Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) (7 page)

Emma drew a deep breath, oddly nervous to broach the subject Viscount Weston had proposed with her family. Now was the perfect opportunity. They all sat in the bedroom so they could eat with Tessa. The soup they shared was more like hot water than soup. No meat in sight, only a bit of onion and cabbage to give it some flavor. That was a good reminder of why she needed to seriously consider his suggestion.

She set down her bowl on the small table beside the bed. “As all of you know, I met with Viscount Weston today. He had an interesting proposal.”

“What would that be?” Her mother tilted her head to the side. Emma felt as though her mother looked directly into her heart. Not for the first time, she wondered what she saw.

“Yes, please tell us.” Tessa asked as her spoon clattered into her empty bowl.

Without thinking twice, Emma rose and poured half of her soup into Tessa’s bowl despite Tessa’s protest then the remainder into Patrick’s. “I’m not hungry. I had tea at the viscount’s.” She lied with a smile.

Patrick nodded and quickly ate, but Tessa watched her with narrowed eyes.

“As I was saying,” Emma continued, “the viscount advised me that his grandmother is in need of a companion.” Her throat clutched at the half lie, yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell them the full truth.

“That could be interesting, assuming she’s nice. Do you know her?” Tessa asked.

“I meet her tomorrow.” Her stomach tightened at the thought, and she was glad she hadn’t finished her soup.

“What would your duties be?” her mother asked.

“She lives alone, so I would keep her company, read to her and the like. The interesting thing is she’d like someone to attend balls and other social events with her.” She dropped her gaze, berating herself for twisting the truth. Why didn’t she just tell them the viscount had offered to help her find a husband? Was it because she feared the mission would be a failure? How could she possibly attract a man, especially one who was a member of the
ton
?

“Oh, that’s marvelous,” Tessa exclaimed. “But what will you wear?”

“The proper attire would come with the position. The viscountess would assist me in selecting a few gowns and the viscount would take care of the cost.”

“That’s very generous,” her mother said. But Emma could tell by her tone she hadn’t yet determined if this was a good idea or not.

Emma felt the same way.

“Would you have to stay with her?” Patrick asked with a frown.

“Yes.” When his lips twisted in a scowl, she added, “It’s no different than if I were to find a governess post.”

“True, but we miss you terribly when you’re gone,” Tessa said as she shared a disappointed look with Patrick.

“I know, and I miss all of you as well. But she doesn’t live too far away, so I should be able to visit often.”

“Does the position pay well?” her mother asked.

Emma hesitated. It wouldn’t pay much of anything unless she got a husband. How could she possibly explain that? “I believe so, but I’ll know more after I speak with the viscountess directly.”

“It don’t seem like a good idea to me,” Patrick grumbled.

“It doesn’t,” Emma corrected him. “Why not?”

“You’ll be livin’ in some fancy place, wearin’ fancy clothes. You don’t belong in a place like that.”

The tightening of her stomach turned to full blown panic. Patrick was right. She didn’t belong there. She’d be trading her governess disguise for a different one. How was that improving anything? In truth, this was a gamble. Would she be better off continuing her search for a governess position so she could earn wages sooner?

Her gaze traveled around the small room, catching on Tessa. Her sister’s eyes were far too big in her pale, thin face. The prominent bones of her wrist were visible because her night gown was too small. Emma looked at Patrick who wore clothes that not only had been mended and patched too many times but that he’d outgrown. Already, she and her mother worked their fingers to the bone.

The truth was, they couldn’t continue like this. The viscount was right—her governess post barely paid the rent, let alone adequate food or the doctor’s bill.

Resolve formed inside her, pushing away her doubt.

“I’d remind you that we don’t belong here either, Patrick.”

His eyes widened at her tone.

“We belong in a good home with plenty of food. If this helps us move to that, then I will gladly do it.”

Patrick dropped her gaze and nodded but still didn’t look pleased at the idea.

“Can you imagine what it will be like attending a ball?” Tessa sighed. Emma could’ve hugged her for shifting the conversation. “The music, the gowns, the decorations. You must describe it all to me.”

“I don’t think—”

“Oh!” Tessa cried out. “What if you meet a man at a ball? He might fall in love with you and—”

“I hardly think that’s possible,” Emma interrupted her. She spoke the truth. She didn’t see how she could manage to draw a man’s interest in that way. It would be a challenge, especially considering how long she’d been perfecting the art of not attracting them.

“It could happen,” Tessa said, refusing to give up on the idea.

“Emma, you shouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with,” her mother reminded her.

“Of course not,” Emma agreed. Yet already she felt uncomfortable. But hadn’t her uncle always told her that growth in one’s character came from such situations?

Her mother picked up the mending on her lap, her hands never still. “I suppose it won’t hurt to meet the viscountess.” Her gaze met Emma’s. “You’ve always been a good judge of character. Meeting her will help you make your decision.”

“We’ll know more tomorrow then.” Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

~*~

Michael scanned the crowded ballroom that evening, looking for his fiancé, Miss Catherine Vandimer. With everything going on of late, he’d neglected her and was certain she’d remind him of it.

At last he spotted her speaking with several acquaintances, most of whom were men. Her popularity with the male species had not diminished despite their engagement. He knew her behavior was rather flirtatious, and he realized he’d have to speak to her about it if it continued. Never would he allow her to make a fool of him as his parents had done to each other.

As he watched her, doubt reared its ugly head once again. For some reason, he still couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with Catherine.

He reminded himself that she was an attractive woman who would suit him well. Her blonde hair was artfully woven into a chignon. The deep blue satin gown reflected candlelight which was echoed by the diamond and sapphire necklace she wore, one of the many generous gifts from her wealthy father. Her beauty carried an edge, and he well knew her blue eyes could turn to frost at the slightest provocation. She was no timid wallflower.

As she leaned toward one of the men much too closely, he realized he didn’t feel even the slightest pang of jealousy. Perhaps the seeds of destructive love that his parents had shown so often had bypassed him. He could only hope so.

His parents’ public displays of affection and arguments had been fodder for the gossip in ballrooms for years. That sort of attention was something he had no desire to illicit. He went out of his way to make certain his behavior was above reproach. Catherine would need to learn to do the same.

Michael made his way toward her, nodding at familiar faces as he passed.

Catherine caught sight of him and smiled but didn’t move away from the man with whom she spoke, Lord Dalton. As she glanced to the lord again with an even bigger smile, Michael couldn’t help but wonder if she hoped to rouse some sort of jealous outburst from him.

“Miss Vandimer.” He took the hand she offered and brought it to his lips.

“My lord,” she said as she dipped her head in acknowledgement. “You remember Lord Dalton?”

“Good evening,” Michael said with a nod. He knew the other man vaguely from his activities at the House of Lords.

“Weston. Good to see you.” Dalton flashed a charming smile. Michael didn’t miss the heated look Dalton gave Catherine.

“I’d nearly given up on seeing you this week,” Catherine continued.

“My apologies. My schedule took an unexpected turn.” Her aura was dim, and he wondered what task she’d set for herself that wouldn’t come to fruition.

“Nothing bad, I hope.” She smiled, her brown eyes holding his.

He shook his head. “Shall we find some refreshments?”

They bid Lord Dalton goodbye and Michael offered her his arm. Catherine glanced up at him from under her lashes as though trying to gauge his mood. “You’ll never guess who was here earlier.”

“Who?” he asked. Catherine’s pleasure at gossiping bothered him. Though he well knew most people here enjoyed talking about each other, that same gossip had kept the memory of the outrageous behavior of his parents alive for far too long.

“The Earl of Berkmond. They say he hasn’t been seen since his wife died in childbirth several years ago.”

“Interesting,” Michael said as his mind churned. The earl was Lucas’s older brother. He’d liked to speak with him to see if he had any news of Lucas. Now that Michael had been reunited with Ashbury, memories of the three of them together often came to him. Lucas had fled to Brazil as soon as he healed well enough for the journey and had yet to return to English soil.

“The crowd was quite excited at his appearance. Do you know him?” Catherine asked as they reached an alcove where a servant offered lemonade.

“I attended Cambridge with his brother.”

“Oh?” She bit her lower lip, the gesture similar to Emma’s from earlier. But he felt nothing—no pang of awareness, no desire to nibble that lip himself.

How very odd.

Michael focused his thoughts on the conversation but refrained from adding more information, knowing full well anything he said would be repeated to her friends on the morrow, much like a well-oiled machine.

Instead, he turned his attention to the men in the room, wondering if Emma would find any of them appropriate. He intended to leave introductions to his grandmother but somehow he couldn’t picture the little grey mouse amongst the sparkling occupants of the room.

If both his grandmother and Emma agreed, the next few weeks would prove interesting for all of them. He couldn’t quite suppress the smile that thought brought.

~*~

Michael eyed the woman who sat across from him in his carriage the next day, wondering what was going through her mind. Emma looked as though she posed for someone as her posture was perfect, her hands folded demurely in her lap. Though her features were even, he detected the sizzle of nerves around her. Her aura showed nothing, but that told him she hadn’t yet made up her mind whether or not to pursue this endeavor.

“You’re staring again,” she said as she turned her head to glare at him.

He frowned. She seemed ridiculously sensitive any time he looked at her. “My grandmother is looking forward to meeting you.”

She swallowed hard, another hint to her nervousness. “I look forward to it as well.”

He considered reassuring her that his grandmother was quite a pleasant person, but the carriage drew to a stop. He still wasn’t sure if the two women would find each other agreeable. No need to add to the lies he’d already told her to lead her this far.

Rather than alighting when the footman opened the carriage door, Emma remained seated, staring out. He shifted to see what she looked at but saw only the marble steps and elegant oak front doors. The townhome looked much like the other houses along this street. Not as formal as his own home but quite different from her family’s tiny flat. Perhaps all this was overwhelming to her.

He pushed aside the small niggle of guilt and reminded himself how much easier things would be if she were somewhere he could keep a close eye on her. As he opened his mouth to suggest she alight, she drew a deep breath and stepped out of the carriage.

“She won’t bite,” he said softly as he offered his arm and they mounted the steps.

“That’s such a relief.” Her sarcastic rebuttal made him smile. He did admire her spunk.

As they settled into the drawing room, he noted how she perched on the edge of the armchair as though once again prepared to flee. Her gaze scanned the room, but her expression remained unreadable.

“Hello, Michael,” his grandmother said as she entered the room. Her day dress was a soft rose, the color just vibrant enough to give color to her cheeks and highlight her grey chignon.

“Grandmother,” he said as he kissed her cheek. “How are you?”

“Well, thank you.” Her blue eyes met his for a long moment before turning to her guest. “Miss Grisby, what a pleasure to meet you.”

Emma had risen when she’d entered the room and now dropped into a graceful curtsy. “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”

“Allow me to see you, my dear,” his grandmother said.

Michael could see Emma fight with her pride at the request. Yet she stood patiently as his grandmother examined her from head to toe. A pale band of light appeared over his grandmother’s head and shoulders and Michael breathed a sigh of relief. His grandmother was obviously willing to take on the project.