Lady Emma's Dilemma (9781101573662) (19 page)

Sir John shrugged. “I never know until I see it. I bet a monkey on Minuet when she ran in the Oaks a few years ago because a butterfly lit on her ear for a moment. She won.”

“Your method certainly beats cross-referencing racing records,” Edgebrooke said, discarding a card.

“Saves time as well,” Devruex added.

Conversation continued among the four in a desultory fashion as Devruex played several hands. At a quarter of an hour to eleven, the earl glanced up at the ormolu clock on the massive mahogany mantel and tossed his cards into the center of the highly polished table. Sir John and Mr. Collard looked patently relieved, for neither man had won a single hand.

“I believe I have lost enough for one night,” Edgebrooke said dryly, “and duty calls me to Litchfield house. Too bad you are not dressed, Devruex. No doubt we could hoax a quiz or two at such a squeeze.”

“No doubt,” Jack replied with a smile, rising as well.
“But I believe I shall spend the evening here, where it is much less crowded.”

The three men then departed and Jack moved to his usual chair by the fireless grate. He was taking his time with his second brandy and speculating on whether Emmaline would attend the ball. Inexplicably, his mood had not much improved since arriving at his club. He picked up this morning's paper from the table next to his chair when a familiar drawl drew his attention to the entryway.

Monteford, dressed in black evening clothes, walked in. The instant he saw Jack, he caught himself and hesitated.

Jack eyed him coldly, as Monteford approached and seated himself in the chair opposite him.

Anger warred with disgust within Jack and again he lamented the fact that Monteford had been too craven to accept his challenge. He continued to stare at Monteford as the nervous-looking man settled into the chair and crossed one leg over the other.

“Good evening, Devruex. I see you are not going to the Litchfields'. I thought I would have a drink or two before putting in an appearance,” he said with a brittle little laugh, but Jack did not mistake the wary glint in his eyes.

The waiter approached with fresh glasses of brandy, and after Monteford accepted his, Jack waved the man off and sent Monteford a level look.

After taking a generous swallow, Monteford chuckled again. “Come now, Devruex, do not tell me that you are willing to let a woman—any woman—damage our years of friendship.”

At the cavalier words Jack felt his body tense.

The look of amused hauteur left Monteford's fair features and he lowered his gaze to the glass in his hand.

Weaving his fingers together, Jack watched Monteford squirm for a moment longer. “I can think of nothing else important enough to cause such a thing to come to pass,” Jack said bluntly. “Certainly not any petty misunderstanding over cards or horses could ruin a long-standing and valued
comradeship. No. I judge that if two old friends are about to sever their friendship a lady certainly ought to be behind it.”

As Jack spoke, Monteford's head slowly came up. Jack felt that at any other time he would have been amused at his gasping fishlike expression.

“Dash it, Dev, this is ridiculous. Lady Fallbrook is an attractive filly but I vow I was only up for a little fun—no harm done. She is certainly not worth this dustup.” This time, his attempt at a dismissive chuckle failed miserably.

Pushing his chair back with such force that Monteford flinched, Devruex stood up, his black brows drawing together in a harsh line.

“Gad, Monteford, when did you turn into such an ass? If you ever insult the lady again be prepared to name your second. Is that clear enough?” he said in a calm voice.

“You know I'm not proficient with either swords or pistols,” Monteford sputtered, staying seated.

“Then your choice is simple,” he said and strode out of the room, leaving Monteford gaping after him with a look of alarm blanching his features.

As Devruex crossed the foyer, the major domo quickly approached. “Shall I call your carriage, your lordship?”

“No, I'll walk. Be so kind as to send my coach home,” he instructed, accepting his hat and walking stick from the precise little man.

He left the building, and long strides took him through the lamplit streets of this fashionable part of London back to Leicester Square.

As soon as his butler opened the black lacquered front door, Devruex swept past him and crossed the foyer to the staircase. Taking the stairs two at a time, he saw his valet on the landing looking down at him with an expression of surprise on his round face.

“Bring me some evening clothes, Preston,” Jack directed. “The double-breasted jacket with the claw-hammer tails will do.”

“Right away, your lordship. You shall certainly make an entrance at this hour,” he said with the familiarity of long service.

“The late hour won't matter. I am going to the Litchfield ball,” he said, loosening his neckcloth as he continued to his bedchamber.

“G
ood Lord, it's warm in here,” Emma said, putting the back of her hand to her cheek.

“Lud, yes,” Amelia agreed. “Have you ever seen so many people crowded into one room? But it is one of
the
balls of the Season.”

They stood on the edge of the dance floor, between two tall pedestals supporting massive urns filled with wilting flowers. The twelve-piece orchestra could hardly be heard above the din of six hundred people talking and laughing. Even so, the most important members of the Polite World filled Lord and Lady Litchfield's massive octagonal-shaped ballroom.

Emma had lost' sight of her grandmother shortly after they had arrived an hour ago. Thank goodness she and Amelia had found each other or she would have been utterly bored swimming around in this packed pond.

Even so, her gaze swept the guests, looking for a certain pair of broad shoulders and black hair. She knew the time must be past midnight, and once again, there was no sign of Jack Devruex. Maybe she would not see him again for thirteen years, she thought with bitter humor. Because of the intense way their kiss had affected her, the idea of never seeing him again no longer gave her any comfort. She fanned herself, feeling restless and jumpy.

Just then, Amelia put her hand on Emma's arm. “Unless I am mistaken, it looks as if Lord Edgebrooke is coming directly
toward us. This must certainly be attributed to you, Emma.”

“Why me? I have never met the man,” Emma said with a laugh, glancing over to see a tall handsome man with dark brown hair threading his way through the crowd toward them. “He is rather a Corinthian, isn't he?” she said, thinking him almost as handsome as Jack.

“Mmmm, rather. Oh, I do believe Sir John Mayhew is also heading in our direction. You should feel excessively flattered, my dear.” This last bit was spoken behind her fan, for both men were almost upon them.

Composing her features to her most serene and confident expression, Emma smiled. She thought the gentlemen managed quite elegant bows, in spite of the crowd pressing so close.

After greeting them, Amelia, with a charming lack of subtlety said, “This is Lady Fallbrook, of course.”

Emma smiled, bowed slightly to both men and said good evening.

“Lady Fallbrook, I can finally say the Season is a success,” Lord Edgebrooke said as his friend chatted with Amelia.

“Oh? How can that be? The Season is not yet half over.” Emma found the teasing twinkle in his hazel green eyes charming.

“Why, everyone knows the Season could only be considered successful if one has had the good fortune to make your acquaintance.”

Emma laughed at his blatant flattery and decided that the earl had a way about him. Certainly, his brand of charm was not as potent as Jack's, but impressive nonetheless.

Suddenly, over his shoulder, she caught sight of a fair-haired man and her smile froze. Lord Monteford was looking at her with an expression that could only be described as beseeching.

She instantly thought of Mrs. Willoughby and wondered what the volatile woman was doing this evening. Odd, she
had never before wondered what a mistress did in her spare time. There had been something in Mrs. Willoughby's aggressively proud demeanor that made Emma believe she would not like the way her protector was behaving at the moment.

Fervently, she hoped that Monteford would not be so impertinent as to address her. She had steadfastly ignored his notes begging her forgiveness, hoping he would just give up bothering her. Unfortunately, he was proving annoyingly persistent.

Although his unwanted advances had disconcerted her, it had been deliciously satisfying to kick him last week. After all, she had come to London looking for a bit of adventure, she thought, allowing her gaze to move coolly past him.

“Lady Fallbrook, shall we brave this mad crush and attempt to get near the floor?” the earl asked. “Earlier, I noticed a few brave souls dancing.”

“Yes, why not be intrepid?” Emma said, amusement glinting in her dark blue eyes. Taking his arm, she glanced back to see Amelia still engaged with Sir John but she could no longer see Monteford among the mingling throngs.

As Lord Edgebrooke guided her through the crowd, Emma noticed Amelia and Sir John following close behind.

“I daresay that Lady Litchfield is excessively pleased with herself this evening,” Lord Edgebrooke said conversationally.

“No doubt. I heard that no less than three ladies have already swooned,” Emma replied as a group of dandies parted to let them through.

“Nothing is more likely to guarantee the proper cachet than a few fainting spells amongst the guests,” the earl agreed with an air of mock gravity that matched her own.

Even though she was thoroughly enjoying Lord Edgebrook's company, after the disappointment of Lords Darley and Monteford she would not be so quick to consider the handsome earl as a potential paramour. But at least he was an attractive distraction from the intrusive thoughts of Jack.

To her surprise, there were indeed a few brave couples attempting to dance in the meager space to be had on the floor. She and Amelia did their best to converse with the two gentlemen, but it proved difficult over the general noise. They watched the dancing for some minutes before an odd shiver on the nape of her neck made Emma glance around.

Instantly, her gaze locked with a pair of eyes as black as night.

Frozen, she stared as Jack, his heart-wrenchingly handsome features hard with determination, weaved his way through the densely packed guests.

“I say, Emma dear, are you feeling well?” Amelia whispered at her side.

With tremendous difficulty, Emma pulled her gaze from Jack and turned to see the concerned curiosity in her friends' blue eyes.

“Of course. Why do you ask?” Even to her own ears her voice sounded a little tremulous and strained.

“Because you look a little flustered. Only a little, mind you. But I have never known anything to fluster you. Even the time the wheel broke on the coach we were in, you behaved as if the tea water was not hot enough.”

Taking a deep tremulous breath, she smiled at Amelia's description.

“Pay no mind to me. In truth, I am unused to such crowds and noise. I am rather out of practice you know.”

Amelia sent her a disbelieving look. “But I have been to any number of your parties at Maplewood and you are the most accomplished hostess of my acquaintance. You certainly have not been a hermit.”

Emma forced a laugh at Amelia's observation, grateful for the distraction. Even so, she cast a furtive glance toward Devruex. He was still coming directly toward her. She recalled his strong hands pulling her against him and felt a shiver cascade down her body despite the warmth of the room.

“Can you honestly compare this evening to any normal mode of entertainment?” Emma stated, barely paying attention to her own words. “I have never entertained one-fifth this number in my home. I'm just out of practice at this kind of thing.”

“Oh, tosh. You are—” Amelia stopped and put her hand on Emma's arm. “Oh look! No, don't! Devruex is making his way toward us. Blast this dreadful crush, it will take him twenty minutes to reach us.”

At Amelia's words panic gripped her chest even tighter. Not yet! she thought, casting a slightly desperate look around for an escape. “Why don't we move to the other side of the room? It may be cooler,” Emma said in an inane attempt to avoid Jack. It was too soon after their kiss! It would be impossible to face him at this moment with any composure.

“Don't you want Lord Devruex to come over?” Amelia asked in a low voice. “It was so gallant of him to come to your rescue at Vauxhall Gardens.”

Galvanized by the fact that Jack was less than ten yards from her, she pasted a bright smile on her lips and turned to Lord Edgebrooke and Sir John.

“I beg you to excuse me, but I see my grandmother trying to gain my attention.”

“It would be my pleasure to escort you to the dowager duchess,” Lord Edgebrook offered in a tone of voice that would, at any other time, have been quite flattering.

“How kind,” she said quickly, knowing she must seem the veriest oddity, “but that won't be necessary.”

She turned on a heel, but not swiftly enough to miss the surprised expressions on their faces, and began to work her way through the crowd.

Panic aided her flight and she refused to look back in case Jack was right behind her. She realized that she was receiving some curious glances—after all, the sight of Lady Fallbrook crossing the room unescorted was unusual—but
she did not care. Something in Jack's expression had set alarm bells off in her head.

A moment later, she came to a wide French door. She grasped the handle, turned it, and slipped out to a wide flagstone terrace. Quickly, she closed it behind her and inhaled deeply, feeling as if she had just escaped something she had no desire to face.

As she stepped farther onto the terrace, a cool breeze brought the scent of lilacs across her heated skin. The sudden quiet was a welcome balm to her fevered thoughts.