Lady Emma's Dilemma (9781101573662) (17 page)

Oh, how I hate you.
The words reverberated through him even now. The fierce sadness in her voice had been unmistakable—but so had the desire in her touch.

What right had she to hate him? he thought with a flash of long suppressed anger. She had left him—a boy with little to offer except ambition, to marry the wealthy, socially accepted Charles Fallbrook.

By her vehemence, one would think that
he
had left
her
on the side of that dark road. Running his fingers through his hair, he gritted his teeth against the same onslaught of emotion that had forced him from London this morning.

But beneath the scar of this old wound, embarrassment over his actions that night surfaced once again. He had been more than foolish to think that eloping in a high-perch phaeton could work. And drinking to bolster his courage and going the wrong way had not helped matters. But still,
he had been so confident of her love that it had torn his heart out that she could leave him over what he considered such trivial matters. He could not have been more mistaken.

“Your lordship does not think that is the right way to go about it?”

At the concern in Caleb's voice Jack quickly smoothed his expression. “No, no, you are exactly right,” he said quickly, without having a clue as to what the horse trainer just said.

Sensing that Caleb was winding down, Jack pulled his thoughts from the maddening Emmaline.

He could not deny that he was willing to go along with whatever game she was playing. But he intended to step very carefully, for he would be damned if he was going to be a fool again.

“I
am shocked, truly shocked at Lord Monteford's behavior,” Amelia said, her soft blue eyes wide with concern. “I am more shocked by Darley's behavior,” Penelope rejoined with a tone of disgust. “I would never have guessed that he was so pusillanimous.”

Emma sent a wry smile to her friends as the three of them sat in her grandmother's beautifully appointed salon. “If you mean spineless and craven, I agree. But I am not shocked, just disgusted—with both of them.”

Penelope and Amelia had arrived a half an hour ago, two elegant inquisitors demanding to know what had occurred last night at Vauxhall Gardens. They had not failed to notice that she had gone off with Lord Darley and returned with Lord Devruex.

Earlier, Emma had pled fatigue when Grandmère had invited her on one of her afternoon excursions. Emma knew her friends well and was expecting them, so she did not want to be out when they called.

“You do look a little tired, my dear,” Grandmère had said. “Rest this afternoon and we shall have a quiet evening at home. Who would have thought that I would have more stamina than you for the social whirl?” With an impish smile the beautiful old lady had swept out of the house.

Once settled in chairs around the tea tray—and practically before the ladies had removed their bonnets—Emma had relayed almost all the details of her experiences with
Lords Darley, Monteford, and Devruex, and the fatuous Mrs. Willoughby.

That is, all the details except for the kiss with Devruex. Her thoughts about him and her passionate response were still too troubling to share.

“Thank goodness Devruex arrived when he did.”

Amelia's comment brought Emma's attention back to her friends. “Yes” was all the reply she trusted herself to make about Jack. “But I am wretchedly disappointed. Now that I shall be giving the cut sublime to Darley and Monteford, I shall have to start my search all over again for an interesting gentleman.”

Amelia smiled broadly over her teacup. “That will not be difficult for you. You have already captured the attention of some of the most elusive blades in Town. I cannot wait for you to fall in love. Won't it be lovely to have a wedding?”

Sitting bolt upright, Emma waved her hands vigorously to dismiss Amelia's words. “I have no objection to falling in love, but I certainly won't be getting married.” The very thought of it gave her a shiver of revulsion.

Amelia's expression was one of complete dismay, and she sent a questioning look to Penelope. The petite blonde shrugged her shoulders in resignation, for she knew very well Emma's opinions on marriage.

Setting her cup on the little table next to her chair, Amelia frowned at Emma and said, “What is the point of falling in love if you don't want to marry?”

Nonplussed at her friend's artless question, Emma was suddenly gripped by helpless laughter.

Penelope joined her while Amelia looked on in growing frustration. “What is it that you two find so funny?” she demanded.

Wiping her eyes, Penelope said through her laughter, “I swear, Amelia, I know you are only a few years younger than me and Emma, but your naïveté can be so disarming.”

“I was asking a serious question.” Amelia's tone sounded a little affronted.

Struggling to regain her composure, Emma reached over and placed her hand affectionately on Amelia's arm. “Forgive us for laughing, dear Amelia. It is a good question and I think you are blessed to see the world the way you do. But I have not been so lucky in love. I shall never marry again, thank goodness.”

“But why? Marriage is wonderful! I know you have suffered greatly in the past, but you can love again. I know you can.”

Emma shrugged and spread her hands. “I have said that I am perfectly open to the idea of falling in love. In fact, I have been considering the notion of taking a lover if the right gentleman plays his hand very carefully.” She refused to examine why the vision of devilish black eyes came instantly to mind at this bold declaration.

Amelia gasped. “Emma! I am shocked!”

Penelope said at the same time, “Oh, how delicious! I suspected as much.”

“Are you being serious?” Amelia asked. “I can hardly believe you are not hoaxing me to get a reaction.”

At the confusion and dismay in Amelia's eyes, the smile faded from Emma's lips. She realized that she must indeed seem strange to someone like Amelia and wanted to try to make her friend understand.

“I know most women are taught that any husband is preferable to no husband,” Emma began in a solemn tone. “However, I do not subscribe to that belief. Never again will I give a man the right to control every aspect of my life. It is the rare man that has a strong enough character not to take advantage of a woman's frailer body and lack of personhood in the eyes of the law. You and Penelope are truly fortunate. Your husbands have always impressed me as being truly sensible of the risks and sacrifices a woman makes in giving her hand in marriage.”

Penelope made no comment and Amelia, who had been listening intently, nodded slowly.

“You give me much to think about, Emma,” Amelia said. “I have never looked at marriage in this way. I cannot deny that you make a good argument. It would indeed be frightening to be wed to someone unworthy. But I know, because of my marriage to my darling Roger, that where there is true love, there is respect and protectiveness. Roger would never cause me to regret entrusting myself to him.”

At the quiet confidence in Amelia's voice, Emma felt a lump forming in her throat and she could not speak over the threatening tears.

“You truly are blessed among women,” Penelope said softly across the tea table.

“But, Pen, don't you love Tunbridge?” Amelia looked as if someone just told her that fairies don't exist.

Emma shifted her curious gaze to Penelope to see a bright blush coming to her cheeks.

“Well… Tunbridge and I hold each other in great affection,” she said, suddenly finding her teacup of great interest.

Amelia's eyes grew wide. “Hold each other in great affection! I thought you adored each other! I thought…” Her voice trailed off, her expression full of confusion and dismay.

Penelope fussed with the lace on the front panel of her yellow afternoon gown. “It is difficult to explain. Tunbridge and I are quite content with each other, but we have never expressed ourselves in such terms.”

“But I would have sworn that you loved him,” Amelia spluttered again.

Emma could see that poor Penelope was blushing so deeply she resembled a strawberry, and from Amelia's earnest expression, it looked as if her romantic nature would not let her drop the subject.

“Can you not see that she does, you goose?” Emma interjected before Amelia could embarrass Penelope further.

But Amelia could not be stopped. “I just cannot believe what I am hearing. I am sure Tunbridge—”

“Enough!” Penelope said, putting her cup back in its saucer with a clatter. “I refuse to speak of this anymore. It is an awful thing to be in love with one's husband.”

“No, it's not!” Amelia cried, looking askance at the pretty blonde.

“Well, it is if your husband does not love you in return,” Penelope said in a flat, sad voice.

“But Tunbridge dotes on you!” said Amelia. “He indulges your every whim, laughs at your scrapes, and showers you with the most stunning jewels.”

Penelope made an impatient noise. “Well, of course he gives me jewels. Tunbridge has always been attentive to these gentlemanly details. How else would the world know of the respect and appreciation he feels for me? But jewels are not the same as love.”

“Oh,” Amelia said with dawning comprehension.

“Enough about the state of my marriage,” Penelope said briskly. “I wish to get back to Emma's dilemma. You say you'll have to start over in your quest for an interesting gentleman?”

“Yes,” Emma said, willing to aid Penelope in changing the subject to a less painful one. “I shall start my hunt at the Litchfield ball next week.”

Penelope crossed her hands in her lap. “What about Devruex? I know your history is painful, but it was so long ago. There is not an unmarried woman—and any number of married ones—who would not be thrilled to indulge in a serious flirtation with him.”

“Oh, I agree!” Amelia said eagerly. “Just look at the way he challenged Monteford over insulting you. I vow I do not know how you could resist him.”

Emma could not think of a reply, for she was beginning to suspect that resisting him would not be as easy as she had at first thought.

Penelope picked up another delicate biscuit from the
tray. “Yes, Emma, how can you resist the devilishly attractive Lord Devruex?”

Emma lowered her eyes from the gentle, yet keenly perceptive green gaze of her old friend. “Because I am not interested in him,” she said with more defiance than she felt.

Instantly, the memory of his strong hands pulling her against his hard body assailed her still bewildered senses. Why did her body betray her when her intellect told her that she would be ten times the fool if she allowed herself to fall under his charms again?

Penelope's knowing chuckle showed her disbelief. “Emma, I saw your face last night. You are quite practiced at concealing your emotions, but I have known you for a very long time. You may be a lot of things, but uninterested in Devruex is not one of them.”

Emma wanted more than anything to deny her friend's words, but her natural honesty prevented her from doing so. Leaning back in the damask covered chair, she sighed heavily.

“I cannot deny that Devruex is an exceedingly attractive man, but I would be a fool to become involved with him again.”

“But why?” Amelia asked earnestly. “It would be so terribly romantic to fall in love again with your first love.”

“Absolutely not!” Emma felt a growing alarm at the trend of this conversation.

“Why not?” Penelope asked. “Amelia makes a wonderful point. You have said that you came to London seeking a bit of excitement. And, my dear, it does not get much more exciting than Jack Devruex.”

Emma looked from one encouraging expression to the other, hardly believing what she was hearing. “And that is exactly why I intend to do my very best to avoid him from this moment on. I have had enough excitement from Lord Devruex for a lifetime.”

T
he day before the Litchfield ball found Emma and her grandmother spending the afternoon reading and writing letters in the sun-filled sitting room that faced the back garden.

Emma appreciated the relaxed atmosphere and the breeze wafting in from the open casement windows. It was a welcome change from the previous week, which had been a whirlwind of activity.

The dowager had proudly taken her granddaughter to dinners, musical evenings, and routs. Emma enjoyed herself, but she did find it rather odd that no matter what crowded room they entered, she never once encountered Jack Devruex.

She told herself that she should be relieved, but yet she found herself looking for him every time she left her grandmother's townhouse.

“Emmaline, my dear, I am going to ask you to indulge an old lady's sensibilities.”

Her grandmother's words pulled her from her reverie, and gratefully pushing aside thoughts of Jack, she smiled at the dowager, who looked the picture of regal leisure reposing on the sofa in a gauzy afternoon gown of azure blue.

“I shall certainly do my best, Grandmère.”

“You must tell me if you are happy you have come to London.”

The real concern in her tone surprised Emma. Quickly, she reviewed her behavior this past week, hoping she had done nothing to make her grandmother believe she regretted leaving Yorkshire.

She did not want to answer too quickly, lest her sharp-as-a-tack grandmother believe she was only trying to appease her. It took a moment to formulate a response she felt would reassure her.

“The Season, so far, has not been at all what I expected it to be. However, I am very glad that we are spending time together. I wish I had not taken so many years to accept your invitation. Attending plays and parties with you has been a delight.”

To Emma's relief, the slight crease between her grandmother's brows cleared. “I daresay being admired and pursued by handsome young blades is not such a chore either.”