What nonsense! Why, it was far better he hadn’t recognized her.
Still, Emmeline took her seat without a word, numb with shock, and for a single, painful instant, she wished Lady Fosberry’s settee would open up beneath her, and swallow her whole.
Chapter
Five
Emmeline Templeton had a smudge of dirt on her nose.
Not just her nose. Her pinafore was dusty with it, and was that…yes, there were ragged bits of some sort of plant clinging to her hems.
Johnathan cast her a surreptitious glance. She sat with her hands clenched in her lap, her head down, and she hadn’t uttered a single word since she’d entered the drawing room.
He might have dismissed her as dull-witted, or a prude, but that dirt…
It threw the whole picture into disarray. What sort of young lady received a morning call dusted in dirt with bits of the garden stuck to her skirts? No lady Johnathan had ever known, but he couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as he gave her another sidelong glance. Just last night he’d wished for a lady who was the opposite of Lady Christine, and it seems he’d found her.
“Well, Lord Melrose and Lord Cross. Such a lovely surprise to see you both. What brings you out to Hampstead Heath?”
Johnathan jerked his attention back to Lady Fosberry, and cleared his throat. “You’ve never been one to listen to gossip, my lady, but there’s—”
“Nonsense. You know very well I adore gossip, my lord. Let’s be honest with each other, shall we? Surely, we’ve been friends long enough for that.”
“Very well, then. I have an, ah…” Johnathan cleared his throat a second time. “A situation on my hands.”
Lady Fosberry raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yes, er…well, it seems I’ve…it’s a bit of a delicate situation you see, but…” Good Lord, this was mortifying, and he hadn’t even gotten to the worst of it yet. “There was a young lady at your ball last night in a lavender gown—I thought it was magenta, but it seems I was mistaken, and she…that is, I—”
“What Lord Melrose is trying to say, Lady Fosberry, is he shared an, ah…an amorous moment with a young lady in a lavender gown in your library last night. Lord Cudworth saw her leave, and now every scoundrel in London is wagering on her identity in the betting book at White’s.”
A brief, stunned silence fell as the three ladies exchanged glances, then Lady Fosberry said slowly, “Well, I can’t help but be pleased someone is getting some use out of my library.”
Cross stifled a surprised snort, but Juliet Templeton didn’t appear to find any of this amusing. She stared at Johnathan, outraged. “You mean to say you don’t know who she is?”
Johnathan’s cheeks heated. “I was under the impression I was, er, bestowing my affections on another lady. A particular lady, with whom I’m well acquainted. I’ve since found out I was mistaken.”
“Mistaken?” Juliet Templeton repeated incredulously. “My goodness, Lord Melrose, that’s rather a drastic mistake.”
Cross, who seemed to have forgotten he’d said the very same thing to Johnathan this morning at White’s, frowned at her. “Lord Melrose is fully aware—”
“Hush, Juliet, and let Lord Melrose speak.”
Johnathan turned at the soft voice. Emmeline Templeton had slid to the edge of her seat, and was watching him closely. He returned her stare, and saw that she had remarkably lovely eyes. Not gray or blue, but something in between, with a dark ring around her irises, and long, thick eyelashes. Her hair appeared to be a rich chestnut, but he couldn’t be certain of the color, as it was partially obscured by a ridiculous frilly lace cap that sat slightly askew atop her head.
Johnathan frowned at the offensive cap. It was the sort spinsters wore, but Emmeline Templeton couldn’t be more than twenty-two years old. She wasn’t one of the silly young chits that flooded the marriage mart, but she was hardly a spinster—
“It’s a sticky bit of business to be sure.” Lady Fosberry was shaking her head, but she loved intrigue too well to hide her excitement entirely. “How can I help, my lord?”
There was no polite way to put it, and the sooner he got the worst of this confession behind him, the better. “I thought you could assist me in discovering the identity of the Lady in Lavender.”
“Forgive me, Lord Melrose, but how is Lady Fosberry meant to help find her out?” Juliet Templeton asked. “No one saw the lady’s face. Not even you.”
Cross shifted on the settee. “I suppose that’s true, Miss Templeton, if one chooses to see it in the worst possible light.”
“Is there another light I’m unaware of, Lord Cross?” Juliet Templeton’s voice was cool, but she seemed to find Cross amusing, judging by the slight grin playing over her lips.
Cross, who did his best never to amuse anyone, returned her grin with a thin smile. “I’d wager there are a great many things you’re not—”
