by Rose Pearson
Her mouth went dry as Lady Smithton frowned and nodded, still looking from one to the next. Her hopes were either to crash to the ground or flare to the skies depending on what Lady Smithton decided. It felt like the most important moment of her life.
“Very well,” Lady Smithton, after a moment, “but I must do a little more thinking on the matter before I decide exactly what will take place.”
Emma could only nod, hearing Sarah gasp with astonishment and delight beside her, before pulling out her handkerchief to dab at her eyes. She did not know what to say; such was her gratitude as she began to battle tears. Lady Smithton was looking at them both with a small but gentle smile on her face, making Emma believe that they would soon become very dear friends.
“Thank you, Lady Smithton,” she managed to say, her voice hoarse and breaking with emotion. “With all of my heart, I thank you. You do not know what you have done for us.”
Lady Smithton smiled back at her, appearing quite contented with her decision. “But of course,” she replied, warmly. “I am quite sure that very soon, I will see you both happy and settled. You need not struggle alone any longer.”
Miss Crosby stifled a sob as Lady Smithton got up to ring the bell for more tea. Emma reached across and pressed her friend’s hand, aware that she could not speak but was overcome with thanks.
“A little more sustenance, I think,” Lady Smithton said, sitting back down in her seat and offering Miss Crosby a warm and encouraging smile. “We shall become firm friends by the end of this afternoon, I am sure of it. Now, Miss Bavidge, why do we not begin with you? Tell me all you can about yourself.”
Emma was not quite certain what to say, aware that she had told Lady Smithton the details of her father’s gambling debts and the fact that her elder brother was married, settled, and entirely unwilling to come to her aid or involve himself in any way.
“I… I do not know what to say, Lady Smithton,” she stammered, suddenly feeling a trifle awkward. “What is it you wish to know?”
Lady Smithton chuckled. “You must not consider yourself in the light of your father’s behavior,” she told Emma, warmly. “Tell me about yourself, what you enjoy, and what your preferences are.” She leaned a little further forward. “And do be honest with me, Miss Bavidge, as to whether or not any particular gentlemen have caught your eye thus far.”
Emma tried to laugh, but it came out as a mere croak as the image of Lord Morton rushed into her mind in a fury. “None,” she stammered, her voice hoarse and rasping. “They have all, for the most part, treated me with very little consideration. Some dance with me and then go to speak of it to their companions, as though it is some sort of accolade to have shown me some attention. Others ignore me completely.”
Lady Smithton nodded slowly, although her gaze lingered still, clearly waiting for Emma to say more. Emma, aware of the flush that was rising up her neck and into her cheeks, looked away and lifted one shoulder. “There has been one gentleman who has not treated me in either of the ways I have just described, however,” she finished knowing that she had to be completely honest with Lady Smithton but finding it hard to speak nonchalantly. “He danced with me and seemed to show some true consideration for me, but thus far, he has been the only one.”
Lady Smithton’s smile began to spread wide across her face. “Then that is an excellent place to begin!” she said, encouragingly. “A gentleman who has shown that he can, in fact, behave appropriately. And he wanted to dance with you, you say?”
Emma nodded, surprised by her reaction to remembering just how Lord Morton had managed to prove himself to her. “He did. I accepted, fully believing him to go to his companions thereafter and mock me in some fashion or other, but to my surprise, he did not.” Her voice grew a little wistful. “He told me he would not behave as the others had done, and whilst I did not immediately believe him, it turns out that he spoke the truth.”
“Then I think it best we seek him out again,” Lady Smithton said, as the door opened for the trays of tea and cakes to be brought in. “What was his name?”
Emma cleared her throat, pretending to try to recall even though she knew his name instantly. “Viscount Morton,” she said, after a few moments, desperately wanting to pretend that she had not even the smallest flicker of interest in the fellow. “I know nothing of him, of course, so I cannot tell whether or not—”
“Excellent!” Lady Smithton interrupted, her eyes flared with excitement. “I have a friend that I may call upon in order to determine the truth about your Lord Morton, Miss Bavidge, but for the time being, shall we hope that you might be able to further your acquaintance with this gentleman? If he is as honest and as well-mannered as you have described, then at the very least, his acquaintance is worth pursuing.” She hesitated, her smile fading as she looked at Emma and then turned her gaze to Miss Crosby, who had finally finished crying.
“I must ask you both,” Lady Smithton began, the excitement gone from her voice completely. “Do you wish for love?”
Emma frowned at this, glancing across at Miss Crosby and seeing her shake her head fervently.
“No,” Miss Crosby said, stoutly. “I shall be glad of a decent gentleman who will treat me kindly, that is all. I have no need for love.”
“Nor I,” Emma replied, quickly, knowing that she was foolish even to let herself think of such a thing. “I know that most matches within society come from suitability of title and the like, and, like Miss Crosby, I seek only a contented future with a gentleman who will be considerate and kind.”
This appeared to satisfy Lady Smithton, who nodded and smiled, reaching out to pour the tea. “That is a relief, I must admit,” the lady replied, as she filled the cups. “Love between husband and wife might bloom once the marriage has taken place, but it would be more than difficult to engage you both in a marriage of love.” She smiled at Emma as she handed her the delicate china saucer and the small teacup placed atop it. “Although if you are blessed with such a thing, then you are to be considered very lucky.”
Emma laughed and shook her head in mock dismay. “I have found no luck in my life thus far, Lady Smithton,” she told her. “Therefore, I highly doubt that something as wonderful as that might occur in my life. I shall be content to find a suitable gentleman and shall not ask for more.”
Lady Smithton nodded, considering this for a moment or two. “Then you are very wise,” she replied firmly. “Very wise indeed. Have no fear, Miss Crosby, Miss Bavidge. We shall work together to ensure that you are both married and settled just as soon as can be. And we shall start tomorrow.”
The following evening found Lydia standing in her usual place at the side of the room whilst the music and the dancing swirled about in front of her. Almacks was busy this evening, which came as no surprise, but Lady Smithton had managed to ensure that she and her aunt were present this evening and, of course, her aunt could not have refused to attend something such as this! Miss Crosby would be here too, no doubt, although as yet, Emma had not seen her.
Your one intention is to speak to Lord Morton again.
Emma’s skin prickled as she looked all about her, wondering if Lord Morton would even be present this evening. She did not know where to look for him, recalling how he had been skulking back in an alcove the first time she had met him, although it had not been the first time she had seen him watching her.
A flush of heat ran through her as she recalled those dark blue eyes of his, remembering how they had held her gaze steadily before dropping to run down her frame. A slight shudder caught her, forcing her to think clearly. She could not allow herself to be so caught up by the thought of a mere gentleman simply because he had been kind to her. That meant nothing. A kind gentleman might simply be kind but have no willingness to further his acquaintance with her and she ought not to expect that Lord Morton would be so amiable to the idea. After all, she still carried the disgrace of her father’s behavior with her wherever she went so any gentleman who showed her any interest whatsoever
would have to bear the gossip and the whispers that came with courting her.
Her stomach turned over, and she closed her eyes, trying to force back the sudden, overwhelming fear that no gentleman would wish to do such a thing. She had hope now, did she not? Lady Smithton had agreed to help her, and so, therefore, Emma was no longer alone in her struggle to work her way through the tangled web that made up high society. She sighed heavily and slumped back against the wall, her eyes still closed tightly.
“Miss…Bavidge?”
The hesitant words made her eyes fly open, a furious blush coursing through her cheeks as she looked up to see none other than the gentleman she had been thinking of looking down at her, his expression somewhat uncertain.
“Lord Morton,” she stammered, unsure what she should say or whether she should give some sort of explanation for her behavior. “I was simply thinking about something of great importance.”
Lord Morton gave her a half smile, blinking quickly. “I see,” he said as if this was a simple enough explanation for her closed eyes and heavy sigh that he had, no doubt, heard. “It is good to see you again this evening.”
Emma was robbed of speech for a moment, finding it difficult to know what it was that she should say to such a compliment. Was he being truthful? Was he truly glad to see her here again?
“I believe I owe you an apology, Lord Morton,” she said, remembering what had occurred the last time they had spoken. Seeing his quizzical look, she dropped her eyes to the ground, embarrassed. “You told me you were not like the other gentlemen of my acquaintance, and I did not immediately believe you.”
“Oh.” Lord Morton chuckled softly, and immediately, some of Emma’s embarrassment began to fade. “That is quite all right, Miss Bavidge. I can well understand your reasoning behind believing that I was not what I said. You need not apologize to me for that.”
“You are very good, Lord Morton,” Emma replied, aware that her face was still hot with embarrassment. “I thank you for your understanding.”
Silence lingered between them for a moment or two, leaving Emma uncertain as to what to say next. Her mouth went dry as she struggled to consider what should come next in their conversation, wondering if Lord Morton had deliberately sought her out or if he had been sent by Lady Smithton, who was, certainly, present already.
“Do you know Lady Smithton?”
Emma’s head lifted sharply as she spoke, just as Lord Morton said, “Would you care to dance this evening?”
They both looked at one another for a moment or two, wide-eyed, until finally, Lord Morton began to laugh, appearing a trifle more relaxed than before. Emma let her lips curve into a smile, studying Lord Morton and finding that his entire expression changed when he laughed. His dark brown hair, neat and tidy, jostled violently, his eyes gleaming with good humor. There seemed to be an ease of manner about him now, the confusion between them dying away quickly as the atmosphere changed.
“I do apologize, Miss Bavidge,” Lord Morton said, still grinning at her. “What was it you wished to ask me?”
Emma forgot for a moment, before recalling that she wished to speak to him about Lady Smithton. “I wondered if you knew Lady Smithton,” she replied, pressing her hands together in front of her. “She has recently become a close acquaintance of mine and I—”
“Lady Smithton?” Lord Morton interrupted, his smile fading and a slight frown forming between his brows. “Is she not the one who supposedly killed her husband?”
Stiffening, Emma lifted her chin a notch, feeling a rush of hot anger course through her veins. “I did not think that you gave a good deal of sway to rumors, Lord Morton,” she said, tightly. “Surely you must know that this is nothing more than idle gossip!”
Lord Morton turned his head away, but not before Emma saw a slight redness to his cheek.
“You are quite correct, of course,” Lord Morton said, after a beat of silence. “Those are rumors, and I have made it my sole intention to refuse to listen to such things. As I have done with you, Miss Bavidge.”
This was meant to encourage her, Emma knew, but there was still something of her anger left. Perhaps Lord Morton was not as infallible as she had first thought.
“If you will permit me to ask my question now, Miss Bavidge,” Lord Morton continued, quickly. “Might you care to dance with me this evening? Or is your dance card quite full?”
Emma shook her head, surprised to see the flare of disappointment that jumped into Lord Morton’s eyes. “I am not engaged to a single gentleman this evening,” she replied, ignoring the kick of sadness that came with such a statement. “As such, Lord Morton, you may have your choice of dances.”
Lord Morton seemed to slump with relief, reaching out for her dance card and jotting his name down in not one but two dances. Emma watched him cautiously, wondering at his reaction. Had he been disappointed because he thought she would refuse him? Surely not!
“Excellent,” Lord Morton said, his voice a little louder than before. “I look forward to standing up with you, Miss Bavidge.”
“Thank you, Lord Morton,” Emma replied, as he gave her a small bow, preparing to take his leave. “I look forward to it also.”
As Lord Morton left her side, Emma could not help but allow her gaze to linger on him. He was handsome and seemingly very kind, but there was still so much about him that she did not know. She certainly would not allow her heart to become engaged with his, not when she did not know the fellow in any particular way. Yes, he had been honest and truthful with her, seemingly determined not to allow the gossip that surrounded her to affect him in any way, but it was much too soon to consider him a potential suitor. She knew very little about him, although Emma had to admit that there was a warm glow in her heart as she looked down at her dance card and saw his name there.
“Lord Morton, I believe?”
Emma looked up to see Lady Smithton coming near to her, turning her head to look at the departing gentleman.
“Yes, that was he,” Emma replied, with a small smile. “I have his name secured for two dances.”
Lady Smithton seemed delighted at this. “Quite wonderful,” she exclaimed, beaming at Emma. “And I am certain you shall have a few more very soon.” She turned and began to move away, turning her head to hurry Emma along after her. “Do join me, Miss Bavidge. I have some acquaintances I wish to introduce you to.”
“At once,” Emma replied, hurrying after her friend, who was almost entirely swallowed up by the crowd of guests that swarmed all about her. Moving quickly, she soon caught up with Lady Smithton, feeling her heart race wildly in her chest. A trifle anxious about being introduced and fearing that one or two might either give her the cut direct or merely watch her with an amused look on their faces, Emma tried to set her shoulders and walk as tall as she could. The beau monde did not need to see her pain and suffering at their hands. She had to remain above it.
“Have no fear, Miss Bavidge,” Lady Smithton said, encouragingly, as though she could see into Emma’s heart and know what she was feeling. “No one will dare treat you ill, I promise.”
“I must hope so,” Emma replied, tightly, her stomach now in knots as a group of gentlemen and ladies turned as one to look at both herself and Lady Smithton as they approached.
Lady Smithton laughed and linked arms with Emma. “I am certain of it,” she replied, with a broad smile. “You will find that there is more than one gentleman akin to Lord Morton, Miss Bavidge. Who knows? You might even discover that you have a few gentlemen eager to court you!”
But none shall make such an imprint on my mind as Lord Morton has done, Emma thought to herself, forcing a smile to her lips as she drew near. Lord Morton had been the one to seek her out, to come to her on now two separate occasions, as though he were truly interested in her acquaintance, and that was something Emma was certain she would never be able to forget.
Chapter Five
“Did I not see you dancing with Miss Bavidge last evening?”
Natha
niel tensed visibly, a sheet of anger draping itself over him. He knew that voice all too well.
“Come now,” the gentleman continued, setting down two glasses of whisky before settling himself in the chair opposite Nathaniel. “You can tell me the truth of it, can you not?” He grinned broadly, but Nathaniel only felt his fury grow steadily. “We were once very good friends.”
“That was before you betrayed my confidence,” Nathaniel replied tightly, his hands clenching into fists. “You know I have no wish to speak to you, Rochester.”
Viscount Rochester had once been a close friend of Nathaniel’s. They had enjoyed good conversation, fine brandy, and making eyes at any young debutante that should happen to pass in front of them—although Lord Rochester always sought to pursue such young ladies with a good deal more fervency that Nathaniel ever allowed himself to do. That had been one side of his friend that he had not appreciated, although he had always merely shrugged and silently considered that a gentleman had to make his own decisions about his behavior.
However, when the difficulties with Lord Hawkridge had been revealed, Nathaniel had needed someone to talk to, someone to share his burden with. His first thought had been to speak to his longtime friend, trusting that nothing would be shared once Nathaniel had told him the truth. Lord Rochester had even agreed to remain entirely silent about whatever Nathaniel told him, and so Nathaniel had unburdened himself completely.
Unfortunately, Lord Rochester had proven himself not to be a man of his word. Finding the gossip much too enticing to keep to himself, he had gone out and spoken to everyone he wished about this news. And so had been the end of Lord Hawkridge within London society.
And with Lord Hawkridge’s swift and ashamed exit from London had gone his daughter, Miss Bavidge. Even now, the thought of what she must have had to endure bit at his soul, knowing just how difficult it was for her at this present moment to even go about society.
