Lady Emma's Dilemma (9781101573662) (10 page)

“Admittedly thirteen years is a bit late, but please allow me to apologize for my part in our, shall I say, youthful foolishness. But all's well that ends well, as they say.”

She pulled her gaze back to his as the room swirled around them. Nothing but lazy amusement glittered in his eyes, and in response, a searing anger had her gritting her teeth.

No, all did not end well; nothing had been truly well since that night, her thoughts shouted.

Despite the pain that his words caused, a deeply ingrained pride forced a smile to her lips.

Her marriage had taught her never to reveal her emotions, and thus, she excelled at feigning composure. If she had showed any emotional disturbance in front of Charles, he never ceased prodding her about it. He would harangue her, tirelessly trying to find a sore spot, until she felt she
would scream. It had been much easier to learn to school her emotions than to be so passively tortured.

“Yes, we were so very young and foolish. And although it is not necessary after all these years, I accept your apology, Lord Devruex. And you are correct—all is well that ends well. We were very lucky to have come to our senses before embarking on what no doubt would have been a horrific mistake. There need not be any awkwardness between us should we meet again. After all, the past is the past and we are two civilized adults.”

“I see we have the same opinion on the subject, Lady Fallbrook.”

His cool, unperturbed tone caused a sharp pain near her heart and she sent up a prayer that the dance would end before she hit him or started to cry.

Her wish was granted moments later when, on one last sweeping turn, the music faded away and Lord Devruex bowed to her before leading her back to her grandmother. The expression on his strikingly masculine face remained polite and unreadable.

“Thank you, Lady Fallbrook.”

Not trusting her voice, Emma inclined her head in reply as Lord Devruex took his leave of her.

Feeling angry, confused, and oddly deflated, she glanced down to see that her hands were trembling. Suddenly, this ball that she had anticipated with such eagerness could not end soon enough.

D
espite sleeping fitfully, Emma awakened early the next morning with thoughts of Jack Devruex and his amused dark eyes spinning in her head. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she squinted and looked around her bedchamber. Even though the heavy curtains were pulled across the long windows, leaving the room pleasantly dark, she gave up trying to sleep.

“This will not do,” she groaned, kicking off the bed linens. Getting up, she stretched her arms high above her head, then bent down and touched her toes before ambling to the tall windows. Spreading the curtains wide, she gazed out to the lush back garden. The morning sun picked out glints of dew on the leaves and grass. Pushing her braid off her shoulder, she pressed her forehead against the cool pane and contemplated her peculiar mood.

Lord Devruex's unexpected appearance had shaken her usual confidence and self-possession, she admitted. However, viewed in a charitable light, her discomfiture was really quite understandable. The drama of their final meeting and the heartbreak that followed had changed the path of her life. Despite the passage of so many years, it was only natural to have some kind of reaction to seeing him.

She just had not expected to have such a strong response, she thought, remembering her anger at his casual behavior during their dance.

The soft creak of the door drew her attention and she
turned to see Milton entering with a basket laden with flowers.

“How lovely,” Emma said, grateful for the distraction.

“I knew you would be awake and stirring, my lady. And you'll be wanting to see all the lovely bouquets that have come for you already.” Placing the basket on the table near the fireplace, the maid continued. “Shall I bring your breakfast, or will you be joining her grace?”

Picking up the first bunch of flowers, a mass of peonies, Emma said, “I shall have chocolate and toast here, and then I will go for a ride in Green Park. Please tell Wallace that I wish him to accompany me.”

“Very good, my lady. A good gallop always puts the roses back in your cheeks. I will draw a bath for you. Will you wear your new habit?”

Shrugging her indifference, for she could not have given a fig for what she wore, Emma picked out the card nestling between the silky leaves. “Whatever you choose is fine,” she said. As Milton left the room Emma moved to the chair by the fireplace. Gathering her ecru and blush lace wrap around her, she sat down and opened the envelope.

         Until Thursday.
                Darley

Emma smiled. He was such a charming and engaging man, and she reminded herself that she found him very attractive. She reached for the next bouquet—a mixture of fragrant spring flowers—and it took her a moment to find the card among the blooms.

To the Incomparable of Incomparables.

Monteford

Rolling her eyes, she said, “A bit over the top,” and immediately set the card aside and reached for the next bouquet. It was a simple, though massive, bunch of gorgeous
pink roses in bud, tied with a wide green grosgrain ribbon. The only thing on the ivory vellum card was
Devruex
, written in a firm, bold hand.

She stared at the card, her hand trembling ever so slightly. Picking up the roses, she breathed deeply of their alluring scent and wondered why he had sent them. The feel of dancing with him came back in a heady wave. The breadth of his shoulders and the feel of his strong arms filled her senses again. Her breathing quickened as a rush of piercing anger hit her full force.

The feeling held her in its grip for several moments before she made herself set the flowers and card aside. In an attempt to gain control of her wayward emotions, she said aloud, “This is ridiculous. I will stop thinking of him.”

Since early childhood she had been able to school her emotions to her needs and this time would be no different, she told herself sternly.

After breakfast, she bathed and dressed in the new riding habit. Tugging on a fine pair of gloves, she turned to Milton and said, “Please put the peonies and the roses in vases.”

“What about the other flowers?” Milton asked.

“I had forgotten about those. Do whatever you'd like with them. I care not,” Emma instructed over her shoulder as she left the room.

On the other side of town, Sally Willoughby crumpled the note she had just received from one of Lady Colhurst's footmen. She had paid handsomely for the information, and to her great infuriation, she trusted every word.

“Rivers!
RIVERS!
” she screamed at the top of her lungs as she ran up the stairs, cursing under her breath between shouts.

“Yes, ma'am?”

Reaching the landing, she whipped around to see her stone-faced butler gazing up at her from the foyer.

“Where have you been? Didn't you hear me calling you?” She hated it when her servants were less than perfect.

The butler's shoulders rose slightly as he let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, I heard you. I apologize, ma'am. What may I do for you?”

“I want the gig brought around now. I am going to the park.”

“Very good, Mrs. Wil—”

She turned away before he finished and stomped down the hall to her bedchamber. Upon entering the room, she saw her maid laying out her green walking gown and matching pelisse.

“I hate him!” Sally shouted and slammed the door.

“Now, ma'am, do not be gettin' yourself in a state. You know you'll just start crying and make your face red and puffy.”

“I am too angry to cry! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! He cancels an evening with me to go to that ball and dance with Lady Fallbrook. After what happened at the theatre, it is an insult! And who is she anyway? She dresses oddly and is at least five years older than me!” She kicked her shoes off with such force that they sailed across the room, sending a crystal candy dish crashing to the floor.

Cooper lifted her shoulders in a resigned shrug. “Well, she's quality and very rich. Everyone knows his lordship is hurting for blunt and needs to be looking for a wife who is plump in the pockets,” she stated as she began to help her mistress off with her morning gown.

“Ha! Shows what you know,” Sally snapped. “The Montefords are rich enough. He just doesn't know how to manage his mama. Oh, why couldn't I have captured Devruex? He makes me shiver and his money is his own.”

The stout servant made no comment and Sally continued in a less strident tone of voice. “You are going to have to find out about that Fallbrook woman.”

Cooper sniffed and retrieved the green gown from the bed. “I don't know anyone at the Duchess of Kelbourne's
household. 'Tis going to cost you more than a dress or two to get anyone to tell me anything,” she said as she pulled the gown over Sally's head.

“I don't care!” came the muffled cry from beneath the gown as she shoved her arms through the sleeves. “I have to know if Monteford sees her again. How dare she try to poach my man,” she said as her head emerged through the neck.

Cooper snorted and shook her head. “That ain't how things work an' you know it. If she wants 'im, you don't matter. What does a lady care about the likes of you? Ouch!”

“Keep saying things like that and I'll pinch you again!” Sally shouted.

Rubbing her arm, Cooper shrugged. “I ain't saying nothing that ain't true. You are going to get yourself in trouble if you go treating the nibs disrespectful. Then where will you be?”

“Hush and help me get ready. If I don't get out of this house I shall go mad,” she ordered, turning to her vanity table.

Less than an hour later, Mrs. Willoughby was tooling her shiny red gig, with its perfectly matched white ponies, through Green Park. She had no desire to go to Hyde Park, which was always more crowded and where she was likely to be recognized. Her ponies were so well-trained, and knew the route so well, that she barely needed to pay them any attention as she mulled over her disturbing thoughts.

She was still stewing about that Fallbrook woman and Monteford.

After all, she was the famous Sally Willoughby, toasted as an Incomparable from one end of Town to the other. Didn't he have any idea how many men desired her? Didn't he know how crowds gathered at her front door just to catch a glimpse of her? Monteford should be kissing her feet for
deigning to bestow her favors upon him, she thought bitterly.

As the little conveyance trundled along the smooth lane that delimited the park, a new and disturbing thought presented itself. What if he threw her over for Lady Fallbrook?

It would be one thing if he married the average, dull, mealymouthed Society woman—Sally would not feel threatened by such a creature.

But it would be quite another thing if he chose someone like Lady Fallbrook. When their eyes had met briefly at the theatre, Sally had instantly recognized the pride and strength in the lady's features. She did not look like she would tolerate her husband squiring his flashy mistress around Town.

Monteford would not get rid of her, she assured herself stubbornly, gripping the leather reins tightly. Yes, they had a contract, but he was a lord, and she was not so naïve to believe that any court would uphold such an agreement.

Two years ago, when she embarked upon this path, her intentions had been to salt away as much money as possible and gain her independence. But her life had not turned out as she had intended. She passionately loved having all her bills paid and spending her sizable allowance, but there were
so
many pretty bits and pieces that caught her fancy and she loved to entertain lavishly.

In truth, she had almost no money in reserve and she suddenly felt vulnerable about her future. Of course, she had the jewels, but they never fetched as much as they were worth. As she continued driving along in the warm spring air, she realized that from here on out she was going to have to be very careful.

A horse and rider running flat out across the open stretch of grass before her caught her attention. Rarely had Sally witnessed a woman using a sidesaddle ride with such reckless skill. Impressed, Sally kept her gaze on the woman and horse, envying her ability. As they drew closer, Sally suddenly recognized the profile.

“Think of the devil, or whatever,” she said aloud and flicked the ribbons to urge her ponies forward.

Of course Lady Fallbrook would be an excellent horse-woman, she thought bitterly. Lady Fallbrook probably excelled at every ladylike skill one could think of. The
perfectly perfect
Lady Fallbrook, she thought resentfully as she steered the gig to intersect with her rival.

Without thinking past the next moment, she lifted her green-gloved hand and waved at Lady Fallbrook, who was still riding at a bruising run. It took a few moments of vigorous gesticulations before she was sure she had attracted her attention. Lady Fallbrook slowed the horse, turned his direction slightly, and began to trot toward her.

Sally eyed the lady's dove gray and lavender riding habit, smarting with jealousy at the elegance of the original design. The short lavender jacket was a feminine version of a gentleman's frock coat and her gray silk tricorne hat had a short, sheer veil as its only adornment. The ensemble, right down to the elegant knot in the stock at her throat, looked simple yet dashing.

Sally clenched her teeth against her rising ire, for she herself had been hailed as the standard of what was fashionable and abhorred the idea of anyone usurping that role.

Lady Fallbrook brought her horse to a stop a little distance away. Her expression showed no emotion except polite self-assurance. Sally felt her anger rise higher, for no matter how she tried she had never been able to emulate the poise and composure that the upper classes wore so naturally.

Doing her best to perform a bow from her seat in the gig, Sally said, “Good morning, Lady Fallbrook. I wonder if you might honor me with a moment of your time.”