by Regina Scott
“So long as you aren’t as bold as Lord Robert,” Daphne said, giving her sister’s arm a squeeze, “and announce your engagement without having seen the fellow!”
“Now that’s entirely too bold,” Priscilla agreed. “And this is lovely.” She pulled the gown from the trunk and laid it across her lap. The white gauze was threaded with gold, and tiny pearls dotted the bodice like new-fallen snow.
Emily took a step back, fingers going to her locket, as Priscilla rose and held the gown up.
“It looks as if it would fit you, and there’s enough fabric that we could raise the line to be more in fashion.” Priscilla frowned as if she’d noticed Emily’s lack of enthusiasm. “Do not tell me you refuse light colors! This is gorgeous!”
Emily shook her head, throat tight. “It’s my mother’s. She wore it to Helena’s come-out ball. I remember watching the fitting. Mother had two maids to help her because she was already coughing too much.”
Priscilla reddened, then turned and laid the gown back in the trunk. “Well, then, we’ll have none of that. You have entirely too much to be concerned about already.”
Daphne put a hand on Emily’s arm. “I know your mother would have wanted to see you at your come-out too.”
Ariadne nodded, face pinched. Emily’s entire body felt just as tight. She shook her head. “There’s no point in wishing for the moon. His Grace obviously hoped I’d be presented as Lord Robert’s wife, but I considered the ball my entrance into Society.”
“So do I,” Ariadne said. “At the dinner party Mother is hosting, I’ll be nothing more than a pale copy of Daphne, like always.”
“Only you see it that way,” Daphne protested. “As if anyone would want to be a copy of me. I only hope Lord Snedley accepts his invitation to the ball that Priscilla sent to his publisher. I want to thank him for helping me become the lady I wish to be.”
Ariadne bit her lip and looked away.
“That’s why we must handle this mess with Lord Robert,” Emily told them. “We all have reasons we need this ball to be a success. My entire future hinges on it, and we are no closer to solving that problem today than we were yesterday.”
“Since he is so bold,” Priscilla said, closing the trunk with a thud and rising, “then we must be bolder.”
Ariadne’s head jerked back around. “Oh, Priscilla, you do not know how right you are! Did we not just say that only someone that bold could have taken Acantha’s pearls?”
Priscilla and Daphne stared at her. Emily did not trust the idea that was forming.
“Think on it,” Ariadne pressed. “And did we not just see him where pearls might be sold?”
Priscilla rolled her eyes. “You are resorting to fancy again. He could have been selling some trinket he dislikes.”
“No, she’s right,” Emily said, assurance growing. “Acantha was all set to steal him away from me, remember? He could have noticed those pearls; she was forever fingering them. He could have used his charm to get close to her, see where she stored them. And, in all the bustle of packing and graduation, how simple to slip away with them.”
“He certainly reached London fast enough,” Daphne mused.
“Quite as if he were running away,” Ariadne agreed.
Priscilla put her hands on her hips. “And what about Mr. Cropper? He was at Barnsley too. Emily ran into him when we were trying to escape.”
Emily felt her face heat as she remembered.
Daphne cocked her head. “Why was he at Barnsley? I’ve never seen him visit any of the girls, and he wasn’t in the Grand Salon with the other guests.”
“He cannot live in Somerset,” Ariadne said with a frown. “Everyone we met along the way back to Bond Street seemed to know him. Surely London is his home.”
“Precisely,” Emily said, not certain why she felt so relieved. “So why go all the way to Somerset to steal pearls he could not have known existed?”
“Lord Robert could hardly have known Acantha’s pearls existed either,” Priscilla protested.
“But Lord Robert might have seen the opportunity and taken it,” Emily replied. “And he had more need, what with his father gambling away the family fortune.”
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Ariadne said, blue eyes as bright as sapphires. When Daphne and Priscilla frowned, and Emily sucked in a breath, she leaned closer. “It means we have something against Lord Robert. Now all Emily must do is make him confess, and we’ll have saved the ball!”
11
Stunned as a Statue
Emily tossed and turned all night. Could Lord Robert have really stolen Acantha Dalrymple’s pearls or was she merely seeing treachery where she longed to find it? What if Priscilla was right and Mr. Cropper was the thief ?
No, she could not make herself believe that. But neither did she believe she could make Lord Robert confess. She was ever too good at speaking her mind. Yet she knew she couldn’t blurt out her suspicions. He’d either laugh them off or make up a clever story. Either way, she’d have lost her chance to gain any proof against him. Why couldn’t she have more of Priscilla’s finesse?
Emily thought and planned through the morning and was ready when Lord Robert arrived that afternoon. Mary had managed to tame Emily’s curls inside a gray straw bonnet trimmed in rose velvet. Emily had dressed in her favorite gown, a gray-striped taffeta walking dress with a matching jacket. She liked the way it rustled as she moved, and she needed all the encouragement she could get, particularly as Lord Robert looked rather impressive in a blue coat of superfine wool and cream-colored trousers tucked in gleaming boots.
“Lady Emily,” he said, bowing over her hand in the marble-tiled entry hall. “You look radiant, as always.”
If he thought so, then she’d made the right choice in her attire. She smiled at him in what she hoped was an encouraging fashion. “It was very thoughtful of you to agree to escort me,” she said as the footman held the red-lacquered door open for them and the cool air teased her cheek.
“Not at all,” Lord Robert assured her, tucking her hand in his elbow and leading her down the stone stairs. “I realized that you might find my suit a bit sudden. I merely wanted to assure you that I will be a considerate husband.”
Husband ? Emily nearly choked just hearing the word. As they set off in the simple little carriage, Lord Robert at the reins and his groom behind, Emily knew she had to find her voice and a way to move the conversation toward pearls.
“The carriage certainly rolls along well,” she tried as they passed the fine town houses of Mayfair. “Was it a recent purchase?”
Lord Robert was tipping his top hat to a group of ladies. He set it down rather quickly at Emily’s question, his smile fading. “Yes, just this spring. I thought it more fitting than the fancier rig I drove before Father died.”
The mention of his poor father was supposed to discourage her from asking any other questions, she supposed. That’s what Lord Robert thought. “But you didn’t use it at Barnsley, I gather,” she said.
“Oh, no indeed. This sort of carriage is not designed for long journeys.” He launched into such a detailed discussion of the merits of different types of coaches and the fine horses that pulled them, that Emily felt her eyes crossing. It wasn’t until he exclaimed what a jewel the tilbury was that she found another opening.
“Speaking of jewels,” she said, “I understand you’re rather fond of pearls.”
His brows went up so high, they disappeared under the curled brim of his top hat. “Pearls, Lady Emily?” For a moment, she thought she’d caught him. Then his mouth tilted up at one corner. “Is this your way of hinting at a betrothal present?”
Oh, but he was slippery, and oh, she wished her cheeks would cease heating! “Not in the slightest,” she assured him, deciding to be bold. “I’ve heard entirely enough of pearls from a young lady at our school. Perhaps you know her, Acantha Dalrymple?”
His smile remained on his face, but as he gazed out over the horses she thought his hand
tightened on the reins. “Yes, I believe we met at Barnsley. Charming young lady.”
This time Emily did choke.
“Are you all right?” he asked, voice warm with concern.
When she waved him off, he reached out to pat her hand with his free one, his gloved fingers dwarfing hers. “Now, now, have no concern. She cannot replace you in my affections.”
The fact that he thought Emily had affection for him and would actually see Acantha as a rival left her utterly speechless. She could only hope to do better when they arrived at Burlington House on Picadilly, where the Marbles were stored. She was trying to decide if she should simply ask Lord Robert outright, when he escorted her through the public gates and into the yard.
And then she could say nothing for quite some time.
She’d read how the sculptures had arrived in England, what with Lord Elgin making off with them from their home in Greece, claiming a desire to protect them. The panels of creamy marble had once ranged along the walls of the Parthenon in far-off Athens, celebrating victories and festivals. Other statues and friezes had been brought to England to join them, so that everywhere she looked were horses and charioteers, gods and goddesses.
She could not see, however, how Lord Elgin had helped the marble sculptures. Instead of decorating the greening garden around her, the fine pieces were clustered around the coal shed in the rear yard of the palatial home as the current owner worked on remodeling. Even England’s damp weather had taken its toll. Moss grew on fair skin. Soot darkened proud manes.
Yet still the lines were sleek, supple, stirring. The cool stone whispered of heroic battles, of pride and strength and courage. Standing beside them, Emily felt small. Her fingers strayed to her locket and gripped it tight. Surely she had it inside her to create something this profound, this moving.
She was so deep in thought that it was not until she and Lord Robert were on their way back to his carriage that she remembered she’d had another reason for this trip. She’d tried to be clever, she’d tried to be subtle, she’d tried to be bold. Perhaps she should just be herself.
“Why did you steal Acantha Dalrymple’s pearls?” she asked.
Lord Robert pulled up short. “I beg your pardon?”
“Acantha Dalrymple,” Emily pressed, refusing to be daunted, “the young lady you met at Barnsley. You stole her pearls.”
His arm tensed under her hand. “Where on earth did you get that idea?”
With him regarding her so fixedly, she began to think she’d dreamed it. “You were at Barnsley,” she insisted, “and we saw you yesterday enter the shop of a jeweler who’s been known to accept consignment.”
He frowned. “What were you doing in that part of London?” She was not about to tell him. “It does not signify. What were you doing there if not selling the pearls?”
“Mother had some baubles she hoped to sell. The least I could do was spare her the trouble.”
Plausible, but Emily felt as if some shape were missing from the picture he was painting, some color that would illuminate all if only she could discover it. “Then you have no financial troubles.”
He snorted. “Hardly. But by all means, ask your father if you doubt me. His agents have been going over the marriage settlements. They know to the last penny what I bring to the marriage.” He leaned closer, the scent of cloves wafting over her. “And I find it deeply troubling that you’d consider me such a cad, Lady Emily.”
Oh, why did he always succeed in making her the villain? “But I hear you are a cad,” she replied doggedly. “Will you also deny that you dallied with a merchant’s daughter?”
She thought for a moment he would deny it. She could almost see the thoughts churning behind those deep blue eyes. “I suppose it was too much to ask that the gossip not reach your tender ears,” he said sadly. “I thought myself foolishly in love.” He brought her hand to his lips. “That was, of course, before I ever met you again.”
He knew more good lines than Ariadne!
This was no good. “You cannot be in love with me,” she informed him. “You told my father we would wed before you’d so much as set eyes on me.”
He pressed her hand. “And cannot duty lead to something more? At the very least a true friendship.”
Friendship? Emily knew in her heart he was lying. There had to be some way she could catch him. Goodness, even Mr. Cropper thought him a criminal!
Her eyes narrowed. “Speaking of friendship, I met an acquaintance of yours the other day.”
“Oh?” Lord Robert replied, releasing her hand.
Was that a hint of concern she heard in his voice? “Mr. James Cropper.”
He froze. “Cropper? Cropper approached you?”
Not exactly, but Emily didn’t care to explain how they’d met. “He came to see Father about some business.”
“He spoke to your father?” She thought he was afraid, he turned so pale. What had she stumbled onto?
“No,” she allowed, careful to keep the eagerness from her voice, “but that doesn’t mean he won’t the next time he calls.”
A muscle was twitching in his jaw. “Is he the one who told you about the merchant’s daughter? About the pearls?”
Emily frowned. “No. I merely heard gossip. Why does it matter who told me?”
He waved his free hand, face relaxing. “It doesn’t, I suppose. I merely dislike seeing my good name blackened. Mr. Cropper is no gentleman, Emily, for all he likes to pretend otherwise. Do not trust him.”
“I would be only too happy to comply, my lord,” she said, watching him, “if you’d give me good reason.”
His lips tightened, as if he refused to give her anything. “My request should be reason enough. I forbid you to have anything further to do with the fellow.”
Lord Robert truly knew nothing about her if he thought that would work. “We must talk about this habit you have of forbidding me. It will not serve you well if we marry.”
“If we marry?” He raised a brow. “Has nothing I’ve done convinced you that I am besotted?”
“If you are so pleased to be marrying me,” she challenged, “so willing to please me in return, then why forbid me to attend the ball?”
He smiled, as if she’d given him a reprieve. “Is that what this is all about? I thought we’d settled that.”
“We have.” Despite herself, her chin was rising and with it her temper. “I will attend the ball.”
He stiffened, and color flushed up his face. It seemed Lord Robert had a temper as well. The realization must have shown on her face, for he hastily put on a smile as he led her toward the waiting carriage. “Well, then, I’ll simply have to offer you something better, won’t I?”
Emily cocked her head. “What could possibly be better than the magnificent ball we have planned?”
Lord Robert smiled at her. It was more genuine than the last, but it lacked his usual charm. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Wait? Oh, she would wait all right. Just long enough to beat him at his own game.
12
Forbidden Flirtations
As if Lord Robert’s cryptic remark was not enough to keep Emily’s mind busy, she returned home to find she had a caller.
“Mr. Cropper insisted on waiting for you,” Warburton said. “I’ve sent for Mary.”
Of course Emily could not receive him alone. She gave Warburton her jacket, then waited to follow him and Mary into the sitting room.
James stood as she entered, and she could not help noticing the contrast between him and Lord Robert. Lord Robert had been completely confident in himself and all he planned, his prestige as obvious as if the prince had knighted him in Westminister Abbey in front of London’s finest. James was quieter, his brown coat and trousers less showy, yet the ornate red-and-gold sitting room felt smaller with him in it.
And she would never forget that smile. It seemed to promise her something quite grand if she’d just forget herself and . . . do what?
He bowed from wh
ere he stood before the dark marble fireplace. “Lady Emily, thank you for receiving me.”
“Mr. Cropper,” she said, inclining her head as she walked toward him. “I take it you are not here for His Grace this time.”
“No, indeed. When I heard you were engaged to Lord Robert, I knew I’d lost that battle.”
“You came to see His Grace about Lord Robert?” Emily took a step closer. “Why?”
“That’s not really a subject for a fine lady like you.”
Emily put her hands on her hips. “If you tell me that it is a matter between gentlemen, I will likely scream.”
“Can’t have that now, can we?” he said, rubbing a finger against his chin. “Perhaps I should get to the point. I’ve been thinking a great deal about you since our last visit.”
He had? Oh, drat! There went her cheeks again!
As if suddenly realizing how she might take his words, he hurriedly added, “You do have a tendency to get into trouble.”
Oh but he could be the most vexing man! Did he think her an infant that he must watch over her this way? His Grace certainly trusted her more than that! “I assure you,” Emily replied with a toss of her curls that would have made Priscilla proud, “I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, aye. You and your three friends were doing quite well when we met on Bond Street yesterday.”
He would bring that up. “I already thanked you for that service, sir.”
“Indeed you did, though rather grudgingly, I thought.” He glanced at Mary, who was sitting on one of the plump red chairs in the corner sewing, trying to pretend she wasn’t listening to every word, and Warburton standing against the red-and-gold wall as straight as a statue. As if deciding neither servant posed a problem, Mr. Cropper took a step closer to Emily. The scent of sandalwood drifted up, whispering of warm summer nights in exotic places. Emily blinked, trying to reconcile the cologne with the man who wore it.
