“We both do,” Mary added. “Which is why this kissing business would likely be best accomplished somewhere else. Away from London society.”
“Like at Clearview…” Cassandra let the idea hang in the air.
Emily snorted. “The trouble with that suggestion is having an agreeable gentleman stop by and offer his…ahem…services.”
Mary’s eyes sparkled. “Caleb did.”
Emily and Cassandra were forced to smother their laughter when other guests entered the room at that moment. The newcomers glanced their way briefly before claiming the seating arrangement in the opposite corner.
“Yes, but what are the chances of that ever happening again?” Emily whispered. She shook her head. “I know you’re both trying to help and I thank you for it.” Their willingness to facilitate an illicit kiss between her and some unknown man for the sole purpose of satisfying her curiosity meant the world to her.
“Perhaps we should put an advertisement in the paper for a new caretaker,” Cassandra suggested.
Emily turned to her. “You’re terrible.”
Cassandra shrugged. “I’m merely looking out for your best interests.”
“And who knows,” Mary said, “he might just turn out to be a duke in disguise.”
Emily met Mary’s gaze. “Only one of us could be so lucky.” She smiled. “Thank you. Both of you. But I’m actually not sure I’d like my first and possibly only kiss to be with a man whose been procured for that purpose alone.”
“Well, if you change your mind,” Cassandra said, “you must let us know.”
Emily promised to do so even though she knew that would never happen. If she kissed a man, she wanted it to happen naturally and because he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him.
This certainty grew when she returned to the ballroom and cast her gaze on the dancers. The cotillion reminded her of Lord Langdon, the man she’d once believed she would marry. He’d courted her for nearly a month, had made her feel special and wanted in spite of her less-than-perfect figure. Until he’d called things off by announcing his engagement to Lady Victoria Hewitt.
She’d never figured out exactly what happened, except that her mother, Georgina, was somehow to blame for Langdon’s change of mind. There could be no doubt since it had occurred immediately after Georgina had gone to ‘discuss a few things’ with him. And then, as if that hadn’t been bad enough, her mother had made a spectacle of herself later by confronting Langdon openly at the Dawset Ball, immediately after he’d announced his betrothal. This, coupled with the mocking comments other young ladies her age had made at the time about Emily not being good enough for Langdon anyway, had compounded her shame.
Emily had left London the very next day, unable to bear the humiliation or the pain. And as the days had turned into weeks, months, and eventually years, returning to London had become increasingly impossible. More so because of the happiness she’d found at Clearview. There, she could be herself without the fear of censure and without always worrying about the opinion of others. There, she’d found the true friendships she’d always lacked in London.
Now, watching the dancing couples twirling about with smiles on their faces, she supposed he must have realized that she wasn’t countess material and that marrying the daughter of a tradesman would not have been wise in the end, even if he did desire the dowry her father had bestowed upon her. Emily’s heart still ached, though not because of any lingering affection toward Langdon but because he was proof of how naïve she’d once been. To think that she’d thought he’d actually liked her for herself. It seemed so silly now, in retrospect.
“I wonder if there is still room on your dance card,” a low voice spoke at her right shoulder.
Emily glanced up to see one of Camberly’s friends, Mr. Bale, regarding her with expectation. “I’m afraid not,” she told him since she had no further desire to dance. And then, seeing disappointment in his eyes, she hastened to say, “But some fresh air would be most appreciated.”
His face lit up. “Allow me to escort you outside.”
She accepted the arm he offered and the welcome distraction from the shattered hopes and dreams of her past. Mr. Bale was a handsome man and quite unattached. If he wanted to keep her company, she would not say no.
Griffin Nathaniel Finnegan Crawfordstood in one corner of the crowded ballroom, conversing with his brother, Caleb, and Caleb’s friend, Viscount Aldridge.
“I cannot wait for this Season to be over so Mary and I can return to Montvale,” Caleb said. The couple had decided to build a cottage for themselves on the Montvale grounds so they could enjoy a simple life while away in the country. The manor itself would be turned into an orphanage so Mary could continue caring for children in need.
“It has only just begun,” Griffin remarked. Contrary to his brother, he missed the busy city life whenever he was away from it. He missed Vienna, with its culture and music and picturesque streets. By comparison, London felt like a grimy slum.
“And it will only get busier once parliament is in full swing,” Aldridge said.
“Don’t remind me.” Caleb crossed his arms. He glanced at Griffin. “At least Devlin had the foresight to escape while he could.”
Devlin was the third brother, born only five minutes after Griffin. All three were identical in appearance save for a few slight differences between them. But Caleb was the oldest, so he’d been the one burdened with the dukedom when their father and older brother had died. It was a responsibility Griffin didn’t envy, though he admired Caleb’s effort to find a balance between his duty and a less demanding existence. Mary’s love and support had undoubtedly helped.
“I plan to do so as well,” Griffin said. “I’ve already been away from my place of business longer than I ever intended.” Years ago, when he’d first left England after arguing with their father about not wanting to join the army, he’d gone to Germany where a chance encounter with a man in a tavern had put him in touch with a clockmaker named Herr Fritz.
Intrigued by Herr Fritz’s craftsmanship, Griffin had inquired about a position and had quickly become the man’s apprentice. Seven years later, when Herr Fritz had retired, Griffin had travelled to Vienna where he’d opened his own shop, selling not only clocks but mechanical toys to the marvel of all his customers.
“Who’s managing it right now while you’re here?” Aldridge asked.
