Love's Folly

by Nina Coombs Pykare

  “But we have not.”

  “Ah,” said the emperor, “that is knowledge known only to us.”

  Emily had no reply to this. She had absolutely no intention of doing anything more than waltz with this man; she wished there was some way to convince him of it.

  “We have already the reputation,” continued Alexander smoothly. “It is a pity that we have not the pleasure of earning it.”

  “I believe you are mistaken in me, your majesty. I tried to tell you this before. My dropping the handkerchief was an accident, nothing more. How can I convince you of that?”

  Alexander chuckled. “You Englishwomen. You like always the little games. Perhaps for you the truth is too blunt. Russian woman, French woman, ahhhhh! She admits to the pleasures of the flesh. Admits and delights.”

  “That may well be,” returned Emily stiffly. “But I am neither French nor Russian, and I am not playing games with you. I mean exactly what I say.”

  Alexander ignored this and swept her into a series of dips and turns that left her breathless. “I look for you at Bond Street,” he said genially. “But you do not come.”

  “And I won’t.” She put this as strongly as she could, but again he refused to respond. Did he never hear anything that went against what he wished? Emily wondered.

  For some moments he was silent, concentrating on the waltz. Then he again led her through intricate and involved steps that left her panting for breath and slightly dizzy.

  After one of these particularly intricate circles, he suddenly waltzed her through an open French door and out into the garden.

  Emily’s head was spinning from the dance and she did not realize what had happened until the texture of the floor changed beneath her feet to that of grass. “Your majesty!” she began, but Alexander had already pulled her behind a convenient tree and into his arms.

  Emily considered screaming, but it would be quite ridiculous to bring Lady Cholmondoley’s guests into the scene, and Dunstan would be furious. No, she must get out of this herself.

  “Please, let me go! I should not be here.”

  Alexander chuckled. “Ah, little one. Your protests do not fool me. I have read your desire in your eyes.”

  Emily swallowed a half-hysterical giggle. What fools men could be! Alexander was obviously so enamored of himself that he could not conceive of a woman who might really refuse him.

  She wondered if she should struggle, but at the moment that would only make him hold her tighter. Perhaps if she bided her time, even appeared to acquiesce, he might loosen his grip and she could slip away from him.

  “Please, your majesty, do not hold me quite so closely. I find I feel rather faint.”

  Alexander was all solicitude. “My little one. The excitement, it is too much for you. Gently, we will go gently.”

  Emily, murmuring something indistinguishable, was struck again by the man’s colossal conceit. He obviously believed that he had a tremendous effect on her. Well, she thought grimly, let him continue to think so until she had a chance to get away.

  The strains of the music floated out to them and the night air was warm. If only, thought Emily, if only it were Dunstan whose arms encircled her so closely.

  Then Alexander moved one of his arms and his hand sought her chin. “We will have a little kiss now,” he whispered. “A foretaste of the pleasures to come.”

  As his lips came closer to hers, she shifted her balance in order to stamp on his foot. Then from behind Alexander’s head a deep voice said calmly. “Ah, Emily. Here you are. Come, my dear, it is time to leave.”

  Alexander’s arms fell away from her and for a moment Emily was stunned. How had Dunstan found them there? But there was no time for speculation. Dunstan stood waiting. His face was calm but a patch of light from the ballroom revealed the telltale twitching of the muscle in his jaw.

  “Of course, milord. I am ready.” She tried to make her tone as even as his own, for it had suddenly occurred to her that the viscount’s position was very difficult. He could not call out the Emperor of Russia, but he was responsible for the honor of his ward.

  She cursed the foolishness that had made her consent to that dance with Alexander. “You have met the emperor, Dunstan?” she asked, carrying on the charade of polite innocence.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Good evening, your majesty.”

  He offered her his arm and led Emily back into the ballroom. Not a word was spoken as he led her across the floor to where Sarah and Bersford sat fondly chatting. “Emily has a headache,” he announced in a tone that utterly defied contradiction. “We must leave immediately.” He turned to Bersford. “Perhaps you would care to accompany us.”

  “I would indeed,” replied that gentleman with a look at Sarah.

  Emily saw from Sarah’s look that her companion was aware that something was wrong, but there was no opportunity to talk privately.

  The ride home seemed pleasant enough on the surface. Bersford, Sarah, and the viscount discussed the events of the evening—all except the important one of Emily’s being found in the garden with Alexander—and Emily made a comment here and there. But she was not deceived by this simulated pleasantness. Dunstan was extremely angry and she was well aware of it. She was reprieved only until they reached the house on St. James’s Square. Then the fur would fly. Of this she was quite certain.

  They left Bersford in the carriage, which would carry him to his own rooms and at the foot of the stairs Dunstan bade Sarah good night. “Emily and I have a matter to discuss,” he said. “She will be up later.”

  “Yes, milord.” Sarah’s creased forehead indicated her worry, but there was little Emily could do to reassure her. In fact, she was feeling rather fearful herself. In the full force of his wrath Dunstan was quite overpowering.

  Emily followed the viscount obediently into the library and stopped. She felt somehow that she had better keep to her feet. He was not quite so intimidating that way.

  He shut the door with a thud and turned to face her. For long moments his eyes raked her over. Emily’s heart rose up in her throat as she tried to persuade herself that she was not frightened.

  “So,” he said finally. “So, you disregard all my pleas to your common sense and go sneaking about in the garden with Alexander.”

  “I was not sneaking.” She was dismayed to find that her voice wanted to crack. “I didn’t even know we were going there until we were already there.”

  Plainly he did not believe her. His dark brows drew together into a terrible frown. “Do not play the innocent with me!” he thundered. “I warned you about Alexander. You had more than ample warning as to the nature of the man. Yet you waltzed with him and allowed yourself to be alone with him.”

  Emily struggled with her anger. Why must he always believe the worst where she was concerned? “I did not allow myself to be alone with him. He waltzed me into the garden unawares.” She swallowed hastily and wished she had seated herself. Her knees were trembling violently, but she would not back down from him now.

  Dunstan sighed. “I knew this was going to be a difficult job, but I never expected it to be this bad. You must be the wildest and most unpredictable girl in all London. Such wanton behavior makes my task of finding you a husband particularly arduous.”

  Emily drew herself up. Her anger at his unfairness was giving her new strength. “I am not a girl and I am not wild. As far as wanton goes”—her voice rose shrilly—”what about that brazen creature that was hanging on your arm?”

  Dunstan’s face darkened. “That is a matter altogether outside your concern. We will not discuss it.”

  Tears of rage rose to Emily’s eyes. “This is grossly unfair. You are at liberty to badger and harass me all you please about the littlest and most inconsequential things. But I am to say nothing at all to you.”

  Dunstan glared at her. “You misstate the case. First, my behavior with Miss Castlemain or any other woman is no concern of yours. I am the guardian, not the other way around. Second, a man
may do many things with impunity that a woman may not. For example, after tonight’s escapade, Alexander will be as eagerly sought after as ever. His reputation will not have suffered at all. While yours—” His frown deepened further. “Very few people will be left who do not believe that Alexander has had his way with you.”

  “How absolutely ludicrous!” cried Emily. “Has the ton nothing better to do than to speculate on the private lives of others?”

  “Probably not,” he answered. “The fact remains that you have compromised your good name and I must still find you a husband. It will now be even more difficult than ever to find you a decent one.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want a husband,” cried Emily. “Men are all stupid. They don’t believe the truth when it is told them. They always insist on having everything their own way. And they are terribly, terribly unfair!”

  “You must have a husband,” replied the viscount sternly. “You must have someone to take care of you, to protect you from men like Alexander.”

  Emily sniffed. “I would have handled Alexander. I would have gotten away from him by myself.”

  Dunstan’s frown deepened. “Now you are being ridiculous. You could not have escaped the emperor’s grasp.”

  “Oh? See? You are always so sure of yourself. I could have gotten away—quite easily in fact. And then that stupid man might have been finally convinced that I am not what he believes me to be.” She glared at Dunstan.

  “So, you can take care of yourself?” He eyed her speculatively.

  Emily nodded. “Of course I can.”

  “Come here,” he said suddenly.

  Emily looked at him in puzzlement

  “Come here,” he repeated.

  There was something strange about his tone, something compelling. She hesitated and then moved toward him.

  “So you can take care of yourself,” he repeated.

  “Yes, I can.” Emily was uncomfortable being so close to him and moved to back away, but he reached out quickly and grabbed her arms.

  “Suppose we are at another ball where Alexander is. We most probably shall be, since we cannot turn down all social invitations while the man is in town. Suppose he tries to kiss you as he did tonight.”

  “Suppose he does,” repeated Emily. “I shall stop him.”

  “Indeed!” Dunstan’s eyes sparkled dangerously. Before she quite knew what was happening, he had swept her into his arms. “And how would you release yourself from this?” he asked, with the lazy smile of the rake.

  Emily began to struggle, but soon found it useless. “I should scream,” she replied, conscious that his closeness had caused the usual shortening of her breath and that she wanted to burrow into his chest.

  “Oh, that would be fine. What a merry scandal that would cause and the emperor insulted on top of it. Now tell me. Miss Penthorne, what should you do if I offered to kiss you?”

  Emily, her heart pounding in her throat, could not reply. She did attempt to keep him from reaching her lips, but he clasped her to him with one hand and used the other to turn her chin toward him. The thought moved fleetingly through her mind that she should stamp on his foot as she had intended to stamp on Alexander’s, but then his lips covered hers.

  It was the first kiss Emily had ever known, and it sent her senses trembling off into ecstasy. The kiss was brutal and savage; evidently Dunstan meant it as a learning experience for her. But she did not care. It was only with the greatest difficulty that she kept herself from returning it wholeheartedly. As it was, as his mouth continued to linger on hers, as the kiss turned more tender and persuasive, she felt her legs begin to go weak and her mouth soften under his.

  Then, quite abruptly, he put her from him. If possible, his frown was even more ferocious. “You do not seem to have been very effective in freeing yourself from my attentions,” he said dryly. “May I suggest that most men would be at least equally experienced? I believe that I will suspend your privileges to the carriage for a few days. I do not want you about on the streets while Alexander is still in the city.”

  Emily, her heart still pounding in her throat, felt anger rising in her. How terribly unfair he was. “I did not invite the attentions of the emperor,” she cried angrily. “Nor would I ever be senseless enough to have a rendezvous with him or any other man. And, as to your lesson in kissing, perhaps you are right. I am not very effective at escaping a kiss that is forced upon me. But then, a kiss is a very little thing after all, is it not?”

  She was herself appalled as the words left her mouth and she did not even know why she had said them, unless it was some urge to hit back at him. Certainly they had angered him even further. For a moment it looked as though he meant to commit violence on her person.

  “A kiss may seem a very little thing to you,” he said angrily, “but I assure you that to most men it is not. If you allow a man to kiss you, he will soon expect other liberties—unlawful ones.”

  Emily felt her cheeks flame. “You are being unfair again,” she cried. “Alexander did not kiss me. No man has kissed me but you!” The pulses pounded in her throat as she stared at him. “Am I now to expect further unlawful liberties from you?” she taunted him. “Or has this lesson in manners ended?”

  Dunstan took a step toward her and she feared that he would shake her as he had that time before, but she staunchly held her ground. “The lesson is ended,” he said curtly. “I can only hope you have the good sense to profit from it!” Still glaring, he marched from the room.

  Emily sank into a nearby chair, her legs no longer capable of holding her, and dropped her head into her hands. Things between them were growing worse and worse. He had all but accused her of being wanton! And yet she had done nothing—nothing at all to earn that appellation. The tears came then; there was no keeping them back. Her case seemed more and more hopeless with every passing day. Though her love for him grew stronger and stronger, she seemed never able to convince him to see her as a woman grown and worthy of his regard. Then, her lips still bruised from his kiss, she rose and hurried up the stairs to the privacy of her room. It was time for a good cry and there was no point in doing it in public.

  CHAPTER 13

  In the days that followed Emily grew no more hopeful. Several men came to call. She received them, endured their visits with as much grace as possible, and told Dunstan that they were unsuitable as husbands. Surprisingly he did not seem to take this badly. Once, in fact, she thought she caught a look of relief on his face.

  Emily did her best to cause no more trouble with the viscount. When Gilcrest came repeatedly to call, he was just as repeatedly informed that Miss Penthorne was out. And when after Alexander left the city Dunstan said politely, “You may request the carriage at your convenience,” she replied just as politely, “Thank you.” But she did not often avail herself of that privilege. She had an abundance of new clothes and there seemed little to shop for. She could not even get caught up in the general enthusiasm over the coming Victory Celebration decreed by the Prince Regent to take place on August first.

  She was also experiencing a new sense of loneliness. Viscount Bersford came often to call on Sarah, and Emily gave her companion more and more time to be alone with her beloved. She herself did not like to spend too much time with them. She thought perhaps it was because, in spite of the difficulties in the way of their match, they seemed sublimely happy. Though certainly Emily wished Sarah every happiness possible, it could not be denied that the sight of their joy made her own misery still more acute.

  Emily spent a great deal of time by herself, wandering from room to room in the house, wondering how her life would turn out. She knew she would soon have to look for a new companion, a task she did not relish at all. But she could not begin the search until Sarah got the good news of her so-called inheritance.

  Finally the day Emily had waited for with anticipation—and dread—arrived. A letter came for Sarah, a franked letter, but written in a strange hand. “Look, Emily,” said her friend. “I wonder wha
t that could be.

  Emily looked at it carefully. “I don’t know, Sarah. Why don’t you open it and see?”

  Sarah nodded. “Of course. It just seems strange. I mean, I have no one to write to me. This is not Bersford’s hand.”

  She tore open the letter and began to read. Halfway through she suddenly sat down and murmured, “Dear God!”

  Emily’s pretended innocence of the letter’s contents vanished and she began to feel real concern. Perhaps this wasn’t the letter she had expected.

  Sarah finished reading and sat as one dazed. Finally Emily could wait no longer. “Sarah, whatever is it? You look so pale.”

  “It’s—it’s a letter from a solicitor—a Mr. Patterson. He says . . .” She shook her head as though still not believing it. “He says that I have been left an inheritance—a thousand pounds.”

  “Oh, Sarah!” Emily’s relief was genuine. “You had me so frightened. I thought something terrible had happened.”

  “No, no. It’s just—I can’t believe it.”

  Emily ran to her friend. “Oh, Sarah, do you know what this means?”

  Sarah stared at her from dazed eyes. “What, Emily? I still cannot believe it. A cousin I never heard of. It seems unreal.”

  “Oh, Sarah!” Emily pulled her friend to her feet and gave her a hug. “Think! Think what it means! It means that you and Bersford needn’t wait. You can call the banns immediately.”

  Sarah’s face broke into a slow smile. Then she clapped her hands. “Of course! Oh, Emily, I didn’t even think of that. I must send for Bersford.” She clasped her friend to her. “Oh, Emily, this is wonderful news.” There was a long pause. “But,” said Sarah in the softest voice, “Bersford and I cannot marry. I cannot leave you.”

  Emily forced herself to smile. “Nonsense, Sarah. You will marry as soon as Bersford gets the banns called. I shall miss you, of course.” She swallowed over the sudden lump in her throat. “But I am so pleased that you will be happy.”