It was all a matter of proper coordination.
She spent the carriage ride from Mayfair to the Royal Academy coming up with various schemes to lure Lord Lovell away from his cousin, but in the end, it was the easiest thing in the world. She found Lord Lovell sitting on a bench, alone. All it took was a half-smile and an inviting glance over her shoulder, and he’d followed her down the hallway.
“Good afternoon, Lady Emma, and Lady Crosby! Such a pleasure to see you both again so soon.” He bowed over Emma’s hand, his blue eyes moving over her face with frank appreciation.
“How do you do, Lord Lovell?” Lady Crosby inclined her head, and Emma distracted him with her sweetest smile while she glanced subtly about for any signs of Lord Lymington. She didn’t see him, but he’d appear soon enough.
He wasn’t going to be pleased to find her with his cousin. The thought made Emma’s stomach clench with nervousness, but she couldn’t deny there was a thread of anticipation there, as well. She did so love a challenge.
“Will you come and join my party?” Lord Lovell asked, offering Emma and Lady Crosby each an arm. “They’re viewing the Duchess of Devonshire’s portrait inthe next room.”
“Oh, how kind you are, Lord Lovell, but I’m afraid we’ve been here for some time already, and my grandmother is fatigued. We’re just going to see Reynolds’s portraits of Kitty Fisher before taking our leave for the day.”
“Er…Kitty Fisher?” Lovell asked, a flush sweeping up his neck.
“Yes.” Emma regarded him with wide, innocent eyes, but she couldn’t prevent a twitch at the corner of her lip. The exhibit was arranged by theme, which meant Kitty Fisher’s portrait was hanging with Reynolds’s other portraits of scandalous courtesansand actresses.
It wasn’t at all the thing for a young, unmarried lady to gape at portraits of harlots, not least because gentlemen tended to be more frequent visitors to that part of the exhibit, and it was tucked into rather a remote corner of the museum, so as not to offend the virtuous.
Emma wasn’t, alas, one of the virtuous, nor was sheshy of harlots.
Poor Lord Lovell, however, looked as if he was about to swallow his tongue. “Are you all right, my lord? You seema trifle warm.”
“Yes, yes, indeed.” Lord Lovell ran a finger under the edge of his cravat. “But are you certain you wouldn’t rather see the duchess’s portrait, Lady Emma, or the military portraits? The one of General Burgoyne is an especiallygood likeness.”
“Oh no, my lord. Military portraits are rather dull, and I’ve been longing to see Mrs. Fisher, and the portrait of Emma Hamiltonas Bacchante.”
Lord Lovell’s blush deepened at mention of Emma Hamilton. Goodness, how singular. Emma had never seen a notorious rakeblushbefore, but Lord Lovell didn’t seem much like any of the rakes she’d known, any more than his cousin was like other lords.
Emma didn’t care for rakes. She was too well acquainted with the damage they could do to find them intriguing, but there was something sweetly boyish about Lord Lovell, a vulnerability that made him seem younger than he was.
Younger, and very unlike a hardened villain.
Certainly, a man might look a picture of gentlemanliness when a monster was lurking just under the surface, but as far as she could tell, the only thing lurking under Lord Lovell’s surface was more tender skin.
He didn’t seem at all the sort of despicable fiend who’d hurt a young lady, but Caroline Francis swore he had. Caroline’s word was all they had so far regarding Amy and Kitty’s disappearances, so until Emma knew better, she’d follow where it led.
“You’re welcome to accompany us, my lord.” Emma smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him, hoping to hurry him along before his enormous cousin emerged from whatever corner he was lurking behind. Lord Lymington might have prevented her from dancing with Lord Lovell last night, but she’d have her waythis afternoon.
“I think I must, yes, as I don’t like to send you there without an escort.”
“Why, how chivalrous you are, Lord Lovell.” Lady Crosby took the arm he offered, beaming at him, but as soon as they reached the exhibit, she announced herself much too fatigued to take another step, and waved them off to admire the paintings while she sank onto a stone benchin the corner.
Emma hid her smile. For all her fluffy white hair and grandmotherly charm, Lady Crosby had taken to subterfuge as if she’d emerged from the womb with a dagger in her hand and a secret on her lips.
“Did you enjoy yourself at Almack’s last night, Lord Lovell?” Emma didn’t pause to allow him to answer, but rushed on with a gasp. “Oh, look, my lord! It’s Nelly O’Brien’s portrait. My goodness, she looks rather prim, doesn’t she? Nothing like I’d imagine a courtesan would look. She bore the Earl of Thanet three illegitimate sons, you know.”
Lord Lovell made a faint choking sound. “Yes, I, ah…I do believe I heard that. But to answer your question, Lady Emma, I found Almack’s a bit disappointing, as I didn’t share even one dance with you. I do hope you and Lady Crosby are attending Lady Swinton’s ball this evening, so I might have another chance.”
“I believe my grandmother intends it, yes.”
“May I solicit your hand for the first two dances, Lady Emma?”
Emma cast him a sidelong glance. Unlike his cousin, Lord Lovell knew very well how to play the gallant. “You’re not flirting with me, are you, Lord Lovell?”
“Flirting? Certainly not. That would be improper.” Lovell grinned at her and pressed a hand over hers. “But you won’t be so hard-hearted asto refuse me?”
“Oh, very well. I’ll dance with you, my lord, though I daresay I’ll regret it when all the other young ladies are shooting daggers at me with their eyes.”
