by Rose Pearson
“It has been quite wonderful!” Lord Rochester exclaimed, interrupting her. “I have enjoyed every soiree, every ball, every play that I have attended. Which reminds me, Miss Bavidge…” Trailing off, he moved a little closer to her as they walked, his eyes resting on hers and holding them fiercely. “Might you consider attending the theatre with me?”
Emma’s stomach turned over, her heart quickening in her chest as she looked up into Lord Rochester’s face. She did not know what to say, for the urge to remain as far away from Lord Rochester as she could grew steadily within her, remembering the fierce look on Lord Morton’s face as he had spoken of the gentleman.
“There is a delightful little play that I think you would greatly enjoy,” Lord Rochester continued, no anxiety in his voice or concern in his eyes as he lifted his gaze from hers and settled it back on the path ahead. “It would be a most enjoyable evening, Miss Bavidge, I am quite certain of it.”
Swallowing what appeared to be a large amount of dust in her mouth and attempting to speak as clearly as she could, Emma let out a long breath and tried to find a way to express herself in such a manner that would not offend Lord Rochester. Even though she did not know the truth of his character nor the reasons behind Lord Morton’s urging to keep away from the fellow, Emma found herself disinclined to further her acquaintance with him. This was made all the more apparent when she considered just how her heart had leaped in her chest when Lord Morton had asked to call upon her and how it fluttered whenever she thought of it.
“My goodness, Miss Bavidge, you are to be quite spoiled it seems!” Miss Crosby laughed, linking arms with Emma and shaking her head in evident surprise. “Now you have not only one gentleman seeking to spend more time with you, but two, in fact!” She smiled brightly at Lord Rochester, clearly delighted for Emma—but Emma felt herself slowly sinking into the ground, embarrassed and mortified that her friend had spoken so foolishly.
Lord Rochester’s expression changed almost at once. Instead of smiling back at Miss Crosby and making some remark about how it was understandable that Miss Bavidge should have more than one gentleman eager to spend time in her company, he began to frown, his lips thinning and his brows lowering over his eyes. The change was quite remarkable, for he no longer appeared handsome, but rather almost malevolent in his expression. Emma’s toes curled in her shoes as she came to a stop, trying to laugh at Miss Crosby’s remark but finding that the sound stuck in her throat.
“I am lucky indeed, yes,” she agreed, seeing how Miss Crosby flushed darkly as she realized what she had said and how outspoken she had been. “But I am sorry I cannot accept as I have a previous engagement, Lord Rochester. I do thank you for your invitation.” She placed a smile on her lips, only for Lord Rochester to frown all the more, his eyes searching her face as though she had a secret he wanted to discover. Emma’s very soul seemed to shake, sending a tremor through her as she looked back at him, doing her best not to flinch.
“Another gentleman is seeking to court you, Miss Bavidge?” Lord Rochester asked, his voice a good deal lower than before. “That is… interesting.”
Emma lifted her chin and tried not to allow his appearance to intimidate her. “I am flattered at the attention, of course,” she told him, keeping her voice calm. “And I am very grateful for it.”
Lord Rochester said nothing for some moments, his jaw working hard as he looked back at her, unblinking and intense in his gaze.
“I must inform you that I am quite serious in my intentions, Miss Bavidge,” Lord Rochester murmured, a gleam in his eye that Emma found she did not like. “I should like to court you, if you would agree to it.”
Emma’s answer came to her lips immediately. “That is most kind of you, Lord Rochester,” she replied, seeing Miss Crosby drop her head with embarrassment at being present for such a private moment. “But as yet, I have not decided upon accepting anyone’s court. I may be enjoying the company of others, but that does not mean that my mind had settled upon one individual.” She hoped that this might make Lord Rochester think that she was being called upon by not only one but perhaps two or three other gentlemen, praying that this would prevent Lord Rochester from asking any more questions, but all it seemed to do was make Lord Rochester’s expression darken a little more.
“Then I must hope that you will allow me to prove myself to you,” he replied with a jerk of his head, which Emma thought was meant to be the smallest of bows. “Might I know the name of the other gentleman who appears so eager to pursue you, Miss Bavidge?” His eyes lit with interest, his lip curling slightly. “It is best to know one’s enemy, I believe.”
Emma tried to laugh, waving a hand in his direction. “Lord Rochester, you are quite ridiculous. Surely you cannot expect me to give you the name of this gentleman simply because you wish to defeat him in some way!” She shook her head, forcing a teasing smile to her lips. “After all, it is I who shall decide my future, is it not? Therefore, your awareness of such things matters very little.”
Lord Rochester leaned forward, looking her dead in the eye and narrowing his gaze slightly. Emma trembled visibly although, with an effort, she put a smile on her face and held his gaze.
“It is Lord Morton, is it not?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper as he arched one thick eyebrow. “He is the other gentleman you speak of.”
Emma felt as though she had been pushed into a tub of cold water, for it seemed to run down her back in rivulets, sending another tremor all through her. She could not find anything to say, and it was her silence that seemed to confirm to Lord Rochester that what he had guessed was correct.
Lord Rochester sighed heavily, shook his head and ran one hand over his eyes. “Pray, Miss Bavidge, do not become another young lady caught by the outwardly kind appearance that Lord Morton presents to the beau monde,” he said, sending another wave of cold water over her. “You must know that he is not a gentleman of good character.”
Emma hesitated, seeing Miss Crosby look up, startled. “I am not quite certain that such a statement is true, Lord Rochester,” she told him slowly, knowing that Lady Smithton would not have encouraged her to accept Lord Morton if she believed him to be a gentleman of poor character. “But I thank you for your consideration.”
“Oh, but it is quite true!” Lord Rochester exclaimed, fervently. “I must speak to you of this, Miss Bavidge, if only to warn you.”
Wanting to close her eyes and sigh heavily, Emma restrained herself with an effort and, instead, simply held Lord Rochester’s gaze and allowed him to speak. There seemed to be no good in attempting to silence him, for he was quite eager to speak, and she did not think he would be restrained. The dark expression had left his face now, his eyes shining with an enthusiasm that could not be dampened.
“Lord Morton and I were once very close companions,” he told her, echoing what Lord Morton himself had said. “However, it was due to his conduct that our friendship is no more, and, for that, I must make certain to warn you from his side.”
Emma tilted her head carefully, feeling the cold drain from her, leaving her a little more in control of the conversation. “His conduct?” she repeated, wondering why she had heard the same from Lord Morton about Lord Rochester as she was now hearing from Lord Rochester himself. “What about his conduct set you both asunder?” Seeing Lord Rochester hesitate and look away, she frowned heavily, her eyes sharp. “Surely you cannot imagine that I would be willing to simply accept your word about his character without some sort of explanation, Lord Rochester!”
At this, Lord Rochester sighed heavily and dropped his head, his hands rubbing at the lines on his forehead. “I suppose I cannot ask you to do such a thing, no,” he murmured as Emma shot a quick look towards Miss Crosby, who was still standing to her left, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.
“Then might I suggest that you speak honestly to me, Lord Rochester, for else I shall not know what to think,” she told him, firmly, although she did not tell the gentleman that Lord Morton
had given her much the same warning as was now running from Lord Rochester’s mouth. “Pray, do tell me what you can.”
Lord Rochester nodded slowly, lifting his head and looking straight at her. “I shall do precisely that, Miss Bavidge,” he agreed, quickly. “But now it is not convenient to do so.” A quick look towards Miss Crosby had Emma’s eyes narrowing just a little, wondering if the man was using Miss Crosby’s presence as an excuse.
“Then when would be?” she asked, her expression tight. “As I have said, I have a requirement for you to speak honestly with me.”
“I am well aware of that,” Lord Rochester replied quickly. “Shall we say Thursday evening, if you are not already engaged?”
Emma blinked, a little confused. “Thursday evening?”
“Capital!” Lord Rochester boomed, suddenly overwhelming her with his presence as a broad grin settled on his face. “I shall send details, of course, but I am already looking forward to accompanying you to the theatre, Miss Bavidge. We shall be able to speak privately then.” He swept into a bow as Emma began to stammer, her cheeks flaring with heat as she realized what Lord Rochester intended. She had not agreed to attend the theatre with him, but he was, it seemed, quite determined that this should be the case.
“Do give my regards to Lord Morton,” Lord Rochester finished, with a smile that appeared more ugly than genuine. “And I shall see you on Thursday, Miss Bavidge. Good afternoon.”
He bowed again, gave her another smile, and then turned on his heel and walked quickly away from them both, leaving Emma stammering and spluttering after him. A long silence followed as Miss Crosby simply stood there, her hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed low.
“Goodness,” Emma murmured eventually, trying to make sense of what had just occurred, as well as her concerning feelings over what Lord Rochester had said about Lord Morton. “It seems I am to go to the theatre with Lord Rochester, then.” This had her frowning, for she did not like the feeling that she had been persuaded to do something without having had any intention of doing so in the first place. Lord Rochester appeared to be a little conniving, and this brought her a good deal of unease.
“I am sorry, Emma,” Miss Crosby said, her head still low and her voice barely loud enough to hear. “I did not mean to do such a foolish thing. It was quite unintentional and I—”
“You need not concern yourself, Sarah,” Emma interrupted, smiling at her friend despite the whirling sense of unease that was settling in her stomach. “Please, do not feel guilty over such a thing. It was an innocent mistake, and I am, in a way, grateful for it.”
“Oh?” Miss Crosby’s head lifted, and she looked back at Emma in surprise.
Emma began to walk along the path again, her friend falling into step beside her. “Whilst I will not pretend I am not very confused over what each gentleman has said about the other, at least I am fully aware of their concerns about the other.”
“But how shall you know the truth?” Sarah asked as they turned around to make their way out of the park. “How shall you discover which concerns are genuine and which have no basis in truth?”
Hesitating, Emma allowed a vision of Lord Morton to swim in front of her eyes, feeling the urgent desire to believe him over Lord Rochester run through her. “It is something of a mystery, yes,” she agreed, quietly. “But all mysteries need to be solved, do they not?” Her resolve grew steadily, her mind filled with both Lord Rochester and Lord Morton’s words. “Somewhere, in the midst of it all, lies the truth, and I am quite determined to discover it, no matter what it may cost me.”
Chapter Nine
Nathaniel had not expected to feel such a whirlwind of emotion flood him as he stepped into the drawing room to see both Miss Bavidge and Lady Smithton rising to greet him. His thoughts had been filled with all sorts of questions and concerns over what it was that would be awaiting him, and now, as he bowed before them both, he found his mind quickening all the more.
“Good afternoon, Lady Smithton, Miss Bavidge.” He tried to smile, aware of just how furiously his heart was beating. Why was he in such a turmoil over Miss Bavidge when, previously, he had felt nothing but concern over her presence within society? Something had changed within him drastically, something that burned through his heart and mind and forced him to reconsider everything he thought he had decided.
“Good afternoon, Lord Morton,” Lady Smithton replied as Miss Bavidge gave him a small smile which, Nathaniel noticed, did not quite reach her eyes. “Please, do be seated.”
“I thank you.” Hurrying to the indicated chair, he sat down at once, feeling a strange sense of tension fill the room as he looked from Lady Smithton to Miss Bavidge and back again. Was it because Miss Bavidge felt as uncomfortable as he did? Or was there something more that he was, as yet, not entirely aware of?
“Miss Bavidge,” he began, stammering just a little and betraying his nervousness as he did so. “I… I do hope that you have had a pleasant day thus far.” It was a foolish thing to say and certainly a little ridiculous, but such was the gnawing nervousness within him that he had no consideration of what else there was for him to say or discuss with her.
“I did,” Miss Bavidge replied as Lady Smithton rose from her chair, her skirts rustling. She moved to the window at the other end of the room, making it quite clear that Miss Bavidge and Nathaniel were to have some time to talk without her presence. Nathaniel, whilst grateful, felt his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, not at all certain what he should say next.
“In fact,” Miss Bavidge continued, a little tightly, “I met with an acquaintance in the park as I was out walking with Miss Crosby.”
“Oh?” Nathaniel gave her a small smile, feeling his tension begin to fade as he saw how she was trying to discuss matters with him. “Did you have an enjoyable walk? The afternoon has been very fine.”
Miss Bavidge said nothing for a moment, biting her lip and looking at him with an unblinking gaze.
“I did,” she murmured, after a few moments. “I had an excellent walk with Miss Crosby, Lord Morton. I was surprised, however, when Lord Rochester appeared and began to fall into step with us both.”
Nathaniel blinked rapidly, his heart dropping to the floor only to bounce up and slam hard into his chest again.
“As you can imagine, I was a trifle reluctant to walk and speak with the gentleman, after what you had said to me about him,” Miss Bavidge continued with a wave of her hand. “But thereafter, he also became aware of your intention to call upon me this afternoon.”
Frowning, Nathaniel began to nod slowly. “I see,” he replied, carefully, not quite certain what Miss Bavidge meant by such a thing and feeling an uncomfortable tension begin to settle within his heart all over again. “And I am certain that Lord Rochester had his own thoughts on that.” He tried to give her a wry smile, only for it to scrape at his lips in a half-hearted attempt before fading away completely.
“Yes, he did,” Miss Bavidge replied, her light blue eyes fixed upon his as a spot of color began to burn in each cheek. “Much to my surprise, Lord Morton, he gave me much the same warning as you have done about him.”
His mouth went dry as he looked into Miss Bavidge’s face and saw her looking back at him with a questioning expression. What was it she wanted to know? Did she expect him to confirm that whatever Lord Rochester had said about him was true? What was it precisely that Lord Rochester had said? His heart sank like a heavy weight, wondering if Lord Rochester had told Miss Bavidge exactly what Nathaniel had done when it came to her father.
“You have nothing to say on this, Lord Morton?” Miss Bavidge asked, her voice a little softer. “You have no response?”
“How can I,” he asked, honestly, “when I do not know what it is that has been said of me?”
Miss Bavidge let out a long, heavy sigh and shook her head. “I confess that I do not know what to think, Lord Morton,” she told him as the door behind them opened to reveal a maid carrying in a few trays of refreshments,
although nothing whetted Nathaniel’s appetite, such was his nervousness. “There is something more within this situation, I am quite certain of it, but I am also certain that neither of you will be willing to speak of it to me with any degree of honesty.”
“That is not fair to say,” Nathaniel retorted, his words a little brash without his intending them to be so. He saw Miss Bavidge recoil a little and closed his eyes tightly, trying to reign in his flare of temper. “I would speak to you of the truth, Miss Bavidge, if I did not fear that it would bring even more of a struggle to you.”
Miss Bavidge nodded slowly, her gaze still fixed and intense. “I see,” she said, slowly, although she did not appear to be convinced by anything he said. “Then I shall have to hear the truth from Lord Rochester, it seems, for he has promised to speak to me of it in its entirety when we go to the theatre later on this week.” She arched a brow at him in a silent challenge, but Nathaniel felt his heart shrink back in dismay, his courage beginning to fail him.
“I must confess that I did not expect you to go near to Lord Rochester again,” he said, his voice tense as a small flicker of anger burnt up his spine. “I thought I had given you adequate warning, Miss Bavidge.”
This, however, did not have the effect that Nathaniel had hoped, for instead of nodding and accepting that he had done what he could to protect her, Miss Bavidge suddenly stiffened, her shoulders lifting about her ears in clear tension.
“I do not think, Lord Morton, that you have any right to tell me what I can or cannot do,” she replied, tersely. “You may advise me, of course, but since I do not know the intricacies of why you distrust Lord Rochester, you cannot simply expect me to accept it without question.” She spread her hands, letting out a slow breath as though to calm her frustrations. “As I have said, you are being somewhat mysterious, and I find that the more I consider it, the more confused and frustrated I become.”
