Chapter Nine
EMILIA WOKE THE MORNINGof the third ball with mixed emotions. She wished to find a husband, and remain in Edinburgh, but the second ball and her ride in the park had produced no suitable candidate. This was partly because none of the available men seemed interested in her, or rather interested enough to defy Viscount Dunreid, but also because, to her despair, she’d come to realize that only one man would suit…Mister Banbrook.
Robert, as she now called him in the privacy of her thoughts, was everything she’d hoped for in a husband, and more. He was also things she never imagined she wanted, but now did. He suppressed his passions. Drawing out a man was a pleasure she’d never before experienced. In the park, when he’d laughed so hard and free, she’d given up any hope of keeping her heart.
Yet two obstacles prevented pursuit of him. He might still love Lady Cinthia, and he wasn’t in the market for a wife. Emilia sighed.
These obstacles occupied her thoughts as she went through her morning. No matter how she twisted and turned them, they couldn’t be set aside. She could find no way over, through or around those two truths. A sinking despair began to fill her. How could she wed any other man now that she knew Robert? If she couldn’t wed, she would return to the country and die an old maid, a burden on her family forever. She almost rued the day she wrote to Sir Stirling and brought Robert into her life.
In need of solace, she went into the garden to draw. Not the flowers that bloomed before her, but to give in to the impulse to sketchhisfine features. Once down on the page, she gazed at his likeness in misery until she could no longer bear the pain, then forced herself to turn to a clean sheet. Resolutely, she began a sketch of his Cleveland Bays.
She had a fair rendering, one she felt Missus Millview would approve of, before the familiar patter of a maid’s footfalls drew her attention. Emilia looked up to find she was, once again, Mary’s goal. She felt a surge of hope, for perhaps Robert had come to call, to give some indication he esteemed her as she did him.
Mary proffered a box. “Another package for you, Miss.”
“Thank you,” Emilia said. She took the package, and waited for Mary’s departure, which was almost immediate. Emilia turned the paper wrapped box over in her hands. This time, the message was affixed to the outside, and showed signs of having been opened. More than likely, Lady Peddington already knew what the note said. With a shrug for what couldn’t be changed, Emilia opened the page.
To wear tonight.
Yours, with the greatest affection,
RB
With hands that shook, Emilia peeled back the paper. The box inside came from the same jeweler Viscount Dunreid had used, which wasn’t surprising. Lady Cinthia had said they were the best in Edinburgh, which meant the jeweler on High Street. Likely, someone more experienced that Emilia would have recognized their box when given the first gift. Carefully, she opened the lid.
Inside gleamed a pendant. The single sapphire, accented by several small diamonds, hung from a delicate chain. The stone was the same size as the largest on the necklace Dunreid had sent, but the similarity ended there. This piece was beautiful. Elegant. Perfectly lovely.
Emilia put a hand to her mouth. Her vision blurred with tears. Robert hadn’t asked about jewelry because he’d learned of the necklace. He wasn’t keeping company with Lady Cinthia. He’d simply noticed the lack, and attempted to ascertain her feelings, and she’d said…
She clutched the box to her chest. She said that if a gentleman sent such a gift, and she accepted, it would be as if she accepted a proposal. Surely, there was no ambiguity in her words. He’d taken them in, and the pendant was his response.
She jumped to her feet, drawing tools flying. She must ready for the ball. She had a gown selected, but the pink muslin would not do. She must try on every suitable dress, few that there were, and see which best displayed the pendant. Her hair would need to be perfect, as well, a frame for the piece.
Her hands trembled as she opened the box once more. The sapphire glittered in the dappled sunlight beneath the oak. Almost dizzy with joy, she closed the box and dropped to her knees to collect her scattered tools.
Emilia spent the remainder of the afternoon in a happy haze. She stepped in and out of gowns, trying each at least three times. She brushed her hair until it shown, and curled the silken locks, then arranged and rearranged them to perfectly frame her face. Finally, when she felt she’d come as near to faultlessness as she could with her unstylish curves and yellow tresses, she clasped the pendant about her neck.
The hour for the ball rang out from the church bells of Edinburgh, the whole city singing along with her heart. Trembling with excitement, Emilia perched on the edge of her bed to don her slippers. She didn’t stand once they were on, but rather stayed where she was, and drew in deep breaths. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve Robert’s regard, but she was endlessly thankful. Her hand went to the pendant, to ensure the gift was real. She inhaled in another long, steadying breath.
Finally composed enough to venture out, she stood, crossed to the door and slipped from her room. The hallway was deserted. Her slipper-clad feet made no sound on the thin carpet, though the faint rustle of her skirt filled the silence. Steps light, she flew down the stairs to the foyer.
She wished to meet him alone, there, where they’d first met. Somehow, she knew he would arrive late, as he had then. He would do so in the hope he would find her waiting. Emilia smiled. If she was wrong, no harm would be done. She could seek him in the ballroom, and tell him of her foolishness. Perhaps he would laugh. She loved his laugh.
Emilia took up a position under the great candelabra that hung in the center of the vaulted space, so the pendant would sparkle, and tried to wait calmly. She was aware the butler and footmen darted covert glances her way, but ignored them. If they’d ignored her when Dunreid had foisted his unwanted attention on her at the start of the second ball, they could ignore her now, when she waited full of joy.
She held her hands at her sides, then clasped before her, then behind. She’d decided they should be at her sides again when heavy footfalls sounded in the corridor that led to the ballroom. She tensed. In their few short encounters, she’d come to recognize that aggressive tread. Viscount Dunreid would ruin her meeting with Robert.
Emilia’s gaze snapped onto the servants’ door hidden in the paneling, closed now while the footmen stood to the side, awaiting more guests. The small room had saved her before, and would again.
She tiptoed to the door. Refusing to look at the footmen and butler, she pulled open the panel. She glimpsed greatcoats and top hats in the instant before she closed the door and found herself smothered by wool and felt. Something soft bounced off her head and hit the floor. A hat, she realized.
Light streamed through the keyhole, disguised in the scrollwork on the outside paneling, and illuminated a single patch of some gentleman’s greatcoat. She hardly dared move for fear of toppling the pile of top hats. Carefully, she turned, then inched into a crouch until she was eye-level with the knob. She placed her eye to the keyhole, then jerked back.
True to her fear, Viscount Dunreid paced the foyer. Her heart took up a quick beat. In her eagerness to meet Robert, she’d ignored that the viscount had also found her in the foyer at the start of the last ball. Why, oh why, hadn’t it occurred to her that Dunreid might seek her there again?
She mustered her courage and returned her eye to the keyhole. He walked along the wall opposite her. When he reached one end and turned, his gaze caught in her direction. She straightened. Oh dear, had he seen the glint of her eye through the keyhole?
Though muted by the paneling, she discerned approaching footfalls. She squeezed her eyes closed, though how that might help, she didn’t know. He came ever nearer. She tried to breath quietly.
