“Lord, Anne, I’m not talking about love,” Emma protested, laughing. “I’m not even talking about infatuation, really. I’m only talking about marriage.”
“Don’t you want to marry for love, Emma?”
“Well, of course I do, but it is not an option open to all of us. Look at dear Maggie. Not that I am comparing my situation with hers. I simply don’t want to remain unmarried forever.”
Anne chuckled. “I think there’s very little chance of that, Emma. But what if you fell in love with someone…oh…I don’t know, someone who was not of your own rank in life. Perhaps he was a doctor or a solicitor. Would you marry him?”
“Hmm.” Emma drew a comb through her blond curls as she considered. “I would have to be very certain that I loved him. The disadvantages are apparent and the advantages might be illusory. It is certainly the sort of alliance one would want to give a great deal of thought. Not that I wish to sound mercenary or snobbish! I am only trying to he realistic.”
“Yes, I know,” Anne said softly. “Do you think that you could gain control over your own emotions, force yourself not to love him?”
“I should think not,” Emma replied after judicious thought. “On the other hand, I believe I would spend a great deal of time with more eligible men in the hopes that my attraction would diminish, that it might be replaced by a more appropriate gentleman. After all, it would be rather a shock to poor Aunt Amelia if I were to marry a man who was in one of the professions, and I should hate to disappoint her. I feel I have some responsibility to my family, such as it is.”
“Yes, it’s an important consideration,” Anne agreed, her face serious.
“What would you do?” Emma turned from the mirror to ask, interested.
“Me? Oh, I suppose just the same sort of thing. A great deal is expected of each of us, and the decision is a permanent one. One would have to weigh one’s priorities very carefully.” Anne made a graceful gesture with her hand, smiling. “Fortunately, it’s not likely to happen, is it? We are surrounded by the most alarmingly eligible gentlemen.”
Emma gave a snort of disbelief. “Their credentials of wealth and rank may be adequate, but I haven’t met so very many men with whom I would willingly spend the rest of my life. Which reminds me.” Emma seated herself in a green velvet elbow chair at the foot of her bed. She was going to miss her room in Bruton Street. Not only had her Aunt Amelia redecorated it entirely to her taste, but whenever boredom overcame her here she could simply wander out into London, attended by a footman, and indulge in the pleasure of window-shopping and people-watching.
Of course, Bath offered shops and people in profusion, but Emma’s purpose in going there was to provide companionship for Maggie. Her freedom of movement would be severely restricted, by her own choice, but she was not sure being cooped up wouldn’t get on her nerves in a very short period of time. She had completely forgotten what they were discussing and considerably startled Anne by asking, “You’ve become friends with Miss Rogers, haven’t you?”
“Why, yes, I see her often.” Anne was guarded in her speech. “I had thought, since you will be in Bath with Maggie, that I would invite her to spend some time with me at Parkhurst in the summer or autumn.”
“You’ve mentioned that she draws exquisitely. But she won’t allow her work to be exhibited, will she?”
Anne had no idea where the conversation was leading but felt relieved that it remained on Miss Rogers. She nodded.
“Do you think, Anne, that, were I to have a drawing master in Bath, I might achieve some degree of skill? I’ve always enjoyed portraiture and I thought it would give me a project on which to work while Maggie was resting.”
“What a famous idea! I was telling Mr. Rogers that you had not kept up with your art since you left school and that it was a great pity, for you showed decided talent.” Obviously, Anne surmised, Emma was more alarmed than she was prepared to admit about her seclusion in Bath. Sitting day after day in the house Lord Greenwood had caused to be let in the Royal Crescent would not appeal to one of Emma’s lively disposition. Anne felt sure Maggie would insist on her friend taking the air and going out to what entertainments offered, if a suitable chaperon could be found, but she was not averse to promoting Emma’s return to the study of painting. “Would you like me to have Miss Rogers search out the name of a suitable drawing master there? I’m sure she or her brother could come by the information with little trouble.”
“If you would, my dear. I am persuaded I shall have the time and inclination to paint there. If it would not be asking too much, I should like the fellow to specialize in portraiture. I have a desire to paint Maggie.”
“Nothing could be better! I shall send a note round to Helena this very afternoon.”
Emma grinned. “There is just one thing, Anne, and you may not approve of it.”
“And that is?”
“If, and I am not saying it is a certainty by any means, but if I should prove to be good at it—painting portraits of people, I mean— then I have no intention of hiding my light under a bushel. If I paint something worth being exhibited, I shall want to see it exhibited. I haven’t Miss Rogers’s modesty, I fear. But I shall not be the judge of my work, I promise you! I only tell you now so you will not be overset should such a thing come to pass!”
There was a decided twinkle in Anne’s eyes. “I would expect nothing less of our flamboyant, generous, kindhearted Emma. If your work is good enough to show, I shall personally see that all of London has the opportunity to see it.” Casually reintroducing Sir Nicholas into the conversation to ascertain exactly what Emma’s feelings were in that quarter seemed impossible, and Anne felt that Emma had confirmed her own thoughts on the subject of Mr. Rogers (without exciting Emma’s suspicions), so she soon took her leave, passing Sir Nicholas on the entry stairs.
When Emma was informed that this caller awaited her in the drawing room she scavenged amongst the notes and invitations on her escritoire to at length dislodge a plain pad of paper and a pencil which she carried with her when she joined him. Her mischievous expression alerted him but he made no comment. After they exchanged greetings and Sir Nicholas was informed that Lady Bradwell would not be returning much before dinnertime, they seated themselves in facing chairs, Emma propping the pad on the arm of hers.
“Have you been with Lady Greenwood today?” he asked, disposing one leg elegantly over the other. “Does she continue to mend?”
“Anne and I called this morning and found Maggie in satisfactory health. In fact, she is to travel to Bath come Friday, for a course of the waters and a rest. When the doctors consider her well enough restored, she will take up residence at Combe Lodge.” Emma began to sketch on the pad, a smile playing about her lips.
“I presume Greenwood accompanies her.”
“Oh, yes. He has been very attentive, though I am not at all sure he will stay long with her once she’s settled in the Royal Crescent.”
Sir Nicholas had been watching with interest the progress of her drawing but his gaze sharpened at her words. “He can’t very well leave her alone there.”
“But he can, as I am to accompany them and stay to provide Maggie companionship.”
“You’re leaving London…before the season is ended? You astonish me.” And if the words were mocking, the swiftly raised brows indicated that he spoke no more than the truth.
“I daresay you think it quite out of character for me to assist a friend in need,” Emma quizzed him, undaunted.
“Not at all, but surely it would be more appropriate for Lady Anne to accompany her.”
“Why so? We are all friends from school. Anne has pressing engagements in town with her family and I have none.” She cocked her head, appraising him. “Shall you miss me, Sir Nicholas?”
“London will seem deadly dull without you,” he responded automatically. His sincerity might have been questioned because of the rueful twist of his lips, but he continued, “Watching you cut a swathe through society is more
enjoyable than Drury Lane, my dear. Doubtless your esteemed aunt could use the respite, though. When do you plan to return?”
“I have no idea. It will depend on Maggie’s improvement, I should imagine. Is Bath dreadfully dull at this time of year?”
“It will be for you,” he pronounced with confidence. “You already have London in your blood, Miss Berryman. Bath will seem horrendously flat.” His curiosity as to her activity with pencil and pad got the better of him and he made a languid gesture toward them. “What are you doing?”
The mischievous twinkle reappeared. “Why, I’m sketching you, of course. I know few men who would make a better subject. While in Bath I intend to study portraiture and, if you are especially kind to me, I shall paint your likeness in absentia. Then when I return I shall have it hung in my bedchamber.”
The baronet gave a snort of laughter. “You really are the most outrageous girl! Sometimes I’ve a mind to…”
Whatever he had a mind to do was never disclosed, as the butler, North, appeared at the open door to announce, “Viscount Dunn, ma’am.”
Emma looked about her for a place to hide the pad and pencil, but there was no time to do so before the newcomer strode into the room. “Lord Dunn! Did North not tell you that my aunt is out? She won’t return until almost dinnertime.”
“I asked for you, Miss Berryman. Servant, Nick.” Although Dunn noticed Emma’s hasty movement to conceal the pad behind her back as she rose, he made no mention of it and waited patiently for Emma to suggest that they seat themselves.
“Shall I ring for refreshments?” she asked nervously. Why did he always make her feel like a naughty schoolgirl?
Aware of her discomfort, Sir Nicholas, with his most unholy smile, excused himself. In his considered opinion, it would do Miss Berryman not the least harm to sustain a visit tête-à-tête with her most recalcitrant acquaintance. He purposely pressed her hand as he took his leave, making sure that Dunn observed the familiarity, and murmured, quite loud enough for Dunn to hear, “I shall excessively like being in your bedchamber!”
“Wretch!” she groaned, casting a hasty glance at Dunn’s impassive countenance. “I told you I wouldn’t paint you at all if you were not especially kind!”
“My misfortune.” He sighed, and pinched her cheek before striding jauntily from the room.
Emma could not decide where to look when he was gone. Dunn stood a few feet from her, apparently still waiting to be seated, but she could not recall whether he had requested refreshments or not. When she attempted to wave him to a chair, forgetting the pad of paper in her hand, she flushed with embarrassment and dropped her hand into the folds of her dress. “I’m sorry, Lord Dunn, I cannot recall whether you wished refreshments.”
“If you please.” His voice was entirely expressionless and still he stood.
Realizing he could not sit until she did, and that she had yet to pull the bell cord, Emma almost skipped to it and gave a hearty tug, sliding the pad and pencil into a drawer of the side table that stood nearby. She gave Dunn a perfunctory smile and dropped into her chair with a singular lack of grace. In a strained voice, and not even trying to meet his gaze, she said, “How kind of you to call.”
“Balderdash! You wish me at the devil!”
Startled, Emma looked up to see that his eyes were twinkling. Twinkling, for God’s sake! The man had seldom done anything other than frown at her and treat her with the coolest of civility and now he was amused with her. How mortifying! “I’m sure,” she said stiffly, “I have no such wish.”
“Don’t you? You surprise me. But then you know Sir Nicholas well enough to…” He was interrupted by the advent of a footman who received the instruction for tea with no indication that he noted the strangled voice in which it was given. When the servant had vacated the open doorway, Dunn intended to continue his sentence, but was given no opportunity
“If you will excuse my contradicting you, my lord, I must correct a mistaken impression you have received. I do not know Sir Nicholas all that well. He is a friend of my aunt’s and mine, and I make no apologies for that friendship. However," Emma declared, sitting up as straight as possible and folding her hands in her lap, “I should perhaps explain.”
“Please, Miss Berryman, there is no need. What I meant to say was that I don’t doubt you are well enough acquainted with Sir Nicholas to know that he was deliberately attempting to put you in an awkward situation.”
“Well, yes.”
“And I assure you I presumed no—ah—wrongdoing on your part. Sir Nicholas could not resist so blatant an opportunity to make a little mischief. As I recall, he did so at your very first meeting.”
A flush stained Emma’s cheeks, but his regard was not unkind and she said, with some hesitation, “Just as…I did on our own first meeting. I’ve never apologized. I don’t think I meant to be rude.” She smiled faintly and shrugged. “Perhaps you remember what it’s like to leave school and think the world is at your feet, Lord Dunn.”
“Very distinctly, though it was a long time ago. Lady Anne reminded me once that I was not precisely an angel at that time.” His gray eyes smiled at her. “Shall we confess to having gotten off on the wrong foot and start again, Miss Berryman?”
Despite her knowledge that he was famed for his charm, Emma had not previously been the object of it and found, to her infinite surprise, that she was not proof against it. If Sir Nicholas spoke with his eyes, the message was of his inner amusement or mocking desire. Not so Lord Dunn. He gave of himself in his smile and his eyes shared with her a feeling of intimacy that made her heart quicken. “I…should like that extremely,” she said somewhat breathlessly.
“Good.” His lordship raised a quizzical brow. “And though I assured you there was no need for you to explain, I admit to being vastly curious as to what Sir Nicholas meant by saying he would like being in your bedchamber!”
Her lips twitched as she shook her head in exasperation. “Wicked man! I told him I would paint his portrait and hang it there—just as a joke, you understand!”
He regarded her thoughtfully. “Was it a joke that you would hang it there or that you would paint it?”
“Oh, I intend to paint it, but I certainly shan’t have it in my room! If all goes well, I shall take lessons in portraiture and practice on poor Maggie.”
“Ah, Lady Greenwood. I am sorry your intervention did not serve, but I understand she’s coming along nicely. Adam said he was taking her to Bath.”
“Yes, we go on Friday.”
“We?”
“Did he not mention that I am to be one of the party? But, no, it was only finally decided this morning. Maggie would have it that I could not possibly leave London before the season was over, and Anne insisted that she should be the one to accompany them. Such a fuss! As though it made the slightest difference to me! It is Anne who needs to be here for the parties her family has planned.” At his slightly frowning look she protested, “I shan’t interfere in their marriage, Lord Dunn.”
“You mistake me, ma’am. I am merely disappointed that you are to be from town. My hope was that you would allow me to teach you to drive a pair in the coming weeks.”
Really, this about-face was too much! All very well for him to suggest they make a fresh start without the bickering in which they had indulged, but to offer to teach her to drive! Obviously my lord Dunn had lost his reason, or had some underlying cause for so abrupt a change. “Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“My dear Miss Berryman, surely you remember that you expressed an interest in such lessons.”
“No, no, that won’t do!” she cried as the footman entered with a silver tray, which he set on a table near the sofa before departing. Emma was obliged to move her chair closer to Dunn’s in order to pour out. “Sugar? Cream?”
When he had expressed his preference and sat back comfortably with his cup, Emma surveyed him with narrowed eyes. “Why this sudden interest in accommodating me, sir? I am ready, to be sure, to dispense with our m
utual animosity, but this is doing it much too brown, I fear. I teased you into offering to teach me in the first place, and you have to admit you were not well pleased. I even used the lessons as an exchange to get you to do something you did not wish. And now out of the blue you offer again! What am I to think? Have you merely offered because you know I am to be out of town and cannot avail myself of your generous services? I would not have credited you with such a purposeless scheme.”
To even the most casual observer it must have been clear that Lord Dunn was sternly controlling a rising temper “Must I have some nefarious purpose to show a little attention to you, Miss Berryman? It was my understanding that half a dozen young swains did so on a regular basis.”
Emma grinned. “Not gentlemen of your distinction, I promise you! Ramshackle, every one of them! Come, I never meant to set up your back. You must admit it is wondrous strange to see you so reformed in your attitude toward me. But then, I can see that if I persist you intend to revert, and I have no wish for such a step. Can you not be frank with me?”
In truth, the viscount was not at all sure what had precipitated his about-face. Oh, it was easy enough to tell himself that Miss Berryman’s concern for her friend showed a merit with which he had heretofore not credited her. Or he could point to her improved behavior with her gentlemen friends—possibly excluding Sir Nicholas. Then again, it might be that judicious consideration had led him to think he had dealt too harshly with her in spite of her failings earlier in the season, and her lack of appreciation of his position.
Surely he was not influenced by the memory of her horrified and helpless expression on realizing that Lady Greenwood was losing her baby, or the dignified composure with which he found her later in the evening dealing with the Greenwoods’ guests at the ball. Before leaving that night, he had gone to find Adam to offer any assistance in his power; he had discovered Miss Berryman instead. She was standing outside her friend’s door awaiting word on Lady Greenwood’s condition, and in the candlelight he could see that a tear was coursing down her cheek.
The Loving Seasons Page 22
