by Ella Edon
“Charmed, Mr. Highfield,” Emilia murmured, dropping a curtsey.
“Milady, are you here to tell me I eulogize nature like an antique poet? Or critique it, perhaps, like Lucretius of old?” He raised a soft brow.
“Never fret,” Emilia assured him grimly. “I came to say I look forward to hearing your work, with an ear uncluttered by comparison.”
Around her, Emilia heard shocked indrawn breaths. Three gentlemen and five ladies looked at her, aghast, as if expecting her to be blasted with hellfire for her offense.
The poet grinned.
“Milady, it is a pleasure to know you will be in the audience. I look forward to the recital.”
Emilia saw several of the fashionable set shoot her furious glances. How dare she, who wasn’t even pretending to know anything of poetry, receive more favorable treatment than they?
Biting her lip, trying not to grin, she turned away and walked to the back of the room, where – against the bookshelves – her aunt had set out chairs for those who had tired legs. She contemplated a velvet seat, then wandered out onto the terrace. It seemed better to be alone. Outside, in the fresh air, there were no difficult choices, no fashionable people with gaudy silks and hollow hearts.
She heard a voice in the salon – a familiar voice. She tensed. She didn’t know what it was about it that she recognized. It was a not-unpleasant voice; it was well-modulated, serious. Then she heard a cruel laugh.
She turned around and stared. It was the Duke of Elsmoor! She felt her heart start to thump uneasily. She had only met him once, and briefly, but already, the sight and sound of him made her afraid. Stepping closer to the stone rails of the terrace, leaning on them for support, she contemplated what she should do next.
The thought of seeing the man again frightened her. She hadn’t realized just how much fear he had instilled in her the moment they had met – hearing him again, she felt a fresh burst of that same fear and knew that she couldn’t bear to be near him, never mind contemplate any more on his terrifying proposal! No, there had to be a better way. Desperate though her father might be, he loved her. Whatever the duke said – however badly he tried to convince her of the opposite – she knew with a deep certainty that her father would never want her to suffer like that: not for his sake, not for anything.
Standing where she was, she could remain unseen: the terrace doors were covered by a fine net curtain, making it difficult for somebody inside the room to see out. Reassured, she stayed where she was, though her heart still pounded as if she had just been running.
She jumped, as she heard a noise behind her. Turning, she stared. No! It wasn’t possible! How had he seen?
The Duke of Elsmoor bowed to her. His eyes mocked her.
“Milady! Emilia. How charming to see you here! Do you so disdain your fellow guests? Why else do you relinquish our company, to stand alone on the terrace? Deep thoughts, perhaps?”
“I scorn no company, milord,” she said, dropping a curtsey. She kept her eyes downcast. Should she look up, it would have been hard to conceal her message: I scorn no company but yours.
“Oh. Well, it doesn’t look like it. Lady Eddington seemed most put-out. You should be careful, my dear, not to alienate high society.”
“I alienated no-one,” she said truthfully. “It’s not my fault how they choose to see me.” She turned her back, looking out across the cityscape. Leave me alone. Don’t call me by any terms of endearment. I don’t like you.
“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.”
He came to lean beside her on the wall, shoulder a finger-width away from hers. She could feel the warmth of his skin. She tightened her grip on her elbows, drawing her biceps away from him. She didn’t want to even accidentally lean on him.
“I’m wrong?” she asked, looking up into his face, schooling her expression carefully to neutral.
“Society gets only the impression you choose for it to have.” He was continuing his lecture, as if he hadn’t heard her, or seen her obvious discomfort. “I, for one, choose to show it a composed, educated gentlemen. Of any other dealings, only a select few know. One’s impression is everything. Lose your reputation, and you have nothing.”
“I am aware of that.”
He was silent and she felt compelled to face him. When she met his gaze, he stared back.
Are you? His eyes seemed to ask. Are you really aware?
“You’re a sensible woman,” he murmured, turning away, gazing out, like her, over the rooftops. “I suggest you consider my suggestion.”
“I have considered it,” Emilia said, after a long moment of gut-wrenching fear. “I have not contrived any different of an answer to the one I first gave you, two days before this one.”
His dark eyes held hers, boring into her. She didn’t like the expression she saw there. Anger, she would have understood. Lust, she would have known. But this…that intense dark gaze reminded her of the entrance to a mine-shaft: endless and pitiless, drowning any warmth and life that fell into it.
“Be careful,” he warned. “I advise, in all things, caution.”
Emilia made herself lean on the stone surround of the terrace. She stared out over the city below and stilled her beating heart.
“Caution is an admirable trait,” she said carefully.
He didn’t say anything for such a long time she thought he hadn’t heard her. At length, she heard him give a snort. He shifted, turning, on the rail, to face her.
“You remember that.” He left, walking back inside.
Emilia stared after him as he disappeared into the hall.
Shock held her rigid where she stood. Her mind was a blank space. What had just happened made no sense. He was here, at a party at the house of her aunt, in broad daylight, and he’d threatened her openly!
“How dare you?” she hissed.
She wished she’d said it at the time. Wished that she’d had the presence of mind to yell, or shout, or even to walk away. Why had she just stood there, while he said those things, and done nothing about it?
“Emilia, you are a fool,” she whispered.
What could she do? She had nobody to turn to here, besides her cousin. And what could Hestony reasonably do? She couldn’t afford to risk her reputation, any more than Emilia herself could.
She thought about telling Aunt Melior. The thought made her stomach clench with discomfort. Her aunt wouldn’t understand. Besides, if she told her about the blackmail, she’d have to tell her about the rest. And if she told Aunt Melior, well…Father would never forgive her.
“That’s that, then.”
She couldn’t turn to anyone. She’d have to rely on herself. What could she – by herself – do against this man and his veiled threats?
She shivered. She had never felt quite so desperate before. Oddly, she found herself thinking of Luke Preston. She wished, fervently, that when she went home, she would be able to go up to the topmost floor of the house, and talk to him.
“I had forgotten how much I miss his presence.”
Despite the fact that she looked forward to seeing him, she hadn’t realized – until he had departed – how excited it made her, this daily interaction with him, how she enjoyed planning what she’d say and do when she saw him. She’d thought it was the challenge of confronting him, but now, she realized it was something else.
I liked him rather more than I thought.
She felt a flush creep into her cheeks as she remembered the previous afternoon in the park. She had been so surprised to see him; her heart soared in a way she had never experienced with anyone before. She had forgotten – perhaps she’d never known – what it was to feel that level of elation, simply because she’d seen someone.
“…and then I rode all the way to Brighton!” a voice – harsh, brash – said from the hall. She recognized the duke’s voice, and the sound of admiring laughter as he finished his story. She was surprised by the shiver that passed through her body, hearing his voice.
I never thought
I’d be so afraid. Not here, at a gathering in my aunt’s house.
She wrapped her arms about her, trying to reassure herself, to stop the shivering.
“Emilia! Cousin!”
“Oh! Hestony!” Emilia’s heart soared with relief as her cousin emerged through the door, looking distressed.
When she saw Emilia, her face cleared at once. “There you are!” she said. “The first part of the recital’s over already! We’re gathering for a light tea in the parlor downstairs…if you’d like to have something?”
Emilia shook her head. She felt sick inside and thought that, if she had to go in there, where he was, she wouldn’t be able to eat or drink anything.
“No, thank you, Hestony.” She shook her head. “I’m quite tired. I’d like to stay here a while.”
“As you wish. I must say, I don’t much feel like staying right through. You know Mama and her poets. I want to sneak upstairs and look through that Beethoven or sew. Want to join me?”
Emilia felt her heart lift with excitement. “Yes. Do let’s.”
Hestony giggled. “We are quite shocking!”
“No,” Emilia said with a sadness in her heart. “We’re not shocking. Not at all.”
What they were doing was so harmless, compared to what the duke suggested! It seemed crazy to consider that she might once have thought it the height of subversion.
I was so unwitting then.
Shaking her head, she tiptoed through the salon, following her cousin out into the hallway.
Giggling like children, they collapsed inside of the drawing-room upstairs. Dropping onto the chaise-lounge, Hestony grinned at her friend. Emilia, sitting opposite in a comfortable cushiony wingback chair, grinned.
“We did it!” Hestony sighed happily. “No more poetry-reading!”
Emilia laughed. Of all the insurmountable things in life, they had just surmounted one small one. It felt quite wonderful. “We did.” She nodded. “That’s worth a celebration.”
“Hurrah!” Hestony declared, taking care to keep her voice down as footsteps passed along the outer hallway, fast and rushed. “What should we do, to celebrate? I want to buy more ribbons. I wanted to redecorate my bonnet to match my new gown. The one Mrs. Linnet is working on for me for the…oh!" she clapped her hand across her mouth with such an overwhelmed expression that Emilia almost shot to her feet, heart thudding loudly. What in Perdition’s name just happened?
“What, cousin?” she asked, alarmed. “What is it…?”
“Oh, silly me!” Hestony smiled. “I was just shocked I had forgotten about it! I didn’t tell you. There’s going to be a masked ball at Baron Mullway’s home. You have to come with me! It’s going to be grand!”
Emilia stared at her. Her stomach twisted with a mix of excitement and wonder. In a masked ball, she could be whoever she wanted. She could escape being Emilia, and all the foes who beset her, and simply be herself…young, carefree, at liberty.
“I want to,” she said slowly. But what will Father say? How will I go? What can I wear?
She knew, without having to ask, that there were no funds for her to have a new gown. And nothing she had would be appropriate for something as extravagant and wonderful as a masque!
“Well, do it, then!” Hestony giggled. “You can come with me! Mama will say yes, if she knows you’re coming. Do come, Emilia!” She rounded on her, eyes wide and pleading.
“Well, I don’t know,” Emilia said slowly. “I don’t even know what to go as,” she added. She couldn’t bring herself to say she couldn’t afford a proper outfit.
“Oh! Well, we can decide together,” Hestony said swiftly. “We can ask my seamstress to make yours, too! We’ll get them done together, and it’ll be so grand! Oh, do please say yes? Please…?”
“Oh, Hestony…alright, then,” Emilia agreed. Her throat was blocked by a big lump. She couldn’t quite believe her cousin had offered her something of such great value.
“Cousin! That’s perfect!” Hestony vaulted out of her chair and embraced her in a big, firm hug. “I’m so glad! Isn’t this exciting? It is!”
“Yes,” Emilia said, feeling the excitement tingle inside her. “It is.”
She was truly looking forward to it.
Chapter Fifteen
Discussion in a Coffee-house
Luke drummed his fingers on the table, breathing in the scent of tobacco-smoke, cologne, and coffee. The mix of it curdled in his belly, just like the sound of the lighthearted conversation grated on his nerves. He felt restless and impatient with the café, the Ton…the entirety of London.
“Damn it, man!” he muttered to himself. “Calm yourself.”
He had no reason to feel so uneasy! Since “escaping” the attic room, he had managed to settle some of his uncle’s financial troubles, and was on the way to making the whole of society forget about the incident. Why was it, then, that he jumped at every noise, and felt frustrated in every conversation?
It’s her. Go on and admit it – you’re missing her.
He couldn’t let himself believe it: Why would he? He had only known Lady Emilia a week! He knew in his heart that was the reason for his discontent, however – he was missing her, more than he’d imagined. All other company seemed dull in comparison. He had moved out of Canmure’s home that morning, hoping that the peace and quiet of his own home would help him feel at peace. As it happened, he found he missed the sound of other humans – he missed her voice – Emilia’s – sorely.
He closed his eyes in weariness, letting himself listen to the rise and fall of conversation around him.
“…and a good tip for Ascott is Henry’s Wish. A fine stallion, he is! Sure winner…”
“Did you go to Almack’s yesterday? I saw Lady Denvil there, and I declare! You should have seen her hair…exquisite!”
“How’s the price of tobacco? I heard it was looking up.”
He sighed. It all seemed so mundane, so soulless! He had talked about more worthy topics in five minutes – more personal, valid ones – when he was with Lady Emilia! Was this really all society cared about? Balls, parties, fashion and the races? He shook his head despairingly. Then listened in some more, as two young women started talking just behind him.
“…and do you think we should go, really?”
“My dear Hestony! Of course we should!”
He tensed. His ears recognized that voice!
“Really? Cousin…”
“Nonsense! You have your Mama’s permission, and so? Why ever not?”
He smiled. The two young women were talking at a table just out of his line of sight. He wanted so badly to leave his place.
“I wonder what your papa would say?” Lady Emilia’s companion was saying. He waited with some interest for Emilia’s reply. He wondered where they planned to go.
“I know he’d say yes. There’s just the matter of my outfit…”
“Which you know Mama is more than happy to have made!”
“I know,” Lady Emilia trailed off, hesitantly.
Luke listened with interest. He wondered again where they were going. It upset him to think that Lady Emilia could not afford her own outfit for the event. He wondered, privately, just how dire their financial situation was.
“…but of course, if you think we’ll be safe…”
“I am sure we shall be. And besides! It’s a masked ball! Not a bear pit.”
“I know,” the other woman said, sounding unhappy.
“Don’t fret, cousin!” Emilia sounded brisk. “If you’re worried, we can stay an hour only, and ask Mr. Harris to wait outside to fetch us. That way, nobody will dare to follow us home!”
“Thank you, Emilia,” her cousin said. She sounded happy. “That would make me feel much better.”
“Well, then!” Emilia said brightly. “That’s settled! We will go on Friday, for an hour. And when we return to your house, we can have our own little party, right there.”
“That sounds capital!”
Luke bi
t back a grin, happy to hear their excitement.
I wonder. A masked ball, this Friday. I must look into it.
Where was the masked ball? Who was hosting it? He listened in again for a bit longer, but the women’s conversation had turned to other things – discussing their plans for the week ahead, the health of a mutual acquaintance.
Somebody here must know about it! He resumed listening in to the other conversations, hoping that somebody else would give away another hint, some other clue, but there was nothing. He wondered who would be the best person to ask, and then hit on the answer. Canmure! Unlikely though it might have seemed – his friend wasn’t remotely a dandy – Canmure always kept ahead of society events because Raphaella talked of not much else.
