The Counterfeit Betrothal (8 page)

“You have convinced me,” Jeremy said gallantly. Emmaline regarded him with distinct suspicion, and after a moment, he added teasingly, “To meet her, at any rate, and speak with her.”

“You won’t fall in love, I expect,” Emmaline said with a shrug, “but it is the best I can do. And there are reasons that I think she might not be entirely averse to your suit.”

Once more Jeremy drew his horses to a halt and placed a hand over hers, this time comfortingly. “I don’t expect passion,” he said. “My father has made it clear that I am past the point where I may be so choosy. No, I only look for a solution to get us both out of this tangle my father has placed us in. And to find a woman whose face I will not come to hate over the breakfast table and who will not come to hate mine. I admit to some surprise, however, that your friend is unmarried, if she is as delightful as you say.”

Emmaline chose her words carefully. “Rosalind is prone to ... to shyness, but in spite of that she does not lack sense.”

“Nevertheless, her family ought to have seen to finding her a husband,” Jeremy pointed out with a frown.

“And so they should have,” Emmaline replied tartly, “if Lady Kirkwood were not so fond of having a daughter about upon whose shoulders she could lay the responsibility for running the household and whom she could turn to for company. Why do you look so doubtful? Lady Kirkwood is, after all, only following the lead of the Queen.”

“I see,” Jeremy said grimly. “The girl is so far past her prayers that she would marry anyone. Unless, of course, she has had her head filled with nonsense and expects romance and a hero to sweep her off of her feet.”

“Rosalind is not addicted to novels, if that is what you mean,” Emmaline replied severely. “Nor does she confuse life with what is to be found between the covers of a book.” She paused and a wry smile twisted her lips as she said, “You need not fear. Unlike me, Rosalind is an eminently sensible young woman. I cannot count the number of arguments we used to have at school. I held that marriage ought only to come with love and she argued that not only was I foolish but naive as well. She held that were the two people personable, intelligent, and civilized, any pair might make a go of marriage. She will not chide you for having mistresses,” Emmaline could not resist adding bitterly.

“Well then,” Jeremy said briskly, “we must hope that our apparent betrothal does not rule me out in her eyes. I shall look to you for help with that. Otherwise she sounds admirable for our purpose. A pity I am such a bad bargain for her.”

As Emmaline’s face softened in distress he added curtly, urging his horses forward again, “Nor do I want your pity, thank you Miss Delwyn. Look to your own future for that!”

He could not know what effort it cost her to smile. Suddenly the day seemed grim at the notion of Rosalind and Jeremy together and she wished the words unsaid. Last night, when she had thought about the matter, Emmaline had been clear-headed. Rosalind was the perfect choice, if she was not to marry Jeremy herself. And she would not. But that was before he had kissed her. And now it was too late.

Back at Mrs. Hastings’ town house Emmaline discovered two more letters waiting for her, this time from her sisters. Caroline was concerned that Emmaline should be enjoying herself so heedlessly in London while neglecting their father at home. She did allow, however, that Mrs. Colton was taking good care of Sir Osbert. Too good care, Emmaline could almost hear her sister sniffing. In the other letter Adeline scolded Emmaline for having her name bandied about so freely among the
ton.
As she had said before Emmaline left for London, she felt it improper and immodest of Emmaline to expose herself to
on-dits
instead of quietly marrying Jeremy Barnett. Indeed, she did not see the necessity of Emmaline making a London
come out
at all. After all she and Caroline had not displayed such vanity.

In spite of herself, Emmaline could not entirely suppress a sigh. If Adeline considered it improper of her to have come to London, what would she say if she knew what had occurred in the park today?

“Trouble, my dear?” Mrs. Hastings asked briskly from the doorway of the drawing room.

Emmaline started at the sound of her hostess’s voice. She delayed a moment in turning around. After all, what could she say? She had no doubt that Mrs. Hastings would be appalled if she knew how far beyond the pale Emmaline had put herself with her behavior. In the end she prevaricated.

“Only my sisters reminding me that it is my duty to be at my father’s side,” Emmaline replied with apparent frankness. “A duty I fear I am sadly neglecting.”

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Hastings retorted stoutly.

“I wish I could be certain,” Emmaline smiled sadly. “However, I will not argue with you any more than I will argue with my father.”

“Are you enjoying London?” Mrs. Hastings asked, a trifle anxiously.

“To be sure.” Emmaline forced herself to laugh. “And that is part of my guilt.”

“Well, since you are here,” Mrs. Hastings said briskly, “it is absurd to regret your good fortune, for then you will have wasted it.”

On impulse Emmaline rose and walked over to her hostess. “You are kind,” she said. “And I am very fortunate to be your houseguest.”

“So you are,” that redoubtable lady agreed. “And to further regret your presence here in London is to insult me as a hostess,” she decreed imperiously.

“And that I could not do!” Emmaline agreed with a laugh. “Very well, I shall cease to mourn and go upstairs and consult with Mary as to what gown I should wear tonight to the theater.”

9

In
the end it was Hastings who met Rosalind Kirkwood first. Emmaline had risen early after a night filled with half-remembered dreams. Her restlessness communicated itself to Edward over the breakfast table and he asked if there were any errands he could run for her. He had already heard a garbled version of what had occurred in the park from someone who had seen the pair and he now drew his own conclusions.

Emmaline paused as she was about to lift a forkful of food to her mouth. Resolutely she set the fork down and said, “Yes, if you would, Edward. I should dearly love to go to Hookham’s Library this morning, and your mother is still abed. I very much fear she would scold me if I went alone.”

“I am entirely at your service,” he told her with a gallant smile.

Emmaline’s own smile was warm in return. “How fortunate I am that you are Jeremy’s friend!” she murmured.

“And I that you are his
fiancée
,” he retorted.

They bantered back and forth awhile before
Emmaline ran upstairs to retrieve her reticule and gloves and hat. In a morning dress of green muslin she looked delightful. A short time later, they were on their way in Edward’s phaeton. As he threaded his way through the busy streets, more quietly but just as skillfully as Jeremy, he said carefully, “I hope you will not think me impertinent, Miss Delwyn, but I feel I must speak. Jeremy is a good fellow and I would not see him hurt for the world. I’ll grant you he is a trifle wild and his father had good reason to be angry. Indeed, I find myself angry with him as often as not. But he is a good fellow at heart.”

Emmaline hesitated, then decided upon frankness. “I do not doubt it, Mr. Hastings. My father has always had a high regard for Mr. Barnett.”

“Then why—”

“Why did I end the betrothal?” Emmaline asked coolly.

He nodded. “It has me in a puzzle, for I cannot think you truly dislike Jeremy as much as you say you do. In the past weeks I have often wondered...”

She looked down at her hands clasped together tightly in her lap. “Can you not see?” she demanded. “It is as much for his sake as mine! Every time anyone speaks of our wedding he flinches from the course and goes quite pale. It was even worse before we came to London. Did you think I could not see his reluctance to the match?” She stopped and met Hastings’ gaze squarely. “Was I to ignore his feelings, and my own uncertainties? Would it have been a kindness to marry him when he did not truly wish it? Even if he were mad enough to accept such a union, I could not. I have too clearly my own sister’s example before me.” Emmaline stopped, aghast at her own frankness. “F—forgive me,” she stammered, “I ought not to speak of that, it is a private matter.”

“I am all discretion,” Hastings said with quiet sincerity. “Still, as I understand it, you will not repeat your sister’s mistake,” he suggested quietly, “for Jeremy’s sake as well as your own?” She nodded and he went on, “But what if you are mistaken about his feelings?”

“Do you tell me I am?” Emmaline countered, afraid to hear either answer.

Hastings was the first to give way. “I do not know,” he admitted quietly. “Indeed, I think Jeremy does not know his own mind on this.”

“Well, I cannot decide his for him when I am not even certain of my own,” she replied tartly. “I only know I cannot marry Jeremy as matters now stand.”

Hastings read the resolution upon her face and sighed. “Would that all young ladies had your strength of character, Miss Delwyn. Assuming you are correct, of course, about Jeremy. He is not a man to be easily satisfied with half measures. But enough of that. We are at Hookham’s Library.” As he spoke, Hastings neatly drew his horses to a halt and gave the reins over into the care of his groom before he helped Emmaline descend from the phaeton.

Inside, as Emmaline looked about her at the shelves of books, Edward stayed by her side, apparently not in the least rush to leave. He was perfectly willing to discuss the merits of the books she selected and made no demur at the suggestion of a cup of tea to refresh themselves.

It was as they were about to leave the library, rather reluctantly, that Emmaline heard her name called and they turned to see a young lady standing quite close to them. She was, Hastings thought, the most beautiful young lady he had ever seen. She was almost precisely the same height as Emmaline but as fair as Miss Delwyn was dark. Golden curls peeked out from under a blue silk bonnet that matched precisely the blue silk gown the young lady wore. “Emmaline!” she repeated happily. “Mama told me you were in town and I came straight back from my uncle’s house to see you. When did you arrive? How is your father? I have so missed you and I cannot bear the thought that my sister Lizzie’s indisposition has kept me from London and seeing you these past few weeks. My dearest friend, I have heard you are engaged to Jeremy Barnett and I shall want to hear all about it and why you never wrote to tell me.”

At Hastings’ discreet cough at her elbow, Emmaline found a .way to break into her friend’s flow of words. With a laugh she said, “Well, if you know all that, then you know I am staying with Mrs. Hastings. May I present her son, Edward? Edward, this is Miss Rosalind Kirkwood, my very best friend in school.”

Hastings bowed and Rosalind blushed very prettily. The three exchanged a few more words and then a loud voice called out, warningly, “Rosalind! We must be going.”

A shadow crossed the girl’s face and those nearby gentlemen who had been watching her with approval suddenly found themselves wondering why they had ever thought her pretty. Her head bowed, Rosalind to Emmaline in a whisper, “Do you go tonight, to Carlton House? Good. Then we’ll meet there and find a way to talk. You must help me.”

Thoughtfully Emmaline watched her go, acknowledging with a false smile the brief nod Lady Kirkwood sent in her direction. Beside her Edward Hastings stood quite still and Emmaline had to speak to him twice before he heard her. Outside, in the phaeton, he could not keep from asking, “What the devil is the matter with that girl? Why isn’t she married yet? And why does she go so dreadfully gray when her mother speaks to her?”

Stiffly Emmaline replied, “There is nothing the matter with Rosalind. It is not her fault that her parents dislike every young gentleman who has ever came to call. Indeed, until this year I thought they never meant her to marry at all. But of a sudden I hear they wish her to consider marriage to a fellow to whom her father owes gambling debts!”

“Good God, the poor girl!” Hastings said with feeling.

“Yes, that is why—”

Abruptly Emmaline broke off, causing Edward to look at her suspiciously. “That is why,
what
?” he demanded.

Edward’s face darkened so alarmingly that something compelled Emmaline to reply with a careless shrug, “That is why I hope she may find someone else.”

It was a very silent pair that returned to the Hastings town house to find Jeremy there waiting for them. A trifle stiffly, Edward excused himself and left Emmaline to tell Jeremy about their morning.

Mrs. Hastings did not miss the look in her son’s eyes when he returned from his outing with Miss Delwyn. There was an air of abstraction about him that she had never seen before as well as a smile that alternated with a grim look of disapproval that played about his lips. Her own tightened at the uneasy suspicion that Edward was halfway to falling in love. It was, nevertheless, some time later in the day before she had the opportunity to question her son about the matter.

“Ah, Edward, there you are, my dear,” Mrs. Hastings called cheerfully up to her son as he stood on the stairs. “Wait a moment, will you? I must speak to you.”

“Certainly, Mother,” he replied with impeccable manners.

Unaware of her thoughts, he amiably followed her to the small library that was usually his father’s preserve. Even now the aroma of tobacco lingered among the crowded rows of books that so badly needed straightening. Mr. Hastings, however, was nowhere to be seen. Once there Mrs. Hastings seemed to have some difficulty speaking and Edward prompted her politely. “Is something wrong, Mama?”

“Oh, no, no,” she replied airily. “At least I don’t think so.” She paused, then added lightly, “Is Miss Delwyn enjoying her visit to London? Did you have a good morning today?”

Unaware of it himself, Edward’s face lit up as
he said boyishly, “Oh, yes, indeed! We went to Hookham’s Library and it was wonderful!”

With great self-restraint Mrs. Hastings refrained from asking tartly just what could be so wonderful about a library, even for a son who enjoyed books. Instead she said, “I suppose we are soon to hear the date set for her wedding to young Barnett? Particularly if the reports I hear of her behavior—
their
behavior—in the park yesterday are to be believed.”

“Well, er, no,” Hastings told his mother reluctantly. “I rather think we shan’t. As for those reports, I am persuaded they are much exaggerated.”

“I see,” Mrs. Hastings said, quirking an eyebrow. “You are satisfied with the state of affairs then?”

Again Edward’s face darkened. “No, to be frank I think Jeremy is treating Miss Delwyn abominably!” he said angrily. Then, hastily he added, “Not that I think Miss Delwyn is so eager to wed him, as matters now stand. And I shouldn’t allow her to be pressed against her will.”

With something akin to dismay, Mrs. Hastings watched the emotions that played across her son’s face. It was no part of her plans to have him defend Miss Delwyn so forcefully. Coupled with the air of abstraction she had noted before, Mrs. Hastings was afraid that her son had indeed begun to fall in love. Unable to suppress her curiosity, she asked, with a feigned coolness, “Edward, you must know that I have begun to wonder if you ever intend to think of marriage or if you mean to become a misogamist like Jeremy Barnett.”

Edward’s easy laugh only added to her dismay as he replied, “Have no fear, Mother. I know my duty, and today I begin to think I may even take pleasure in it. But now, unless you have something urgent to say to me, I must go. I am pledged to run an errand for Miss Delwyn straightaway.”