Peter laughed. ‘Linette did not set her cap at an earl’s son. The earl’s son fell in love with her.’
‘Foolish young man,’ Alex murmured. ‘You know there will be those in attendance next weekend who will take you to task over it.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Peter sighed, his easy smile fading. ‘And Father’s not coming, is he? Even if he’s well enough.’
It wasn’t really a question and they both knew it. ‘I think it would be best if you didn’t get your hopes up,’ Alex agreed.
‘It isn’t fair,’ Peter said quietly. ‘His absence will send a message.’
Yes, it would. Soon, everyone in London would know that the Earl of Widdicombe did not approve of his son’s marriage to Linette Darling and, sadly, she would be treated accordingly. Not by the people of Little Moreton with whom she had grown up, but by those in society who knew of the earl’s antipathy towards her and who would naturally take his side. They would eat shy little Linette for breakfast and spit out her bones.
‘Peter, have you given any thought to what it’s going to be like for Linette if you do get married without Father’s approval?’ Alex asked, feeling sorry for the girl in spite of himself. ‘If he doesn’t acknowledge her, society never will, and doors that have always been open to you will suddenly be closed in your face. Linette will not be welcomed by those it is necessary she be welcomed by and you will be forced to live on the fringes of society.’
‘I don’t care. I’ll never set foot in London again if that’s the way we’re treated. We can live here, where Linette is loved and admired for the woman she is. I don’t need society’s approval.’
‘And what of your children? Would you have them shunned because of their mother?’
Peter blanched. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘Life isn’t fair, but we have to deal with it on its own terms,’ Alex said. ‘I’m not saying Father will do any of this, but the possibility exists. Think carefully about this, Peter. Because it’s not only your life that is going to be affected by your decision.’
* * *
Emma did not dance with Alex again, though she was painfully aware of his presence in the room. She felt his eyes on her several times throughout the evening, watching with whom she danced and with whom she spoke. Once or twice, she even looked up in time to catch his thoughtful gaze resting upon her, but he was always the first to turn away and eventually she stopped looking. But her nerves were on edge regardless.
There was also no question that Alex’s presence at the assembly was a tremendous coup for the host and hostess. Mrs Jacobs had been delighted at the prospect of having the youngest son of the Earl of Widdicombe in attendance, but to also have the eldest son there was an unexpected boon. The fact he was charming and handsome and single only added to his cachet.
The young ladies, of course, flocked to him like bees to honey. Since no one knew of his plans with regard to Lady Glynnis Pettle, he was seen as an eligible bachelor and both the young ladies and their mothers were anxious that good impressions be made. After all, Mrs Jacobs whispered to Emma later that night, if dear Linette could capture the heart of one of the earl’s sons, why should Mrs White’s daughter or Mrs Feeny’s niece not secure the other?
* * *
By midnight, Emma was more than ready to leave. Her head was pounding and there was a queer, unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. Needing a moment’s quiet, she slipped out on to the terrace, welcoming the freshness of the cool evening air against her cheeks. Perhaps she shouldn’t have eaten the lobster…
‘Emma, are you all right?’
She turned, and her heart plummeted. Dash it all! Why did the man have to keep on finding her? ‘I’m all right.’
‘Are you sure?’ Alex said. ‘You’re as white as a sheet.’
‘Perhaps I’m just a little tired.’ Despite her best intentions, his concern touched her and she mustered a shaky smile. ‘I must be out of practice. I haven’t danced this much in years.’
‘Yes, I noticed the vicar claimed two dances,’ Alex muttered.
‘Then you probably noticed he also claimed two dances with all of the other ladies present,’ Emma told him. ‘And his attentions were very well received. I thought Miss Brown seemed particularly taken with him.’
‘And here I thought clergymen didn’t dance,’ Alex mumbled.
Emma laughed and leaned in closer. ‘It would appear this one does.’
It was a mistake. When Alex abruptly turned, Emma found herself only inches away from his face. And when he glanced down at her lips, her heart gave a most unsettling lurch. ‘Oh!’
‘You’re not well.’ He grasped her arm, his long fingers curving gently around her elbow. ‘Let me get you a chair.’
‘No, I’m all right. Really,’ she assured him, aware that her skin was burning where he touched her. ‘I just need to go home.’
‘Are you sure?’
She closed her eyes, nodding. ‘My head is hurting. Perhaps a leftover from the bump I received.’
His eyes darkened with concern. ‘Is the rest of your family ready to leave?’
‘I don’t think so. Papa and Aunt Dorothy are playing cards and I hate to take Linette away when she is having such a good time.’
‘Then I shall send you home in my own carriage.’
‘Oh, no, I couldn’t—’
‘Yes, you could. I shall go and let your father know you are leaving.’
Wearily, she nodded. ‘Thank you.’
A few minutes later, Emma found herself standing outside the Jacobs’s front door. She could see the line of carriages winding out into the driveway, but even at this distance, Alex’s was easy to pick out. Not only because it was the only one drawn by four perfectly matched blacks, but because it was the only one bearing a coat of arms. A coat of arms that signified how truly different they were—and how ridiculous were the direction of Emma’s daydreams.
‘Thank you, Hobbs,’ Alex said when the coachman finally brought the elegant equipage to the door. He carefully helped Emma inside, then surprised her by climbing in after her.
‘My lord, this really isn’t necessary—’
‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that when we’re alone,’ he said. ‘And you can let me be the judge of what is and isn’t necessary.’ He settled the fur rug over her lap. ‘I’m sorry the bricks aren’t warm. Your feet must be cold, standing on the front step all that time.’
And before Emma could object, Alex had slipped off her left slipper and was cradling her foot in his hands.
Shock waves ran up her leg. Dear Lord, was the man part-god of fire? His hands were blissfully warm, his touch unbelievably gentle. She could feel the cold recede as welcome heat seeped back into her skin. He massaged her toes through her stockings, the gentle caress bringing them slowly back to life.
‘Does that feel better?’ he enquired.
Emma gazed at the dark head bent over her foot, about to tell him she had never felt anything better in her entire life when he suddenly reached for her other foot and slipped that shoe off as well. Oh, no, this was definitely not a good idea. While rubbing someone’s foot wasn’t exactly a prelude to making love, Emma was finding it incredibly intimate and it was made even more so by the privacy of the carriage.
She bit her lip as she listened to the sound of his breathing, aware that she was alone in the carriage, that both of her feet were bare, and that Alex was caressing them in a way that was making her head spin. If someone were to see them now…
‘Alex, I really think you should…stop,’ she whispered.
‘Yes, I know.’
But he didn’t stop. He went on touching her, his long fingers curving around the base of her ankles, caressing the sensitive spot just beneath the bone before running his thumbs along her insteps and then back.
Emma closed her eyes, lulled by the sensual massage. She heard the tempo of his breathing quicken as his fingers climbed higher, gently kneading the flesh of her calves. She wanted to groan
out loud at how blissful it felt, but she knew such a sound would send the wrong message entirely. Thank goodness the carriage was dark. His touch was making her warm all over, her body strangely heavy and lethargic. But she had neither the will nor the desire to stop him.
She gazed down at his head, fighting the urge to put her hands in his hair, to run her fingers through the ebony strands. She wanted to touch him. To hold him. To—
No, no, no! She was mad even to think it. He wasn’t hers. He never would be hers. And every step she took down that treacherous path only made the return journey that much more painful. ‘Stop it, Alex,’ she whispered harshly. ‘For pity’s sake, stop.’
It was the anguish in her voice that finally stilled his hands. She held her breath as he looked up, the space between them crackling with tension. She was sure he must be able to hear her heart. It was pounding so hard it deafened her to everything else.
Slowly, he drew back his hand and even more slowly he sat back, and slowly he backed out of the carriage. But he did not stop looking at her. Not as he folded in the stairs. Not as he closed the carriage door. Not as he stood and gazed in at her through the window. Only when he stepped away and the carriage moved off did she finally lose sight of his face, and only then did Emma close her eyes and lay her head back against the cushions.
In the space of five minutes, her entire life had changed. From this moment, there was no going back. But sadly, there was no going forwards either.
Chapter Seven
Emma heard the carriage with the rest of her family arrive home later that night, though she couldn’t have said at what time it did. She heard, shortly thereafter, a light knock at her door, followed by the flickering brightness of a candle as someone pushed the door open a crack. But she kept her eyes closed and said nothing, too afraid of the words that might have tumbled out had someone given her the chance.
She was falling in love with Alexander Taylor. Of all the idiotic, imbecilic things to do, that had to be at the top of the list. All of her life, Emma had prided herself on being the sensible sister. The one who scoffed at the idea of love at first sight and who said passion was the purview of poets and dreamers. Then Alex had come along and she’d discovered that she was no more impervious to Cupid’s arrows than anyone else.
But she had to be! She had to be strong for everyone else’s sake. Linette was marrying a man whose family didn’t want her. Ridley had feelings for a woman who could never be his. And somewhere along the way, she had been stupid enough to fall in love with a man who was promised to another. Surely one of them had to save themselves from the arrows of that scheming little monster!
* * *
Morning came, and with it the memory of everything that had happened the night before. Emma gazed at her reflection in the glass and saw all too clearly the ravages of a sleepless night. Faint purple shadows lingered in the hollows beneath her eyes and there was a noticeable pallor to her complexion.
She prayed her family would be too caught up in their discussions of the dance to notice that her appearance was considerably less than vibrant.
‘Ah, there you are, Emma,’ her father said as she walked into the breakfast parlour. ‘Feeling better this morning?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ She managed a faint smile and quickly went to the sideboard where breakfast had been laid out.
‘Dashed good of Lord Stewart to send you home in his carriage,’ Ridley said between mouthfuls of ham.
‘Yes, it was,’ Emma said, keeping her answers as noncommittal as possible.
‘Well, I think he’s quite the gentleman,’ Aunt Dorothy observed. ‘Welcoming Linette into the family the way he did. Taking care of Emma not once, but twice now. I can tell you he made a very big impression on everyone who was there last night. Mrs Jacobs was positively over the moon at having both the Earl of Widdicombe’s sons at her assembly. Definitely a feather in her cap!’
‘Poor Lord Stewart,’ Linette said. ‘He was positively besieged by the ladies. Mrs Connelly cornered him every time he was alone and Mrs Hewitt followed him around the entire night, trying to introduce him to any one of her three daughters.’
‘As if he’d be interested in any of them,’ Ridley said with a snort. ‘Not a pretty face amongst them.’
‘Now, Ridley,’ Aunt Dorothy chided. ‘A pretty face isn’t always a guarantee of a sweet disposition.’
‘Perhaps, but if she hasn’t a pretty face, why bother to look? I know I wouldn’t.’
‘No, because you put entirely too much stock in a lady’s appearance,’ Mr Darling criticised. ‘And given your chosen field, you’ll be lucky to have any woman look at you, let alone one worthy of attracting.’ He went back to his paper. ‘You should have stuck to the law.’
‘Jupiter, Father, are you never going to let that go?’ Ridley asked. ‘At least I can paint pictures of my future wife. What can a barrister do but bore her to death with legal pleadings?’
Emma was thankful the conversation did not require her to take part. She sat down at the table next to her sister and applied herself to her eggs.
‘Did you have a good time before you went home?’ Linette leaned over to whisper.
‘Yes, of course,’ Emma said. ‘But you were the belle of the ball!’
Her sister blushed. ‘I wasn’t that at all. Cynthia Brown was. Everyone was talking about how lovely her gown was and how very pretty she looked. Even Mr Tufton seemed to notice. But I did have a nice time and I’m so sorry you weren’t feeling well. Was it the bump on your head?’
That, and Alex tenderly massaging her feet in the darkness. Oh Lord, there went her stomach again. ‘I think it must have been.’
‘Lord Stewart seemed very concerned about you,’ Linette said, reaching for the salt cellar. ‘He said you were in a bad way and that sending you home was the kindest thing he could have done.’
Emma tried very hard not to remember the other kindness he had shown her. Some things just didn’t bear thinking about. ‘It was good of him and I was very grateful for his assistance, but I’m all right now and I think we need say no more about it.’
‘He really is a very nice man though, Emma. He spoke to me last night, you know.’
‘He did?’
‘Yes. After you left and when Peter was dancing with Loretta Jacobs. He came over to me and asked me about myself and what it was like living at Dove’s Hollow. I told him I couldn’t have imagined a nicer place to grow up and when he asked me about London, I said I really had no desire to go there at all. He said he could understand that, and then I told him about Ridley, and we actually laughed about it together. He didn’t seem in the least intimidating. In fact—’
‘Linette, please!’ Emma said in desperation. ‘I really have heard quite enough about Lord Stewart for one day, thank you.’
Unfortunately, her comment fell into a lull in the conversation.
‘What’s this?’ her father asked as all eyes turned in her direction. ‘Have you taken Lord Stewart in dislike, Emma?’
‘That doesn’t seem very charitable after he was good enough to send you home in his carriage,’ Aunt Dorothy added.
‘I have not taken Lord Stewart in dislike!’
‘Then why don’t you want to talk about him any more?’
‘Very well. Talk about him all you like. I really don’t care.’
A strained silence followed her words. Her father looked at Aunt Dorothy, Ridley and Linette exchanged a glance, and then everyone returned their attention to their plates.
Not surprisingly, Emma felt the onset of another headache.
* * *
The eleven o’clock service on Sunday morning was very well attended. Not only because it was a lovely morning or because Mr Tufton was presiding, but because it was a wonderful opportunity for people to gather and discuss what had taken place at Mrs Jacobs’s assembly.
It was generally agreed that the assembly had been one of the most successful ever held, mainly because no one could remember an ev
ent where not one, but two members of a peer’s family had been present. It was also agreed that Lord Stewart’s presence at the event made it that much more memorable, especially to the young ladies who’d had the good fortune to speak with him, or to those who had been even more fortunate in being asked to dance with him. And though it did not go without notice that Lord Stewart had waltzed with Miss Emma Darling, or that he had demonstrated a marked partiality for her company, it was also agreed that because the gentleman’s brother was engaged to Emma’s sister, the family connection warranted a closer association than might otherwise have been allowed.
Emma, who refused to offer any comment with regard to the gentleman’s attentions towards her, her sentiments about him, or what he was like to waltz with, sat quietly in the pew, leafing through the pages of her hymn book as she waited for the service to begin. A few minutes before it did, however, the church doors opened and Lady Widdicombe, Lord Stewart and Mr Taylor walked in.
Emma heard the muffled gasps, predominantly female, and saw heads turn to watch the late arrivals make their way up the aisle. The front pew was always reserved for the aristocracy and as the three settled into their places, she heard the whispers begin. Mr Tufton merely smiled down at them from his pulpit. ‘Good morning. I am delighted to see all of you here on this fine day. And I bid special welcome to those visiting us for the first time.’ He nodded at Lady Widdicombe and her sons. ‘Please open your hymn books and let us begin with “Hail the day that sees Him rise.”’
It was a moving service about sin and forgiveness and Mr Tufton spoke passionately about man’s need to forgive his fellow man for wrongs committed. Several young ladies surreptitiously wiped tears from their eyes, but Emma simply allowed the comforting words to wash over her, enjoying the sense of peace she so often found in the old stone church.
John Tufton was an eloquent speaker. He did not drone on about God’s unending mercy, or speak in that boring monotone that threatened to put people to sleep. His voice was musical, almost lilting, as it touched on man’s vices and virtues. Sometimes, he drew on humour to illustrate his point; other times he called on pathos to drive his message home. But no one fell asleep during his sermon and, at the conclusion, Emma stepped out into the sunshine feeling much better than she had going in, because listening to Mr Tufton’s words had allowed her to examine her feelings for Lord Stewart and to put them in perspective.
Improper Miss Darling Page 11
