Lady in Lace: Regency Timeslip

by Joanna Maitland

  It explained so much. She could jettison her fantasy of parallel universes. And she wasn't losing her marbles, either. Lady Emma Gjrorsitester would be in the records somewhere. As a sort of spelling mistake.

  When she got back to the modern world, she would be able to look Lady Emma up. Lady Emma was probably as real as the bath house. Emma felt a new lightness. Was it relief at being reassured she was not going loopy?

  First things first. The miniature and the precious letter of provenance had to be found in the twenty-first century. The best place for that would be the blue bedchamber in the Lamb House. Emma should be able to engineer that. If she was holding the miniature and the letter when she removed the lace gown, she would almost certainly arrive back in the museum with both vital items in her hand. But then she would have to conceal them at the Lamb House. What if someone caught her in the act of hiding them under that floorboard? What if there were forensic signs to prove that the items had been planted there in the modern day? And by her, Emma Stanley? Her career would be ruined if she were suspected of being involved in such a fraud. No, the only safe way would be to make her major find historically legitimate.

  She gulped. Her heart began to race. She had counted on being able to avoid this. But she couldn't. She would have to hide the items in the blue bedchamber in Will's reality and then make certain that someone else in the twenty-first century was responsible for prying up the floorboard and discovering the hidden treasure beneath. It was the only sure way to protect Emma's modern-day reputation as an honest museum curator. And if she was going to achieve the successful career she craved, reputation was vital.

  To hide the portrait, she would have to risk seeing Will again.

  But what if he tried to make love to her again? Would she be able to resist him, knowing what she did about Patience and their imminent betrothal?

  Emma wasn't sure. But she did need the miniature. It was the key to her future.

  Her annoying conscience was reminding her that she ought to be trying to save Will from Patience, rather than trying to avoid seeing him at all. If she really loved him, that's what she would do, wasn't it? She would confront Will, face to face, and warn him about Patience.

  She wasn't sure she was up to doing that. But she needed to get to the Lamb House. Did she really have any choice?

  She swallowed hard and made up her mind to face down her fears.

  When the next invitation arrived from "Mrs Smith", Emma would accept it.

  ~ ~ ~

  The invitation came that very afternoon. And this time, it was couched as a note from "Mrs Smith" to her good friend Lady Emma. No scope for endearments at all. This note was written in terms that could be read by anyone. And the handwriting could well have been that of an arthritic invalid. Will Allmay was a very devious man.

  "My dear Lady Emma," the note began. "I am most concerned that I have not heard from you this past week. I pray that you are not unwell. In the hope that you will be able to visit me this evening, as we arranged, my carriage will call for you at 8 p.m. If you are unable to keep our engagement, it will suffice for your servant to tell my coachman so." It ended, "Yours most affectionately, J. S."

  Had there been other notes from Will, these past few days? That final sentence in the note suggested that Will's carriage, or more probably his hackney, had waited in vain for Emma to appear. Was Will fretting because Emma had stood him up?

  She rather hoped he was.

  The question was: would Emma go to the Lamb House tonight? Or would she put him off until she was better prepared?

  You're kidding yourself, Emma Stanley. You'll never be prepared for Will Allmay. He takes your breath away every time he touches you.

  It was true. She could never be prepared for Will. So there was no point in putting off the moment of confrontation. But, to be on the safe side, Emma would wear her gold lace gown. If being with Will became truly unbearable, as she feared it might, she would leave him. For the last time. By disappearing completely from his world.

  Bailey would say a ballgown was quite unsuitable for a quiet evening reading to an invalid. Which would be fair comment.

  But Emma had thought of an answer to that. She would tell Bailey that "Mrs Smith" had heard about the gown and about Emma's efforts to raise money for wounded soldiers from the ladies of the ton. The invalid had asked to see the gown that was being used to achieve such charitable miracles. And so, for the sake of her bedridden friend, Emma had agreed to wear her gold lace this evening. Even Bailey couldn't cavil at that, could she?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  "I've put your valise in the carriage, m'lady," Emma's footman said, opening the front door for her. "Shall I help you in? 'Tain't the usual coachman tonight."

  A quick glance showed Emma that Sanding was absent. There was no second man on the box. The "simpleton", muffled up in his huge smelly coat and with his tricorne pulled low, was in sole charge of the carriage tonight. Emma remembered that Sanding was supposed to be off somewhere in the wilds of Shropshire, or Wales, driving the Portuguese lady. It would clearly be unwise for him to be seen in Mayfair where news of his presence might come to the keen ears of Patience or her even sharper mama.

  "The coachman cannot leave his horses, James," she said. "Pray help me in."

  The young footman handed Emma into the carriage, closing the door securely behind her. She heard his officious call of "Drive on, coachman," and laughed to herself. If only he knew.

  Will drove much faster than Sanding had, as if he were driving a racing curricle rather than a sedate lady's carriage. Emma couldn't decide whether he was anxious to reach their destination, and pull her into his arms, or angry at being kept waiting for a week. Well, she would find out when they reached the Lamb House. In the meantime, since she had no qualms about his ability to control his horses, she sat back in her corner and closed her eyes. She fully intended that, when they arrived at their destination, she would emerge totally relaxed, and even laughing at the experience.

  It didn't work out quite as she had planned. When the carriage stopped in the sweep by the Lamb House's grand entrance, Will made no attempt to climb down from the box. Instead, it was Sanding who appeared to help her down. Again. The "simpleton" twirled his whip by way of greeting and drove off to the stables without a word.

  Emma consoled herself with the thought that she had been looking for a way of avoiding a face-to-face confrontation. Will had just given it to her. She smiled at Will's man and said, calmly, "Thank you, Sanding. Would you be so kind as to bring my valise up to the blue bedchamber? And then a cup of tea? I have the headache, a little, and I should like to rest for a while." That would show uppity Will Allmay that he couldn't have everything his own way.

  It would also give Emma a window of opportunity to plant the miniature and the letter. And, if she was truly determined to avoid Will, to remove the lace gown and leave the Regency for the very last time.

  By the time Sanding arrived with the tea tray, Emma had hidden the miniature and returned the floorboard to its place. There was only one more detail she needed to settle before she was free to leave.

  "Put the tray on the table by the fire, please, Sanding. I shall warm myself while I drink it and then I shall lie down for a while."

  "Yes, m'lady. Will there be anything else?"

  "No. Oh, wait, yes, there is one thing." She picked up the missing key from the dressing table and offered it to him. "I found this key in my valise after my last visit. I'm not sure what door it fits, but I do know that it does not belong in my house. So I am assuming it belongs here."

  Sanding studied it for a moment. "I could be the missing key to the Captain's dressing room, I suppose. Though how it could have got into your ladyship's valise I can't imagine." He pocketed it. "I'll see it's returned to its proper home."

  "Good. Thank you."

  Sanding bowed.

  "And thank you also for your kindness to me during my visits. I did appreciate it." Sanding's quick frown suggest
ed he was reading far too much into her words. Cursing herself for making such a stupid slip, Emma continued quickly, "And I know I can count on your kindness and discretion in the future also."

  Sanding smiled and left. Had she fooled him? Or had he left, believing that Lady Emma had decided never to come to the Lamb House again?

  Crucially – if he had read her intentions, would he tell his precious Captain?

  Emma slumped into the chair by the fire. She might not have long. And she had to decide what she was going to do. Was she going to take the lace gown off and abandon Will? Or was she going to stay long enough to warn him off the dreadful Patience? There was safety in returning to the modern day. But cowardice too. And a betrayal of her love for this man. If she stayed, though, she risked deep hurt. He professed to love Emma, but if she challenged him about his betrothal to Patience, would he finally admit that Emma was just one more in his long line of conquests? The truth was that Emma feared he would. And that it would hurt so much that she would never recover.

  If she took the coward's way out, she would never have to hear the truth about what Will Allmay really felt about her. She would be able to kid herself that he had truly loved her. And that his marriage to Patience was purely a matter of duty.

  Maybe it was just that?

  It wouldn't make losing him any easier to bear.

  She sat for a long time. Too long. The fire was warm and the chair was so comfortable that she dozed off, in spite of turning the same impossible questions round and round in her mind.

  A soft knock on the door interrupted her dreams. Dreams of Will Allmay. What else? Emma was plagued by the man and by her feelings for him.

  She sat motionless in her chair. If she made no noise, he might assume that she was asleep on the bed and leave her in peace. She held her breath, listening hard for the sound of retreating footsteps.

  They did not come. There was another knock, instead. A little louder. And then a whispered, "Emma?" He sounded concerned.

  He would be. Will Allmay might be a rake but he was also a kind and generous man. He would not like to think that Emma was suffering in any way. And she would certainly suffer if she left without seeing him, just once more. It would break her heart.

  She took a deep breath and rose from her chair. If she'd been going to leave, she should have done it as soon as she'd handed Sanding the key. She'd been conning herself ever since. Cowardice might be the safest tactic, but it wasn't what her heart was telling her to do.

  She went to open the door to the man she was about to lose.

  He looked magnificent, even in the half-light of the corridor. He was wearing full evening dress. The austere black tailoring emphasised his height and the breadth of his shoulders. The only spot of colour was that curious gold pin in his snowy white neckcloth. It seemed to represent some kind of animal, but not one that Emma had ever encountered. Perhaps it was mythical? A griffin or a sphinx?

  Emma tried to focus on the puzzle of the gold pin rather than on the man who stood before her. Unfortunately, it didn't work too well. Especially when he bowed over her hand, as formally as if he were meeting her at some society ball.

  "Emma, you look beautiful," he said softly, taking in the gold lace and the sapphires in one appreciative glance. "But Sanding said you had the headache?"

  He was being ultra-correct, making no move to cross her threshold.

  Emma took a step back to invite him in. "Tea works wonders for the headache," she said, truthfully. She did not want to sully their last time together by lying to him. "I did not expect to see you in evening dress, Will," she began, playing for time. "Do you have an engagement?"

  "Only with you."

  Oh dear.

  "And you seem to have been reading my mind, Emma, since you too are in evening dress. I shall treasure the image of you in gold lace and sapphires."

  That sounded like the preliminary to a farewell. Emma felt her eyes tearing up and dug her nails into the palms of her hands in an effort to control herself. She refused to blub like a lovesick schoolgirl.

  Will closed the door quietly and crossed to the fireplace where he stood with his back to the flames, gazing at Emma, and waiting for her to join him. When she did not, he held out his hand to her.

  She forced her leaden feet to move. But she did not take his hand. She could not.

  It was difficult to read his features in the flickering light of her single candle. He looked… He looked uncertain. But she must be mistaken, surely? Will Allmay was never uncertain about anything. He was a man of action. And decision.

  "Emma, my love, this last week has been torture," he said. "It has taught me, as nothing else could, that I am only half a man without you. You are the woman to make me complete." He sank to one knee. And took her unresisting hand in his. "Emma, my dearest love, will you do me the honour of agreeing to be my wife?"

  Emma Stanley, who had never fainted in her life, had to grab the back of the chair to stop herself from falling. And then she said the first idiotic thing that came into her head. "But you are promised to Patience!"

  "Am I?" Will rose to his feet and took her other hand as well, holding them both in a strong, reassuring clasp. "What on earth put that idea into your head?"

  "Patience told me so." That sounded idiotic too, but Emma's brains seemed to have turned to mush. Will couldn't possibly have proposed marriage to her. Somehow, she must have misunderstood.

  "Well, well, well." He made a face. "Shows just how wrong a man can be."

  "I don't understand." She didn't understand anything. Least of all the way her body was responding. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. But she must not. She must give him a chance to explain. Was he really saying that the formidable Lady Augusta had been building castles in the air over that betrothal? It seemed so very unlikely. And yet Will's distaste for the match was evident. Emma held her breath, telling herself to ignore her pounding heart, to wait for what might come next.

  Will was looking distant, as if he were lost in long-buried memories. "I always thought Patience had a tendre for my brother," he said pensively.

  "But I thought your brother died," Emma said, surprised into more unwary speech.

  "I have— I had two brothers. John was the eldest. He died. As I told you." Will swallowed hard and continued brightly, "Daniel is a lot younger than me. Only a little older than Patience, in fact. But she hasn't met him for years so I suppose her tastes may have changed. He's in the army, you see. Refused the Navy." Will chuckled. He was uncertain no longer. "Can't really blame him. Poor chap couldn't stomach the idea of possibly having to serve with me as his Captain. He hasn't been home since Boney was sent to Elba, though. He likes the loose living on the Continent, I do believe."

  "Oh." Two rakes in the same family?

  "And Patience told you she was betrothed to me?"

  This time, Emma thought before she replied. "Well, not exactly. She said there was an understanding between the families, but no formal betrothal. She hinted an announcement would come soon, though." It had been much more than a hint, but Emma couldn't very well tell him that.

  "I suppose the title may have made a difference," he muttered darkly.

  Emma wondered about that. Patience would become Lady Allmay if she married Will. She would probably revel in that new, elevated status. "I suspect it rankles that she is only Miss Sinclair-Smythe at present. She would like to be your Lady."

  "Well, she is not going to be anything of the sort. There is only one woman I want to be my Lady. And, as it happens, she already has that title, from birth. Will you be my Lady as well as your own, Emma?"

  Emma's heart stopped all over again. And then it galloped away, trailing impossible dreams. "I don't understand," she said again, in a strangled voice.

  "Do you not? Do you really not understand when a man is proposing marriage to you, Lady Emma?" He shook his head sadly. "I know that it would be a huge step for any lady with such a spotless past to marry a man with a reputation as black
as mine, but rakes have been known to reform before, you know. And I promise you that this one will. For you." He pulled her tight against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. "There have been no more mistresses since I have been with you, darling Emma. And I swear there will be no more after we are wed, either."

  Emma swallowed and managed to turn a nervous titter into a cough. She couldn't help her reaction. In the back of her mind, she could hear Patience Sinclair-Smythe's whining words, about wild oats and worse. Emma had not believed, then, that it was possible for Will to turn into a faithful husband. Did she believe it now?

  She looked into his eyes, and discovered that she did.

  ~ ~ ~

  Will didn't attempt to take her to bed, which surprised her. He behaved as if they were in company, rather than alone, scandalously unchaperoned, at the Lamb House. He offered his hand and led her downstairs where he invited her to dine. Emma was not at all sure what to make of this new, reformed rake.

  But having the table between them was a godsend. It gave her space to think.

  She could not possibly marry Will Allmay. What would he do when she deserted him for her modern-day life? If he truly loved her – and Emma was beginning to believe that he did, poor misguided man – he would be heartbroken when he lost her. She must not do that to him.

  Besides, a marriage had to be based on trust. There could be no trust between them unless Emma told him the truth about herself. But how could she? He would never believe a word of it. He had laughed when she described the air transport of the future. If she told him she had actually travelled back from that future, he would probably have her committed to an asylum.

  She took a deep breath and tried to relax her shoulders. "I am deeply honoured by your proposal," she began formally, "but I—" She found she couldn't bring herself to say the words. "I cannot decide now, Will. You must give me time."

  "Certainly. It is what I expected you to say." He smiled across at her but he made no attempt to touch her. "My proposal is unconditional. But if you wish to set conditions on our marriage – if you do me the honour of accepting me, of course – I will try to meet them."