Page 31 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

‘Not so much that,’ Emma said. ‘After all, I’m not concerned that scandal might discourage any suitors.’ At Nicky’s sharp glance, she added, ‘I don’t wish to marry anyone this Season, as you well know, Nicky.’

‘The Season’s not over,’ Englemere replied. ‘You may yet find a gentleman who persuades you to change your mind. You know we won’t force you to wed before you’re ready.’

‘We were forced, and are infinitely lucky that our union turned out so happily,’ Sarah said, pressing her husband’s hand. ‘We wouldn’t put anyone else in that position, especially not a beloved sister.’

‘Thank you both for your tolerance,’ Emma said, supremely grateful for their understanding. Turning to Richland, she continued, ‘I am sorry our association is making your acceptance by the Stratton family more difficult.’

‘I don’t get my second waltz?’ Richland guessed.

‘If we waltz again, especially after the salvo Lady Routham delivered in front of half the assembly, it would fuel even more gossip—gossip that says you have more than a friendly interest in me,’ Emma warned. ‘To escort me back to my family is the chivalrous act of a true gentleman. To waltz again would appear the action of a suitor.’

‘Very true,’ Sarah confirmed.

Richland frowned. ‘I suppose I must yield to sage advice—but I do so reluctantly.’

‘You needn’t approach Lady Routham again, but it would be wise to seek out Lady Richland in the next day or so,’ Englemere advised. ‘I imagine she would allow that this distasteful public feuding does no one any good. Try to reach some mutually acceptable agreement with her so she can rein in her daughter.’

‘I’d like to tell them both where they can go,’ Richland muttered. ‘I’ve lived twenty-five years of my life without their approval. I’m perfectly willing to do so for the next twenty-five.’

‘Like it or not, they are your relations now,’ Sarah said. ‘You mingle in the same Society. You would not be able to avoid them completely. Better to reach an accommodation, even if it is cordial dislike.’

Richland sighed. ‘I’ve never been eager to do battle, but I’ve never avoided it, either. I’ll take your good counsel and see if I can hammer out some compromise. I do not, however, intend to let the Strattons dictate who I see, who I consider a friend—or,’ he continued, turning to Emma, ‘with whom I can dance.’

‘I’m afraid dancing is on hold for the present.’ Conscious of her sister and brother-in-law beside her, she said carefully, ‘I do thank you for the waltz tonight. And the…graciousness of your assistance on the terrace.’

To her relief, the hot light flashing into his eyes told her he’d understood her veiled reference to their kiss. ‘And your even more gracious response,’ he murmured, squeezing her hand. ‘But I don’t intend to leave you without knowing when I might see you again.’

‘It wouldn’t be wise to meet at balls for the present,’ Emma said. ‘Shall we ride together again, early enough in the morning that none of the ton are about?’

‘Riding is always a pleasure, even more so if have your company.’

‘We shall choose a date, then. After you’ve dealt with the Strattons, so we may decide how to continue our friendship. You…you do want to continue it?’ she asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. Despite the ugly scene tonight, she’d be loath to lose his company.

‘I definitely want to continue it. I’m not giving up hope that you can still play my protector, and I yours.’

She smiled at that. ‘Perhaps we will.’

All her focus on Richland, Emma was only vaguely aware of the music beginning until Englemere tapped her shoulder. ‘Here is Lord Liverpool, ready to claim his dance.’

She turned to find the head of the cabinet at her elbow. Bowing, he said, ‘Allow me to steal away this delightful lady, Englemere. Miss Wellingford, if you will do me the honour?’

Knowing her time with Richland was at an end, but relieved they had a plan for meeting again, there was nothing further to do but curtsey to her new partner and bid Richland farewell. ‘You honour me, my lord,’ she said, taking Liverpool’s outstretched arm.

‘Uphold you, anyway,’ he said with a grin.

Emma took one last glance at Richland. He held her gaze, regret and steely determination in his expression. ‘Until later, Miss Wellingford,’ he said, both farewell and promise. With a short bow, he strode off.

Emma let herself be led into the next dance, uncaring of the curious murmurs attending Richland’s departure and her appearance on the dance floor on the arm of a wealthy and influential Parliamentary leader. Gazes that had been speculative or bordering on scornful resolved into polite expressions as she passed through the crowd on Lord Liverpool’s arm.

She truly didn’t care what Society thought of her, Emma silently affirmed as she and her partner began the opening figures of the dance. If the contretemps tonight discouraged some suitors from seeking her dowry, all the better.

If only it discouraged Lord Aldersby.

Though she’d hadn’t much hope of that. He might—and probably would—read her a lecture about proper behaviour at a ball, but in pursuit of handsome fortune, she suspected he was prepared to overlook her dirt-covered fingers, her mention of a torn chemise hem—and a public dressing-down.

How would it go with Richland? She didn’t envy him the coming interview with his stepmother or his shrew of a half-sister. She could admire Lady Routham’s loyalty to her uncle and brother, but that support could have been delivered in a wiser and more mannerly fashion. She sighed. The Strattons were not her worry to deal with, thankfully.

At least, she hoped not. Richland had assured her he meant to continue their friendship. With an uneasy mix of confidence and apprehension roiling in her gut, she hoped that, after breaching the citadel to talk with his stepmother, he wouldn’t conclude it would be more politic to avoid her after all.