The Marriage Wager (11 page)

Emma realized that she had forgotten how little was required of a younger female in society. Nodding and smiling got one through nearly anything. Except the boredom. Looking down, she noticed that she was savagely twisting her napkin between her fingers. She stopped, and when she looked up again, she found that Colin was gazing at her with such obvious, and amused, understanding that she had to smile. The baroness, intercepting the look they exchanged, saw at once that her cause was lost. She would not be separating this couple. Frustrated, she bit down hard on a lemon wafer, shattering it to crumbs that showered over the tablecloth. “Wretched thing,” she muttered, looking at the remains of the wafer with loathing. “Dry as dust.”

Soon after this, their hostess was hoisted up again, and the ladies withdrew, leaving the men to their port. Emma entered the drawing room with caution, knowing that this was the truly hazardous part of the evening, when the guards would come off and tongues grow sharp as rapiers. She moved as far from Colin’s mother as she could, seating herself next to the wife of her dinner partner. “Your husband was telling me about his wonderful art collection,” she said.

The lady, who didn’t look anything like a sheep, sniffed. “I’m not surprised. He thinks of little else,” she replied. “Certainly not his family.”

“Ah,” said Emma, immediately conscious that she had made a mistake.

“He will spend hundreds of pounds on some moldy painting,” continued the other bitterly. “But when it comes to clothing his daughters in proper style or setting a reasonable table, then we must economize. Oh, yes. Suddenly, our income becomes modest. Suddenly, we are barely able to meet our expenses. Until he uncovers some other wretched old bit of canvas or stone. Then, miraculously, money appears.” She made a broad gesture, attracting the attention of the whole room. “It is a disease,” she continued, her voice rising. “I have told the family time and again that something should be done about him. But of course, no one listens to me. No one cares that I—”

There was a sharp thump, followed by silence. Lady Burrington had struck the floor with her ebony cane, Emma realized. And now, she was looking at each of the women in turn, like a hawk evaluating a flock of chickens. The cousin’s wife shrank down in her chair exactly like an anxious hen, her eyes fixed on the floor. Emma hid a smile.

“Come here,” commanded their hostess, pointing at Emma.

There was an almost imperceptible stir of relief among the others as she rose and moved to the chair beside Lady Burrington. From the frying pan into the fire, Emma thought.

“So,” said Lady Burrington when they sat side by side. “You are to marry St. Mawr?” She did not make it sound like a settled thing.

“It appears so, ma’am,” Emma answered.

“Appears?” barked the old woman. “Is there some question?”

“I have the feeling that your approval is an important point,” Emma replied, conscious that a number of the other guests were listening closely to their conversation.

“Mine!” Lady Burrington snorted delicately. “You think St. Mawr cares for my opinion?”

Emma considered. “He should,” she said finally, having thought it over.

Looking fierce, the old woman stared at her. “Are you trying to flatter me, young woman? I despise toadies, you know.”

She hadn’t realized it would look that way, Emma thought. She noticed Colin’s mother, sitting not far away. She looked very pleased with the way things were going. Abruptly, Emma was tired of fencing. “I wasn’t,” she said. “But think what you like.”

“I always do,” declared her ladyship.

For a moment, they faced each other like adversaries. For some reason, Emma remembered an occasion three years ago when an unsavory acquaintance had burst into her and Edward’s rooms at an inn and drunkenly threatened them with a pistol. Whatever happened, she thought, Lady Burrington could not shoot her. And then she realized that the strictures of society truly had no hold on her any longer. “Colin and I understand each other,” she said quietly. “Can you say the same?”

Lady Burrington’s gaze sharpened. She looked as if she intended to search Emma’s very soul. “I don’t know,” she said finally, also in a low voice. “Possibly not.”

Emma saw the baroness straining to overhear. She spoke even more softly. “You have heard gossip about me.” It was not a question. She knew that Lady Burrington would have gathered any information she could.

“It does not do you justice,” was the dry reply.

“Perhaps I am not what you wished for in Colin’s wife.”

“I have not said so.”

“I am not what others wished for,” said Emma with certainty. “But I think he needs…”

The old woman waited.

Emma still hesitated. She didn’t know how to say what she meant. “Something other than what they wished for,” she concluded finally.

Lady Burrington’s eyes were as unwavering as those of a diving eagle. “You are not an adventuress,” she said.

Emma said nothing.

“You are not a fool,” said the old woman with even more conviction.

“I don’t think I am.”

“But what are you, eh?”

Emma stared at her, caught by the question. She didn’t know how to answer.

Colin’s great-aunt gave a crack of laughter. “Not so sure of that one? Well, I’d be suspicious if you were, at, what—five and twenty? But I believe I’m rather sorry I shan’t live to see you work out the answer.”

The door opened, and the gentlemen entered the drawing room.

“You’d best get on if you’re going to that ball of Felicity Cardington’s,” declared Great-Aunt Celia to the party at large. “I don’t intend to keep all the men here for ten minutes just for form’s sake.”

Seeming used to this sort of statement, the family members began to stand. Emma looked to Colin, who came over to join them as the room emptied. “Has Aunt Celia been grilling you?” he asked, his tone light but his expression probing.

“Of course I have,” replied the old woman. “What else did you expect?”

Colin looked at Emma, who smiled.

Lady Burrington gave a great sigh. “I’m tired,” she said. “How I loathe being old.”

Colin put a hand on her shoulder.

“Pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” she responded.

He smiled down at her.

“You’ve set society abuzz, outraged your mother, and wound me around your little finger.”

“You?” he protested. “Never.”

“Well, you haven’t,” she barked. “So don’t preen yourself. Either of you.” Turning, she looked at Emma again. “Well, girl, from what I can see, you’ll make a decent match for him. Better than the children Catherine was pushing forward at any rate. You’ve my ‘approval,’ if you actually care for it.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I do,” said Emma, and meant it.

“Go along now. I’m for bed.”

“Can we help…?” began Colin.

“No, no.” Irritated, she waved them away. As they left the room, they passed the two footmen coming to help her upstairs.

“Well,” said Emma when they were in the carriage once again. “Thank God that is over.”

“It appears that you did splendidly.”

“She made me quake in my shoes,” said Emma.

“She’s known for it,” Colin acknowledged. “But somehow, I think you held your own.”

“Perhaps.” Emma gave him a sidelong glance. “I think I shall make your Aunt Celia my model,” she declared. “I intend to be just like her when I am older.”

“Then I shall cast up my accounts like Uncle Harold and leave you to it,” Colin answered at once.

“When did he die?” wondered Emma.

“Five years ago. She was a different creature before that. I understand they were very happy together.”

“Ah.” Emma contemplated this new information, trying to imagine the intimidating Lady Burrington as a happy wife.

“However, I cannot believe you could be as crusty as Aunt Celia, not after watching you charm Wrotham and Cousin Gerald at dinner.”

“I sat and smiled and agreed with whatever was said to me,” she retorted.

“The perfect woman,” he teased.

“If you truly think so, my lord, you have made a disastrous mistake in offering for me.”

“I know.”

“You know what? That you have made a mistake, or that I am not—”

“I know that I have made a very wise bargain indeed,” he said. “I expect that in a week or so, you will have my mother eating out of your hand as well.”

“You expect too much, my lord. I don’t think anything will reconcile her to this match.”

“You will find a way.”

Emma looked doubtful.

“You will be meeting many of the leaders of society tonight,” Colin continued, his tone businesslike.

Emma nodded. This must mean a great deal to him, she thought. He was marrying her against the wishes of his mother and amid a storm of gossip. No doubt he wanted her to impress his friends. She listened carefully to his descriptions of the people they were about to encounter.

The baroness, Caroline and her husband, and the Bellinghams met them, as prearranged, in front of Cardington house, and they went in to the ball together. The room was already filled with dancing couples when they entered, but their striking group still attracted a good deal of attention. The baroness wore violet the color of her eyes. Caroline’s gown of deep orange set off her russet hair to perfection. Emma was like the moon on water in her blue and silver. And the men were all handsome, in different ways, in their evening dress. However, the extended stares and murmur of talk had little to do with appearance. The unexpected announcement of Baron St. Mawr’s engagement to an unknown woman had raced through the
ton
and roused wild speculation.

“Courage,” said Colin, his hand at Emma’s elbow. “Let us greet our hostess.” Gathering his party with a glance, he led them to the corner where Lady Cardington was standing.

She broke off her conversation at once and stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. Colin fixed his mother with a stern gaze. Obediently, she moved to meet Lady Cardington. “Felicity, may I present Lady Emma Tarrant?” she said.

“How do you do?” She examined Emma closely, seeming a bit surprised by what she found.

Conscious of the gaze of many pairs of eyes, Emma greeted her in return.

“How odd that we have not met before,” said Lady Cardington. “I thought I knew positively everyone.” Her tone implied that those she did not know were of no consequence.

“I have been living abroad,” Emma replied, keeping a rein on her temper.

“Really? Where did you find to live with that monster Napoleon on the loose?” Once more, her tone was incredibly patronizing. It implied that since Lady Cardington did not know of any place where she might have lived, Emma must have resided in a back slum.

“I was last in Constantinople,” said Emma tartly, “well out of his reach.”

“Ah.”

Emma was certain that Lady Cardington had no idea where Constantinople might be.

“Such a lovely city,” she added, gazing right at her hostess. “And in such a vital position for English interests.”

“Er…” said Lady Cardington.

“There is nothing more beautiful than the flush of dawn on the straits of the Bosphorus with the golden dome of Sofia hovering over them. Don’t you agree?”

Coldly, Lady Cardington met her eyes. She was not to be bested as easily as this, her expression insisted. “I really couldn’t say,” she responded, as if Emma had asked about something quite uninteresting, and vaguely inappropriate. “I find travel so fatiguing, and most of the places one is urged to visit are so dirty and common. How glad you must be to be home again, among
fashionable
people.”

Her threat was entirely clear. If Emma truly joined battle with her, she would spoil her chances in society. Bristling, Emma started to speak. Then she hesitated, remembering Colin’s wish for her success. Presumably, this insufferable woman was a friend of his family. Emma became conscious of the baroness at her side. She would enjoy it so much if Emma was rejected by her peers. Swallowing her stinging reply and smiling blandly, Emma answered, “Of course.”

“Shall we dance?” said Colin, taking her arm and leading her away. They joined a set forming at the end of the room and waited for the musicians to strike up.

“I cannot remain mute and smiling under that kind of questioning,” said Emma, her anger reemerging now that the chance of offending Lady Cardington was past.

Colin shook his head.

“If you want a sweet, compliant ninnyhammer, you can no doubt find one,” she added.

“Scores of them,” he answered.

“Do you not think you have made a mistake, my lord?” said Emma through gritted teeth. “I despise that sort of woman—saying the most cutting things she can imagine in that syrupy voice, implying the worst without having the courage to accuse one of anything.”

“I can’t bear her myself,” agreed Colin.

This startled Emma out of her anger. “Then why are we here?”

He took her hand as the music began, and they executed the opening steps of the quadrille before he answered, “Because others do not share your very sensible attitude toward Lady Cardington. She is one of the leaders of fashion, and this invitation will establish you, get you vouchers for Almack’s, show society that you are to be reckoned with.”

“I am surprised she invited me, then,” replied Emma. “She certainly did not seem pleased to have me here.”

Colin looked suddenly haughty. “She had no choice.”

This made Emma’s eyebrows come up. “Really, my lord baron? Why not?”

“I have a certain amount of influence.”

“Over that woman?” Emma looked skeptical.

“Over her youngest son, who is botching his military career.”

“I see. Enough to get me invited, but not to make her polite to me.”

Colin smiled. “I do not think anyone could manage that.”

“Thank you very much, my lord.”

“She isn’t polite to anyone,” he assured her. “She is one of the most disliked women in London.”

“And still a leader of fashion,” marveled Emma. “I begin to see what I have missed, being abroad all these years.”

Colin laughed down at her, and realized he was enjoying himself. This was the first of these social gatherings he had enjoyed since he came home from France, he thought.