The Marriage Wager (33 page)

She put a particular emphasis on the last words, and Emma was forced to examine her again. The old woman seemed to look right through her. “I know,” she answered, more determined than ever that nothing she did would harm Colin or his position.

“Good,” declared Aunt Celia, seeming satisfied. She tightened her grasp on the cane she held in both hands before her and pounded it on the floor. “Where the devil is dinner?” she demanded. “I’m perishing with hunger.”

***

Most of the party at Caroline’s went on to the ball together, and they found the room already crowded when they arrived. “Diana has outdone herself,” commented Colin, referring both to the crush of guests and the unusual decoration. Instead of the conventional flowers, their hostess had hung the walls with pine boughs and clusters of pinecones that had been gilded and tied together with gold and white ribbons. The effect was striking, and the branches released a wonderful fresh smell through the whole ballroom.

Their first task was to get Aunt Celia settled at a whist table in the card room with some of her cronies. She had brought her own two footmen to help her and to run whatever errands occurred to her during the course of the evening. Once she was satisfied with her position and partner, Emma and Caroline returned to the ballroom and their husbands. Colin held out his hand as soon as Emma appeared. “It is a waltz,” he said.

She moved into his arms, and he swept her onto the floor full of whirling couples. Emma had loved dancing since she was a child in the schoolroom and first began learning the steps. And it was even more enthralling to follow the music with Colin, who moved with crisp masculine grace and held her with such gentle authority. Emma’s spirits rose a little.

“That’s better,” said Colin.

“What?”

“I could almost see the cloud lift. Won’t you tell me what it was?” His eyes bored into hers as if he was trying to force the answer out of her.

She wanted to tell him the truth, Emma thought, shrinking a little under the power of that gaze. She desperately wanted to lean on his ever-present strength. But the risk was too great. “I… I was worrying about my brother,” she improvised. “I’ve never found the proper moment to mention his gaming, you know. And I feel I am failing him. What was he saying to you at Caroline’s? Did he tell you what this ‘important engagement’ was that prevented him from coming with us to the ball?”

Colin shook his head. “I believe you will soon see a change there,” he could not resist saying.

“A change?”

“In his habits.”

“You mean the gambling?” She eyed him. “You seem certain.”

“I am a very good judge of character,” he replied, swinging her in a turn that made her breath catch slightly.

Emma kept her eyes on his face. “What opportunity have you had to judge Robin’s character?” she persisted.

“Well, there was the bull,” he suggested.

“Have you done something?” she asked quickly. “Did you speak to him? I knew he would listen to you.”

“I did not,” replied Colin with conviction. “But I think perhaps he is growing up, as I assured you he would do. And I don’t believe you will hear about his gaming losses again.”

Emma examined his face, then gave him a tremulous smile. “You did do something!”

“I promise you, my dear Emma—”

“No, don’t pretend you didn’t. I can tell.” Her chest tightened, and she had to blink away a few tears. Despite his reluctance, and the pain that lingered from his past, he had made the effort to help Robin somehow. Emma was overwhelmed by a surge of love for this man, who was so much more than she had ever dreamed of finding.

Colin cleared his throat. He was slightly embarrassed, and yet also curiously pleased that she had guessed his secret.

“I don’t know how to thank—” began Emma.

“There is absolutely no need,” he interrupted quickly. Here, in the midst of all these people, he didn’t know how to deal with the soft light he saw in her eyes.

Music floated through the room. The dancers made a great revolving circle under the glittering chandeliers. The scent of pine intensified as the heat in the room grew. And Emma and Colin danced silently together, neither knowing quite what to say.

When the dance ended and they returned to the sidelines, they were immediately surrounded by a group of chattering friends. In the short time since they had returned to London from Cornwall, they had become part of a circle of lively socialites. A few of them were friends of Colin’s, but his long absence from England in the army had broken the ties he had had in his early youth, so many of them were as new to him as to Emma. The Baron and Baroness St. Mawr were welcomed for their own qualities—beauty, intelligence, wit, and good nature—as well as for their position and wealth and style.

“Is your horse ready for the Derby, Andrew?” Emma asked one of the men.

This launched a heated discussion about horseflesh and the colt’s chances in the race, along with those of all the other likely entries. One of the women gave Emma a reproachful glance. “A quadrille,” said the woman then, as the music began. “Come, let’s make up a set for it.” She tugged at her husband’s arm.

He yielded, but continued to argue over his shoulder. “Short of bone, I tell you. Hasn’t got a prayer.”

They danced the quadrille, and a country dance, and another waltz. A cotillion was called just before supper, and then wide doors were opened on another room where tables were piled with lobster patties, ices, tiny sandwiches, and other delicacies. One of the men in their party stuck a champagne bottle under each arm and planted himself at a table in the corner, saving the chairs for them while they piled their plates high at the buffet. Their table soon became a center of laughter and noise, and attracted more than one envious glance. Watching Colin exchange mock insults with Tom, Emma thought how happy he looked. This really was important to him, she thought.

The first dance after dinner was another waltz, and Emma danced it with Caroline’s husband, who had a distressing tendency to step on her feet when they turned. When the music ended and they returned to the sidelines, they found Caroline holding the end of a ruffle that had been torn from the hem of her gown. “Teddy Dunster stepped on it,” she said. “I shall have to pin it up.”

“I’ll do it,” said Emma. “Come upstairs.”

Going up the steps, Caroline lagged behind. “Are you all right?” Emma asked her.

“Rather tired,” was the reply.

Emma took her arm, noting that she looked a bit pale. “Perhaps you should go,” she suggested. “You are in a delicate condition, you know, even if it is not yet showing.”

“Yes, I shall tell Frederick. It was the same when I was increasing with Nicky. I got fatigued so easily.”

They reached the ladies’ withdrawing room, and Emma found pins and knelt to repair Caroline’s flounce.

“I must tell you, Emma,” she said. “It is splendid to see Colin happy once again. When he came home from France, we feared he might never recover his spirits. Mama even imagined he would go into a decline.” She laughed a little. “I never thought that, but he was”—she groped for a word—“joyless. But he is much better now. Thank you for that.”

Emma stood, the ruffle reattached. It was like a conspiracy, she thought. Everyone seemed determined to remind her of the precarious state of Colin’s happiness. Did they imagine that she would ever jeopardize it?

“We are all lucky to have you in our family,” Caroline added, giving her a one-armed hug.

Emma felt a wave of affection for the other woman, who had been kind to her from the first.

Caroline and her husband departed, taking Aunt Celia along with them. After bidding them farewell, Emma danced with Tom, and then with another of their friends. She was standing at the side, making use of her fan, when Colin joined her again. “Hot,” he said.

“Horribly,” she agreed.

“Would you like to take a stroll in the garden?”

Emma opened her mouth, looked startled, then laughed.

“What?” asked Colin.

“I was about to refuse because it is not at all the thing to leave a ball on a gentleman’s arm and go off alone,” she said, inviting him to join in her laughter. “That is what I was taught, you see, and I have attended only a few balls since my come-out years ago.”

“Quite unacceptable behavior in a young lady,” he agreed solemnly. “Very fast. Unless, of course, the gentleman in question is her husband.”

“Yes.” Emma’s smile faded. A walk in the cool air sounded wonderful. But she wasn’t sure she could bear to be alone with Colin just now.

“Come.” He pulled aside a curtain that covered a glass door.

“I don’t know if…” began Emma, but he drew her out onto a narrow stone terrace with a broad balustrade on the opposite side. Steps led down into the garden. “Oh, this is wonderful,” said Emma, as the outdoor air cooled her heated skin. She couldn’t resist. They walked arm in arm along the brick pathway.

“Look,” said Colin.

Following his pointing finger, she saw a shooting star glitter across the night sky and disappear. Her breath caught at the beauty of it.

“You get a wish,” he said.

“I thought that was on the first star you see,” objected Emma.

“Both,” he assured her.

“But you saw it first,” she said. “It should be your wish.”

“I yield it to you,” Colin replied.

Gazing upward, Emma wished with all her might that Count Julio Orsino would disappear from her life and never return.

“That must come true,” said Colin. “You looked utterly determined.”

“I was.”

“And what did you wish for?” he wondered.

Emma shook her head. “I cannot tell, or it will not come true.”

Silence fell. Emma cast about for something to say.

“Shall we explore that walk?” Colin asked, pointing to a path that led between heavy lines of greenery. He began to lead her in that direction. “I probably should warn you that this is the one where young sprigs try to lure the girls to steal a kiss,” he added.

“And how would you know that?”

“It’s obvious,” he replied. “It’s the darkest, the most secluded, can’t be seen from the house.”

“You sound as if you have a great deal of experience with such places,” commented Emma.

“Almost none,” he responded. “But it’s a well-known bit of male lore, you know. There’s horses, sport, tying a decent neckcloth, and…”

“Luring young ladies into dark places,” finished Emma, smiling. He could always make her smile, she thought tremulously.

“Precisely.”

They passed into the shadow of the shrubbery, and the lights from the house were cut off as if they didn’t exist. Colin’s arms slid around her, and he captured her lips and held them in a kiss that made Emma melt against him. The hard length of him through her feathery dress set her afire. Colin let his hands roam over it, sternly resisting the urge to tear the floating silk from her curves and take her here and now under the pines. They had this, at least, he thought fiercely. Nothing could alter his desire for her, or the breathtaking response he could rouse in her. He allowed himself to push one tiny puffed sleeve down over her shoulder and reveal the perfect globe of her breast with its rosy tip.

“Colin,” protested Emma. “Someone may come!”

“Let them!” He took that irresistible tip in his mouth, waiting for her reliable, tiny gasp of pleasure.

The conflict in Emma rose to an agonizing pitch. She loved him and she desperately wanted him to love her in return, and just as desperately she feared losing him when Orsino spilled his poison into public ears. She couldn’t stand it! Jerking free, she restored her dress with shaking fingers. “We should go in,” she stammered, and fled toward the lights and music of the ballroom.

Colin stood alone in the darkness, outrage and disbelief coursing through him like hot metal. She had pushed him away. She had completed the barrier between them; there was not even a crevice left. The shock and pain of it crashed through him, leaving him incapable of movement for long seconds. She had cringed from his touch. Raw desolation, the sort he knew only too well, threatened to engulf him. He fought it off with anger. He had to get Emma home, he thought, where she would have no excuse to run from him, and have this thing out once and for all.

His jaw set, he strode across the garden and reentered the ballroom. The festivities were now at their height, and many of the guests had indulged too freely in Tom’s fine champagne. Colin ran his eyes over them contemptuously, searching for Emma. He finally spotted her talking to their host and went quickly to join their group.

“I have a treat for you,” Tom was telling Emma. “You’ve been keen to attend a masquerade. Well, there’s a special one coming up at the Pantheon, and I’ve gotten a party together to go. We’ll take a box. You’ll be able to see everything.”

“I thought the Pantheon masquerades were vulgar and unfashionable,” said Emma.

“They’re jolly rackety,” Tom agreed. “But if we go in a large party and leave fairly early, there’s no harm. We shan’t remove our masks, of course.”

“I have always wanted to see all those people in costume,” Emma allowed.

“What shall we wear?” exclaimed one of their female friends who was part of the circle. “It must be something splendid.”

“I will not wear any costume that does not include trousers,” Tom declared. “No Elizabethan doublets and hose or anything similar.”

“Of course,” said the friend sweetly.

“You’ve landed us in the soup now, Tom,” said the woman’s husband. “Be sure they’ll choose something that will make us look ridiculous.”

“I’ve always had a fondness for the days of King Charles,” the friend mused. “They wore those marvelous wigs.”

Tom groaned.

“We have to be going,” said Colin abruptly. Everyone looked surprised, but he didn’t care. He grasped Emma’s arm in an unbreakable grip and began to urge her toward the door. And he did not let go until they sat side by side in their closed town carriage clattering through the dark streets of London toward home.

Silence stretched between them like a spring wound to the breaking point. This was no good, thought Colin. They had to be capable of a rational conversation. He could not go on enduring alternate impulses to crush her against him and to shake her until her teeth rattled. He gazed out the coach window, looking for guidance. “There’s Barbara Rampling’s place,” he observed.