Page 53 of The Marquess’s Forbidden Bride

‘If I do need to send a message of distress, at least we wouldn’t need to worry if, keeping an eagle eye on my whereabouts, she should discover us meeting in the arbour. I’m the last person she would want you forced to wed!’

He laughed. ‘There is that. But as you say, hopefully it won’t come to that. We’ll get through the ball tomorrow without further unpleasantness and safely go our own ways back to London. Though I shall forever resent her showing up here and putting to a premature end what was supposed to be, and had been, a time of uninterrupted enjoyment for us to share.’

Recalling the rides, the talks, the easy repartee over breakfast and dinner—and those wonderful kisses in the arbour, Emma sighed. ‘I find that hard to forgive as well.’

‘At least we’ve accomplished one thing—there’s no more need to avoid one another! Once in London, we can compare notes so we attend together, rather than avoid, the same entertainments. I shall claim at least two waltzes at every party! And fend off Lord Aldersby’s approach with the zeal of a rifleman covering the infantry’s storming of a fortress.’

‘That sounds wonderful,’ Emma murmured, a bit giddy at the thought. She’d dreaded his gradual withdrawal as the pull of higher rank took him from her, but having met Hart and Claire, with the promise of the arrival of his friend Rafe and his wife, whom, he’d promised, were even more approachable, perhaps he would not be drawn out of her orbit.

Perhaps she would get to enjoy the rest of the Season in his company while being buttressed against the unwelcome pursuit of Lord Aldersby and others of his ilk.

A spiral of warmth and happiness buoyed her spirits.

And after this Season, perhaps by the next, they might both be ready to consider…more. She allowed the heart she’d been keeping under such close guard to experience a tiny flicker of joy.

‘My, are you two going to sit with your heads together all night?’ Lady Routham asked, walking over with Mrs Jeffries to give them a glittering smile. ‘You mustn’t miss your beauty sleep, Miss Wellingford, not with more suitable gentlemen coming to the ball tomorrow that you’ll want to impress with your charms. Constance and I are going up now. We can escort you up as well.’

So you might trip me at the top of the stairs? Emma thought, while she summoned her best society smile. ‘Very kind of you, but I must stop by the nursery to check on the duchess. We missed her company tonight while she tended an ailing child.’

‘Such an admirable sense of duty, Miss Wellingford. Come along, then, let Mrs Jeffries and I hasten you to the nursery. Good night, Lord Richland. I wish you as much joy on the morrow as you’ve obviously had tonight.’

‘Please do join us, Miss Wellingford,’ Mrs Jeffries said, smiling as sweetly as her hostess.

Though not inclined to appear responsive to Lady Routham’s manoeuvring, neither could Emma conjure up a reason to refuse to walk with them that would not seem odd to Mrs Jeffries. From that lady’s expression, unless she were the greatest actress to grace the ton, Emma concluded that, though she had undoubtedly heard there’d been an exchange of heated words at the Croxton ball, she was unaware of any continuing enmity.

Coming up with no ready alternative, Emma rose and said, ‘I must accept your gracious offer. I’ll bid you good night then, Lord Richland.’

‘Good night as well to you ladies. And you, too, Lady Routham,’ he said, firing that parting shot as he rose to give them a bow.

Chuckling under her breath, Emma trailed them out of the room.

Chapter Seventeen

The next night, Emma descended to the ball, eager to spend time with Charles and avoid as much as possible any further interaction with Lady Routham.

It had been a frustrating day, she thought wearily, a slight headache throbbing at her temples. Lord Telford had taken the gentlemen out hunting; over breakfast the ladies proposed an extended stroll through the garden, which Emma, with her superior horticultural knowledge, was begged to lead. Seeing no graceful way to refuse, she agreed.

She’d been deprived of her one ally when Claire remained closeted with her sick daughter. Meanwhile, Lady Routham, freed from restraint by the absence of their hostess, who remained secluded the whole day, conserving her strength for the ball that night, stepped up her campaign of barbed innuendo.

Though she’d ended the garden tour feeling like a pincushion, annoyed by a dozen little stings, Emma had to admit the woman was clever enough that most of her comments, though they might be thought a bit odd, were tied closely enough to family history about which the other ladies were in ignorance that they could not be aware of the malice they contained. She’d been several times tempted to forget her upbringing and respond with a full-out assault but managed to refrain—which was probably why she’d ended up developing a headache.

With the ball that night, there had been no formal dinner; she, like many of the guests, had requested and received a tray of light refreshments in her room. Looking over it with little appetite, she was almost tempted to skip the ball and return to London. But headache or not, she wasn’t prepared to let Lady Routham drive her from the field.

Or miss the waltzes she’d promised Charles.

At least, even if Claire didn’t appear tonight, Hart and Charles would be present. A considerable party was journeying out from London to join them; hopefully Lady Routham—whom rumour said was only tepidly fond of her husband—would be too busy flirting with the gentlemen to bother Emma.

She entered the ballroom unannounced; with so many of the guests’ close friends and to conserve her energy, Lady Telford dispensed with a receiving line. Pausing inside the entrance, Emma looked about for her allies.

Her attention was drawn at once to a laughing party at the centre of the ballroom—Lady Jersey and some of her closest friends, chatting with and teasing Lady Telford, who shyly bloomed under their attention. There also stood Charles—with Lady Jersey’s arm linked through his.

Emma’s already-depressed spirits sank lower. Though she’d been pleased that Lady Jersey and her friends had taken Charles under their wing, protecting him from pursuit by marriage-minded females, she wished they had not been invited here. She was unlikely to be able to lure him from the side of the lady who had been commanding his attention at every recent event.

Charles looked up, spied her and gave a rueful half-shrug as he inclined his head toward his vivacious partner. Meaning, she concluded, he, too, didn’t expect it would be easy to detach himself from the lady who’d selected him as her current favourite flirt.

She’d probably not get those waltzes after all.

She could look forward to some in London, she thought, trying to rally herself. They could meet at any number of balls and routs before the end of Season, now that they were able to associate freely.