“And I don’t believe I need introduce you two, n’est pas?” A little trill of laughter bubbled up from inside her as she patted Emmaline’s hand and walked away.
Fury at the subterfuge boiled in Emmaline’s veins. She raised her glance only to see humour lurking in Lucius’ steady gaze. She tightened her fists and would dearly loved to have hit him.
“Not my doing, Miss Devereux, I do assure you,” he said, putting up his hands as if in defeat. ”Although I can’t say I’m sorry. You look quite charming this evening.”
“I should do after all the effort that went into it,” Emmaline replied through gritted teeth.
“I see.” A ghost of a smile played across his face. “You would perhaps be happier in the country wearing homespun and half boots?”
“Much.”
“And why would that be?”
“I prefer the simple honesty of country life to the so called manners of people in Town, my Lord.”
“Really? Pray educate me.”
Dazed at finding herself so close to him again, Emmaline allowed Lucius to take her elbow and steer her to a seat in a window embrasure. When she saw where he led her, she glanced around but her chaperone was close by. Composing herself as best she could, she took the proffered seat.
“Now, you were going to educate me in the ways of honest country life and ill-mannered Town people, were you not?”
For a moment Emmaline thought she detected mockery in his voice. She dared to look at him, but saw nothing other than interest in his face.
“As master of Avondale Park, I am sure you are well acquainted with country life and need no instruction from me.”
“To an extent that may be true, but I am not sure how best to respond to your argument. Pray enlighten me.”
“Why, my Lord, do your horses not bite at one end and kick at the other? Do your dogs not steal scraps from your table, the cat get into the cream or the foxes ravage your chickens?”
“And there is honesty in that?”
“But of course, for they are simply being themselves.”
“And in Town we are not?”
“Of course not.” The look Emmaline gave him was beyond scathing. “Countess Esterhazy very clearly arranged to put us together this evening. Mamas scheme to marry their daughters off to the richest man possible every Season, regardless of how they may feel about each other. You only have to consider Lord and Lady Fletcher to see that.”
“How so?”
“Miss Stephanie Howard’s parents married her off to Lord Fletcher for his fortune and his estates but she is now carrying Lord Burrough’s child. Tell me, what is honest about that?”
“How the devil did you know about Lady Fletcher?” asked Lucius, clearly astonished.
“It doesn’t matter.” Emmaline shook her head.
“And what of you, Miss Devereux, are you honest?”
Emmaline’s stomach turned upside down and she quaked in her white satin slippers. Oh, how much she wanted to tell him the truth, to trust that he would not turn away from her. But it was impossible. She steeled herself and dared to look directly into his eyes.
“At this moment, my Lord, no I am not.”
Her response surprised and intrigued him but before he could question her further, a buzz of conversation stirred in the crowd. People pressed back to clear the centre of the room. Lucius stood up as they heard the murmur of anticipation.
“It is the Prince Regent himself,” the chaperone whispered with awe.
Emmaline left her chair and stood beside Lucius, hoping to remain at the back of the crowd. To her horror Countess Esterhazy was forming a reception line and she quickly found herself at the forefront.
The Prince, with his entourage behind him, slowly made his way down the line. Emmaline looked down and bit her lip, hoping that he would pass by her but the Countess and the Prince Regent stopped in front of her.
“Miss Devereux, delighted to make your acquaintance again.” In the ensuing silence she heard the creak of his stays as he bent towards her.
“Your Royal Highness is too kind.” She dropped a deep curtsy and bowed her head.
“Nonsense.” The Prince lifted her hand to his lips. “England salutes you. And how is your grandfather and your army of wounded warriors, hmm?”
“As well as can be expected, your Highness,” Emmaline assured him.
“Escorting Miss Devereux this evening, Avondale?” the Prince asked as the Countess introduced them. “If you ain’t, I might have to snaffle this pretty little thing out from under your nose.”
There were snorts of laughter and protestations from those around them and the Prince continued down the line, a fat chuckle emanating from his lips.
Lucius took two glasses of champagne from the salver presented by a footman and gave one to a still dazed Emmaline. She took the glass without a word, but turned with everyone else when Count Esterhazy proposed a toast to the Prince.
“So how come you’re acquainted with Prinny?” Lucius asked quietly once the Prince’s party moved on to take their seats in readiness for Catalani’s performance.
“I met him just once at a military function when in the company of my grandfather.” Emmaline sipped on her champagne.
“So why would England salute you?”
Emmaline sipped on her champagne and swallowed it slowly. Here was the core of her problem. She sipped thoughtfully on the champagne again. How could she possibly tell him anything without having to tell him everything? There was no way at all. She recklessly tossed back the remainder of it and placed her empty flute on a passing servant’s tray. Lucius stood close behind her. She sensed the heat in his hard muscled body. Her heart leapt, skipped a beat as he moved closer still. Her skin burnt as the backs of his fingers pressed lightly against her arm. She took a deep breath to compose herself and wished she had not drunk her champagne so quickly. Her head spun a little as she turned to Lucius.
“His Highness simply referred to the work my grandfather took upon himself to repatriate wounded soldiers. You must know they were shockingly neglected.”
“I have heard something of the sort, but I do believe there is more to it than that.”
Emmaline moved away a little and looked up at him. “But without calling me a liar, which would be most ungentlemanly of you, you will have to accept it will you not?”
“No, minx. I will not.”
Lucius leaned in towards her. His breath on her neck made her stiffen. Little licks of heat danced down her veins, twirled her pulse into a rapid tattoo. She tried to keep her back straight and to look ahead while all she wanted was to close her eyes and drop her head onto his shoulder. How could her body betray her so? She gave herself a mental shake and lifted her chin.
“I wish . . “ she began.
“What do you wish, Emmaline?”
She inhaled deeply. His words must have ridden on the cloud of her breath and detached themselves in her brain for she could not possibly have heard them.
“I mean, I want . . “
“What?” His lips were close to her ear. “Tell me what you want.”
He stood so close. She knew that if she leaned back she would feel the hard wall of his chest. She took a step away, but he moved beside her. She felt the firmness of his thigh against her hip. Shocked at the instant tremor this elicited in her, she moved away again. His whisper, soft and low and surely not heard by anyone but her, tickled the delicate shell of her ear.
“What I want is you in my bed.”
Emmaline gasped. This was wrong. She could not have heard him correctly. She blinked and looked up at him. The longing she saw in his eyes matched the longing in her heart and nearly overturned her resolve, but she lifted her chin even more and tried to smile.
“Ah, a jest to set the tone for the evening,” she said as glibly as she could
“I do not jest, I assure you, but I believe we should take our seats in readiness for the performance.”
In stunned silence, Emmalin
e took the arm he offered her. Lucius escorted her into the already darkened drawing room in which the evening’s entertainment was to take place. He procured seats for them, just as the performer made her entrance.
Catalani’s dark eyes swept her audience and commanded immediate quiet. She held them spellbound. Her audience waited. Her rich soprano voice began to fill the room and Emmaline felt a slight pressure on her hand. She glanced down to see Lucius’ hand resting gently on hers.
Her heart soared. Her pulse thumped as the soprano’s voice effortlessly rose and fell from one octave to another. Eyes closed, Emmaline remained motionless. She prayed that Lucius would not remove his hand and revelled in the warmth that radiated through the thin kidskin barrier of her gloves.
Her mind drifted. What if there were no barriers between them? What if she could remove his coat, his shirt? What if he slipped her gown off her shoulder? She shivered with pleasure at the image of his skin against hers.
Lucius turned her hand over and she felt the light pressure of his finger as he began to prescribe lazy circles in her palm. She gasped in shocked delight and, as that exploring finger travelled to the inside of her wrist and began to caress, felt a tremor run through her body.
Lulled by the melodies that washed over her, aflame from the sensations he stirred in her, she gave in. Relished the heat that emanated from Lucius’ hand and warmed her entire body. Wished the moment could last forever. When the song was at an end she reluctantly pulled her hand loose, rose from her chair and joined the audience in applauding the performance.
“She is magnificent, is she not?” Emmaline whispered to Lucius.
“Yes, you are,” he whispered back.
Suddenly breathless, Emmaline quickly sat down and folded her hands together in her lap to prevent them trembling. She peeped at Miss Stevens, hoping that she had not heard Lucius but her chaperone was still on her feet applauding. Catalani hushed the audience and sang two more pieces before making her exit amidst thunderous applause.
“However they managed it, the Esterhazy’s have outdone themselves,” Lucius said as the room began to empty. He held Emmaline’s chair as she stood up. “Were you perhaps invited to dine at Lady Darnley’s this evening?”
She nodded, unable to find words with which to reply.
“May I escort you?”
Fighting to control her breathing, she desperately hoped he did not notice her hesitation. “You do not have your own carriage this evening?”
“Yes, but it can follow.”
“And keep your horses waiting?”
A smile broke the lean face that loomed so close to hers. “There are times when it does not hurt them. Tonight is one of those times.”
Lucius beckoned to a footman and asked that his carriage be re-directed to Lady Darnley’s residence. He offered Emmaline his arm. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.
It felt so right, so good, as if it had always been so as she stepped out with him. He had not said he loved her, had not asked for her hand in marriage, but his whispered words rang in her mind.
He wanted her.
CHAPTER 10
As soon as they entered Lady Darnley’s Queen Street house, Emmaline quivered with apprehension. The air about them seemed to vibrate with expectancy and chilled her to the core..
Where she expected to hear the murmur of conversation there was silence. She unconsciously tightened her grip on Lucius’ arm as a footman escorted them to the drawing room and announced them to the small group already gathered there.
Lady Darnley excused herself from the discussion in which she was engaged with the few guests already gathered. Coming forward with outstretched hands, she smiled and exclaimed how pleased she was they were able to attend her dinner party.
She looked, Emmaline thought, far too pleased with herself.
“Rosemary.”
Lucius greeted her with a stiff bow while Emmaline curtsied to her hostess.
“I do hope you will not find our little gathering a bore after the delights of Countess Esterhazy’s soiree,” she said to Emmaline.
“I am sure I will not, Lady Darnley.”
“It is to be a small party this evening but let me begin by introducing you to Lord and Lady Peake.”
Emmaline curtsied but Lord Peake reached for her hand. Much to the visible annoyance of his lady, he held it a little too long.
“You look as though you have been too much in the sun.” Lady Peake peered short-sightedly at her. “A good fard or a Creme de l’Enclos should lighten your complexion. Try it.”
“Thank you for your advice, Lady Peake,” Emmaline said, “but neither remedy would be of use. My mother, you see, was Spanish and I take my complexion from her.”
Lord Peake looked suddenly interested. “Ah. Believe I do remember hearing some such thing. Long time ago though, eh?”
Emmaline smiled and was almost relieved when Lady Darnley moved her along to introduce her to Olivia.
“You l-l-look so lovely, Miss Devereux,” Olivia quavered. “I wish I could wear white.”
“You will, Olivia, and for you it will mean something,” said Lady Darnley. Her smile did not reach her eyes which were as hard as green glass and Emmaline instantly knew the barb for what it was.
A shiver of panic ran through her. No. Her secret could not be known so soon. Or could it?
Did Lady Darnley have a connection to the military? Could one of her servants or relatives have been in the service of the crown? It could be possible.
Swallowing her apprehension, she smiled and complimented Olivia on her jonquil yellow sprig muslin gown.
“Come,” encouraged Lady Darnley. “Here are Captain Kellen and Mr. Hooper. Both were in Spain and saw action in the Peninsula Wars. Captain Kellen served at Badajoz and Mr. Hooper both there and also Salamanca. That was your mother’s home, was it not?”
At the mention of her mother, Emmaline’s mouth turned dry. How did Lady Darnley know of her mother? What did she know? Where had she got her information? The questions raced through her mind, one after another.
“Our party is almost complete,” announced Lady Darnley. A look of triumph settled on her face. “We are waiting for just two more guests.”
They did not have to wait long. The footman opened the door and Lucius stiffened as Sir Peregrine Styles, his hair powdered, a patch placed high on his left cheek, stepped into the room with a young lady at his side. What was Rosemary up to?
“Ah, Peregrine, my dear boy.” Lady Darnley clapped her hands and advanced to greet her final guests. “Fashionably late as usual. And how nice to see you again, Miss Blair. Now our party is complete. Peregrine, perhaps you will escort Miss Devereux in to dinner? Lucius, do please accompany me. . .“
Lady Darnley quickly arranged the remainder of her guests into pairs and when a servant announced dinner was ready, led them downstairs to the dining room. A small fire burned on the hearth and warmed the room a little but not enough to disperse the icy foreboding that enveloped Lucius’ senses.
A heavily patterned gold damask cloth covered the table. Mirrored trays lay end to end along the table centre, each with a many branched candelabra standing upon it. Flames danced like fireflies atop each long, tapered candle and in the soft illumination of their reflection the silverware and cut crystal glassware at each place setting sparkled. Dainty floral arrangements of yellow and white roses amid delicate maidenhair fern sat between each pair of candelabra.
The elegance of the setting reminded Lucius of the dinner parties held at Avondale Park. For a moment he envisioned Emmaline presiding over his table and had no doubt she would be an excellent hostess.
“This is going to be so cozy,” Lady Darnley announced as she took her place at the head of the table.
Lucius suspected otherwise, but took the seat she indicated at her right. He looked around the table to see where others were seated. Sir Peregrine, a smug expression on his face, sat across from him with Emmaline at his left.
&nb
sp; She looked decidedly uncomfortable as she removed her evening gloves and Lucius ached to give her some reassurance, to show her she could rely on him. Captain Kellen sat next to her with Lady Peake beside him. Lord Peake took the chair at the far end of the table with Miss Blair to his left. Seated beside her, Mr. Hooper had already engaged her in conversation, inadvertently turning a shoulder on a shivering Olivia.
“Are you cold, Lady Olivia?” Lucius asked solicitously.
“A little. There is a s-shocking d-draught f-from the d-door.”
“Nonsense, Olivia,” interrupted her mother. “You are perhaps just a little overcome by our stellar company.”
A disdainful gleam shone in Sir Peregrine’s eyes and the smirk on his face became more marked. Lucius gritted his teeth as he took note of it. There would come a time, he was sure, when he would take great pleasure in removing that expression.
The company was not, as Lady Darnley declared, stellar. Rather, they were a mismatched collection of persons and, try as he might, Lucius could not comprehend the connection between them.
He knew Lord and Lady Peake only by repute. Slightly impoverished, they accepted any invitation that came their way and were often called upon to make up numbers at dinner parties. Miss Blair, a pale, frail, young lady who mirrored Olivia in many ways, appeared to be the most unlikely companion for Peregrine.
Captain Kellen and Mr. Hooper might have their military connection, but how did that connect them to the present company and where had Rosemary found them?
Captain Kellen was not wearing the regimentals to which he was entitled, while Mr. Hooper wore a poorly cut coat of a dark cloth. The finish to his apparel, a simply tied cravat, at least had the saving grace of being brilliantly white and held in place by a diamond headed pin.
If not for the possibility that Emmaline might yet need assistance, Lucius would have definitely been elsewhere. He finished his soup and sat back in his chair, listening to the idle chatter at the far end of the table while he waited for the fish course to be served.
“So, Miss Devereux,” Lady Darnley began, “I understand from Captain Kellen that you followed the drum?”
His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance) Page 9
