The Awakening Of Miss Henley

The Awakening Of Miss Henley Julia Justiss After five Seasons… She was still on the shelf! Part of The Cinderella Spinsters. Miss Emma Henley knows she’s neither pretty nor rich enough to land a husband. Instead she’s thrown her passion into good causes. But this Season she’s tempted by a flirtation with Lord Theo. The dashing rake is just as determined to stay unwed as she is. It’s scandalous… But if she’s never to marry perhaps he can show her the pleasures of the marriage bed! After five seasons… She was still on the shelf! Part of The Cinderella Spinsters. Miss Emma Henley knows she’s neither pretty nor rich enough to land a husband. Instead she’s thrown her passion into good causes. But this season she’s tempted by a flirtation with Lord Theo. The dashing rake is just as determined to stay unwed as she is. It’s scandalous…but if she’s never to marry, perhaps he can show her the pleasures of the marriage bed! JULIA JUSTISS wrote her own ideas for Nancy Drew stories in her third-grade notebook, and has been writing ever since. After publishing poetry in college she turned to novels. Her Regency historical romances have won or been placed in contests by the Romance Writers of America, RT Book Reviews, National Readers’ Choice and the Daphne du Maurier Award. She lives with her husband in Texas. For news and contests visit juliajustiss.com (http://www.juliajustiss.com). Also by Julia Justiss (#u88348b11-c34f-541c-afae-7eb9dfa42511) Hadley’s Hellions miniseries Forbidden Nights with the Viscount Stolen Encounters with the Duchess Convenient Proposal to the Lady Secret Lessons with the Rake Sisters of Scandal miniseries A Most Unsuitable Match The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife The Cinderella Spinsters miniseries The Awakening of Miss Henley Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk). The Awakening of Miss Henley Julia Justiss www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) ISBN: 978-1-474-08942-5 THE AWAKENING OF MISS HENLEY © 2019 Janet Justiss Published in Great Britain 2019 by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental. 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Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries. www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) Note to Readers (#u88348b11-c34f-541c-afae-7eb9dfa42511) This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings: Change of font size and line height Change of background and font colours Change of font Change justification Text to speech To the tireless Regency experts of RWA’s Beau Monde Chapter, whose wealth of knowledge helps me avoid making (most) historical mistakes. I appreciate you all! Contents Cover (#u4df11cb3-f838-5fa6-a794-63b333b1e753) Back Cover Text (#u9f2b209f-81ad-58ad-8589-4961f985543e) About the Author (#u027bc25d-fc09-5fde-a0f4-229b3244e32e) Booklist (#ubb9ff12a-428a-509b-9168-ecc55aa32cd6) Title Page (#uf0d9229d-8fa0-5cc0-982b-df3dc70026a7) Copyright (#u1bc96dcc-d0e5-5494-801b-b1df27b609ac) Note to Readers Dedication (#u56795856-690a-5278-98d9-d020a1966aa9) Chapter One (#u833f346b-5b18-5a3d-8617-828ea8c66330) Chapter Two (#uffeb276d-f75c-5a2e-b3dc-23bc1efabf69) Chapter Three (#udda38820-577c-5ffa-af3c-c7fb0b4fe090) Chapter Four (#ue250d8cd-0d4c-514a-b6e2-f29226e9d9d8) Chapter Five (#u3bcf0f05-74ef-57aa-a040-e2a6b83b288c) Chapter Six (#ueda306f4-4693-54d2-9766-ad1b8c776540) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) Extract (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One (#u88348b11-c34f-541c-afae-7eb9dfa42511) ‘Who did you say was calling?’ Emma Henley asked, looking up at the maid who’d interrupted her avid study of the new travel journal recently lent to her by her friend Temperance Lattimar, now the Countess of Fensworth. ‘I didn’t catch the name, miss,’ the maid said. ‘Someone important, which was why Lady Henley sent me to fetch you.’ For a moment, Emma considered refusing, then closed the volume with regret. ‘Someone “important”?’ she repeated under her breath. Why her mama continued to insist she receive visitors with her, Emma couldn’t imagine. As she was now embarked on her fifth Season, it wasn’t as if all the society doyennes hadn’t had ample opportunity to look her over. And who of importance would call this early in the morning? ‘Very well, Marie,’ she said with a sigh, ‘tell her I will be down in a moment.’ ‘You look right fetching in that new turquoise gown with your hair up in that twist of curls,’ the maid said. ‘I should think you’d want to be showing off to important visitors.’ ‘I do appreciate your efforts,’ Emma said, smiling at the girl as she curtsied. Sweet Marie, she thought, watching the maid walk out, who in the face of all indications to the contrary, seemed to remain as optimistic about her charge’s chances of marrying as Emma’s ever-hopeful mama, despite the fact that Emma had gone through five years on the Marriage Mart still unwed. Not that she hadn’t had opportunities, she thought as she checked herself in the glass, tucking an errant pin back into her curls. But a lifetime of witnessing her parents’ union, in which each spouse went their own way, had left her with little enthusiasm for the married state. Papa contented himself with his clubs and his mistresses, Mama with her admirers and her circle of friends. Added to that disinclination was the sad fact that her older sister had received all her mama’s famous beauty, leaving Emma tall, plain and unremarkable, and the happy fact that an aunt had given her a competence that would allow her to remain independent without having to marry. Those two factors meant she was able to be as choosy about her prospects as a well-dowered Incomparable. Confident she could avoid penury even if she didn’t marry, she had not once been tempted to accept any of the several offers made to a girl her own mother described as ‘not pretty enough to tempt a rake and not rich enough to tempt a fortune hunter.’ Her sister, Cecilia, might have dazzled the son of a duke, but Emma knew well her tall, lanky figure, long, pale face and drab brown hair were unlikely to inspire a man with ardour. She simply refused to succumb to the traditional fate of a plain wife, contenting herself with home and children and looking the other way while her husband pursued prettier women. No, she thought, smoothing the lace at her sleeves as she proceeded to the stairs, she wanted a much more interesting life than managing a household and keeping track of servants, nursery maids and a pack of squalling brats. Or filling her days with calls and shopping and her evenings with endless, and endlessly repetitive, balls, musicales and soir?es attended by the same people doing the same things, year after year. When her friend Temperance introduced her last Season to Lady Lyndlington and her Ladies’ Committee, whose purpose was to write letters in support of the reforms introduced by her husband’s group in Parliament, Emma felt she’d finally found her calling. Women might not yet be able to vote or sit in Parliament, but as a member of the Ladies’ Committee, she could do her part for the betterment of her country. Now, she wouldn’t consider taking on the burdens of marriage and motherhood unless her spouse were a man of purpose like Lord Lyndlington, who believed a wife his equal and supported her involvement in the reform movement. A rather unlikely prospect, she conceded with another sigh. If only she could convince Mama to give up her useless husband-hunting! But by the end of this Season, if not before, she told herself firmly as she reached the main floor and turned towards the front parlour, she would dig in her heels and simply refuse to go through another. She would finally secure a home for herself and her friends to share, where they could eschew society and devote their time to the political causes they believed in so passionately. ‘Not in there, miss.’ Haines, their butler, stepped forward from his post to arrest her progress. ‘Lady Henley wanted you in the Green Salon.’ ‘The Green Salon?’ she echoed. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Yes, miss. She was quite insistent.’ Puzzled, Emma shook her head. Her mama normally received ‘important’ visitors in the large front parlour, the smaller Green Salon at the back of the house, overlooking the garden, being reserved for calls by friends or for family gatherings. Wondering who might have arrived that would induce her mother to choose that more intimate space, Emma walked past the front parlour and entered the Green Salon. Where she found, not Lady Henley and some bosom friend, but Mr Paxton Nullford, pacing nervously before the hearth. Alarmed and irritated in equal measures, she whirled about, intending to immediately quit the room. Mr Nullford hurried over to seize her arm and prevent her escape. ‘Please, Miss Henley, won’t you allow me to speak?’ ‘That is entirely unnecessary, Mr Nullford,’ she replied. ‘I expect my mother must have encouraged you, but surely you remember that I have made it quite clear on several occasions that—’ ‘I know, I know,’ he interrupted. ‘But won’t you hear me out? You may be…mistaken in what you think I intend to say.’ She wanted to snap back that there was nothing he could say that would be remotely of interest to her. But the earnest expression on his broad face and the pleading look in his watery blue eyes made her hold her tongue. He might be stocky and stodgy, and not very intelligent—certainly, he seemed not to have taken to heart any of the repeated, quite definite indications she’d given him that she was not interested in his pursuit—but he was also inoffensive and well meaning. She couldn’t quite bring herself to rudely dismiss him. Maybe it would be better to let him come out with the declaration she’d been trying to avoid for the last month, turn him down with a finality even he must understand and be done with it. ‘Very well, Mr Nullford,’ she capitulated. Avoiding the sofa, where he might try to sit beside her, she took instead one of the wing chairs by the hearth. ‘Say what you must. But please—’ she held out a hand as he seemed prepared to lower his thick body to one knee ‘—say it standing or seated.’ He gave her a brief smile. ‘Seated, then, like the sensible individuals we are.’ Please, Heaven, be sensible enough to depart quickly, she thought, not wishing to drag out what was certain to be an uncomfortable interview. After choosing the wing chair opposite, he began, ‘I know you have not…actively encouraged my suit.’ ‘Without wishing to be unkind, Mr Nullford, it would be more accurate to say I have actively discouraged it.’ ‘True,’ he admitted. ‘Lady Henley explained to me that you have this…unusual aversion to marriage. But she and I both believe that, sooner or later, you will realise that, as a gently bred lady, marriage is the only option that will secure for you a comfortable future. Surely you don’t intend to…to take up a trade? Hire yourself out as a governess or companion, or some such?’ ‘No,’ she said shortly, irritated anew that her mother had discussed her future with a man to whom she’d given not a particle of encouragement. ‘As my mother evidently did not inform you, I have funds from an aunt that will allow me to maintain a household of my own, without having to seek the sort of employment available to a genteel lady.’ ‘You are mistaken; she did tell me of your intentions. But you cannot have seriously thought through the consequences of such a choice. A single woman living alone, even with a companion? You would be thought such an oddity! I expect your family would continue to receive you, but over time, most of society would stop including you. She and I both fear that, as you grow older, you would find yourself increasingly isolated and, as your family passed, virtually friendless.’ Though Emma was reasonably confident she could build a full, satisfying life on her own, the niggle of doubt in the back of her mind made her hesitate. And thereby missed the chance to interrupt before Nullford continued, ‘I know you don’t have any great enthusiasm for my company, but I don’t think you…dislike me, do you?’ ‘No, Mr Nullford. In fact, if you cease to be a suitor, I think I could like you quite well,’ she replied with a smile. ‘That’s a start. I think we could live…comfortably together. I know I’m not handsome, or witty, or clever, but unlike most of the unmarried girls I’ve met, especially the pretty ones, you’ve always been…too kind to show that you hold that opinion. Though you are far more clever than I am, you’ve disparaged marriage, but not the man,’ he added with a slight smile. Emma squirmed, feeling somewhat guilty. Though she might never, by word or implication, have expressed derogatory sentiments to him, she’d certainly thought them. Even as far as to mentally refer to him as ‘Mr Null’, devoid of looks, personality and wit. However, having been disparaged herself by a society that prized beauty more than kindness or character, she felt an unwanted swell of sympathy for the earnest man before her. And so she remained silent as Nullford continued, ‘Society wouldn’t consider me rich, but I have sufficient funds to maintain you in style, with Seasons in London and summers at my country estate. I can offer you respect, fidelity and the certainty that you can live out your life surrounded by the friends, family and society in which you’ve grown up.’ Despite her entreaty, at this point he came over, dropped down on one knee and seized her hand. ‘Miss Henley, we are both sensible enough to recognise that neither of us are the sort to inspire…an all-consuming passion. But we could build a quiet, satisfying life together.’ Her sympathy evaporating, Emma wasn’t sure whether she was more dispirited—or furious. A ‘comfortable’ life married to man who inspired in her nothing but a tepid respect wasn’t any more attractive a prospect than becoming the neglected wife of a handsome man she desired. And though she’d always known in her heart that she wasn’t pretty enough to inspire passion, it still stung to have him point that out. ‘So you propose a marriage devoid of passion?’ she flung back. ‘Well, not exactly,’ he tempered. ‘Of course, I’d be prepared to offer you…’ His words trailed off and his face went scarlet. ‘The, ah, prospect of conceiving children.’ She might be an unmarried lady around whom no one discussed the details of the marital embrace, but having grown up in the country, she had a good notion of what it involved. The idea of submitting to such intimacy with a man for whom she felt…nothing seemed unendurable. Especially since, if her thoughts strayed towards passion, a very clear image came to mind. Struggling to banish the memory of Lord Theo Collington’s handsome face and control the volatile emotions that made her want to scratch Nullford’s eyes out, she pulled her hand free. ‘While I appreciate the kindness of your offer—’ to this plain, unfortunate female who will never inspire passion ‘—I cannot accept it. My helpful mother should also have informed you that I aspire to something different than the normal female role of running a household and raising children. I wish to be involved in political causes—indeed, I have already begun to involve myself. I doubt you would appreciate having a wife who abandons the domestic realm to go about speaking in public, or who writes letters to Members of Parliament urging passage of legislation restricting child labour and extending the vote. Activities for which, unlike marriage, I feel a great deal of enthusiasm. As I am already two-and-twenty, and well on the shelf, that enthusiasm is unlikely to dissipate at the prospect of remaining a spinster.’ ‘Political activities?’ he echoed, a look of horror dispelling his expression of entreaty. ‘Writing letters to Members of Parliament?’ ‘Yes. So you see, despite your and my mother’s kind efforts to push me towards more traditional feminine pursuits, I am absolutely committed to a path of which you could never approve. Now,’ she said, rising briskly and holding up a palm to forestall a response, ‘I don’t think any more needs to be said. Except,’ she added as she gestured him to the door, ‘that I am certain, with a little perseverance, you will discover another plain female much more amenable than I to settling for respect and a conventional future. Goodbye, Mr Nullford.’ Looking shocked and a little bewildered, her rejected suitor gave her a shaky bow and walked out. Once the door closed behind him, a still-furious Emma blew out an exasperated breath. Mama had encouraged, prodded and harangued her towards marriage before, but to have prompted Nullford into a proposal—and so insulting a proposal—was outside of enough! Too angry to want to confront her mother at the moment and too unsettled to return to her book, once she heard the close of the door announcing that her unwelcome caller had departed, Emma hurried down the hall and up to her room. With Nullford’s words having stirred up too many raw emotions, she needed to get away until she felt calmer. Since it was still early enough that Hyde Park should be devoid of society, she’d have Marie help her into her habit and go for a ride. Marie, she recalled suddenly, halting in mid-stride, who had coaxed her to wear the new gown and let her hair be styled in a different manner. Then there was Haines, who had known very well that it wasn’t her mother awaiting her in the Green Salon. Apparently the whole household had been complicit in luring her to that fiasco of a proposal. Her anger deepening, she stomped up the remaining stairs. Her groom had better bring his best horse, because she needed to indulge in a tearing gallop. Chapter Two (#u88348b11-c34f-541c-afae-7eb9dfa42511) Running a hand over the stubble on his chin, Lord Theo Collington turned his horse down one of the pathways bordering Rotten Row. Despite not returning home until morning, he’d been too restless and out of sorts to seek his bed, deciding instead to order his gelding and head to Hyde Park for a ride while the park was still thin of company. He needed to think and he didn’t want to encounter anyone who would require him to play the increasingly wearying role of the devil-may-care man-about-town. Not that he had any viable alternative to evenings of gaming with his friends or nights spent visiting the opera, the theatre, or whatever select society entertainment he expected to be amusing. But of late, a vague discomfort had begun to shadow his pleasure in those activities. A long-suppressed sense that there should have been something more to his life. Not the ‘something more’ his mama continually urged on him—which was marriage and the setting up of his nursery. Though he very much enjoyed the female form and figure, he hadn’t yet encountered a woman out of bed who didn’t, after a time, grow tedious. Well, perhaps one, he thought, smiling as he recalled the sharp verbal fencing that occurred whenever he encountered Miss Emma Henley. Fortunately, however, that lady was as little interested in marriage as he was, so he might indulge in the delight of her company without raising expectations in either her or society that he had matrimonial leanings in her direction. When it came to ladies, though, one thing he did know for certain. After the contretemps at the opera last night, his liaison with Lady Belinda Ballister was definitely over. That resolution was the easiest of the conclusions he’d needed the crisp morning air to clear his head enough to make. Still, forcing himself to give up the admittedly exceptional pleasure the skilfully inventive Belinda had given him the last few months was a sacrifice heroic enough to deserve a reward. He’d allow himself a gallop before returning home. Gathering the reins back in both hands, he signalled his mount to start. Ah, now this pleasure truly never would pale, he thought as the gelding reached full stride. His heart exulted with the rapid tattoo of the hoofbeats, the thrill of speeding over the ground, while the rush of wind blew the last of the brandy fumes out of his head. This pleasure of another sort was, in its own way, nearly as satisfying as a rendezvous with the tireless Belinda. Maybe he ought to take up racing horses. That nonsensical idea had him smiling as he rounded a corner—and almost collided with a rider galloping straight at him. Both horses shied, fortunately to opposite sides of the path. It took him a moment to control his startled mount and bring him to a halt before he could turn to check on the other horseman. Or rather, horsewoman, he corrected, noting the trailing riding habit. Noting also the expertise of the rider, who had quickly brought her own plunging, panicked horse back under control. Straightening the shako on her head—the only damage she seemed to have suffered—the lady turned towards him. ‘Lord Theo,’ she said, the tone of her musical voice sardonic. ‘I should have known. Who else could I have expected to almost run me down in the park?’ His spirits immediately brightening, he felt his lips curving back into a smile. ‘Thank you, Miss Henley, for your solicitude in enquiring whether my mount and I sustained any harm in the shock of our near-collision. But then, what other lady might I expect to find galloping through the park like a steeplechaser?’ ‘Temperance Lattimar,’ she tossed back. ‘Although now that she’s wed, she’s generally too occupied with the business of being an earl’s wife to have time to gallop in the park. One more good reason to remain single.’ ‘I agree with you there. But isn’t it a bit late for your ride? You usually come earlier if you intend to race like a Newmarket jockey.’ He waited in anticipation, but she didn’t rise to the bait, merely replying, ‘True. Whereas you, Lord Theo—’ she gave him a quick inspection ‘—appear to have not yet found your bed. Carousing late again?’ ‘As would be expected of the ton’s leading bachelor,’ he replied, his smile deepening. What a singular female she was, he thought, captured anew by the force of the intense hazel-eyed gaze she’d fixed on him. She was the only woman of his acquaintance who, rather than angling her face to give him a flirtatious look or a seductive batting of her eyes, looked straight at him, her fierce, no-nonsense gaze devoid of flattery. ‘If I rode close enough, I suppose I would catch the scent, not just of horse, but of your latest lover’s perfume.’ Grinning, he shook a reproving finger. ‘You know a gentleman never gossips.’ As she tilted her head, studying him, he felt it again—the primitive surge of attraction of a male for a desirable female. He’d been startled at first to have the plain woman society dismissively referred to as ‘the Homely Miss Henley’ evoke such a reaction. But though she possessed none of the dazzling beauty that had made her elder sister, ‘the Handsome Miss Henley’ a diamond of the ton, there was something about her—some restless, passionate, driving force he sensed just beneath her surface calm—that called out to him, as compelling as physical beauty. Unfortunately, he reminded himself with a suppressed sigh, it was also an attraction quite impossible to pursue. A gentleman might dally with willing married ladies, but never with an innocent. He’d have to content himself with indulging in intellectual intercourse. A delight in which Miss Henley was as skilled as his former lover was in dalliance. ‘Then I shall not press you for details, but send you off to your bed,’ she said after a moment, the trace of heat in her gaze sending another wave of awareness through him. Did he only imagine it, or did that comment imply that she, too—virginal maiden though she was—envisaged beds and a pressing together of flesh when she focused so intently upon him? ‘I shall resume my interrupted gallop,’ she continued as he sat speechless, distracted by that titillating speculation. ‘This late in the morning?’ Dragging his mind from its lecherous thoughts, Theo turned his attention back to the lady—and frowned. Miss Henley’s face, normally a long, pale, unremarkable blank, was flushed. Her jaw was set and those exceptional hazel eyes glittered with more than usual fire. Even more unusually, he realised, she was completely alone. Though Miss Henley often scoffed at society, she usually followed its conventions, which forbade an unmarried lady of quality from going anywhere unaccompanied. ‘Something happened this morning, didn’t it?’ Though she shook her head in denial, her quick huff of frustration and a clenching of her teeth belied that response. ‘Come now, give, give! Your groom is nowhere in sight, which means you must have outridden him, and no one attends you—not even the very attentive Mr Null.’ Her flush heightened. ‘It wasn’t well done of me to have dubbed him that. And I should never have let you trick that name out of me!’ ‘Ah, but the description is so apt, I would have tumbled to it myself, had you not beaten me to it.’ To his surprise, she lifted her chin and glared at him. ‘You shouldn’t mock him, just because he is not handsome and clever and irresistible to women, like you are,’ she cried, her tone as angry as her expression. ‘I don’t mean to mock,’ he protested, surprised by her vehemence. ‘But even you admit he has the personality of a rock.’ ‘Even a dull, ordinary rock has feelings.’ ‘I imagine it does—and has as much difficulty expressing them verbally as Mr Nu-Nullford. Why this sudden concern? I thought you’d been trying to avoid the man! Surely you haven’t suddenly conceived a tendre for him!’ ‘No, of course not.’ The fire in her eyes died, leaving her expression bleak. Breaking their gaze, she turned her horse and set it to a walk—away from him. ‘You should know you can’t be rid of me that easily,’ Theo said, urging his mount to catch up with hers. ‘Come now, finish the conversation. If you haven’t inexplicably become enamoured of Mr Nullford, why this sudden concern for his feelings?’ As she remained silent, her face averted, an awful thought struck, sending a bolt of dismay to his belly. ‘Has your mama been after you again to marry? Surely you don’t intend to give in and encourage his suit!’ When she made no reply, he prodded again. ‘Do you?’ ‘No, of course not,’ she snapped, looking goaded. ‘If you must know, he made me an offer this morning. I refused it.’ ‘Ah,’ he said, inexplicably relieved. ‘That’s the reason for the ride. Avoiding what will doubtless be your mama’s attack of the vapours once she learns you’ve turned down another offer. How many will that make?’ ‘Far fewer than the number of women you have seduced,’ she retorted. He laughed. ‘Probably. Although, I should point out, I’ve never seduced a lady who didn’t wish to be seduced.’ ‘Why do I let you trick out of me things I should never admit? And cajole me into me saying things I shouldn’t?’ ‘Probably because you know I will never reveal the truths you—and I—see about society to anyone else.’ She sighed. As if that exhale of breath took with it the last of her inner turmoil, she turned back to him with a saucy look. ‘You deserve the things I say that I shouldn’t, you know. Like the very first time you deigned to speak with me.’ He groaned, recalling it. ‘Very well, I admit, you showed me up on that occasion—which was most unkind of you!’ ‘You shouldn’t have pretended to remember me when clearly you didn’t.’ ‘One could hardly admit to a lady that one doesn’t remember her. I was trying to play the Polite Society Gentleman.’ ‘No, you were playing Ardent Gentleman Trying to Impress a Dazzling Beauty by Pretending to Know her Plain Friend,’ Miss Henley shot back. ‘Well, even so, it wasn’t nice of you to embarrass me in front of the dazzling Miss Lattimar.’ She chuckled—a warm, intimate sound that always invited him to share in her amusement, even when it was at his expense. ‘It did serve you right.’ ‘Perhaps. But it was a most unhandsome response to my attempt to be chivalrous.’ ‘If I am so troublesome, I wonder that you continue to seek me out and harass me. Why not just cut the connection?’ ‘Don’t tempt me! But every time I contemplate giving you the cut direct you so richly deserve, I recall how singular you are—the only woman in society who doesn’t try to attract my attention. Who says the most outrageous things, one never knows about what or whom, except that the remarks will not adhere to society’s polite conventions—and will be absolute truth. A lady who, most inexplicably, appears impervious to my famous charm. I’m always compelled to approach you again and see if you’ve yet come to your senses.’ ‘Why, so you may add me to your harem of admirers?’ she scoffed. ‘I shall never be any man’s property. But all this begs the question of why, if you were merely returning from a night of pleasure, you felt the need for a gallop.’ He hesitated, knowing it would be better to say nothing. Yet he was drawn to reveal the whole to perhaps the one person with whom, over the last few months, he’d inexplicably come to feel he could forgo the fa?ade and be honest. ‘Come, come, bashful silence isn’t in character! You bullied me into revealing my secret. You know I won’t stop until I bully you into revealing yours.’ ‘You are a bully, you know.’ ‘And now who is being unkind?’ she tossed back, grinning. ‘So, what is it? Have the Beauteous Belinda’s charms begun to fade?’ He gave her a severe look. ‘You know far too much about discreet society affairs about which an innocent maiden should be completely unaware.’ ‘Oh, balderdash! Even innocents in their first Season gossip about your exploits. Besides, I’d hardly call the liaison “discreet”. The Beauteous Belinda was boasting at Lady Ingraham’s ball just two nights ago about what a skilled and devoted paramour you are.’ ‘Was she now?’ he asked, feeling his jaw clench as fury smouldered hotter. He should have broken with the wretched woman weeks ago. ‘Then you haven’t yet heard about the most recent incident. Last night, at the opera.’ Her teasing expression fading, she looked at him with genuine concern. ‘That sounds ominous. Did she finally try to demonstrate her supposed control over you too outrageously?’ He envisaged the scene again, struck as much on the raw by the succession of disbelief, then discomfort and then rage as he’d been when the episode unfolded. ‘All right, I concede that I probably should have reined in Lady Belinda long ago. It…amused me when she boasted of having me “captivated”. I thought, apparently erroneously, it was a mutual jest, both of us knowing the connection was as convenient as it was pleasurable, with no serious commitment on either side. But for her, on one of Lord Ballister’s rare forays into society, to desert her husband, track me down in the box I was sharing with friends and remain there, hanging on my arm, trying to kiss and fondle me in full view of the audience—and her husband! It was outside of enough!’ ‘Oh, dear,’ Miss Henley said, her gaze surprisingly sympathetic. ‘That was not at all well done of her.’ ‘I can appreciate that she wasn’t enthused about wedding a man thirty years her senior. A discreet affair, quietly conducted, is understood by all concerned. But though he may be elderly and often ill, Lord Ballister is an honourable gentleman of excellent character. He didn’t deserve to be made to look the cuckolded fool so blatantly and in so public a forum.’ ‘No, he did not. But honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to notice how flagrant she has become. She’s been singing the aria of your enslavement at full voice for months now.’ ‘Have I truly been that blind?’ At her roll of the eyes, he sighed. ‘I shall have to be much more observant in future.’ She gave him a thin smile. ‘In my experience, the acuteness of a gentleman’s observation varies in inverse proportion to the beauty of the lady.’ ‘And a lady’s observation is so much more acute?’ ‘It is—and it isn’t. A lady always, always has much more to lose than a gentleman. And having few options, with marriage normally the only way to secure her future, she may…overlook quite obvious deficiencies.’ She sighed. ‘I just don’t think that anyone should be judged solely on the basis of their looks—or lack of them. Character should count for something, shouldn’t it?’ Picturing Lady Belinda, he said acidly, ‘I’m afraid society is usually more impressed by flash and dash.’ ‘Which is why I’d rather eschew marriage and devote my life to good works.’ ‘What sort of good works? You’re not going to become one of those dreary Calvinists, warning sinners of fire, brimstone and destruction?’ ‘No, I prefer building to destroying. I should like to do something useful. Unlike some I could mention, who seem to think all that’s necessary for a satisfying life is to seduce silly women, drink other men under the table and win at cards.’ ‘I can’t imagine to whom you refer,’ he said with a grin. ‘I do ride horses rather well, though.’ ‘Perhaps your only noteworthy skill.’ ‘Oh, no! I drive quite well, too. You’ve seen me handle a high-perch phaeton.’ ‘Excellent. You can look forward to life as a Royal Mail coachman when you run through all your money.’ Laughing, he said, ‘I’d still have my charm. Isn’t charm useful?’ ‘For cozening the unwary, perhaps. I’m too downy to fall for that.’ Their teasing gazes collided—and once again held, something undeniable, and undeniably sensual, sparking between them. ‘Ah, that you were not,’ he murmured, regretting her innocent, unmarried state more keenly than ever. Her pale face colouring, she looked away. ‘Well, enough banter. Thank you for helping me restore my equilibrium so I may return and face down Mama. I’ve half a mind to tell her I am done, absolutely done, with society. No more Season. I’ve had enough!’ He shook his head doubtfully. ‘A noble resolve! We’ll see how long it takes for your mama to squash it.’ ‘Thank you so much for the encouragement,’ she said drily. ‘Good day to you, Lord Theo.’ ‘And to you, Miss Henley,’ he said, watching her ride off to meet her belatedly approaching groom. Remembering the unwelcome proposal that had prompted the gallop that had left her servant eating dust, he had to smile again. Thank heavens Miss Henley was so resistant to being forced into the usual female role. Thank heavens, too, that most men were too dull-witted and dazzled by bright and shiny society beauties to recognise the quiet gem among them. Meaning Miss Henley was unlikely to be pursued by a man she might actually want to accept. Although…if she were married, especially to someone she couldn’t possibly admire, like Mr Null, he might actually be able to indulge this annoyingly strong urge to pursue her. Damn, but she was unusual! The woman drew him far too strongly, on too many levels. More and more frequently, he found himself struggling between two polar opposite desires: to throw caution to the wind and see if she truly possessed the passion of which he caught tantalising glimpses. Or the much more prudent course of avoiding her completely. Chapter Three (#u88348b11-c34f-541c-afae-7eb9dfa42511) As it happened, after returning from the park, Emma did not gird her loins and confront her mama. Instead, she found herself having to soothe Marie, who sobbed as she helped Emma change from her habit into an afternoon gown and then fell before her, apologising for having kept Mr Nullford’s presence a secret and begging Emma’s forgiveness for the deception. In between hiccups, she explained that she only wanted her dear, sweet mistress to find a kind man who would take care of her and give her a happy life, like Lady Henley was always saying Emma needed. Not until Emma had reassured the maid over and over that she was not angry and would never turn Marie off without a character, that she understood Marie just wanted the best for her, was the girl finally able to dry her tears. By the time the maid bobbed a final curtsy and headed back to the servants’ quarters, Emma had had enough of sobbing and confrontation. Although it was likely her mama would be sobbing, too, when she confronted Emma, rather than apologise for her part in the deception, she was more likely to heap recrimination on Emma’s head for having turned down a perfectly unexceptional suitor. And then lament, with another bout of tears, what was to become of her poor, plain, maiden daughter if she kept throwing away every chance to become respectably settled when, at her age, Emma could not hope to receive many more offers—perhaps not any! It would not be the first time Emma had endured such a scene, though she devoutly hoped it would be the last. But after suffering Marie’s outburst, it made her head hurt just to think about meeting her mother, who seemed as oblivious as the maid to what Emma really wanted. Which sealed it. She would grab a footman to escort her and slip away to Hatchards before her mama found out she’d returned home. There, she could dash off quick notes asking her two best friends from school to meet her at Gunter’s for some ices, after which, although it wasn’t the day for their normal weekly meeting, they might call on Lady Lyndlington. Being able to write a few strongly worded appeals to various Members of Parliament decrying the continuing miseries of child labour should be just the thing to put today’s events in perspective and calm her for the coming showdown with her mother. A little more than an hour later, Emma arrived at Berkeley Square and took a table inside Gunter’s, where she awaited the arrival of the two people dearest to her in the world: Olivia Overton and Sara Standish. Olivia was first to arrive. Smiling as she waved over to her table the tall, angular girl who had a long, plain face and dull brown hair just as she did, Emma felt again the surge of gladness that Olivia had taken the lead and turned three shy outsiders at Mrs Axminster’s Academy for Young Ladies into the dearest of friends. Inviting them to share her table for dinner one night, Olivia had observed that Emma and Sara also seemed to enjoy books and seemed as uninterested as she was in the conversations about Seasons and husband-hunting that occupied most of their classmates. She then suggested that the three of them would have a better chance of surviving the miseries of school if they banded together. They soon become inseparable. After discovering the feminist writings of Mary Wollstonecraft and the calls for democracy and social reform of Thomas Paine, they’d decided that, for them, the future would involve working for noble causes, rather than competing for suitors or devoting themselves to securing—and measuring their worth by—the brilliance of the marriage proposals they received. She and Olivia had just exchanged hugs and greetings when Sara Standish walked in, her plump face wreathed in a smile that magnified the sweetness of her expression. Petite, blonde and curvaceous, she provided a sharp contrast to her friends’ tall angularity. As Emma settled in beside them at the table, the doubt and turmoil in her heart eased. With her friends to stand by her, she knew she could face anything. ‘I’m so glad you could come on such short notice,’ Emma told them after they’d given the waiter their order. ‘I was afraid you might both be occupied with calls this afternoon.’ ‘Your note did take me away from perusal of a quite fascinating book,’ Olivia said. ‘I bargained with my aunt that, if I agreed to attend without protest whatever society events she chooses, I would only have to make calls with her twice a week,’ Sara said. ‘Luckily, today was not one of the designated calling afternoons. But what has transpired that you needed to summon us so precipitously?’ In a few terse sentences, Emma told them about Nullford’s proposal, her refusal and the scene with her maid that had sent her scurrying from the house before it could be repeated, in more ominous tones, with her mama. Though she mentioned in passing her ride in the park, she omitted describing her encounter with Lord Theo. Not that her friends would tease her about him, or press for more details of the meeting than she chose to relate. In truth, she was a bit embarrassed to find herself so attracted to a man who was exactly the sort of too-handsome, too-charming, too-faithless and too-purposeless gentleman she’s always scorned. Even thinking about Lord Theo made Emma feel edgy and unsettled. So she would just stop thinking about him, she told herself. ‘You escaped before your mama could take you to task for refusing Mr Nullford?’ Olivia asked, pulling Emma from her thoughts. ‘Yes. I scuttled off to Hatchards, where I bought some paper and was kindly lent a pen and some space on their counter to write my notes.’ ‘But given that the suitor was Nullford,’ Sara said, ‘are you so sure your mama will be disappointed?’ ‘Since she put him up to it, yes. After the episode with my maid, I couldn’t bear the prospect of sitting still while she scolded me for my foolishness, then wondered for the millionth time why I fail to see the necessity of marrying so apparent to every other female, and then worked herself into a deep despondency, worrying over what will become of me. I hope later to use this incident to persuade her to finally accept that my vision for my future is quite different from hers and get her to agree to release me from the social obligations of the Season. But I’ve no hope of doing so before we go through the ritual of outrage, puzzlement and despair.’ ‘At least you know she does care about you—even if she cannot understand you,’ Sara said. Olivia reached over to press their friend’s hand. After her daughter’s birth, Sara’s mama had taken to her sofa, claiming her health prevented her taking any further part in society. There, she received calls from select gossipy friends and the various physicians and apothecaries summoned to treat her latest ailment, while delegating all responsibility for managing her daughter’s future to her sister, Sara’s aunt, Lady Patterson. ‘Yes, and I do appreciate that she’s sincerely concerned about me,’ Emma replied, ‘which is why I have so far tolerated yet another Season, when I would much prefer to be done with it and set up my own establishment. Oh, to be able to come and go when and where I please, without dragging along a maid or a footman!’ ‘I know,’ Olivia said, sighing as well. ‘Though we are all more than one-and-twenty and could legally access the funds to establish the household together we planned at school, it’s turned out to be not nearly as easy as we envisaged. Merely mentioning the possibility of our hiring a house is enough to set Mama off in a swoon.’ ‘Even we must recognise that our families will suffer a good deal of scorn and pity for producing daughters with such odd, unfeminine aims,’ Sara said. ‘I’m sure your mama genuinely believes that choosing not to marry and giving up your place in society would mean not just censure for her, but ruin and heartache for you, too.’ ‘Another point on which Mama harps,’ Emma agreed. And one Mr Nullford had stressed. ‘Sadly, none of us can escape the burden of appreciating our families’ sensibilities, no matter how much their expectations conflict with our own wishes.’ ‘I have no intention of “appreciating” my family’s sensibilities to the point of marrying, just to spare them distress,’ Olivia replied acidly. ‘Bound to a husband for whom I feel at best a tepid respect? Ending up a wife either neglected in favour of prettier, mindless females like the ones we knew at school, or scorned for having the temerity to display my intelligence and work towards political goals? Never!’ ‘I’m not suggesting we give in to society’s pressure and marry,’ Emma replied. ‘Only that withdrawing from society to live and work together, as we envisaged at Mrs Axminster’s, will have to be deferred a while longer.’ ‘How much longer?’ Olivia asked, frustration in her tone. ‘Until all family members likely to be embarrassed by us have passed on?’ ‘Certainly not that long!’ Emma said, giving her friend a rueful smile. ‘I remain hopeful that I may escape by the end of the Season, perhaps even before. Especially after the contretemps over Mr Nullford, which Mama is sure to bewail as perhaps my last chance to wed.’ Inwardly wincing again, she refrained from disclosing Mr Nullford’s hurtful remark about her desirability. ‘Nullford!’ Olivia said scornfully, shaking her head. ‘Only a female who believes any husband is better than none could seriously consider wedding that blockhead. And for someone as intelligent and perceptive as you to marry such a man…it would be a travesty!’ ‘Certainly a waste of intellect,’ Sara agreed. ‘Thank you, kind friends. Unfortunately, Mama is just the sort of female who would think Nullford better than no one. Enough about that dispiriting offer! Though I did need to vent my ire over that event, my other purpose in bringing you here was to suggest that we call upon Lady Lyndlington. Perhaps she will have some letter writing for us, to help redeem what has so far been a most trying day.’ Except for the interval with Lord Theo. That exchange had been as stimulating as it was disturbing. Truly, she ought to try harder to avoid the man, though he had a disconcerting habit of occasionally turning up at the social engagements to which her mama insisted on dragging her. She should avoid him especially since some foolish feminine part of her seemed to respond intensely whenever he was near. The man represented a clear danger to her good sense—and self-control. And now she was thinking of him again, after telling herself she wouldn’t. Shaking her head with irritation, Emma said, ‘Shall we finish our tea and call on Lady Lyndlington?’ ‘Yes, let’s,’ Olivia said. ‘All this talk of marriage makes me want to write angry letters, too.’ ‘Indeed!’ Sara agreed with a smile. ‘Let’s hear it for a limit to child labour, votes for all—and a wider role in society for women!’ Though Emma and her schoolmates were fortunate enough to find Lady Lyndlington at home, they did not end up writing letters. The head of the Ladies’ Committee, the butler informed them, was already entertaining a guest—Mrs Christopher Lattimar, wife to the brother of Emma’s good friend Temperance. Since that lady also happened to be the former Ellie Parmenter, who before her marriage had for years been the mistress of an older peer and was thus, despite her gentle birth, not accepted in society, the three had heard about, but never met, her. ‘Would you ladies like to join them, or would you prefer to call again later?’ the butler asked. The ton might shun his wife, but Christopher Lattimar’s close circle of political friends and associates in Parliament had quietly welcomed her. Lady Maggie, wife of his good friend Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, had become something of a champion for her and one of the leading supporters of her school for girls. It took only a moment for the three to exchange glances and a mutual nod. ‘We would be pleased to join them,’ Emma replied. ‘Ladies, so kind of you to stop by,’ Lady Maggie said, she and her guest rising as the butler ushered them in. ‘May I present you to my good friend, Mrs Christopher Lattimar.’ ‘Only if they feel…comfortable meeting me,’ Mrs Lattimar said to Lady Lyndlington before turning to Emma and her friends. ‘I shouldn’t wish to cause you—or your families—any distress.’ Even if Emma had not already known the circumstances beyond her control that had thrust this lovely, dark-haired woman into a position of shame, the fact that she had Lady Lyndlington’s support would have influenced Emma towards her. Anyone who’d earned the respect and affection of Lady Maggie, daughter of an earl and wife of one of Parliament’s leading reform politicians, would have to be intelligent and interesting. In addition to which, her friend Temperance also held her brother’s disgraced wife in high esteem. ‘On the contrary! We would be honoured,’ Olivia said, expressing the friends’ feelings exactly. ‘Excellent!’ Lady Lyndlington said. ‘Mrs Lattimar, may I present Miss Emma Henley, Miss Sara Standish and Miss Olivia Overton, all three hard workers—and enthusiastic letter writers—for my Committee. Ladies, my dear friend, Mrs Ellie Lattimar.’ ‘I’m so pleased to meet you,’ Emma said as the ladies exchanged curtsies. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from Temperance. She admires you tremendously.’ ‘As do we all,’ Lady Lyndlington said, pressing Mrs Lattimar’s hand. ‘You are sure we are not intruding?’ Sara asked. ‘We don’t mean to interrupt.’ ‘Not at all,’ Lady Lyndlington assured her. ‘In fact, given the enthusiasm you have all displayed for our committee’s aims, I’ve been hoping to persuade you to work for another of our projects. As you may remember, Mrs Lattimar runs a school that provides education and training to indigent girls. It’s an endeavour I think you might also like to support.’ ‘You rescue girls from the streets or from houses of ill repute, do you not, Mrs Lattimar?’ asked Olivia. Though Lady Maggie’s eyes widened and Emma felt a pang of dismay at Olivia’s customary bluntness, Mrs Lattimar merely smiled. ‘Not to dress it up in fine linen, yes. Now, if we are to be friends who speak the truth plainly, shall we dispense with formality, as Lady Maggie tells me she prefers among members of her Committee? Please, call me “Ellie”.’ ‘We’d be delighted to—Ellie,’ Emma replied. ‘How do you find the girls?’ ‘Some find me, having heard murmurs about the school on the streets. I also maintain contacts with various houses, whose proprietresses I knew in my former…position. Sometimes, the girls I take in are daughters of working girls who don’t want to follow that life. More often, they are orphans with nowhere to go but the streets.’ ‘There are few enough choices for girls, even honest ones who wish to go into service,’ Olivia said. ‘I imagine it’s almost impossible to escape a life on the streets—and eventual prostitution—when you have no resources at all.’ ‘Very difficult,’ Ellie agreed. ‘What sort of training do you provide?’ Sara asked. ‘All the girls are taught basic reading, writing and simple maths. The rest of their day is devoted to mastering practical skills that will lead to future employment—needlework, cleaning tasks, cooking. Our goal is enable them to become honest, hard-working members of society, protected by their skills and experience from the threat of ending up back on the streets—or in the brothels.’ ‘What inspiring work! How can we help?’ Emma asked. ‘Monetary contributions are always welcome. But if you wished to become personally involved, I would be happy to have you visit the school itself. Having genteel ladies describe to the students the duties domestic servants perform in an aristocratic household, stressing the skills that would impress a housekeeper interviewing them for a position, or make them valuable to their mistress after they are hired, would be very helpful.’ The three friends exchanged another look and a mutual nod. ‘We can certainly pledge to do that,’ Emma said. ‘Perhaps during our visits, we can find other ways to be useful.’ ‘I would very much appreciate it,’ Ellie said. ‘But now, I must return to the school.’ ‘I’m afraid I am due elsewhere soon as well,’ Lady Maggie said as the ladies all rose. ‘No time for letter writing today! But I will see you Tuesday morning, as usual?’ ‘Of course,’ Olivia said. ‘We look forward to it.’ After bidding the others goodbye, the friends descended the front steps to await the hackney a footman had summoned. ‘What obstacles Ellie Lattimar has overcome,’ Olivia said. ‘Temperance told me her father virtually sold her to an older lord to pay off his debts,’ Emma confided. ‘Much as I sometimes feel…unappreciated, at least Mama cared enough to delegate my aunt to look after me,’ Sara said. ‘Imagine, being cast out at sixteen all alone, with nothing to protect you or secure your future but your own wits and determination,’ Olivia said, shaking her head in awe. Emma seized both her friends’ hands and pressed them. ‘Thank heavens, whatever happens, we will always have each other, no matter how scandalously unconventional we become.’ The hackney arrived and they set off, planning where they would meet at the various upcoming social engagements as they dropped off first Sara in Upper Brook Street and then Olivia at Hanover Square. After seeing her last friend to her door, Emma descended the stairs back to the street. No reason now to delay returning home—and facing the inevitable, and inevitably unpleasant, encounter with her mother. Halting in mid-step, Emma surveyed the position of the sun. It was still mid-afternoon, she calculated. Her mother would only now be rising from her bed to drink her morning chocolate—and learn of her exasperating daughter’s latest folly. She probably had another hour or so before she would add tardiness to the tally of faults her mother would bring against her. Deciding on the moment, she waved away the hackney and set off walking. Chapter Four (#u88348b11-c34f-541c-afae-7eb9dfa42511) A short distance away, having consumed a restorative beefsteak and ale at his club and won a few guineas at cards, Lord Theo descended the steps to St James’s Street in a contemplative mood. The afternoon being mild and sunny, he elected to walk while he thought about the best way to end the liaison with Lady Belinda without having to endure an explosion of tears, pleading, excuses and recriminations. Dismissing the lady face-to-face might be kinder, but was almost guaranteed to set off the unpleasant encounter he wished to avoid. After his pointed escort of her, unwilling, back to her husband’s box, his coldly furious demeanour sufficient to convince even that volatile lady that he would not tolerate protest, she must know he was at least considering ending their association. Hopefully she wasn’t so confident of her beauty and allure that a bland note and a handsome parting gift would come as a shock. Resolved to follow that course, he halted his perambulations around Mayfair and walked northwards up Bond Street, intending to get a hackney and go to Rundell and Bridges. He’d just turned on to Oxford Street when, to his surprise, he spotted a well-dressed female walking at a brisk pace in front of him. From her speed and determined gait, he was able even at a distance to identify the lady as Miss Emma Henley. The happy chance of meeting her twice in one day set him smiling. But even as he picked up his pace to close the distance between them, caution warned that, despite his own and the lady’s disinclination towards marriage, it probably would not be prudent to be seen walking with her outside the park or shopping areas where he might reasonably have encountered her by chance. He’d halted to heed the voice of self-preservation when he suddenly realised that, once again, Miss Henley appeared to be quite alone. She was on foot, so there couldn’t be a groom trotting somewhere behind her. Concerned, he surreptitiously began walking after her. After a few more minutes spent trailing her, he had to conclude that there wasn’t a slower-paced maid or a dawdling footman following her, either. For another few minutes, he debated the wisdom of approaching her. But concern for her safety soon outweighed the possible complication of having to come up with some glib excuse to explain away his presence to any member of society who might chance to spy him escorting her, unchaperoned, so far from her home. The scene he observed as he drew closer justified that concern. A fat, red-faced fellow in a bulging waistcoat was loitering some distance ahead of Miss Henley, openly gawking as she approached. The man’s blatant scrutiny was definitely making her uneasy, for her pace had slowed and she was darting occasional, surreptitious glances at the man. Indeed, so preoccupied was she with Greasy Waistcoat that Theo was able to draw quite near with her still unaware of his presence. ‘What, escaped your traces again, Miss Henley?’ Gasping, she whirled to face him. ‘Lord Theo!’ she cried, the alarm in her voice fading as she recognised him. ‘You gave me such a start!’ ‘As you did me. I’ve followed for a few streets, enough to confirm, to my astonishment, that you are, in fact, walking without any escort at all. Outriding your groom in the park is one thing. Whatever are you doing in this part of town, bereft of footmen or even a maid to attend you?’ ‘Shop girls and housemaids walk everywhere in London without anyone to attend them,’ she responded, aggravation and a touch of defiance in her tone. ‘Shop girls and housemaids are not dressed in a gown of fine silk topped by a fur-trimmed pelisse. In some streets in London, you could be robbed for the clothes you stand in—if not worse.’ Her eyes widening in alarm, she glanced towards still-loitering Greasy Waistcoat. Who, after Theo caught his gaze with a look of unmistakable warning, hastily turned and scurried off in the opposite direction. ‘Surely not here!’ she protested. ‘No, probably not here,’ Theo allowed. ‘But where are you going? Stray a few streets to the east and you could find yourself in trouble in short order.’ ‘In my defence, I hadn’t intended to walk alone. After visiting Lady Lyndlington with some friends, I shared a hackney home with them. I’d just bade Miss Overton goodbye in Hanover Square when the idea struck me to make…one more visit before returning home. The day being fair, I decided to proceed on foot.’ ‘Visiting Lady Lyndlington, were you? Attempting to avoid the confrontation with your mother a while longer?’ he guessed. ‘Or delaying your return home to put off having to deal with the consequences of that interview?’ She grimaced. ‘If you must know, I haven’t spoken with her yet. It’s a discussion I freely admit I’m not looking forward to. But it must take place, for I am determined to assert my independence, sooner rather than later. I suppose I could have returned to the Overtons and borrowed a maid from Olivia—but why should I? If I’m soon to be on my own, able to come and go freely as I please, why not begin now? It’s not as if Mrs Lattimar’s school on Dean Street is a dive in St Giles.’ ‘Ah, so that’s where you are headed. Is supporting her endeavour to be part of the good works you mentioned?’ ‘I certainly hope so. It’s a worthy cause.’ ‘I applaud your intentions, but even an independent lady takes a care for her safety. Shop girls and maids often walk in pairs and few women wander about London entirely on their own.’ She sighed. ‘Much as it pains me to admit it, you may be right. This is the first time I’ve ever walked in the city entirely on my own. Perhaps I just never noticed before, while accompanied by a maid or footman, how men…stare at a woman. Which is so unfair! Men can walk unmolested wherever they please!’ ‘Gentlemen walking alone are still cautious and generally carry a potentially lethal walking stick. A well-dressed female going about unattended is remarkable enough to invite scrutiny from a number of quarters, some of which are bound to be unsavoury.’ ‘Perhaps it would be more prudent to take an escort,’ she conceded. ‘But admitting that doesn’t mean that I intend to waylay you! Surely I can get from here to Dean Street without incident. I promise I will send for a footman to accompany me home.’ ‘I’m sure Mrs Lattimar would not allow you to leave the premises without an escort. But I can delay my task long enough to see you safely to her school.’ Somewhat to his surprise, she didn’t protest further. If the scrutiny of Greasy Waistcoat had shaken her enough to eliminate further argument, he could only be grateful. But, being Emma Henley, the chastened mood didn’t last long. A moment later, she peeped back up at him, her unsettled look replaced by one of curious scrutiny. ‘A “task”, you said? The word implies a burden. I thought you adept at wriggling out of doing anything truly onerous.’ ‘This task isn’t precisely “onerous”. Completing it does get me out of something that has become…annoying.’ The lingering anger beneath that innocuous word must have coloured his voice, for she raised her eyebrows and chuckled. ‘Headed to Rundell and Bridges to find just the right bijou to inform Lady Ballister of her cong??’ Both impressed and exasperated by her perspicacity, he said loftily, ‘A necessary task is best done as swiftly as possible.’ ‘Putting you in quite a dilemma! What, exactly, to select? It must be something fine enough not to insult the lady, but not so opulent as to give her any hope that the gesture isn’t a final one.’ ‘Does your lack of sensibility have no bounds?’ he shot back, surprised once again. ‘A gently bred virgin should know nothing about such matters!’ ‘Oh, pish-tosh. Just because—alas—I am never likely to be in such a situation doesn’t mean I can’t imagine it.’ Meaning she never intended to take a lover—or would never behave badly enough to lose one? He found his gaze lingering on the full, sensual lips that so often uttered such unexpected comments…and heat built again within him. Would she make as unconventional and surprising a lover as she did a conversationalist? Noticing the gaze he’d fixed on her mouth, she felt her fair skin colour. Self-consciously, she licked her lips. The intensity of desire fired by that simple gesture sounded a warning in his distracted brain. This would never do! The longing she inspired could go nowhere. Reining himself back in, he managed to summon an amused tone. ‘So, using your ever-active imagination, I suppose you have suggestions for a suitable gift?’ ‘Ah, let me see.’ She put a finger to her chin in an exaggerated gesture of concentration. ‘Might I propose…a jewelled chatelaine?’ Though her comments were often unusual, that suggestion was so outrageous he burst out laughing. ‘An exquisitely worked piece on which she can hang the keys to her husband’s manse? Implying that she would do better to devote her talents to tending him?’ She grinned. ‘Do you think the recommendation might work?’ ‘It might work to make her furious! So furious, I’m halfway tempted to try it. Though I’d risk having her come after me some time in the night, attempting to strangle me with it.’ ‘A noble death, trying to lead a wayward lady back to the straight and moral path. But obviously too daring an undertaking for such a timid soul as you. I suppose it shall have to be a ring or necklace, then.’ He was trying to come up with a suitable reply to that jibe as she led him around the corner. ‘Well, here we are. The school is just down this street. You’ve delivered me safely and may proceed to discharge your dangerous task.’ ‘A gentleman always sees a lady inside the front door of her destination,’ he replied, reluctant to leave her energising presence, as he seemed to be so often of late. No other female dared talk to him as she did, offering taunts instead of flattery. And few individuals of his acquaintance came up with as many startling, out-of-the-ordinary observations. ‘The school already boasts several influential patrons to assist in its good work, does it not?’ he asked, compelled to draw out their time together a bit longer. ‘Yes. In addition to Lady Lyndlington, it’s supported by her father, the Marquess of Witlow, and her aunt, the Dowager Countess Lady Sayleford, as well as Mrs Lattimar’s mother-in-law.’ ‘Lady Vraux?’ He gave a derisive chuckle. ‘All upstanding members of society—save the last one.’ ‘May I remind you, Lady Vraux is the mother of my dear friend Temperance. That dazzling Beauty whom you were once so eager to impress.’ ‘And the mother is as dazzling as daughter.’ ‘No doubt you dangled after her yourself, once upon a time. I understand doing so is almost a rite of passage for rich, cocksure, indolent young men just out of university. Given how confident you are of your “charm”, you must have been foremost in the pack.’ ‘Not of that pack. I never pursue ladies who are unlikely to be caught and Lady Vraux, for all her reputation, was determinedly unattainable. But it’s probably not wise for you to advertise an acquaintance that would do the reputation of an innocent young maiden no good.’ ‘Fortunately, Temperance was able to escape its taint.’ Miss Henley shook her head, a militant light in her eyes. ‘How ridiculous, to hold the daughter responsible for the sins of her mother! Or to imply that Temper would be equally promiscuous, simply because she so closely resembles that lady? To say nothing of the…mitigating circumstances behind the mother’s behaviour, or the fact that, had her sins been committed by a man, the consequences wouldn’t have been nearly as severe.’ Theo held up a hand. ‘I’m not about to debate society’s unequal treatment of men and women.’ ‘Wise of you. In any event, I’m so weary of all the silly rules and conventions. I’m not sure how much longer I can put up with them.’ ‘That will depend on the outcome of that oh-so-important discussion with your mama, won’t it? Do you really think you can win her over?’ Looking away from him, she flicked an invisible speck of lint from her sleeve. ‘Haven’t you got an errand to dispatch?’ Smiling at her attempt to rid herself of him rather than address a problem she clearly didn’t wish to think about, he said, ‘It’s not only my duty as a gentleman to see you come to no harm—at least, from anyone else—but I’m curious to see this school.’ She stopped short, her gaze scanning his face. He forced himself not to expand on that ill-advised parenthetical remark. Fortunately for them both, after a moment, she turned away without questioning his meaning. Relieved, he took a ragged breath. Prudence dictated that, had she pressed him about it, he must make light of it—and he wasn’t sure he could make himself lie to her. Ah, the wicked things he would like to do with her, were it ever possible! ‘At her school, girls are given a better chance in life,’ she said, following up on his previous remark. ‘Lucky them. When they finish their training, they will be able to do something useful.’ ‘I wouldn’t be too envious. They may end up with respectable occupations, but their lives will be full of toil.’ ‘At least they will own themselves.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps. If they marry, they will become as subject to their husband’s authority as any gently born woman.’ ‘They just don’t bring a dowry for that husband to spend.’ ‘True. Which means they may not be treated as kindly.’ Miss Henley fixed him with a derisive gaze. ‘I never heard of girl being treated more kindly because she brought her husband a handsome dowry. At least, not after the wedding.’ She had a point there. ‘Very well. I concede that there are disadvantages to marriage.’ ‘Especially for a female.’ Shaking his head at her persistence, he said wryly, ‘You are the most bizarre woman. Most females think marriage confers protection, as well as status, upon them!’ ‘Only if a woman is lucky enough to wed a superior man.’ ‘There are a few such men in society, you know.’ She gave him a saucy look. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ve ever met any.’ He put a hand to his chest dramatically. ‘What, you would lump me in with Mr Null?’ ‘Oh, no. You could find work as a coachman. If poor Mr Null ever lost his fortune, he’d be lucky to get a job mucking out stables. Well, I mustn’t keep you any longer.’ Stopping before the door to the school, she rapped on it, then turned to make him a curtsy. ‘Thank you for your kind escort, Lord Theo, and good day.’ Leaving him smiling as he bowed in response, she turned to walk in the door the porter opened for her. Chapter Five (#u88348b11-c34f-541c-afae-7eb9dfa42511) After dispatching Miss Henley to her destination, Theo found a hackney and went on to the jeweller’s, chuckling inwardly as he reviewed the assortment of glittering bijoux the clerk brought for his inspection. Though almost tempted to ask about a chatelaine, he chose instead a handsome pair of sapphire and diamond earrings which, he thought, fit the irrepressible Miss Henley’s description of being ‘fine enough not to insult the lady, but not so opulent as to inspire hope’. That purchase made and enclosed in a velvet box, he found another hackney and proceeded to the reading room at his club. Requesting pen and paper, he spent some time choosing just the right words to accompany the gift, then summoned a footman to deliver it. Envisaging the detonation of hysterics likely to result once the gift had been opened, he decided it would be wiser to remain at the club for the evening, rather than risk encountering Lady Belinda at some society entertainment while her volatile emotions would likely still be unsettled. And chuckled again as he recalled Miss Henley’s jibe about him being a ‘timid soul’. Not timid, just prudent, he silently answered her, and then shook his head again at how he tolerated from her remarks that would earn anyone else who dared utter them a steely-eyed gaze, if not an outright challenge. Not that a gentleman could invite a female to a round of fisticuffs or clashing blades. But then, he couldn’t imagine any other woman making such nearly insulting remarks. As the rich younger son of an ancient aristocratic family, he was accustomed to having females, be they young or old, married or single, treat him with courteous attention and deference, if not outright flattery. Miss Henley alone tossed out remarks that confounded, even rebuked him, her keen gaze focused on him, her raised chin almost challenging him to cut her or give her a sharp set-down. But then, she’d done that from the start, he thought, recalling that now infamous first meeting—or rather second meeting. He’d been riding in Hyde Park when he’d spied last Season’s Incomparable, Miss Temperance Lattimar, riding ahead of him, accompanied by another lady. Though he had no serious intentions towards the Beauty, she was an amusing companion and, as no gentleman was currently claiming her, he decided to approach. ‘Lord Theo, good afternoon,’ Miss Lattimar said, nodding as he rode up and doffed his hat. Turning to her companion, a tall, plain girl of no particular distinction, she said, ‘Miss Henley, I believe you already know this gentlemen, do you not?’ Her eyes examined him with a disconcerting directness before she nodded as well. ‘Yes, we are acquainted, though I doubt Lord Theo remembers me.’ In truth, he had no recollection whatsoever of having met her, but it would be most unchivalrous to say, so—especially as she appeared to be a friend of the divine Miss Lattimar. ‘You are mistaken, Miss Henley,’ he protested smoothly. ‘How could I forget so charming a lady?’ ‘We were partners for a waltz.’ After a short pause, giving him a strangely speculative glance, she’d added, ‘At Lady Mansfield’s ball last Season.’ Theo didn’t recall it, but then, he’d danced countless waltzes over the last year and could hardly expect to remember every one. So he nodded and smiled, and said, ‘A most enjoyable occasion. You danced delightfully.’ Miss Henley gave him a falsely sweet smile. ‘Except, we were in fact introduced at Mrs Dalworthy’s soir?e, where we were partnered for a country dance.’ He must have looked as shocked as he felt, for Miss Lattimar burst out laughing. ‘Shame on you, Emma, you naughty thing! Lord Theo, I’m afraid Miss Henley is a most singular female. She says exactly what she thinks and does not tolerate idle flattery.’ Embarrassment flooding his face, he’d been at first incredulous, then angry that she’d had the gall to expose his white lie so blatantly. He’d been about to return some blighting reply when he met her fierce gaze and noted that confrontational tilt of chin. She expected him to blast her, he realised. And unlike any single female he’d ever met, she didn’t care a jot if he did. It hadn’t been, as she later accused, his desire not to appear churlish in front of Miss Lattimar that had induced him to choose a milder reply—but rather the urge to confound her expectations as neatly as she’d confounded his. ‘So I see,’ he said drily, giving her his most charming smile. ‘How unkind of you to trick me, Miss Henley.’ ‘I expect it was, Lord Theo,’ she allowed, looking a bit surprised that he hadn’t dealt her the set-down she deserved. ‘However, I would prefer you to admit you didn’t recall meeting me, rather than offer me the polite lie. Although I do dance delightfully.’ She’d laughed then, the charming sound of her merriment defusing the rest of his irritation. ‘I expect you will remember this meeting! But I shall certainly understand if you do not ask me to dance when next we meet.’ She really didn’t care whether or not he wanted to associate with her. Surprised anew, and intrigued, he said, ‘An honest female who disdains flattery and says exactly what she thinks? On the contrary! I shall add you with Miss Lattimar to the very short list of eligible females with whom I dance or converse.’ ‘You generally preferring, of course, ineligible females,’ she’d tossed back. Laughing in spite of himself, he nodded. ‘And now you are trying to make me blush at my scandalous reputation.’ ‘Not at all. I hope to be scandalous myself, some day. Ah, Miss Lattimar, I believe we’re about to be overtaken by a host of your admirers. Sadly, I fear you will have to cede your place, Lord Theo.’ ‘Until the next time, then, ladies,’ he said, tipping his hat and riding off as the group of gentlemen Miss Henley had spied approaching arrived to surround Miss Lattimar. His interest piqued by a female who dared treat him in such a radically unconventional manner, he’d been drawn to seek her out each time they’d chanced to meet at various entertainments. And once he knew to expect a different sort of commentary from her, he soon recognised the humour that softened the edge of her sharp remarks, as well as the keen intelligence that prompted her pointed, unconventional but absolutely accurate observations on all manner of things. He was led ever further down the garden path, curious to hear what new, startling, unacceptable-to-society remarks she might put forth—and what new, blighting comments about his character she might utter. And then there was that unexpected but unmistakable sensual attraction. The intensity of her hazel-eyed gaze, the sense of barely controlled energy beneath the outward guise of a demure, properly behaved young female, and full lips that were an invitation to sin… She called to him on a physical level as powerfully as a f?ted beauty like Lady Belinda. Recalling her recommendation that he take up a career as a Royal Mail coachman, he laughed softly. That humour faded as he went on to wonder just how loud a peal her mama would ring over her for dismissing Mr Null. Fortunately, he was reasonably certain that no matter how roundly she was abused, the pressure applied by her mama would be more likely to push her into finally declaring that independence she kept telling him she meant to seek than to capitulation and acceptance of the numbing sterility of an arranged marriage. It really was a shame that society offered so few options for intelligent, clever women. He could easily see Emma Henley taking a seat in Parliament, arguing for the causes about which she’d told him she’d been writing letters. He shifted uncomfortably. Recalling her desire to do something important, to make a difference, touched too closely on the festering sore deep within which, though covered over by a dressing of busyness and society’s acclaim, had never completely healed. Although they were not nearly as hemmed in by rules and conventions as females, the opportunities for well-born young men to ‘do something important’ were also limited. As a younger son, he would never inherit the responsibility for managing his family’s various estates or providing for the welfare of their tenants. Though he enjoyed books, he felt no call to retreat into scholarship, and though he dabbled in investments, a gentleman never dirtied his hands dealing with money. Nor had he any taste for engaging in the push and pull of politics that so fascinated Miss Henley. Only one thing fired in him the sort of enthusiasm he glimpsed in that lady and it was as impossible a career for a gentleman as standing for Parliament was for a woman. Sighing, he glanced down at the writing paper on the desk before him. Almost of their own accord, his hands set aside the pen and inkwell and rummaged in the drawer for a pencil. Quickly he sketched the silhouette of a lady bent over her side saddle, urging on her galloping horse. He added hash marking and shading, the bend of the delicate feather in her riding hat against the rush of wind. The stance, and the hat, obscured her face, but he had no trouble envisaging it: the long, pale oval, rather prominent, determined chin, the unexpected sensual lips. And those eyes! What a transformation they underwent, when she escaped from the conventional trivialities of social conversation! He ought to do a sketch just of her face, to portray the fire that illumined those eyes once she began to speak about something that truly interested her. How they lit up her face, changing it from forgettable to arresting! Better still, he should do a study in oils, to be able to capture their mesmerising gold-green hue. Adding a few more quick pencil strokes, he finished his equestrienne sketch and studied it, nodding his satisfaction. One more useless skill I possess, about which you don’t yet know, he told her silently. Else you might recommend that, should I lose my fortune, I take up work as a portrait painter. Restoring the pencil, quill and unused paper to its place in the drawer, he rose, sketch in hand, and walked towards the door. He’d enjoy a fine dinner and then, ‘timid soul’ that he was, avoid the society entertainments he’d meant to attend in favour of a few pleasant rounds of cards and brandy. Pausing before the fireplace, he gave the sketch one more glance, smiling again at the vibrant energy that was Emma Henley. But it wouldn’t be wise to subject himself to the enquiry and abuse that would result, should any of the other members discover him carrying around a sketch of a society lady. With regret, he tossed the paper into the fire and strode out of the room. Pausing in the doorway to the card room, Theo surveyed the occupants, looking for a group that would provide both stimulating play and agreeable company. Spotting a friend from his Oxford days, Theo strolled over. ‘Ready for a game, Kensworth?’ he asked. ‘Ah, Lord Theo, just the man I hoped to see,’ Kensworth said, gesturing him to a seat. ‘I’m about to head out, but I did want a quiet word with you.’ Theo felt a flicker of concern. ‘Is something wrong? An illness in your family?’ ‘No, nothing of that sort. It’s…something else entirely.’ Looking suddenly uncomfortable, Kensworth hesitated, sipping from the glass of port beside him. ‘Well, out with it,’ Theo said, both amused and curious. ‘Have I flirted too blatantly with a lady you covet? Bought a horse you had your eye on?’ ‘No, this is about…your welfare. I saw you this morning, galloping in Hyde Park with Miss Henley. Just the two of you, no groom anywhere in sight. Now, I’ll grant you that she appears to be a fine horsewoman, but I do wonder what else you see in her. Plain as a doorpost, with a tongue caustic enough to strip the varnish off your carriage.’ Theo managed to choke down a heated defence of Emma Henley’s looks and wit. Forcing himself back into the role of careless courtier, he said in a bored tone, ‘She is clever for all that. One never knows what she will say. I find her amusing.’ ‘You’d better watch that you don’t “amuse” yourself right to the altar! Riding alone in the park with her? You run a terrible risk!’ ‘It might be, were she interested in marriage, which fortunately she is not. And she did bring her groom.’ He chuckled. ‘She’d just out-galloped him.’ ‘I’d be careful in any event. Miss Henley may claim not to be interested in marriage, although—’ Kensworth gave a derisive sniff ‘—I never believe any female who utters such rubbish! But you can be sure that mother of hers is. Been pushing the chit at every remotely eligible gentleman these last five years!’ Theo didn’t need Kensworth’s warning to know he must be very circumspect about how and when he met Emma Henley. ‘I appreciate your concern, but I’m well aware of the need for caution.’ ‘I should hope so. Wouldn’t want to see you start down a slippery slope! Enough about the depressing topic of wedlock. How do you intend to “slip out of” this latest contretemps with Lady Belinda? Granted, she’s beautiful and has most luscious bosom I’ve ever ogled, but her behaviour…’ If it diverted Kensworth’s attention from Miss Henley, Theo was happy to talk about his latest scandal. ‘Her conduct, this time, is truly beyond the pale. Indeed…’ he made a show of consulting his pocket watch ‘…she should by now have received a bouquet and a pair of fine sapphire and diamond earrings.’ Kensworth’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘You’ve given her her cong?, then! So the field is open.’ ‘All yours,’ Theo replied, gesturing towards him. ‘Not mine!’ Kensworth replied, holding out a hand palm-up. ‘I’ll stick with demi-mondaines who know their place! Sapphire and diamonds, you say? In the end, I’d wager the muslin company is less expensive. But you’ve always had a preference for the exclusive. So, who will be next?’ The image of Emma Henley’s fierce, challenging gaze flashed into his head. Firmly he suppressed it. ‘I think I shall allow the bad taste left in my mouth after the incident with Lady Belinda to dissipate before I contemplate any new liaisons.’ ‘Well, you can’t wait too long. A man has needs, after all! Let me add one more recommendation for the professionals. A high-flyer knows which side her bread is buttered on and will never turn up in some public place, embarrassing you in full view of society.’ ‘Thank you, but, no. I shall console myself with cards and brandy, and call it a good night.’ A good night. Identical to so many others. At that observation, he felt again that vague stirring of ennui. ‘Did you ever think there might be…something more?’ he asked abruptly, dropping for the moment his usual irreverent mask. Kensworth blinked at him in confusion. Which Theo should have expected—Lord Theo Collington was not known for uttering serious remarks. ‘Something more than cards, drinking—and ladies? Possessed of time and blunt enough to enjoy them, what more could a man want? Especially you—with pockets deep enough you’ll never have to worry about finances and no onerous duties to keep you from your pleasures? Best of all, as a younger son, you don’t have your family nattering on about you finding a wife. Now truly, what more could any gentleman want?’ ‘Onerous duties’ recalling Miss Henley’s phrase, Theo almost replied, ‘To do something important.’ But that remark would be guaranteed to increase the puzzlement on his friend’s face. Theo knew a few men who possessed burning political ambitions, or were committed to acquiring property and improving their estates, but what Kensworth described—a life devoted to cards, drink and chasing women—was indeed considered the ultimate to be desired by the majority of the gentlemen with whom he had come down from Oxford. Certainly it was the life his father had urged on him and the brilliance with which he’d mastered the charming rake’s persona had garnered him the few compliments he’d ever received from the Marquess. Suppressing an inward sigh, he slipped back into his expected role. ‘Yes, what higher calling than to be a rich, handsome, charming bachelor, an incomparable horseman, excellent shot and prime parti, regarded with longing eyes by every chaste single lady and with desire by every naughty married one?’ Apparently he wasn’t able to keep all the sarcasm from his tone, for Kensworth frowned and shook his head at him. ‘Can’t imagine what brought on this green melancholy. The irritation of breaking with the Beauteous Lady Belinda?’ ‘After the sobering experience at the opera, perhaps I will repent of my licentious ways. Put on sackcloth and ashes. Vow a denial of the flesh and—’ ‘I envisage the picture!’ Kensworth held up a hand, laughing. ‘I shall leave you to your melancholy, laughing as I go at the impossibly amusing idea of Lord Theo Collington denying himself anything he truly desires.’ Pushing away the image of Emma Henley’s enticing mouth, Theo waved his friend off. If you only knew, he thought, motioning to a waiter to bring him a bottle. But Kensworth had given him cause for thought. If seeing Theo riding with Miss Henley in Hyde Park was apt to raise speculation, he was all the more relieved that apparently no one had spied him walking with her to Dean Street. He probably ought to be more circumspect—for he knew better than Kensworth how determined Lady Henley was to marry Emma off. If she could refashion some action of his to make the ton believe he’d compromised her daughter, he’d have no choice but to wed Emma, no matter how much the lady herself protested. He might have perfected the guise of a careless rogue, but he was a gentleman, and such an accusation would touch his honour as well as Emma’s. Maybe it was time to heed that voice of prudence and avoid her. So what do you intend? another voice replied sardonically. To give her the cut direct after you nearly collide while riding in the park? Allow her to walk alone down a city street, disregarding her safety in order to safeguard your unwed status? Wise as avoiding her might be, the choice didn’t set well. Rejecting the offer from two newcomers to join them in a round of cards in a tone only a hair removed from churlish, he poured himself a generous drink from the bottle the waiter brought him. He’d downed half a glass in one swallow, savouring the burn that matched the heat of his disgruntlement, when another, more appealing possibility occurred. True, sooner or later, he would have to break with Emma Henley, lest their friendship grow too marked to be concealed. Or when, as was more likely, their interaction went from energising to insipid. As different as she was, no lady who attracted him had ever held his interest for long. When the unique became expected and the unusual commonplace, he would end the association. But before then, with a few simple changes to his social schedule, he could enjoy her company a while longer. And, he thought, grinning, confound some of society’s expectations, and perhaps the lady’s, while he did so. Pleased with the plan, he poured another glass, saluted himself for his cleverness and rose to join the group he’d just rebuffed. Chapter Six (#u88348b11-c34f-541c-afae-7eb9dfa42511) Needing to create order out of the chaos of questions and alternatives racing through her head, Emma set out for the park the next morning at her usual early hour, despite a chilly mist. The session with her mother had shaken all her expectations and, as that meeting had not taken place until just before they left for Lady Mansfield’s ball last night, she’d had no time yet to sort them out. Unfortunately, this being a day on which both Olivia and Sara would be preparing to make calls with their respective chaperons, there could be no luring them away for a consultation at Gunter’s. She was silently bemoaning how much she missed having her friends’ counsel when, from out of the swirling mist, she spied Lord Theo on his gelding. Her spirits soared as a little voice whispered, You could talk to him. Or you could exhibit a modicum of dignity and discretion, and ride the other way, a sardonic voice answered back. Before she could take that wiser course, Lord Theo happened to glance in her direction. When he recognised her and smiled, she couldn’t help smiling back. Nor could she make herself give him only a wave and ride off. Instead, summoning just enough restraint to keep herself from trotting over to meet him, she pulled up her horse and waited. Though she would never admit it to him, he having enough admirers already to sing his praises and inflate his already high opinion of himself, he was charming, she thought as he approached. He was also undeniably handsome, sitting astride his horse with ease, impeccably turned out in sober riding gear, a stray lock of dark hair that made one’s fingers itch to comb through it shadowing his forehead under the fashionable beaver hat. An image guaranteed to fill a maiden with longing—even a rational, realistic one like her, she acknowledged ruefully as every foolish, feminine part of her tingled with anticipation. But slavish admiration wasn’t what he expected from her—or what she would ever be prepared to offer him. Damping down the tingling as much as she was able, she gave him a cool nod as he halted beside her. ‘Clearing your head of brandy fumes again?’ He grinned. ‘And cigar smoke, after a successful night at cards. A pleasant good morning to you, Miss Henley. How fresh you look on this misty day.’ ‘Trying to shame me by giving me a polite and complimentary greeting after my abrupt and unflattering one?’ ‘My, my, we are sensitive this morning! What have I done this time to incur your disapproval?’ he asked, a wry expression replacing the smile. ‘Incur my disapproval? Nothing more than the usual.’ ‘Are you sure? Because I got the distinct impression that, rather than ride with me, you were prepared to gallop off in the opposite direction. I must have offended you deeply if you almost preferred avoiding me to blistering my ears.’ Her distress must be deeper than she’d thought if her face had mirrored her feelings that transparently, she thought, dismayed. Before she could pull herself together and find a flippant reply, he continued, ‘Or is it that you’ve had that little talk with Lady Henley?’ Her feelings still raw, she fumbled to come up with an answer. Her gaze rising to meet his, she saw real sympathy there, which only increased her inner turmoil. While she hesitated, he said quietly, ‘Was it as bad as you feared?’ The memory of her surprise, chagrin and uncertainty tightened her chest, until the swelling need to give it voice made her feel she might explode. Her intention to remain dignified and distant struggled to resist it and was knocked flat. ‘Worse,’ she capitulated on a sigh. ‘Then you must tell me what happened. Shall we walk the horses?’ Her surrender complete, she nodded as he guided his mount to fall in step beside hers, her groom dropping back to follow at a discreet distance. ‘So, how worse? More sobbing recriminations? Did she wash her hands of you?’ ‘No, quite the contrary, which is what was so confounding! Nothing followed the usual pattern; there were no tears, no maid waving a vinaigrette, no bewailing her undutiful and incomprehensible daughter.’ After pausing a moment, frowning as she recalled the scene, she continued, ‘When I finally went in to see her, she simply motioned me to a seat. Before I could gird myself to Confess All, she said in the calmest voice that she knew I’d refused another offer of marriage. Then, instead of the explosion of tears and recriminations I expected, she…apologised!’ ‘Apologised?’ Lord Theo echoed, looking as surprised as she had been. ‘For what?’ ‘Pushing Mr Null—Nullford to propose. She said she actually agreed with me that he was a poor match for an intelligent woman. That she knew I thought her silly and flighty for devoting her life to society’s trivia, ignoring the great political issues I find so compelling. She then went on, in the softest, saddest tones I’ve ever heard her utter, to tell me how much she loves me, how the one last, great desire of her life is to see me safe and happy. That she understands I have the funds to secure my future and support a household on my own and an important purpose that drives me, but that she fears a life without companionship, passion and children would end up being so cold and sterile that she’d wanted to do everything she could to prevent it—even grasp at a straw as flimsy as Nullford.’ Emma shook her head, the shock and guilt of her mother’s confession roiling in her stomach again. ‘I hardly knew what to say. Because I have secretly thought her frivolous, shallow and selfish. I felt…terrible.’ ‘It is hard to be angry with someone who declares her last wish is for one to be happy.’ Emma nodded. ‘She left me with all my usual arguments thwarted. What could I do but apologise back, for being so undutiful and unappreciative a daughter?’ ‘You didn’t, I hope, feel so terrible that you were tempted to recall Mr Null.’ Trust Lord Theo to come up with something that would make her smile. ‘Nothing could make me feel that terrible,’ she assured him. ‘Mama even admitted that, save for the children it gave her and much as she’d been urging me to it, she herself had not found marriage very…fulfilling. That it didn’t fire her with the enthusiasm she sees in me when I talk about my work for the Ladies’ Committee.’ ‘A handsome concession!’ ‘Oh, there’s more.’ ‘More?’ Lord Theo clapped a hand to his chest theatrically. ‘I’m not sure my heart can withstand the shock.’ Emma laughed ruefully. ‘I wasn’t sure mine could, either. I would never have believed such words could issue from the mouth of my beautiful, fashionable, oh-so-conventional mother. But she said she thinks me brave to want to stand on my own, without the status and protection of a husband, whereas she has never been strong enough to manage without her circle of admirers. That she is proud that I want to step outside the normal female role and do something to better the world.’ ‘She approves of you eschewing marriage?’ Lord Theo shook his head sceptically. ‘You truly think she believes that? Or is she the clever one, playing devil’s advocate to lure you into being more compliant?’ ‘Since Mama so seldom speaks of what is in her heart, there’s no way I can be certain,’ Emma allowed. ‘She seemed sincere enough, but she did ask if I’d agree to a bargain.’ ‘Ah, now the trap is baited!’ ‘How cynical you are!’ she exclaimed. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, his voice turning serious. ‘But I find that cynicism has protected me far better than innocence or gullibility would.’ ‘I hope I am never so jaded!’ she said loftily—before ruining the effect by admitting, ‘However, Mama being Mama, I am a trifle suspicious as well.’ ‘So, what did this bargain entail?’ ‘She said if I would agree to finish out the Season, she would support my efforts to look about for a house of my own—as long as I go about the business discreetly. She also promised she would not try to manoeuvre any other gentleman into making me an offer. If, by the Season’s end, I haven’t found a suitor I truly want to marry, she will release me to live the life I want, and wish me happy with all her heart. Now, can you find a “trap” in that?’ Lord Theo gazed into the distance, his expression considering. ‘Very well,’ he said after a moment. ‘I don’t immediately see one. Do you intend to accept her bargain?’ ‘Despite my own suspicions that she may simply want more time to devise some new scheme to dissuade me from abandoning society, I’m inclined to. There isn’t much chance of my winning my independence before the end of the Season anyway. And if Mama does allow, rather than hinder, my search for a house, I will be that much further along when the Season does end. Perhaps I’ll even be ready to move out and begin my new life!’ ‘So why the distress? I would think you’d be shouting for joy.’ ‘I know,’ she said on a sigh. ‘I suppose it’s like the adage says: when the gods wish to punish you, they grant your request. I’ve expended so much effort pushing and pushing to be allowed to fashion the life I’ve long dreamed of, having those barriers suddenly removed makes me feel like I am…falling headlong into the unknown. It’s thrilling, but also…’ ‘Frightening?’ he supplied. ‘Yes! Much as I hate to admit being such a poor honey. What if—’ she continued in a low voice, not sure she wanted to express the alarming possibility even to herself ‘—what if Mama and all the others are right, and a life on my own is…lonely and unfulfilling?’ ‘I don’t think you’ll need to worry about being alone.’ Emma looked up to find Lord Theo’s intense gaze fixed on her, a strange little smile on his lips. Her anxiety and confusion faded as a wave of sensual awareness washed through her. Was it truly desire she saw in his eyes, or did she just want him so much, she only imagined it? Could a handsome man like Lord Theo truly want her? And if he did… His romantic entanglements had all been brief, no matter how lovely the lady. Such a man would make a poor husband for a woman who valued fidelity and involvement in some higher purpose, if he could in fact be induced to marry her. But if she were living in her own establishment, on her own terms, no longer subject to the rules and restrictions society imposed on a gently bred maiden… Could she dare explore passion for its own sake…outside the bonds of marriage? Every nerve humming in response to his molten gaze promised the pleasure he could give would be incomparable. A rider suddenly emerged from the mist, making her mount shy. Feeling her cheeks heat, she bent to control her horse, turning away from Lord Theo’s perceptive gaze. Forcing her thoughts from the carnal, she said bracingly, ‘I expect my life will be as fulfilling and happy as I make it. If I do accept Mama’s bargain, as I am inclined to, I intend to begin immediately to investigate how one leases a house—a subject about which I know nothing. And to consider seriously what good works will occupy my time.’ Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/pages/biblio_book/?art=48666958&lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.