The Daughter of an Earl (15 page)

She jumped at the touch on her shoulder. Lifting her eyes, she found Julia had moved beside her, her gaze one of concern.

“We do not have to go out if you do not wish to do so. I am content to stay in and play cards here.”

She blinked, recalling the many invitations Julia had declined or outings she had forgone to keep Emily company at home. Guilt pricked her. “No, it is all right. I promise you,
I would not have returned if I was not ready.” It was the truth.

The nerves were still there upon first arriving at an event, but the urge to flee had disappeared. Melody and Miranda's company helped to distract her. Then there was Brett. He was never too far, teasing his sisters or ready with a witty quip. There were moments that she worried he saw her fear, that he had discerned there was more to her unease in society, but he could not. She had buried her deepest secret very deep. And if one kept up appearances, others rarely dug further.

“And lest you forget, this is not my first time in town,” Emily continued. “Admittedly, I did not go out much, but coming here was the first step. Accepting invitations was the last one, so now my recovery is complete. You need to stop worrying about me, Julia. You have your own family now, and I am quite all right.”

“You are my family, too,” Julia said softly. “I so wanted to come with you when you first left for town, but we had too many dratted guests staying with us after the christening. I got rid of them as fast as I could.”

“How rude of friends and relatives to overstay their welcome, wishing to linger and celebrate your happiness.”

Julia smiled. “Exactly. Quite unpardonable. I am glad that Brett wrote to say that all was going well, and suggested we come to town. I was biting at the bit to do so for your sake, and thankfully, Daniel wants to vote on this upcoming agriculture bill.”

Emily froze, heard no further than Brett had invited them to town.

Why had he extended the invitation?
And without mentioning it to her?

He must know it would hinder their plans. She pursed her lips. Just when she thought they were fighting the same battle, or at the very least moving in the same direction, the man does an about-face. She did not like him going behind her back. It made her wonder—what else had he kept from her?

“Emily? What is it? You look upset.”

She shook her head. “It is nothing. Nothing at all. I was surprised. Brett did not mention that he wrote to you.”

“Oh? And you and
Mr. Curtis
,
Brett
that is, are now on civil speaking terms?” Julia appeared amused—and intrigued.

Heat crept up her cheeks. “
Mr. Curtis
has been behaving himself, so we have been able to converse with civility. For his sisters' sake, that is, and of course, they provide us with a buffer.”

“Of course,” Julia said. “I am glad. For his sisters' sake, that is.”

She caught the teasing gleam in her sister's eyes, and bristled. “It would be difficult to chaperone his sisters if we continued to be at odds with each other.”

“I do not disagree,” Julia said, obviously struggling to suppress her laughter. “So he no longer wishes to decapitate you? And you no longer wish for one of his ships to go down with him on it?”

She had forgotten that she had confided to her sister her irritation with Brett. “We have made amends. In fact, we have laid down our weapons and have a temporary truce.”

Julia studied her, and Emily cursed the heat burning her cheeks. She should not have mentioned weapons and truce. Like a spark, it ignited a burst of intimate battle images. She resisted the urge to fan her cheeks.

“I am glad to hear that. I like Brett Curtis very much, and I always hoped you two would set aside your differences.” Julia appeared to hesitate a moment, before continuing. “Was there any other young man of interest at the balls you attended? Anyone else worth mentioning?”

What on earth?
Something in her sister's searching look gave her pause. As if she dangled a hook, Julia was clearly fishing for something. Emily had been in town but a fortnight; were there already whispers circulating about her? And worse,
Brett
? “No, absolutely not. Really Julia, at three-and-twenty, I am no longer a debutante with a line of beaus clamoring for my hand.”

“Emily, my love, you forget the mercenary working of our
aristocratic marriage market. You may no longer be a debutante, but you are the daughter of an earl, an heiress in your own right, and beautiful—whether or not you choose to acknowledge it. Those are coveted assets. Many a gentleman will ignore your being in your
dotage
”—she rolled her eyes—“if it means gaining access to your inheritance.”

Emily grimaced. “I understand, but I have no intention of letting a fortune hunter, nor any other man, ensnare me. I promise you, that should be the least of your concerns.” She gentled her tone. “Julia, please, you need to stop worrying about me. I may not be on the shelf, but nor am I a naïve, innocent girl.”

“Yes, well, it is an older sister's prerogative to worry over a younger one, so you cannot argue me out of it.”

“Fair enough. Then your questions about gentlemen I have met are out of sisterly concern? You have not heard anything? It is your turn to alleviate my worries.”

“No, of course not.” Julia paused, and then sighed. “That is not completely true. Tristan's sister stopped by Bedford Hall. She said that you had visited recently, and she was sorry to have missed you, so was delighted to have received your letter.”

“Yes, well, I was sorry to have missed her as well.”

“Patricia mentioned that Lawrence Drummond had visited her and Tristan but a week after you left for London.”

“Mr. Drummond?” she echoed, wary of Drummond paying a visit to the Bransons so soon after hers. Emily did not believe in coincidences.

“Do you remember him? He was posted with Jason in India. Very personable young man.”

“Yes, I am familiar with him.” She struggled to keep her expression neutral, while her pulse raced.

“Apparently he asked of you.”

“Of me?” Emily said, not pleased to hear that.

Julia laughed. “Yes, you. He told Patricia that he was heading to London, and he had hopes of seeing you here. He asked if she knew of your plans. Patricia was under the impression that the man is carrying a tendre for you.” Julia's eyes danced with teasing lights. “Patricia is a friend of Drummond's
younger sister, Clarise, and I think Clarise confided her brother's feelings to Patricia. Do you know Clarise? She had her debut at the beginning of the Season. The Earl of Dayton hosted a lavish ball. Drummond's mother is—”

“A distant cousin of the earl's,” Emily finished. “I did see Mr. Drummond briefly at another ball the earl held, but I did not have a chance to speak with him.” She had no choice in that incident, but Brett's rebuff of Drummond was not the first, and her own rejection of his overtures had been quite firm.

So why was the man persisting? Unless . . . Did he have something to confide in regard to Jason's death or had he changed his mind about assisting her? Perhaps her query had him intrigued enough to study anew the business papers that he had.

Her questions convinced her that she would have to speak to him, which might prove difficult. With Brett intent on tossing Drummond into Newgate, she doubted Brett would give the man a fair hearing, and she did not dare meet him alone. She had given Brett her word, and the memory of her ill-fated meeting with Drummond precluded that option.

“Patricia said Clarise sang her brother's praises,” Julia continued. “Apparently, their father died years ago, so Drummond is head of the family now. He allowed his sister to buy her gowns for her debut at Madame Duchard's, not that I countenance such extravagant indulgence. That is right, Emma, no spoiling for you. That is, if I can rein in your father, which is proving problematic.”

“I am sure Mr. Drummond and I will cross paths again,” Emily said. She would be sure to keep an eye out for him. There must be a way to speak to him without Brett murdering him.

“Yes, and as I said, he is a very nice young man,” Julia pressed, her eyes gleaming.

Emily held up her hands. “I cannot stop you from worrying, but please, no matchmaking.
That
I will handle on my own.”

Julia sighed. “Emma will allow me to pick out her husband. You will listen to your mother, won't you, my love?
Mmh, she has nodded off. That does not bode well for future mother-daughter discussions.”

Emily's smile faded seeing her sister's features soften as she smiled at her daughter, her face transformed into a portrait of maternal serenity. Something twisted in Emily's heart. In forgoing marriage, she had lost so much more.

Her chest tightened. She would never cradle her own child in her arms or experience the protective tug of motherhood. Once upon a time, to see Jason's blue eyes reflected in their child's gaze was all she had coveted. But it was not to be.

Despite the pain of it, seeing this beautiful, innocent child reaffirmed her conviction.

She refused to pass on the darkness within her—as her father had passed it on to her. It was carried in their blood, nearly destroying her father after her mother's death, and then Emily when she had lost Jason. Julia was strong, but Emily could not guarantee that her own child would be so, because Emily had been strong, too—until tragedy broke her. No child should have to fight their way back from . . .
madness
.

She swallowed back her pain. She had made her decision and did not regret it. What she had with Brett, the give-and-take of passion and pleasure, was all she had to offer. She just hoped Brett had not changed his mind, considering the invitation he had sent to Daniel and Julia behind her back.

If he had, well then, she would have to change it back. Better yet, seduce him again. She looked forward to the challenge.

E
MILY
smiled at Melody, who glided across the dance floor. They had all left town and journeyed to Hertfordshire to attend a house party at Lord Sutton's. As he was a mere baron, his estate did not boast the grandeur of the Earl of Dayton's town house, but being a jovial and popular member of the ton, invitations to his parties were coveted.

“Is that her second dance with the
same
partner?” Brett grumbled from beside her.

“It is not,” Miranda said with strained patience. “For goodness' sake, he is fair-haired and her last partner had black hair. All gentlemen look alike to you.”

Brett grunted. “How the devil am I to notice hair color, when all I see is the wolf in black evening attire? This one is drooling. I should intercede.”

“Don't you dare,” Emily said quickly before he could move. “Melody is capable of handling herself. Let us just hope she does not break another fan in doing so.” Worry laced her tone.

“How many fans has she broken on you, Brett?” Daniel said, amused.

“I do not keep count.”

“Up to a full score,” Miranda supplied, and shook her head at Daniel who arched a brow, a challenging glint in his eyes. “Absolutely not,” she said shaking her head and struggling to suppress her laughter. “You cannot talk me into placing another wager on Melody breaking one more fan. I can no longer afford to place losing bets.”

Daniel smiled. “Wise decision.”

“The dance is over,” Brett said. “Her partner is smiling, and I see fangs. I need to remind him that refreshments have been provided, but Melody is not one of them.”

Miranda caught Brett's arm. “Stay. Do not move. Bedford and I will intercede and switch partners. You and your black scowl are to remain here.”

Daniel bowed to Julia, his expression solemn. “I am off to rescue a fair damsel from a predator. Pray for me.”

“How brave you are,” Julia said solemnly but her lips twitched. “Try to refrain from shedding blood.”

“I will do my best.” Daniel winked at a snarling Brett before following Miranda.

“
Stay? Do not move? Remain here
? Does she think I am a dog to obey her bidding?” Brett muttered.

Julia laughed and turned away to respond to a question from a young woman on her other side.

“She would be foolish to think that,” Emily said, “because you do not follow anyone's bidding but your own.”

Brett turned on her. “What the devil are you talking about? I have traveled to this infernal house party, clearing my schedule for three days, all at your insistence that my sisters would enjoy it, but more important, that Jason's sister planned to meet you here. Once you retrieve the portfolio from her, feign an illness so we can escape early.”

“Stop whining. There will be no early escapes. Many of the exalted guests here, whom you like to dismiss and
disdain, are investors in Curtis Shipping. Far be it from you to condescend to socialize with them once in a while.”

Brett opened his mouth to protest and then snapped it closed, for once having no ready retort. After a moment, he grumbled, “I do not whine, and the dismissing and disdaining is mutual.”

“I understand. On another matter, you neglected to mention that you wrote to Daniel and Julia, inviting them to town. Did you not stop to think how that might complicate things? I would have appreciated your discussing the matter with me before making a decision that impacts my plans.” She lifted her chin and dared him to refute her.

He studied her expression, and he appeared to move from irritated to amused. “Truth be told, I tried to retrieve my invitation, but was too late. As for complicating matters, I believe we passed complicated when you visited my bedchamber—”

“Keep your voice down!” she hissed. Mortified, she cast a furtive look around, heat suffusing her cheeks.

“As I said, we have sailed beyond complicated and are now heading into dangerous waters.” His eyes dropped to her lips and his husky tone sent shivers down her spine as he leaned toward her. “But I must have a penchant for danger, because I—”

“Did I overhear someone mention danger?”

At Julia's interruption, Brett straightened abruptly.

Emily lifted her fan to cool her cheeks. He was right. Ignoring their audience veered too close to dangerous for her peace of mind.

Oblivious to their reactions, Julia's attention remained fixed on the dance floor. “I see Daniel and Miranda, but Melody and her partner have disappeared. Perhaps it is harmless, but—”

“I will find her,” Brett spoke through clenched teeth. “If you ladies will excuse me.” He gave a stiff bow before striding off.

Emily could not resist following his tall figure as he wended his way through the crowds. She was not the only
woman whose attention he held. Heads turned, feminine gazes roving over his body with an almost predatory gleam in their eyes. Brett was right. There
were
wolves out there—and some of them were female. She fought the urge to snap their mouths closed. Ridiculous. She held no claim on the man.

“I lied. Melody is quite safe. She is heading over to the refreshment table with Miranda and Daniel,” Julia said, flashing an unrepentant grin. “But I needed for Brett to leave because I have news.”

Surprised, Emily turned to Julia, noting the excitement brimming in her eyes. “Oh? What is it?”

“Mr. Drummond is here.”

“Drummond?” Emily echoed, her heart pounding. She glanced around, but could not locate him in the sea of black and white jackets flooding the floor.

“If Patricia is to be believed and he has feelings for you, I am sure he will find you. If you wish to speak to him, I thought it best to do so without Brett and Daniel hovering.”

No, that would not do. Brett would not be pleased, but not for the reasons Julia surmised. Guilt stabbed Emily as she met her sister's eager gaze. “Yes, that . . . is most helpful. Thank you.” She had promised Brett she would do nothing without him, but she did not have the heart to put a damper on Julia's excitement. Should they encounter Drummond, Emily doubted he would share confidences in a public venue with Julia as chaperone. Thus if nothing transpired, she kept her word to Brett.

“We should stroll the perimeter of the room to be sure to be seen.”

Julia was clearly enjoying herself, no doubt, pleased to see Emily express an interest in any man, whatever her reasons. Pity her sister had the wrong man. Emily's guilt deepened, but she gamely lifted her chin and looped her arm through Julia's.

They nodded to acquaintances, pausing to chat with those who offered Julia congratulations on the birth of the twins. As friends swarmed them, Emily released Julia's arm, no
longer needing her support. During her rare appearance in society, Julia's arm had provided a lifeline she had clung to as Julia cleaved a path through the crowds, like a ship's masthead breaching stormy waters.

It helped that the murmurs carrying Emily's name had tapered off to near silence. From the comments she had overheard, the ton had moved on to a more scintillating absence than her own—such as the mysterious disappearance of a higher ranking personage than she. Her ears perked up as she overheard another mention of Brett's cousin.

“No, I have not seen Prescott since he came into the title,” a gentleman drawled. “Probably busy running the estate into the ground. Flunked out of a string of schools, you know. Gordon said his brother was practically illiterate, had little use for him.”

His companion snorted. “Gordon was a colossal arse. Do not believe half the rot he uttered. Loaned the bastard blunt to cover a substantial wager, and he never repaid a farthing of it. Even if Prescott is a mutton-headed half-wit, he is a better sort than his brother.”

Their voices faded as they drifted away. Her eyes widened.
Illiterate
? Could that be why Brett was so determined to locate his cousin?

She recalled Melody mentioning Prescott flunking out of a few schools before landing at Dunbar with Brett and Daniel. Was Brett concerned about Prescott's competence to manage the ducal estates? Then again, as the gentleman had said, these could simply be rumors that Prescott's late brother had circulated. Acrimony between brothers was not uncommon. And lord knows, she had learned the damage that unchecked rumors could inflict.

“Emily, you remember Mr. Drummond, do you not?”

Julia's introduction broke through her train of thought. “Of course. Mr. Drummond. It is a pleasure.” She dipped into a curtsy, noting his flamboyant attire.

Only a liberal application of hair wax could have achieved
the wild and unruly look of his fine auburn hair. She doubted Brett's thick golden locks needed assistance in achieving the casually disheveled style that was the men's fashion of the day. No doubt, Brett simply did not bother to brush it. Women studied Drummond with interest, but unlike Brett, she surmised that to be Drummond's intent.

He executed a deep bow, and as he straightened, his golden eyes glowed warmly. “The pleasure is always mine. Your beauty steals my breath. This evening my pleasure is twofold, for the Chandler sisters, like the most stunning gems, enhance every setting they deign to grace.”

Emily bit down a madcap urge to sputter out a laugh, and quickly waved her fan in front of her face. She had forgotten the ritual of flattery and flirtation. It had been so long since Jason had showered her with compliments, and Brett was more frugal with his.

She pondered that. Did Brett not find that she enhanced a setting like the most stunning gems?
Obdurate
and
determined
appeared to be his adjectives of choice for her. She frowned. Perhaps Americans courted differently—not that they were courting. Far from it. They were . . . she did not know what they were, and certainly did not have time to ponder the matter at present.

“How you flatter, Mr. Drummond. You are too kind.” Julia ostensibly fanned herself, while from behind it, she flashed Emily a
behave yourself
glower. Drat Julia's acute hearing. Emily's snicker must have escaped her before she fully stifled it.

“As I have told Emily, that is candor, not flattery.” Drummond grinned. “Now then, the evening is a temperate one, and they have opened the doors to the terrace. May I escort you ladies outside? I see you fanning yourselves, and concede it is rather warm in here.”

“That sounds lovely. Would you care to take a turn outside?” Julia sent a pointed,
will you say something
look on Emily.

“Yes. Yes, a stroll. Lovely idea,” she blurted inanely.

Drummond offered them each an arm, and as they moved toward the French doors, he asked about the twins.

Julia followed with an inquiry about Drummond's sister, easing them into the smooth rhythm of social discourse. “And Clarise, is she enjoying her Season thus far?”

“My sister would dance the night away if given the opportunity. Alas, it appears the gentlemen are delighted to assist her in achieving her goal. All well and good for Clarise, but you must understand, it is trying for a protective and doting older brother.”

“Believe me, you would be finding her far more difficult if she were sitting out most of the dances,” Julia pointed out. “Isn't that right, Emily?” Julia said as they stepped onto the terrace.

Drat and blast.
She had lost track of the conversation. Something about dancing? “Yes, the nights pass much faster when one is dancing.” Julia gave her an odd look, and Emily hastened to clarify her words. “That is, they can be far more enjoyable when one spends it on the dance floor with a handsome partner such as yourself, Mr. Drummond.”

There. She could dredge up her flattery when forced.

“Thank you.” Drummond dipped his head in acknowledgment of her compliment. “As for dancing, I hope I can claim one from you, Lady Emily. We were rudely interrupted the last time I asked.”

She knew she shouldn't smile, but her lips curved. “Yes, well, ah . . . Mr. Curtis is American, so you have to excuse him. He is not as familiar with our rules of proper etiquette,” she lied glibly.

As they headed toward the yard benches, Julia paused, forcing them to stop. “Oh, dear. I fear I have a pebble in my slipper. Please, do continue. I will catch up once I remedy the matter.”

Caught off guard at Julia's subterfuge, Emily hastened to voice a protest. “No, really. I am happy to wait—”

“Come, Lady Emily, we are well chaperoned,” Drummond said with an inviting smile, waving a hand to draw her
attention to the pockets of guests who had also ventured outside. “And I recalled some information on that topic you brought up the last time we spoke, which would be of little interest to your sister.”

Emily's eyes widened.
Drat and blast
.
Now what?
She resisted the urge to swipe clammy hands down her skirts.

“Go ahead,” Julia prodded. “But I trust you not to venture too far.” She gave them a stern
chaperone-like
look.