“Well…” Maggie fingered the fringe on a silk-covered pillow and refused to meet Emma’s eyes. “She insisted that I rest more, and call a halt to any further remodeling.”
“But what of the ball?”
Maggie’s voice dropped to little more than a whisper “I must have it for Greenwood, Emma. He wouldn’t understand if I called it off now. The invitations have been sent. Cynthia thought perhaps we could delay it, but Greenwood said that was nonsense and that I could have as much help as I needed so there would be no strain on me.”
“Confound the man!” Emma exclaimed imprudently. “Does he not realize that no matter how much help you have it will still be an intolerable burden?”
The wide gray eyes met hers implacably. “He has asked very little of me, Emma, and I really wish to do this much for him. He’s very pleased about the baby.”
With an effort Emma bit back the retort she longed to make. “I see. Well, we shall just have to make the best of it, then. But you will stop going out every evening, won’t you? That much you could certainly do.”
Uncomfortably, Maggie dropped her eyes to the hands that lay twisting in her lap. “There always seems a good reason to go. I didn’t wish to miss Anne’s ball, of course, and then there was the Rowlands’. Some evenings I tell Greenwood I don’t feel well and he is all solicitude, but I cannot very well do it every night.”
“Of course you can. You must.”
“He wouldn’t understand, Emma.”
“For heaven’s sake, who cares if he understands?” her friend asked impatiently. “If he were ill, he wouldn’t go out.”
“He’s never ill.”
“I daresay, but he isn’t carrying a baby. I’ll…” But Emma decided not to mention the possible solution that had occurred to her. She was not on particularly good terms with Lord Dunn just at the moment, and he might not be willing to do a favor for her. She forced a smile. “Well, stay home as often as you can. I’ll plan to devote more time to helping with the ball, and you plan to lie in every morning till noon, my love.”
“Thank you, Emma. You and Anne and Cynthia have been of enormous assistance. Greenwood is quite right, you know; there is hardly a thing for me to do.”
Wholly unconvinced, Emma withdrew from her reticule some lists she had made and began to go over them with her friend.
Chapter Thirteen
Miss Emma Berryman presents her compliments to Lord Dunn and begs his forgiveness of her negligent tardiness in responding to his kind invitation to take her driving. In lieu of this endeavor, which it was most kind of him to agree to after her great impertinence, she requests merely a word with him on another matter altogether, which is of some urgency. If it would be possible for him to call on her at Lady Bradwell’s house one afternoon this week, she would be at home to receive him. Miss Berryman remains, as always, his lordship’s most obedient servant.
To say that Lord Dunn was surprised to receive this submissive epistle would be a gross understatement. He was astonished, and very suspicious of Miss Berryman’s motives. As he set it down on his desk he had half a mind to ignore it. Really, she should not be writing him at all except in reply to some letter of his own—an invitation or the like. Quite possibly she intended to play a hoax on him. Did she really think he would believe she would sit in every afternoon in hopes that he would call? Dunn retrieved the letter and reread it. Begged his forgiveness, did she? How likely was that? And to admit her great impertinence was certainly doing it much too brown. Dunn felt sure that Miss Berryman had not the first notion of how impertinent she had been, and would certainly not admit it if she did.
Nonetheless, the viscount found it difficult to ignore any plea for help, though it came from the most rag-mannered of villains. Not that he had ascribed such a lowly situation to Miss Berryman. As a man of lofty ideals and impeccable manners, he would never sink so low as to judge a green girl in her first season as anything worse than imprudent and foolhardy. Both of which, he decided impartially, Miss Berryman was.
Dunn folded the note and placed it in his waistcoat pocket. He would go, but if he found she was trying to hoodwink him, he would personally see that she regretted the prank. In either case he had the strongest sentiment that her note should be framed; one was not likely to see such a penitent attitude expressed by Miss Berryman more than once in a lifetime.
When he arrived in Bruton Street the butler North showed him to a small writing room at the back of the house where Emma sat amongst a litter of notes. He had no way of knowing that her endeavor was in a good cause, or that they were not all billets-doux that she had bribed some maid to bring her without her aunt’s knowledge. It seemed quite conceivable to Dunn that half a dozen young men of fashion would find it beyond their meager powers to resist sending declarations of love to the young lady who stood as he entered. In the blue figured silk round dress with its white crepe full ruff she looked both regal and vulnerable.
Emma was a little surprised to see him so soon. She had assumed that his annoyance with her would at least have caused him to delay his coming for a day or two. There was no triumph in her attitude, however, merely gratitude.
“Thank you for coming so promptly, Lord Dunn. Won’t you have a seat?” It was necessary for her to clear the dainty chair of lists of fruited jellies and vanilla creams, ornamented tongue and garnished ham. “For Maggie’s ball,” she explained. “Lord Greenwood wants one of those ice sculptures, but the man who does them is out of town just now.”
Dunn seated himself as Emma dropped wearily into her chair. “My chef’s assistant has some experience in sculpting ice. He came to me from Gunthers. Would it help if I sent him to Lady Greenwood?”
“Why, that would be perfect. How kind of you to offer. You wouldn’t mind?”
“It would be my pleasure.” Dunn reached down to pick up a note left lying on the floor beside his chair. It was indeed a list of edibles and not a lover’s note at all. He handed it to Emma and asked, “What was it you wished to speak about so urgently with me?”
Noting that the paper contained a list of the sweets, she placed it on the third stack before replying. “That has to do with Maggie and Lord Greenwood, too. I very much fear you will think that I am interfering, but I have noticed that Lord Greenwood pays some attention to your advice and guidance. So I thought you might help.” She was not looking at him but was aware that he rose abruptly.
“I don’t involve myself in other people’s marriages, Miss Berryman. I think you must excuse me.”
His voice was so cold and his eyes so angry when she glanced at him that for a moment, but just a moment, she felt stricken. In turn she leaped to her feet and planted herself in his path to the doorway. “I will not excuse you, my lord,” she flared. “Maggie is one of my dearest friends and I am perfectly willing to accept Anne’s dictum that one does not interfere with someone else’s marriage, but we are discussing the urgent matter of Maggie’s health!”
“Are we?” The viscount looked slightly discomposed. “You had not said so, Miss Berryman.”
“Well, you hardly gave me the opportunity, did you? You may be sure you are the last person I would ask for a favor if it were not of the utmost importance. Could we sit down?” she asked more gently.
“Certainly.”
When they had once again taken their respective chairs she studied him gravely. “Lord Dunn, Maggie is increasing. It’s not precisely a secret; on the other hand I imagine very few people know. I believe I may trust to your discretion in not mentioning the matter. Yesterday when I visited her she did not look well at all. Obviously Mrs. Morton has counseled her to rest as much as possible, but Lord Greenwood… Well, I daresay you know his lordship well enough to realize that he would have no patience with a little indisposition. Maggie insists on proceeding with the ball because he has asked it of her, and because he has offered any help she may need.”
“You consider that an unreasonable attitude?”
“Whose?”
&nb
sp; “Lady Greenwood’s.” He crossed his long, elegantly clad legs before adding, “She strikes me as a lady who would attempt if at all possible to earn her husband’s approbation.”
“Of course she would.” Emma felt he was being purposely obtuse, and perhaps hinting that she herself would be quite a different sort of wife. “No matter how much help Maggie has with the ball, a great share of the responsibility will fall on her. But that is not why I’ve asked you here, and if you wish to see it as an admirable instance of wifely obedience, enjoy yourself. I could not convince Maggie to postpone it, I feel sure, so I would like to see that be the only effort she has to expend.”
She brought out the sarcasm in him. “How very considerate of you. And what does Adam have her doing otherwise—mopping the stairs and grooming the horses?”
This time Emma rose, and walked to the door. As she turned the brass handle she said over her shoulder, “Thank you for coming, Lord Dunn. I’m so sorry to have caused you such inconvenience for nothing.” And before he had a chance to speak she slipped out the door and pulled it closed behind herself.
The hallway was deserted and she knew she had only a moment to get out of sight, so she hastened across and through the green baize door that led into the domestic areas. The kitchens were below but the plate and silver and crystal were kept in a large closet off the dining room and Emma, feeling rather cowardly but self-righteous, stepped into it.
Dunn was furious. Left alone in the writing room, he stared unbelieving at the door as it closed with a snap. Miss Berryman had taken leave of her senses! Never in his life had he been treated to such a rare display of rudeness. If he had been guilty of a slight flippancy himself, it was nothing to compare with the girl’s reaction. How dare she do such a thing to him? No matter what the provocation, she should have sat there politely and smiled at him, waited for him to make some move to leave. After all, she was the one who refused to come to the point. Granted, she had been explaining why she wanted him to help, but she had never even stated what she wanted him to do.
Unfortunately, Dunn was too familiar with Adam to believe that he could not possibly be at fault. Of course he wasn’t requiring his wife to mop stairs or groom horses, but he was very likely demanding other things of her that would exhaust her in her worn-down state, if she were indeed as poorly as Miss Berryman suggested, a situation that Dunn would not necessarily accept as the whole truth. Young ladies were forever thinking someone was going into a decline.
Without consciously willing to move, Dunn found himself standing in the empty hallway. Had she had time to reach the front of the house? He doubted it. The green baize door opposite him was a swinging door, and even as he glanced at it he noted a whisper of movement as it finally swung completely to rest. Trust her to hide in the servants’ area! Giving no thought to how ludicrous he would look if found there, he pushed open the door.
First he tried the door on the right but it gave onto nothing more useful than a storage closet for cleaning apparatus—mops, brooms, rags, pails, scrub brushes, and the like. Inside the door on the left he found Emma perched on the high stool where footmen sat while polishing silver with thumbs made wide by the chore. He had not thought what he would say to her and simply stood glaring down.
“You were supposed to leave,” she said, blinking uncertainly.
“I didn’t. You have yet to tell me what it is you wish me to do.” He extended a hand to assist her from her perch, and with a little moue of annoyance, she accepted it.
She walked stiffly back to the writing room, then dropped unceremoniously into her chair and grumbled, “You showed no interest, my lord. I am perfectly serious in my request for your assistance, but you are intent on ignoring or turning it into some sort of haughty joke. Maggie is not feeling well and Lord Greenwood seems oblivious to the extent of her discomfort. He expects her to continue attending all sorts of evening entertainments which she is not up to doing. My sole purpose in requesting that you call was to ask you to speak to him. That is a slight interference in their marriage, I daresay, but his lordship enjoys such splendid health that he cannot recognize Maggie’s very real problem.”
Dunn had not seated himself this time but stood by the mantel surveying her with what he considered an impartial expression. “Is Lady Greenwood of a weak constitution, Miss Berryman?”
Impatient, Emma tapped her long fingers in a staccato rhythm against the desk. “No, Lord Dunn, she is not. I have been at school with her for several years and have known her to suffer no more than a slight cold in all that time. She is increasing, enceinte, pregnant! Do you know what that means?”
“Mind your tongue,” he snapped. “Why is it you cannot so much as be civil with me, Miss Berryman?”
She sighed and met his blazing gaze across the room. “I honestly don’t know. You keep wandering from the point and this is important to me. Will you speak with him or won’t you?”
“I will assess the situation for myself, and if I feel there is cause to speak with Adam, I will do so.”
“Thank you,” she said, rising. “That is all I could ask. They will undoubtedly be at Almack’s this evening. At least Maggie will. She is to go with Anne and me.” At the stubborn set of his face she shook her head unhappily. “Lord Dunn, I am not trying to pressure you into seeing her there. I know you often go and I thought it would spare you a visit to Half Moon Street. Dear God, if I am uncivil, you persist in misunderstanding me!”
“Perhaps you’re right, Miss Berryman, but if you’re so concerned for Lady Greenwood’s health, why are you taking her to Almack’s with you?”
Emma clasped her hands tightly and forced herself to speak with infinite calm. “Maggie is going with us solely because she believes that she should go out. Lord Greenwood expects her to go out. Occasionally she pleads a headache to stay home but she does not feel she can do that regularly. I believe she should, in her sickly condition. She needs all the rest she can get. What is needed here is for Lord Greenwood to come to the understanding that during these early months of pregnancy his wife does not have the strength to carry out an active social life. I am hoping that you will be able to bring him to such an understanding.”
Only with an effort did he bite back a query as to whether he should also attempt to interfere in the rigors of their private life. Her patent attempt to state her goal in terms a child could comprehend made him bristle with antagonism. Was he really being as dense as she indicated, or was she so wrapped up in her friend’s problem that she had not clarified her position from the start? Perhaps a little of both, he decided with chagrin. And he should at least give her credit for her concern, which sprang from no more self-interested motive than the wish to see her friend happy and healthy. On the other hand, she was probably exaggerating; he had not noticed anything amiss with Lady Greenwood when he had last seen her at the Barnfield ball.
“If I don’t see Lady Greenwood at Almack’s this evening, I’ll call on her tomorrow,” he promised. As though it were an afterthought, he asked, “Would you like to have a driving lesson tomorrow afternoon?”
“Thank you, no. As I said in my note, Lord Dunn, I am asking this favor of you in lieu of that promise.” She extended her hand in farewell, only the faintest, most formal smile on her lips.
Dunn shook her hand briefly. “Have you lost interest in learning to drive?”
“No, but I realize it was a mistake to cajole you into offering to teach me. One day I may find someone more willing. Good day, sir. I appreciate your coming.”
There was nothing more to say. He certainly had no intention of pressing the issue; he had been no more than lukewarm from the start and see how she had treated his first attempt to set a date for the lesson. She had tried to manipulate him like one of her suitors. It was easy enough to forget that he had purposely waited a great deal longer than he should have to extend the invitation. With a stiff nod, he left her.
The door closed silently behind him and Emma stared blankly at the lists for several
minutes. Why should it trouble her that she could not be with Dunn for even the least amount of time without squabbling with him? She acknowledged that she was largely at fault for continually baiting him. Well, they had gotten off to a bad start at Maggie's wedding and things had not substantially improved since. Absurd to think of trying to bring the haughty viscount into her train. What would she do with him if she had him? And probably she had antagonized Dunn from the beginning with what her aunt called ‘enticing.'
Emma dipped a quill into the inkstand in a determination to get on with her work, but she found she was only doodling on the pad of foolscap before her, drawing interlocking boxes and circles across the sheet. Amusing men were the most profitable to cultivate in any case—men like Sir Nicholas. Granted, it would get her no closer to a solid match but it would prove the most enjoyable. Lord William and Thresham and Norwood were amusing, too, of course, but they lacked a challenge. Admiration was all very well, but as the start, middle, and end of every confrontation it began to pall. And Lord William was, as expected, coming out of his infatuation. Thresham and Norwood were beginning to make noises of a serious offer of marriage. Emma could not imagine being married to either of them. They were fashionable, likable…and interchangeable. She suddenly felt a decided lowness of spirits.
Tonight there would be Almack’s, tomorrow the Whinchats’, the next day the Cottingwiths’. She would likely not miss a dance, but to what purpose was all this entertainment? If it was to fill her hours, it served her well enough. If it was to provide her with a husband, well, she was no nearer to finding a suitable mate than she had been at the start of the season. And she had begun to question if she really wanted a marriage like that of the Greenwoods or so many she saw about her each day. Of course, the Marquess and Marchioness of Barnfield had the ideal arrangement—devoted yet independent, based on a mutual affection and respect. Who among her admirers was Emma likely to respect?
The Loving Seasons Page 17
