“Forget about my kerchief, Miss Dancy. It is of no consequence. Instead, I’m rather curious about a few other things. What were those noises you made?”
Emily was calmer now. “I’m plagued at times by sneezing fits, my lord, caused by what is called rose fever, I believe. But tonight I believe it was champagne bubbles that tickled m-my nose. I knew I was going to sneeze, and I couldn’t just stand there amongst the duke’s guests and let it happen. I had to get away before I made a spectacle of myself.”
Emily’s string of excuses trailed into silence.
The earl chuckled, easily amused by her story.
Never having heard him laugh out loud before, a warm sound crept across her bare skin like a gentle touch. “So, you see,” she went on to explain, “I was not weeping, my lord, I was sneezing.”
“How…very quaint.” He coughed. “Well, umm, I daresay I thought I may have to slap a glove across a cheek, demand pistols at dawn or such if someone has overset you in an ungentlemanly manner.” Gavin chuckled again. “But let’s forget that, Miss Dancy. Now, you must tell me how you came to be here at the duke’s party. I thought you were visiting your friend, Lady Porter.”
“Wilma invited me to accompany her and Lord Harry before I asked you for a holiday. Wilma can, at times, be quite the bully, my lord. She threatened to write to you and ask for permission if I didn’t do so myself. I became a substitute guest when her younger sister couldn’t attend the party due to illness.”
“I mentioned a trip with us to Oxfordshire—”
“I know, Lord Leathem. I’m sorry. I wasn’t truthful.” Emily turned away and walked across the balcony toward the balustrade. Gavin followed her.
Looking out over the darkened landscape behind the castle, she paused before murmuring, “I’ll leave here tomorrow, Lord Leathem. I won’t embarrass you nor the Porters. I had been worried already that my uncle’s name may have come up in conversation.”
Gavin gazed at Emily with new eyes. Candlelight shone from the Rose Room and enhanced the girl’s classical features with youthful, feminine allure. Again, he felt the same odd attraction he noticed in his study. How blushingly pretty she looked tonight in an elegant evening gown with her hair softly curled. He thought back and remembered what she wore daily in London. Unfashionable gowns, her hair slicked behind her ears and held there by ugly tortoise hairpins.
What a difference! He scarcely connected the dowdy governess with the enticing young woman standing by his side. The rose-colored gown did wonders for her complexion. Her hair was piled atop her head, a few saucy curls nestled against her cheeks and on her fashionably bare shoulders. Wispy strands teased her small, finely shaped ears. A few finger curls softened her smooth forehead. And her eyes—ahh, those odd-colored, intriguing, eyes—light blue and clear as crystal—sparkled in the light reaching onto the balcony from the candlelit drawing rooms. Quite extraordinary. He’d never seen eyes that color before, framed by thick, sooty lashes that had jolted him in the chest.
“I’ll tell the Porters.”
“You’re leaving?” Gavin humphed, responding quickly. “Don’t be silly, Miss Dancy. I won’t have you deserting the duke’s party on my account. I told you when we spoke that you were to enjoy yourself when away from your duties. We definitely agreed to that if you will recall.”
“Yes, but what if—”
“If you are bothered about your uncle, forget him.” Gavin firmly dismissed her argument. “His problem need not touch you. I’ll do what I can to forestall gossip about your relationship with him while we’re here. It seems rather shameful that you are saddled with a black-hearted and traitorous relative for no good reason.”
“You are quite the noble gentleman, Lord Leathem,” Emily murmured.
“Me? Noble? Hmm…well, the designation comes with the title, I suppose, Miss Dancy.”
Why do I feel so dammed pleased that Emily Dancy has a good opinion about me?
Emily slowly turned back toward the Rose Room. “I had best go inside and find Wilma. She will wonder where I am. Thank goodness, though, I don’t feel more sneezing fits coming on. I suppose I won’t as long as I don’t drink any more fizzy wine.” Emily wrinkled her nose and smiled up at Gavin, most of her earlier anxieties now forgotten.
“Thank you again, Lord Leathem, for letting me stay at the party.”
An unprecedented notion took hold in his mind.
“Miss Dancy, I’m currently headed for bed. I rode here from Oxfordshire two days ago and I require a full night’s rest. I’m sure we’ll meet tomorrow. Meanwhile, a few words of advice if I may. Pleasure and happiness are momentary and neither lasts forever. I can vouch for that, hmm? So, enjoy your stay, your week here.” The earl smiled down at her. “Now, I shall wish you goodnight.”
“Well then, goodnight, Lord Leathem.” She left him, returned to the Rose Room, and located Wilma and Lord Harry.
* * * *
Gavin remained where he stood, watching Emily return to the crowded Rose Room. He leaned his hips against the balustrade, arms crossed over his chest, the soles of his silver-buckled evening shoes planted on the stone floor. For long minutes, he gazed up at the starry sky before igniting his last smoke. His thoughts now centered on Emily Dancy. His attraction to her had deepened, cluttering his mind and stirring curiosity about her and her family. A second notion took root in his brain as well; his aunt had put the damn bug in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about it…or about his new, appealing governess.
Blowing out a perfect smoke ring, Gavin decided to visit the tiny hamlet of Toynton-under-Hill first thing tomorrow. Spurred by inquisitiveness, he would seek information about Emily Dancy, her parents, and even that blackguard uncle of hers. She grew up in a nearby village, so it seemed a logical place to investigate what he could discover.
Finishing his cheroot, Gavin nudged his way through the noisy throng; many guests were still busy mingling. He nodded to some he knew, but didn’t linger to chat. Jordan had waited up for him in his chamber. He assisted the earl out of his clothes though Gavin told the man he wasn’t needed. He then helped Leathem into a silk robe and poured him a generous tot of brandy. A clock on the mantelpiece chimed one o’clock. A tray of cold, roasted fowl, sliced beef, hard cheese, a half loaf of bread, and a crock of butter, rested on a table next to a high-backed chair. Gavin threw himself down onto the plump cushions. “Wake me early tomorrow, Jordan. I’m visiting a nearby village first thing in the morning.”
“Aye, m’lord. Anything else I can do for you now?” his valet asked.
Gavin shook his head, leaning back. “No, nothing.”
“Then I wish you goodnight, m’lord, and rest well.”
Chapter 5
NATURALLY, Emily had to tell Wilma about her encounter with the earl as soon as they managed a private moment.
“Leathem is here at the duke’s house party?” Surprised, Emily’s friend’s brows rose. “Oh my, that’s something. I heard the earl rarely attends parties like this. What did he say, Emmie, when he saw you?”
“I don’t think he knew it was me until I told him who I was.”
“Hmm,” Wilma murmured, her smile sly. “I’m not surprised. You looked ravishing this evening. Even Harry commented. His friends pestered him to be introduced. You made quite a splash tonight, my dear, but then I knew you would.” Wilma chuckled softly. “But first tell me exactly what the earl had to say.”
“He said he thought I might be my twin sister.”
Wilma giggled. “What else did he say? Did he say you were pretty?”
“No, of course not,” Emily said, ducking her head, her cheeks turning pink “The thing is, Willy, I was terribly embarrassed.”
“Why? Why should you be embarrassed? You are an invited guest here the same as he is.”
“No, not that. It was because I had a sneezing fit. You know how I had those fits during the spring and summer?”
“I do remember. You believed
it was caused by roses.”
“Well, it was different this time. It was the fizzy bubbles in the champagne. That’s why I had to excuse myself.”
“Oh dear,” Wilma giggled. “Champagne bubbles do tickle your nose, don’t they? But don’t you love it?”
“Truthfully, the wine was a little tart for my liking, but that wasn’t what I wanted to tell you.” Emily went on smiling. “The earl heard me…at least, he heard somebody making funny noises. I hid in a dark spot on the balcony when I couldn’t stop sneezing. He didn’t know it was me…even before he offered me his kerchief and asked if I was weeping.”
“Goodness! That was rather nice of him.”
“Yes, I thought so, too. My back was turned, but I recognized his voice right off. It’s very deep, Willy, and a little raspy. So I grabbed the cambric and—”
Emily stopped, blinked, and started to giggle. “Oh, Willy…my nose was dripping because of so much sneezing, so I had to blow it. Then I was flustered and almost handed the square back to him all wet and gooey!”
“Good gracious!” Wilma snickered along with Emily, her eyes gleaming with amusement. It was like old times, the two giggling like silly schoolgirls. Wilma inhaled a breath then asked, “What happened next, Em?”
“Well, I yanked his kerchief back, promising I’d launder it before returning it.” Emily almost gagged on her giggles, her chin bobbing. When her breathing calmed, she said, “Can you imagine how I felt, Willy? It was dreadful, I was mortified.”
Her friend nodded in agreement.
“I must say, though, Lord Leathem was quite nice about it. He did say he thought I was bawling! Me, bawling! Can you imagine? You never saw me doing such a thing, did you? I was never a watering pot. Well…only when Mama and Papa died.”
“I know, dear, you were always the intrepid and courageous one. You never cried…even when your old, mangy, yellow cat lay down and breathed her last.”
“We gave Miss Kitty a fine funeral though, didn’t we, Willy? Remember?”
“We did, indeed. You dug the hole and said some prayers over her. We even went back a few times to put daisies on her grave.”
Wilma sighed, her blue eyes had a faraway look in them when she spoke again. “Goodness sakes, Emmie, right after I left you on Regent Street, I caught up with Harry. I had to tell him about us. So many wonderful memories came back to me. Do you ever think about those days?”
“Of course, I do. I never wanted to leave the village.” Emily had buried most of her bitter memories down deep. “Those halcyon days seem very long ago,” she murmured with a noticeable sigh. Then she blinked and continued talking. “But let me finish, will you?” She pursed her lips. “By then my wits had returned, so I told Lord Leathem I would leave here tomorrow.”
“Why? Why should you—?”
Emily interrupted her friend. “It was only because—well, now I have to tell you something else.” It was time she confessed the bad news about her uncle to her bosom bow.
“I didn’t mention this when I should have. And it’s not very nice.” Emily met her friend’s questioning look. “It’s about my uncle, Willy.” She licked dry lips then swallowed. “When we ran into each other that day, I knew you hadn’t read the Tattler—”
“That gossip rag?” Willy grumbled.
“Exactly. There was an article in it that morning about my Uncle Eustace. Do you remember him?”
“Vaguely. You told me about him only in bits and pieces. I never met him. You said he rarely visited the village.”
“Well, my uncle is currently in the Tower of London. He’s accused of spying for the French.”
“Oh, dear God, help us, Emily!” Wilma exclaimed, smothering a gasp from behind gloved fingers. “That’s dreadful!” Wilma slumped backward, obviously trying to recover her equilibrium after her friend’s surprised announcement. Then she responded rather stoically. “Well, it’s my opinion, Emily, that none of this has anything to do with you.” She arched an elegantly tweezed eyebrow. “You barely know the man.”
“That’s true, yes.” Emily’s voice wavered, but she went on to explain. “After my parents died, Willy, I lived with my uncle in London the past eighteen months. It was…horrible. My father made Eustace my legal guardian until I’m one and twenty.”
Emily stared down at clenched hands in her lap.
“I never liked him; he wasn’t—isn’t—very nice. But he’s all I have left of my family. And now, he’s brought a terrible scandal down upon me. One I shall never live down.” Emily’s voice broke. “You…and Lord Harry…should not be seen with me.” She sucked in a taut breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Wilma, really I am. I should have told you this before now. And I should never have accepted your invitation to the duke’s party.”
The two friends had retired to a ladies’ withdrawing room for a moment of peace and quiet away from the hubbub still going on in the public salons.
“Just be quiet,” Wilma commanded. “I need to think about this.” She wrinkled her brow before grabbing one of Emily’s hands and squeezing it. “Does Leathem know about your uncle? Was that why he asked you to leave?”
“No, no, Willy, you are mistaken. He didn’t ask me to leave.” Emily’s gaze met Wilma’s. “The day I bumped into you, I told him about the Tattler’s article. He knew about my uncle. And Leathem is nothing like what I thought he would be. He didn’t rant at me when I was absolutely certain he’d sack me. Instead, he—well, he told me to calm down. Then he said everything would be fine.”
Wilma peered into Emily’s crystal clear eyes. “What did he say then?”
Emily sighed again. “You should know, Willy, that the earl has a most commanding presence. Being so tall and all. But meeting him face-to-face unexpectedly tonight flabbergasted me totally—”
“Never mind that, Em. What did you do when you ran into him on the balcony?”
“Nothing, at first. I was speechless!”
“Were you afraid?”
“Afraid? No, why should I be afraid? The earl has a very wide charitable streak in him. He let me take my holiday without making a fuss.” Emily paused. “Wilma, he’s different…in other ways, too.” She remembered Leathem carrying her packages for her when she returned from shopping. It should have been a footman’s job, not his.
“I’ve never met him, Emmie. Is he anything like my Harry?”
Emily hesitated. “Well…no…not at all. I think Harry and the earl are quite different, Wilma.”
“Oh? What are you hinting at? Don’t you think my Harry is handsome?” Wilma’s eyes flickered with a haughty light, her words crisp.
“Of course, Lord Harry is handsome, Willy. Don’t take what I said the wrong way. Your Harry is…well, he’s quite fine looking and very nice, really. His face is rounder than the earl’s where Leathem’s features are cut sharp with square jaws. And the earl’s eyes are a dark brown and look right through you. It’s quite disconcerting.” Emily glanced away. At one time, she thought he could read her mind.
“And Leathem isn’t like Lord Harry, who is so friendly and comfortable to be with. When I first met Leathem, I thought him unapproachable. Rather brusque in his mannerisms. He was different when we spoke about my uncle though. And tonight, on the balcony, he was different, too. He told me to stay at the party and enjoy myself, and I think he meant it. He even promised to squelch gossip about my uncle if it comes up. Oh, Willy, I couldn’t ask anything more than that from him.”
Wilma’s brow smoothed. “You know, Emmie, I must tell Harry about this. And I’ll ask him to divert any talk about your uncle, too, if it comes up. I don’t know if he read the article you’re talking about, but if he did, he never said a word about it to me. He may not realize there’s a connection between your uncle’s surname and yours. But it wouldn’t make a difference once he’s met you. Your uncle’s criminal behavior has no bearing on you, and I’ll tell him so. I know my darling husband, Emily. He accepts London’s gossip with a
grain of salt, same as I do. So don’t fret yourself about this.” Wilma squeezed Emily’s hand a second time. “Trust me that we’re both your friends and will keep mum.”
Emily hugged Wilma. “Thank you. Oh, thank you, Willy. How I have missed you.”
“And I missed you as well.” Wilma smiled warmly. “Now then, I think we should return to the party. If I’m not mistaken, Throckmorton was looking for you.” Wilma winked. “Remember that Harry warned you, though. If that rascal flirts with you, don’t believe a word of it. He’s a silver-tongued charmer, so don’t hang your heart on what he says. He’s not like my dear Harry.”
* * * *
Jordan woke Gavin, had him shaved and dressed before ordering a hot breakfast of curried eggs, kippers, ham, fresh baked bread and butter, and a pot of Turkish coffee. Gavin had to be one of the duke’s first guests to greet the day. Last night’s festivities lasted until well after midnight. Exhausted by his extensive ride from Oxfordshire, Gavin had fallen into bed as if drugged, his muscles stiff and aching. After a night’s rest and a hearty breakfast, he approached one of the duke’s grooms and requested use of a borrowed horse. His mount, Pegasus, deserved a rest after their lengthy gallop from his aunt’s manor.
The hamlet of Toynton-under-Hill nestled amidst the hills and fields of Carlisle’s immense ancestral estate. Gavin’s eyes scoured his surroundings, acclimating himself as he trotted along a dusty lane. The village appeared to be like any English village, only smaller. His first view had a church’s steeple pointing to the sky.
Gavin trotted by a blacksmith’s shop, hearing heavy blows landing against an anvil as metal on metal clanged in rhythm to the beat of the blacksmith’s hammer. Smoke curled above an open shed before being blown away by a light breeze.
The earl next passed a sturdy-looking, three-storied inn built in the Tudor style. A wooden arch stretched over the entrance to the stable yard and coaching area. A mud-spattered coach, its driver, two postillions, and the inn’s hostlers stood chatting, obviously, waiting for customers to break their fast and climb aboard. The inn appeared large enough for a half dozen overnight guests. King’s Court Inn was incised in white letters on a wooden sign that was slowly buffeted by the wind. Another Tudor edifice, the White Dove Tavern, was gouged into another structure’s unpainted façade, and appeared to be the hamlet’s only drinking establishment.
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