Emmaline paused as she was about to lift a forkful of food to her mouth. Resolutely she set the fork down and said, “Yes, if you would, Edward. I should dearly love to go to Hookham’s Library this morning, and your mother is still abed. I very much fear she would scold me if I went alone.”
“I am entirely at your service,” he told her with a gallant smile.
Emmaline’s own smile was warm in return. “How fortunate I am that you are Jeremy’s friend!” she murmured.
“And I that you are his fiancée,” he retorted.
They bantered back and forth awhile before Emmaline ran upstairs to retrieve her reticule and gloves and hat. In a morning dress of green muslin she looked delightful. A short time later, they were on their way in Edward’s phaeton. As he threaded his way through the busy streets, more quietly but just as skillfully as Jeremy, he said carefully, “I hope you will not think me impertinent, Miss Delwyn, but I feel I must speak. Jeremy is a good fellow and I would not see him hurt for the world. I’ll grant you he is a trifle wild and his father had good reason to be angry. Indeed, I find myself angry with him as often as not. But he is a good fellow at heart.”
Emmaline hesitated, then decided upon frankness. “I do not doubt it, Mr. Hastings. My father has always had a high regard for Mr. Barnett.”
“Then why—”
“Why did I end the betrothal?” Emmaline asked coolly.
He nodded. “It has me in a puzzle, for I cannot think you truly dislike Jeremy as much as you say you do. In the past weeks I have often wondered...”
She looked down at her hands clasped together tightly in her lap. “Can you not see?” she demanded. “It is as much for his sake as mine! Every time anyone speaks of our wedding he flinches from the course and goes quite pale. It was even worse before we came to London. Did you think I could not see his reluctance to the match?” She stopped and met Hastings’ gaze squarely. “Was I to ignore his feelings, and my own uncertainties? Would it have been a kindness to marry him when he did not truly wish it? Even if he were mad enough to accept such a union, I could not. I have too clearly my own sister’s example before me.” Emmaline stopped, aghast at her own frankness. “F—forgive me,” she stammered, “I ought not to speak of that, it is a private matter.”
“I am all discretion,” Hastings said with quiet sincerity. “Still, as I understand it, you will not repeat your sister’s mistake,” he suggested quietly, “for Jeremy’s sake as well as your own?” She nodded and he went on, “But what if you are mistaken about his feelings?”
“Do you tell me I am?” Emmaline countered, afraid to hear either answer.
Hastings was the first to give way. “I do not know,” he admitted quietly. “Indeed, I think Jeremy does not know his own mind on this.”
“Well, I cannot decide his for him when I am not even certain of my own,” she replied tartly. “I only know I cannot marry Jeremy as matters now stand.”
Hastings read the resolution upon her face and sighed. “Would that all young ladies had your strength of character, Miss Delwyn. Assuming you are correct, of course, about Jeremy. He is not a man to be easily satisfied with half measures. But enough of that. We are at Hookham’s Library.” As he spoke, Hastings neatly drew his horses to a halt and gave the reins over into the care of his groom before he helped Emmaline descend from the phaeton.
Inside, as Emmaline looked about her at the shelves of books, Edward stayed by her side, apparently not in the least rush to leave. He was perfectly willing to discuss the merits of the books she selected and made no demur at the suggestion of a cup of tea to refresh themselves.
It was as they were about to leave the library, rather reluctantly, that Emmaline heard her name called and they turned to see a young lady standing quite close to them. She was, Hastings thought, the most beautiful young lady he had ever seen. She was almost precisely the same height as Emmaline but as fair as Miss Delwyn was dark. Golden curls peeked out from under a blue silk bonnet that matched precisely the blue silk gown the young lady wore. “Emmaline!” she repeated happily. “Mama told me you were in town and I came straight back from my uncle’s house to see you. When did you arrive? How is your father? I have so missed you and I cannot bear the thought that my sister Lizzie’s indisposition has kept me from London and seeing you these past few weeks. My dearest friend, I have heard you are engaged to Jeremy Barnett and I shall want to hear all about it and why you never wrote to tell me.”
At Hastings’ discreet cough at her elbow, Emmaline found a .way to break into her friend’s flow of words. With a laugh she said, “Well, if you know all that, then you know I am staying with Mrs. Hastings. May I present her son, Edward? Edward, this is Miss Rosalind Kirkwood, my very best friend in school.”
Hastings bowed and Rosalind blushed very prettily. The three exchanged a few more words and then a loud voice called out, warningly, “Rosalind! We must be going.”
A shadow crossed the girl’s face and those nearby gentlemen who had been watching her with approval suddenly found themselves wondering why they had ever thought her pretty. Her head bowed, Rosalind to Emmaline in a whisper, “Do you go tonight, to Carlton House? Good. Then we’ll meet there and find a way to talk. You must help me.”
Thoughtfully Emmaline watched her go, acknowledging with a false smile the brief nod Lady Kirkwood sent in her direction. Beside her Edward Hastings stood quite still and Emmaline had to speak to him twice before he heard her. Outside, in the phaeton, he could not keep from asking, “What the devil is the matter with that girl? Why isn’t she married yet? And why does she go so dreadfully gray when her mother speaks to her?”
Stiffly Emmaline replied, “There is nothing the matter with Rosalind. It is not her fault that her parents dislike every young gentleman who has ever came to call. Indeed, until this year I thought they never meant her to marry at all. But of a sudden I hear they wish her to consider marriage to a fellow to whom her father owes gambling debts!”
“Good God, the poor girl!” Hastings said with feeling.
“Yes, that is why—”
Abruptly Emmaline broke off, causing Edward to look at her suspiciously. “That is why, what?” he demanded.
Edward’s face darkened so alarmingly that something compelled Emmaline to reply with a careless shrug, “That is why I hope she may find someone else.”
It was a very silent pair that returned to the Hastings town house to find Jeremy there waiting for them. A trifle stiffly, Edward excused himself and left Emmaline to tell Jeremy about their morning.
Mrs. Hastings did not miss the look in her son’s eyes when he returned from his outing with Miss Delwyn. There was an air of abstraction about him that she had never seen before as well as a smile that alternated with a grim look of disapproval that played about his lips. Her own tightened at the uneasy suspicion that Edward was halfway to falling in love. It was, nevertheless, some time later in the day before she had the opportunity to question her son about the matter.
“Ah, Edward, there you are, my dear,” Mrs. Hastings called cheerfully up to her son as he stood on the stairs. “Wait a moment, will you? I must speak to you.”
“Certainly, Mother,” he replied with impeccable manners.
Unaware of her thoughts, he amiably followed her to the small library that was usually his father’s preserve. Even now the aroma of tobacco lingered among the crowded rows of books that so badly needed straightening. Mr. Hastings, however, was nowhere to be seen. Once there Mrs. Hastings seemed to have some difficulty speaking and Edward prompted her politely. “Is something wrong, Mama?”
“Oh, no, no,” she replied airily. “At least I don’t think so.” She paused, then added lightly, “Is Miss Delwyn enjoying her visit to London? Did you have a good morning today?”
Unaware of it himself, Edward’s face lit up as he said boyishly, “Oh, yes, indeed! We went to Hookham’s Library and it was wonderful!”
With great self-restraint Mrs. Hastings refrained from asking t
artly just what could be so wonderful about a library, even for a son who enjoyed books. Instead she said, “I suppose we are soon to hear the date set for her wedding to young Barnett? Particularly if the reports I hear of her behavior—their behavior—in the park yesterday are to be believed.”
“Well, er, no,” Hastings told his mother reluctantly. “I rather think we shan’t. As for those reports, I am persuaded they are much exaggerated.”
“I see,” Mrs. Hastings said, quirking an eyebrow. “You are satisfied with the state of affairs then?”
Again Edward’s face darkened. “No, to be frank I think Jeremy is treating Miss Delwyn abominably!” he said angrily. Then, hastily he added, “Not that I think Miss Delwyn is so eager to wed him, as matters now stand. And I shouldn’t allow her to be pressed against her will.”
With something akin to dismay, Mrs. Hastings watched the emotions that played across her son’s face. It was no part of her plans to have him defend Miss Delwyn so forcefully. Coupled with the air of abstraction she had noted before, Mrs. Hastings was afraid that her son had indeed begun to fall in love. Unable to suppress her curiosity, she asked, with a feigned coolness, “Edward, you must know that I have begun to wonder if you ever intend to think of marriage or if you mean to become a misogamist like Jeremy Barnett.”
Edward’s easy laugh only added to her dismay as he replied, “Have no fear, Mother. I know my duty, and today I begin to think I may even take pleasure in it. But now, unless you have something urgent to say to me, I must go. I am pledged to run an errand for Miss Delwyn straightaway.”
10
CARLTON House. It seemed incredible to Emmaline that she should actually find herself going there. To be sure, Edward had told her that his mother had been one of the Prince of Wales’s flirts in her salad days and since her marriage such invitations to the Hastings had not been uncommon.
This, however, was not an ordinary occasion. Although the Allied Sovereigns had already left England, Prinny had had the happy notion of celebrating the Duke of Wellington’s return instead. Even those members of the ton who had left London were returning for this affair.
Indeed, Emmaline could not help but feel that Mrs. Hastings had worked miracles in prompting Mademoiselle Suzette to have their ball gowns ready in time. Half of London, it seemed, required the same thing. Emmaline’s gown was of white satin with an overdress of silver lace. With it she wore white gloves and silver slippers, with diamonds about her throat and dangling from her ears. “A young girl’s colors,” Mrs. Hastings had admitted, “but the cut of the dress is not and on you the contrast is stunning.”
Her own gown was a triumph of blue damask satin and lace, and the clear sapphires she wore were a perfect complement to the dress. Edward, Mr. Hastings, and Jeremy were already waiting downstairs to escort them to the ball when Emmaline and Mrs. Hastings finally pronounced themselves ready. The two younger gentlemen bowed deeply to the two ladies and Emmaline felt a catch in her throat as she thought how handsome Jeremy looked tonight. Nor did she detect anything other than complete admiration in his eyes as he took her hand in greeting.
Mr. Hastings contented himself with clearing his throat and saying to his wife, “Well, well. As usual you shall outshine all the other ladies there, my dear. And Miss Delwyn, I’ve no doubt that seeing you just now, young Barnett thinks himself a very lucky fellow indeed.”
Coloring in confusion, Emmaline curtsied to her host, afraid to meet Jeremy’s eyes. It was one thing to think him handsome, another to contemplate the madness of a lifetime wed to the man.
Edward, noting Miss Delwyn’s high color and his friend’s look of suppressed anger, hastily said, “Yes, we all look marvelous, but now it is time to be going. We are not so important that the Prince Regent will forgive us for being terribly late!”
Mrs. Hastings was not a stupid woman. She had not missed Emmaline or Jeremy’s reaction to her husband’s words, nor even Edward’s. So her son was worried over the girl’s feelings, was he? All very commendable and gentlemanly, no doubt, just so long as his concern did not cross over into more than that. She had no wish for Edward to develop a tendre for Emmaline; she had far more ambitious plans for him than that. Still, she seconded him ably. “Edward is quite right. Let us be off at once.”
Later Emmaline would remember being utterly overwhelmed at the sight of Carlton House and at their reception. Over two thousand guests were expected, Edward told her, beginning at nine P.M. It was later than that when the Hastings party arrived and their carriage waited in line some time before it was their turn to descend. They were received at the grand entrance by equerries who led them to the garden, where they were presented to Prinny. He wore, Jeremy explained to Emmaline under his breath, a field marshal’s full dress uniform complete with medals.
The festivities had evidently put Prinny in a good mood, for he expressed himself delighted to welcome the Hastings party and even congratulated Emmaline upon her betrothal to Jeremy. How he knew about that was beyond her and she could only curtsy deeply as Prinny told Jeremy playfully, “It is to be hoped you will be more fortunate than the Prince of Orange!”
At least that was what Emmaline thought he said. Her head was in such a whirl that it was not until they had moved away and begun to look about at the banks of flowers and the covered walkways and the Corinthian temple with its bust of Wellington that Emmaline began to feel herself again. “Such an honor!” Mrs. Hastings was saying, a trifle breathlessly. “Townsend must have told him of your betrothal, but even so, such an honor!”
“And one that I could do without,” Jeremy muttered grimly to Emmaline. “It will make things all the more difficult.”
“Can it matter?” Emmaline murmured. “Surely you have never formed one of his circle anyway?”
“No, but your father once did,” Jeremy retorted. “And for all his unpopularity, I should not care to have the Prince Regent declare me or you persona non grata at court.”
It was no surprise than that Rosalind spotted Emmaline first, for that young lady was more accustomed to such affairs than Emmaline. Nor had she just faced the unwelcome congratulations of her prince. Lady Kirkwood did not look pleased when her daughter insisted that they join the Hastings party but she did not object. Particularly when Jeremy suggested they go to the dance pavilion.
Once more Emmaline felt overwhelmed as they entered the huge polygonal building. The ceiling looked to have been draped with muslin, and had Edward not told her it was merely painted so, she would never have known. There were mirrors on the walls, draperies, chandeliers, and banks of artificial flowers that hid the musicians. Clearly Prinny had spared no expense, but then, Mrs. Hastings said dryly, he never did.
Emmaline was grateful that her friend was more composed than she was just then. It was Rosalind who smoothed the way for both parties to continue to spend the evening together. She was respectful to Mrs. Hastings and a trifle shy with the gentlemen. To be sure, Lady Kirkwood merely looked on, an habitual frown fixed upon her face, but she did not protest when Jeremy asked her daughter to dance and Rosalind readily agreed. Rather, she took it as something to be expected. After all, Rosalind was a Kirkwood.
That left a somewhat startled Edward with the obligation to ask Emmaline. “Bad form,” he told her as he led her onto the floor. “Jeremy ought to have asked you, his fiancée, to dance first.”
“Yes, but I’m not really engaged to Jeremy,” Emmaline objected.
“Doesn’t matter,” Edward said stoutly. “Everyone thinks he is and he ought to behave as if he were.” He paused and smiled down warmly at Emmaline. “If I were Jeremy, I know I should have asked you first. Indeed, I shouldn’t be looking about me at all; I should be quite content to honor my betrothal.”
“And were I betrothed to you, I should scarcely be so eager to break those vows,” Emmaline replied kindly.
Returning to his sense of anger, however, Edward added, “It is the outside of enough for Jeremy to ask Miss Kirkwood to dance.”
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br /> “But I wished him to,” Emmaline said. At his startled look she added, “Don’t you recall? I said I wished Rosalind to find someone else to wed, and who better than Jeremy? He must find a wife and Rosalind will not bore him.”
“Yes, but will he please her?” Edward muttered. Mrs. Hastings watched as her son and Emmaline danced. She could not hear the words they spoke, of course, but she did not like the expressions that crossed her son’s face. He ought to betray nothing more than mild contentment when he danced with a young lady. Why anyone watching would think he and Emmaline were upon intimate terms with one another!
Jeremy also noted the interchange and to his surprise felt anger rising in his breast at the sight of Emmaline and Edward in such evidently warm conversation. When the dance ended, he contrived to be virtually at their sides. “My dance next, Miss Delwyn, I believe,” Jeremy said in a voice that brooked no refusal.
Emmaline accepted without demur, eager to learn what he thought of Rosalind. Meanwhile, ever the gentleman, Edward asked that lady to dance. It was a duty, however, that he scarcely found distasteful.
“Did you enjoy yourself with Edward?” Jeremy demanded curtly as they danced.
A trifle puzzled, Emmaline replied, “Yes, of course I did. And you Rosalind?”
“She is a delightful girl,” Jeremy allowed handsomely. “But I take leave to warn you to have a care with Edward.”
The figures of the dance separated them then, and when they came together again Emmaline said warily, “What did you mean about Edward?”
“Just what I said. He is an amiable fellow, ever ready to make himself agreeable to the ladies, but that is all. His mother, however, is another matter. She is as eager to keep him from a wife as my father is to find me one. She will take the least hint of friendship between you as a pledge of betrothal and try to warn him away. Edward might be fool enough to think he ought to defy her.”
The Counterfeit Betrothal Page 8
