The Demure Debutante - a Regency Novella (4 page)

“Agreed.”

“And we should have a party, don't you think? To celebrate our engagement? I want my friends and family to meet my wonderful fiance!” Willow paused for a moment, tapping her chin as she considered her words. “Well, at the very least, I want my friends to meet you. I don't have much of a family. My brother is all there is.”

“Not for long.” Edward took her hand and held it against his lips. “Before you know it,
I'll
be your family.”

* * *

As Emilia mounted her horse, she could practically hear her mother scolding her. She knew it was foolish to go riding by herself, especially when she was unfamiliar with the surrounding area. However, Edward was not around to accompany her, and she couldn't resist the temptation to enjoy an afternoon ride. According to Willow, the countryside was beautiful. Emilia had been trapped in foggy London for so long, she needed to surround herself in lush green landscape, even if she had to go alone.

Emilia took the horse's bridle and urged it forward, heading for distant hills and distant trees. Every now and then, she cast a glance over her shoulder, back in the direction from whence she came. When Sanborne Hall had disappeared, her lips curled into a smile. Everywhere she looked, she was surrounded by resplendent meadow, which filled her with an overwhelming sense of freedom and adventure.

Her journey led her to a shallow brook, where brightly colored fish were swimming upstream. Her horse tried to stop for a drink, but Emilia hastened onward. As they crossed the brook, she stared into the water, watching the fish scatter and flick their tails. Emilia and her horse headed toward a thatch of trees, where overhanging branches were lit by the golden sun.

Several minutes later, she arrived at a field of wildflowers, where she spotted daisies, bluebells, poppies and sunflowers. Emilia dismounted her horse and went to collect some of the flowers. She gathered a fistful of sunflowers, because those were her favorite, and inhaled their sweet honeyed scent. When she turned around, she saw something that temporarily halted her heartbeat.

Her horse was gone!

“Um...
Greymare
?!” Emilia shouted, because that was the horse's name, according to the stable hand. She did not think the horse would recognize its moniker, but it was worth a try. “Greymare!!”

Emilia twirled in every direction, hoping she would catch a glimpse of an equine snout. Discarding her flowers, she returned to the woods, hoping to catch up to the animal if that was the direction she went. But Emilia saw nothing, not the merest flash of a mane or a horse's tail. When she turned around and headed back to the wildflowers, she tripped over a mossy stone and fell to the ground. Fortunately, she caught herself, so the damage was minimal. Her gloves were soiled, her dress was muddied, and her knees were slightly sore.

However, when she tripped, Emilia lost her sense of direction. She tried to return to the field of flowers, but all she saw was woods. She eventually rediscovered the babbling brook, but it was a part of the brook she did not recognize. There was a wall of stones on one side of a brook, as well as a tiny waterfall. Emilia tried to follow the water, thinking it would lead her back to Sanborne Hall, but she must have been going the wrong way, because none of the scenery was familiar.

“Dash it all...” Emilia cursed under her breath. She sat on the ground and pulled off her boots, which were unsuitable for walking long distances. She had expected to be riding, not gallivanting for miles. After giving her feet a quick massage, she donned her boots and laced them up as tightly as she could, hoping it would prevent them from rubbing her ankle.

Emilia rose to her feet and continued her walk, but the situation went from bad to worse. She must have been roaming around much longer than she realized, because the sun was already sinking below the horizon. She was completely lost—and soon it would be getting dark.

After another mile or so, Emilia sat on a fallen log and pulled off her dirty gloves. She buried her face in her hands and let out a dry sob. She was frustrated with herself for getting lost, and frustrated at her horse for abandoning her.

As the sun made its final descent, Emilia thought she heard the sound of horse hooves. Gasping, she uncovered her face and leapt from the log. “Greymare?!” she cried out. “Greymare, is that you?!”

“Miss Harcourt.”

When she turned around and saw Arthur on his horse, she was simultaneously filled with relief and shame. Her journey had left her bedraggled, but at least she would be saved.

Arthur dismounted his mare and hurried toward her. “What are you doing out here?!”

“I... got lost.”

“Why are you out here all alone?!”

“I--”

“Everyone's been worried about you! Your brother, my sister,” his scolding continued. “What possessed you to go riding by yourself?! You've been gone for hours!”

“My apologies, Mr. Rochefort, I--”

“It's too dangerous to go alone!”

“I know!” Emilia lifted her gaze and glowered at him. After everything she had been through, she did not need any more of his brotherly tongue-lashings. “Believe me, it was not my intention to stay away as long as this! My horse abandoned me. I got lost!”

When Arthur looked down at her muddied knees, his tone softened. “Are you hurt?”

“I... tripped,” she confessed. “I am usually not
quite
so clumsy.”

When Emilia started walking toward the horse, he noticed she was limping. “You
are
hurt, aren't you?”

“I believe it is my feet, Mr. Rochefort,” she said. “They have been rubbed raw.”

“I am sorry to hear that.” He fluidly mounted his horse and extended a hand toward her. “Come. Let us ride back.”

“Together?!” she shrieked. “On the same horse?!”

“Yes, on the same horse,” Arthur chuckled. “Unless you can make another horse miraculously appear, I'm afraid you have no other choice.”

“I...” She could feel her cheeks turning a million different shades of crimson. “I don't know if I can do that. Riding on the same horse with you, it's... I cannot...”

“Very well. If I makes you uncomfortable, I can walk alongside the horse and guide us back to Sanborne Hall.”

When she saw him dismounting, Emilia yelped, “Wait!”

Arthur paused, and his eyebrow was raised.

“I will... ride with you,” Emilia capsized. “There's really no reason to raise a fuss about it. I don't mind.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

The next time he extended his hand, Emilia gently took it. During the few seconds they were holding hands, Emilia felt faint. And the fainting feeling did not subside when he pulled her onto the horse in front of him—and wrapped his arms around her. Emilia closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of his strong arms encircling her waist. It was as close as she had ever been to a man, and that closeness had rendered her breathless.

“Thank you for coming, Arthur,” Emilia said, his given name rolling off her tongue. “I think I was seconds away from crying!”

“I'm just glad I could find you. Everyone is looking for you.”

“They are?” Emilia's embarrassment increased. “Have I disappointed them?”

“No, Miss Harcourt. I think they will be happy to see you safe!”

Several seconds of silence elapsed, during which Emilia's heart was racing. Since his arms were wrapped around her, she hoped he would not feel it hammering beneath her chest. She did not want him to know what an unsettling effect he had on her. Emilia was glad she could not see his face, because the sight of it would surely be the death of her.

“Well, I'm glad it was me,” Arthur suddenly said.

Against her better judgment, Emilia tried to steal a glimpse of him over her shoulder. When she caught sight of the curl on his forehead, she thought she might swoon. How was it possible for a man to look so adorable and so handsome at the same time? “Pardon?”

“I'm the one who found you... and I'm glad.” He smiled at her, which brought her even closer to swooning. “I'm always happy to help a damsel in distress.”

Chapter Six

“I'm a terrible dancer.”

As she led her fiance away from the dance floor, Willow had to bite her tongue. Edward's assessment of his dancing skills was accurate, but she couldn't bring herself to agree with him. He stepped on Willow's feet, plowed into a baronet, and tripped at least a few times. It wouldn't have been such a bad thing, except it was their engagement party, and all eyes were on them. There were only a few dozen in attendance, which meant there were only a few dancing couples at any given time. It wasn't as if they could blend into the crowd.

“You are not...
so
awful,” Willow lied.

“I am. I'm terrible.”

“We'll work on it,” she tried to encourage him. “You just need a bit of polish.”

“What I need is a
miracle
,” Edward corrected her.

When they had safely removed themselves from the dance floor, Willow's eyes were drawn to Emilia. She was standing in a distant corner of the room, half-hidden behind a statue. It was as if she was trying to hide herself from view. “Edward? I'm concerned about your sister. Why is she not dancing... or speaking to anyone?”

“That's entirely normal, I'm afraid. Social situations make her apprehensive. Should we keep her company?”

“No... I have a better idea,” Willow said. Her eyes swiveled around the room in search of her brother. When she found Arthur, he was standing in an opposite corner of the room, conversing with a couple of older gentlemen. “Wait here, Edward. I will return shortly.”

As Willow navigated her way across the room, she kept her brother in sight. She could almost predict what he would say, but she would not accept his refusal. If anything could be said about Willow, it was that she had a remarkable talent for getting what she wanted.

When she approached, both of the older gentlemen smiled at her. She barely recognized them, but she knew they were Arthur's friends. If that was the case, they had probably been subjected to Willow's brazen behavior at some time or another. She wondered if that was the reason for their disdainful grins.

“Arthur!”

Willow's urgency stole his attention from his friends. “Willow? Is something wrong?”

“Yes!” She slid a glance in the direction of the unfamiliar men, then seized her brother's arm. “Can we speak privately?”

“Of course.” Arthur gave his companions a nod and allowed himself to be led away. “What is the matter, Willow? Has something made you upset?”

“I'm perfectly alright. However...” She tried, discreetly, to motion toward Emilia. “I'm worried about Edward's sister.”

“Emilia? Did something happen to her? Is she unwell?”

“No... but I believe she might be lonely.” As she spoke, she moved her brother closer to Emilia's corner of the room. “She has not danced with anyone all night!”

“And... why are you telling me this?” Arthur asked, even though he had an inkling. “Maybe she does not care to dance?”

“Maybe
someone
needs to
ask
her to dance?” Willow suggested, her words blatantly lacking subtlety.

“And that someone would be
me
, I take it? You know I don't dance.”

“
Please
,” Willow entreated him. “Arthur, please. I think it would be good for her self-esteem.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. He was torn between satisfying his sister and subjecting himself to an undesirable activity. Arthur could not remember the last time he had danced, and he preferred it that way. “I... don't know if I can bring myself to do it.”

“Please, Arthur,” Willow persisted. “You care about Emilia, do you not? You would not want her to be lonely?”

Arthur raked a hand through his hair, which left it a bit disheveled. “Very well. I'll ask her.”

“Great!” Willow spun her brother around and gave him a push in Emilia's direction. “I knew you would not disappoint me!”

When Arthur approached Emilia, she was hiding behind a statue of Aphrodite. She ran a finger along the cold marble and prayed the fete would be over soon. If not for the fact that it was her brother's engagement party, she would have avoided it altogether.

“Miss Harcourt?”

Emilia's body froze when she heard Arthur's voice. As soon as she saw him, Emilia's knees buckled, so she grabbed the statue to hold herself aloft. With his midnight blue greatcoat, black breeches and wavy brown hair, he was easily the handsomest man in the room. If not for the fact that her brother was marrying his sister, she knew he would never spare a moment of his time for her. Emilia was as plain as plain could be; gentlemen like Arthur Rochefort did not give her the time of day.

“Mr. Rochefort.” As she said his name, she kept staring at the statue. Emilia could not make eye contact with him for too long; his arresting good looks were too much to bear.

“How are your feet?”

“My feet?”

“The other day?” Arthur reminded her. “When you were lost. Were they not causing you some pain?”

“Oh... yes,” Emilia squeaked a reply. “I'm better now.”

“Good, I'm glad to hear it... because I would like to dance with you. I wanted to check the status of your feet before I led you out for the quadrille.”

“Dance with me?!” Emilia's breath was momentarily sucked from her lungs. “Really?!”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I...” Emilia closed her eyes for a few seconds and tried to envision herself dancing with Arthur. The thought of it made her forearms prickle, and the hairs on her nape went rigid. “I, um... I...”

“You'll dance with me?” Arthur flashed a smile as he finished her thought. “Come. They're lining up for the dance right now.” He held out his elbow, which left her no choice. She took his arm and followed him to the middle of the room, where the sparse dancers were lining up for a set.

Since no one ever asked her to dance, Emilia could barely remember the steps, and the fact that Arthur was her partner did nothing to improve her focus. Her hands were covered in a nervous sweat; his close proximity was making her light-headed.

“You're a good dancer, Miss Harcourt,” Arthur said.