She simply hadn’t known what else to do to keep him from toying with her feelings, nor did she know now.

The following days passed with constraint like a wall between them. The only happy moments for her were those spent with Lady Filey and her mama on Friday afternoon when they drove over to Staithes to return Sabrina’s call. When they had gone, Emily’s good spirits went with them. Leaving Sabrina and Miss Lavinia in the drawing room to discuss at their leisure the gossip imparted to them by their guests, she sought her bedchamber in order to reflect upon the ills of her situation.

Her chilly attitude toward the earl had become daily more difficult to sustain, for she wanted to smooth away his anger with her and to share her laughter with him, as well as those same items of gossip related by Lady Filey and the dowager that had so fascinated Sabrina and Miss Lavinia. But Emily wanted to regain his friendship without laying herself open to the devastating effect of his charm upon her sensibilities.

Lady Filey had mentioned that very afternoon, yet again, the fact that the family had long since given up on Jack’s ever marrying; and, since his sister knew his intentions if anyone did, Emily decided that it would be more than foolhardy to let the man know how much he affected her, how much she was coming to love him. It had been easier, she mused unhappily, when she had only wanted to fight with him.

Her reverie might have drifted on in this vein for some time had not her bedchamber door suddenly vibrated with the pounding of a fist on its panels. Giles’s voice sounded on a note of panic from the other side. “Aunt Emily, are you there? Come quickly! Cousin Jack has sent for Melanie to go to him in the library, and he’s as mad as fire about something. Oh, do come quick, ma’am, do!”

With Giles at her heels, Emily rushed downstairs to the main hall. Once there, however, she paused to collect herself, then turned, managing somehow to speak calmly to the boy.

“Giles, I believe you will do better to go for a walk until this is over and done.”

“I want to help Melanie,” he said stubbornly, standing his ground and giving her look for look. “She hardly ever talks to me anymore, but when I met her on the stair, she looked scared, so I asked her what was wrong. She just said Cousin Jack means to beat her, Aunt Emily. He won’t do so, will he?”