by Mary Brendan
‘I’d heard you’d been out of town. You went to Hertfordshire to see her?’
‘I got back a few days ago.’
‘And?’ Ruth demanded to know. ‘Has the dratted woman succeeded in luring you back to her bed?’ Ruth was aware of his romantic history with their stepmother and that Sonia would very much like to breathe new life into it. ‘What has that hussy been doing this time to get your attention?’
‘Nothing new,’ Lance replied with finality and grit in his voice. He allowed his sister her impertinence because he’d always loved her more than anyone else. But she sometimes overstepped the mark. As she opened her mouth to start again, he hiked a dark eyebrow at her in a way she understood.
Ruth pressed her lips together and resorted to glaring at him in retaliation. Lance tickled her cheek before turning and taking the stairs two at a time. Ruth picked up her pretty satin skirts and chased after him.
‘Anyway, it’s time you settled down,’ she hissed at his back. ‘You need a wife and a nursery, then you won’t have so much time and money to squander on demi-reps.’ When that elicited nothing more than an unintelligible mutter, she added, ‘There is a sweet girl called Miss Caroline Lovat just out. She is the rage this Season and all the gentlemen adore her. She will be at Almack’s on Wednesday... Why not come? You might fall in love.’
That brought Lance to a halt halfway up the stairs. He turned to his sister with a grin. ‘Fall in love? When did that come into it?’
‘I married for love...our parents married for love,’ she said firmly. ‘It is what we do in our family. Why should you be any different?’ A gleam of optimism lit her eyes. ‘So you will come to Almack’s?’ Ruth knew that if he did he’d be surrounded...not just by debutantes, but by astonished people wanting to know what was up with him. He hadn’t been seen in an assembly room for years.
‘No, I won’t come. I’m sure Miss Lovat will do very nicely without me.’ He arrowed a look up the stairs as though eager to get to the drawing room.
Ruth linked arms with him so they could ascend the remaining treads together. She slanted an astute look up at his handsome face. ‘Have you already got somebody in mind to marry, Lance?’ she asked.
He shot a look at her, but it was seconds later that he laughed, then said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous...you know I’m not the marrying kind... Have you got a whisky decanter out or am I expected to drink tea?’
* * *
‘Oh, there’s my brother Jack.’ Bella Valance clapped her hands in delight. ‘I thought he was joking when he said he’d see me later. He rarely takes afternoon tea, even at Ruth’s, and she does provide a nice time.’
‘I expect he’s come for the cake, not the tea,’ Emma said on a chuckle. The wonderful array of pastries and confectionery that their hostess had provided was astonishing to see. Emma had only ever encountered such lavish hospitality at debutante balls. She glanced at the fair-haired gentleman who’d just entered the room, seeing at once his similarity to the sweet-faced young lady ensconced beside her on the sofa. Jack raised his hand to his sister, then started towards them through the throng.
Emma had expected this afternoon gathering to comprise perhaps a dozen ladies quietly chatting over tea and biscuits. Perhaps a game of cards might score highest for excitement, she’d thought. How wrong she was! There were easily fifteen gentlemen in the room and several well-attended gaming tables. At one end was a raised dais on which a string quartet made soft music. A couple of young ladies were partnering one another to practise their dance steps, encouraged by their mamas. In all, it was a wonderfully relaxed and informal affair, far removed from her expectations of fusty manners and knowing looks.
‘I have made some new friends, Jack.’ Bella jumped up to embrace her brother as he came to a halt in front of them. ‘This is Miss Waverley, and Miss Sanders is over there talking to somebody who knows her future stepmother.’
Jack politely bowed to Emma. ‘Very pleased to meet you, Miss Waverley. Are you a friend of Mrs Sweet’s?’
‘Unfortunately, I can’t claim to be. I’ve only just made her acquaintance,’ Emma explained. ‘She has been most attentive to us, though. I accompanied Miss Sanders today.’ She nodded to where Dawn was standing with a tubby fellow. ‘It came as a surprise to Dawn to bump into one of her father’s future in-laws.’
‘A nice one, I hope.’ Jack was watching Dawn edging away from where she appeared to be hemmed in against a bureau.
Emma had also noticed that her friend looked uncomfortable and she’d been about to go and rescue her when Jack Valance turned up.
‘I think I should like to be introduced to Miss Sanders,’ Jack said and set off in Dawn’s direction.
‘He likes to help damsels in distress,’ Bella said insightfully. ‘He’s always rushing up to butt in when I talk to gentlemen. Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t.’
‘Brothers can be very protective of their sisters,’ Emma said with a hint of ruefulness.
‘I suppose it’s a good thing.’ Bella sighed.
‘Yes...mostly it is...’
Bella leaned closer to whisper, ‘While Jack’s occupied I wish I could talk to somebody I like very much.’ She rolled her sparkling eyes to indicate a handsome young man stationed by the fireplace, sipping tea. ‘Sir Paul Nixon is over there. Have you seen him?’
Indeed, Emma had seen him and had noticed that he frequently looked at Bella.
‘He told me my eyes are as pretty as blue cornflowers.’
‘And so they are,’ Emma said gently. She recalled being Bella’s age and thinking every compliment was heavenly to have. But sometimes selfishness lay behind a gentleman’s pretty words, as she’d learned to her cost. Nobody, other than Robin, had warned her to tread cautiously with flirtatious gentlemen and in her tender years she’d seen little of her twin. He’d been away at school or at university a lot of the time. Her papa had believed matters of female decorum women’s business and had dragooned his elder sister to take on the duty of overseeing his daughter’s come out. Her late aunt had made it plain she resented being dragged from her home in the shires to nursemaid a girl she barely knew. The woman had thus put little effort into tutoring her niece in dainty manners. At balls and parties her aunt would find a hidden spot somewhere and snooze with a bottle of sherry close by, leaving Emma to her own devices. At the time she had thought how wonderful it was to be allowed such freedom. A lot of the other girls had envied her, they’d said, because their own female relatives hovered at their shoulders, monitoring their every move.
And so Emma had been easy prey for a man like Simon Gresham. He had been courting her in secret for four months before finally persuading her that they must elope because her father would never accept him. He’d argued that his lack of prospects and good connections would put her father off and had refused to be swayed by her protestations that her papa wasn’t a snob and only wanted her happiness. Later she’d realised Simon had been reluctant to approach Bernard and be thoroughly quizzed in case his hidden-away wife came to light. But she believed that Simon had loved her in his own way.
‘Sir Paul is coming over,’ Bella whispered excitedly, jerking Emma out of reflectiveness. ‘Oh, do I look nice enough?’ The girl brushed cake crumbs from her skirt with frantic fingers.
‘You look lovely,’ Emma replied truthfully. The blush in her young companion’s cheeks gave her complexion a becoming glow.
‘Would you care to stroll on the lawn, Miss Valance? It is quite warm in here, is it not?’
Sir Paul courteously extended a hand, and immediately Bella allowed him to draw her to her feet.
‘Are you off outside?’ Jack was all amiability as he materialised by the sofa with Dawn on his arm. ‘We shall accompany you as Miss Sanders has kindly agreed to walk in the garden with me.’
‘Will you come, too, Em?’ Dawn asked, not wanting to leave her best friend on her own.
<
br /> ‘Thank you, but I would rather stay here and enjoy another slice of delicious honey cake.’ Emma had no intention of being a gooseberry. She gave Dawn a twinkling smile of encouragement, thinking how wonderful this afternoon would turn out to be if her friend met a bachelor she liked who was equally smitten with her.
Once the couples had moved off, Emma got up and went to the double doors, slipping just outside to the terrace to breathe in the spring air. The balmy atmosphere was filled with the scent of early blossom and bluebells and freshly mown grass and she sighed, feeling happier than she had in a long while. How easy it was to forget about her family’s troubles while cocooned in the serenity that luxury provided. She watched as her friends descended the steps to some lawns interspersed with pathways. She chuckled softly, having noticed that Jack had kept behind his sister and her admirer, tracking them meticulously as Sir Paul weaved from pathway to pathway in an attempt to shake him off.
‘This is a pleasant surprise, Miss Waverley.’
Emma whipped about at the sound of that familiar drawling baritone. Her full pink lips parted in astonishment before she recovered her composure and glanced to and fro to spot if they had an audience. There had been an ironic inflection in his tone and a thought struck her like a thunderbolt. ‘Is it a surprise, Mr Harley?’ Too late, she remembered he wasn’t a commoner at all. Neither did he look it in his outfit of black tailcoat, buff breeches and top boots gleaming like glass. She would have liked to put distance between them simply so her old blue gown didn’t appear even shabbier next to his sartorial splendour.
‘Actually it is.’ His mouth slanted wryly in a way she was coming to recognise. ‘I couldn’t be sure you’d come along with Miss Sanders. I hoped you would.’
‘Why? Why have you gone to the trouble to procure an invitation for us?’ All her quiet enjoyment of a moment ago was lost. Her heart was beating furiously. ‘Are you still curious about me?’ she asked in a voice suffocated with indignation.
‘Oh, yes, I’m curious about you, Miss Waverley, and your brother.’
Emma turned pale beneath the stare she could sense singeing the top of her head. So her father’s suggestion that they throw caution to the wind with this man was indeed a dangerous one. ‘There’s no need to be curious about us, sir.’ She proudly met his gaze. ‘Most people find the Waverleys beneath their notice and that’s how we like it. So please leave me alone and my father, too.’ She attempted to slip past into the room, but he stopped her.
‘And your brother? What of him?’
‘My brother is where you can’t reach him.’ She again made to enter the salon.
‘Is that right?’ he said and smiled. ‘Let’s take a walk.’ His voice was gentle, at odds with the uncompromising grip on her wrist. ‘You can let me know what it is about me that you find so disturbing. I might be able to remedy it.’
‘I’ve no need to go anywhere with you to tell you that you are insufferably overbearing and arrogant. How dare you humiliate me, or my friend, in this way! Miss Sanders believes her invitation genuine and even I, fool that I am, believed my welcome sincere.’
‘Has anybody by word or look insulted you or your friend this afternoon?’
‘No, but...’
‘And neither will they,’ he said. ‘You are both most welcome here. Now, take a walk with me...please...’ he added in a way that made it clear begging a favour was uncommon to him.
Their eyes clashed in contest. She knew he was daring her to defy him again; some long seconds later she ceded, dragging her molten gold eyes away from his challenge. The tension in her limbs lessened. She was unwilling to make a scene and draw attention to herself and he knew that. When he placed her hand through the crook of his arm her fingers curled into a fist, but she went with him. As they descended the steps she realised she felt betrayed, not by Houndsmere—she doubted he would care about trampling on her feelings—but Mrs Sweet must have helped him engineer this ambush. The opportunity to meet new friends, the chance for Dawn to be introduced to a nice gentleman...it was just a fantasy. Perhaps Lance Harley enjoyed pulling strings and watching people dance to his tune. At first she’d been reluctant to come here, but, her loyalty to Dawn notwithstanding, the tantalising glimpse of social acceptance had lured her in, proving false her claim to embrace ostracism.
‘Come...relax... I’ve nothing in mind to harm you,’ he said as they stepped on to springy turf. ‘You should feel flattered. I’ve annoyed my sister in my wish to speak to you and she can be quite the virago when roused. She is offended by my methods.’
‘As am I,’ Emma said through her teeth. ‘Your sister?’ She suddenly glanced up at him, having put two and two together. ‘Mrs Sweet is your sister?’
‘She is...’
‘Is she also an actress?’ Emma enquired sourly. ‘I have not once suspected that I’m here under sufferance this afternoon.’
‘You’re not... I am,’ he said drily. ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised to have her chase after us in a moment to rescue you from my dastardly clutches and throw me out.’
‘Well, why get involved in the plot in the first place if now she regrets it?’ Emma reasoned.
‘Don’t blame Ruth. I asked her to issue the invitation and she did so, believing Miss Sanders and her friend to be somewhat different people.’
‘Different? In what way?’
‘Older...plainer...’
‘Is that how you described me?’ Emma gasped. He’d made her sound as though she were ugly and approaching her dotage.
‘I suppose I might have played down your charms a little bit,’ he said, his voice gruff with amusement. So Emma Waverley was sensitive about her age and looks. She’d no need to be where he was concerned. She was easily the most naturally beautiful woman he’d ever clapped eyes on. Even here on a day out—the first in a long time for her, he guessed—she’d not embellished her looks with powder or rouge. Neither did she need to. Her black hair looked thick and satiny, making him long to unpin the simple chignon at her nape to run his fingers through it. Her eyes, tawny and watchful as a woodland creature’s, made her perfect skin look peachier. As for the slender curves beneath the modest dress she wore... He dragged his mind away from dwelling on her body as his loins reacted to it.
‘Now Ruth’s met you and seen how young and beautiful you are, she rightly suspects I’ve misled her on purpose.’
So he thought her young and beautiful. Though he’d spoken rather roughly, his words sang in her head...a siren call of disaster. Simon had praised her looks. He’d banked on playing to her vanity and it had worked. She was too wise now to fall for that again.
‘I think I’d better trust your sister than you, sir. She obviously knows you of old.’
‘So she just told me,’ he admitted ruefully, leading her towards a tall yew hedge. ‘Just over there is a seat where we can talk without fear of disturbance.’
‘There is no need to hide. I have nothing to add to what I’ve already said.’ She peered into the distance for a sight of Dawn, but the little party had disappeared from view behind some apple trees. ‘When my friend returns from her walk I know she will want to leave as much as I do.’
‘Perhaps not, if she enjoys Jack Valance’s company more than you like mine.’
‘Mr Valance is your friend?’ Emma made a hopeless gesture. She had rather liked Jack Valance, too, but feared he was also privy to this conspiracy. Bella had said her brother never usually attended afternoon tea parties. Neither did the Earl of Houndsmere, Emma imagined. Little wonder he believed she should be flattered by his attention! She certainly hoped that Dawn wouldn’t like Valance too much and be disappointed when he made no attempt to contact her again. ‘Did you also arrange for a member of Dawn’s future stepfamily to come and occupy her in case your friend didn’t turn up?’
‘I’m innocent of meddling in anybody’s stepfamily. I have strife enough d
ealing with my own.’
That sour remark surely referred to his search for Augusta. Emma’s skin prickled in alarm. He was angry with his stepsister. How much angrier would he be with Robin when he found out the girl was increasing? Emma removed her hand from his arm and took a step away from him. Her legs were trembling, she realised, as the lawn wobbled beneath her feet. She was terrified she’d say something wrong and betray her twin to this man who could be his ultimate downfall...hers, too. Yet she knew what Robin was doing was foolish and wrong. He couldn’t hope to keep it all secret. If the Earl didn’t catch up with them first, how long would it be before Augusta’s disgust at living in a slum killed her feelings for Robin? She’d bolt back to the high life, taking her excuses with her...her baby, too, if the expected child wasn’t a figment of Robin’s imagination. Augusta would beg her powerful stepbrother to sort things out for her and he would, to protect his family’s illustrious name. Where then would Robin end up? Prison? The gallows? Would he bolt back to France to escape Houndsmere’s revenge? So grim and all-consuming were Emma’s thoughts that she jumped at the sound of his voice when he spoke.
‘We have something in common, you and I, Emma Waverley.’
A bitter laugh scraped her throat. ‘Is that so? I can’t imagine what it is. I should like to go back now, sir.’
‘We are alike in that we are burdened with relations who are a constant trouble to us.’
Emma strove to keep her expression neutral. ‘I’m sorry to hear you have such problems. I should like to return now, sir,’ she repeated firmly.
‘And I’m sorry to hear that your brother is reduced to working as a coalman.’
A dousing in icy water would have come as less of a shock. Once she remembered to breathe she wanted to quickly dismiss his remark with a laugh and a lie, but nothing came. The ghastly imaginings she’d just had of the consequences of Robin’s love for Augusta seemed horribly real and imminent. Had the girl run home already, telling tales and blaming her coalman for everything?
