Page 27 of If I Loved You
Zach shrugged. “Relatively.”
The blue eyes rolled again. She considered Zach for a long moment, giving him a good glare while she assessed the situationand her thoughts on it. Finally, she said, “So where are we now? You’re aloof and brooding, boy, but you’ve not quite managed to hide your simmering—dare I say, longing?—glances at the poor thing.” She sounded particularly displeased about this part. “Why bring her to London? Why not leave her tucked away down there in that cottage? You can’t marry her. And I know you’d not stoop so low as to despoil that sweet thing. So what, then?”
“My intention was twofold,” he said, and added sheepishly, “but only part of it was not entirely selfish.”
“Not surprising.”
Zach briefly sketched his purpose in bringing Emma to London. He focused more on the assistance her very presence might give to his hopes of avoiding the hindrance of Lady Prudence Kingsley while still garnering her father’s support. Stubbornly, he put less emphasis on his plan to briefly expose Emma to thebeau monde, that she might not so much forfeit any part of herself but rather gain a bit of an understanding about people outside her own little sphere of life.
“So you’ve said all that and I’m telling you right now that’s the grandest load of twaddle I’ve ever heard. I’m supposed to believe your stated altruistic intent, when I personally witnessed how you absolutely chewed her up with your eyes. Don’t you dare insult me, Zachary Benedict. You’ve brought her here for my approval. You want me to somehow change the laws of polite society, or give you leave to ignore them, so that you can...what? Marry her?” She scoffed. “You are the Earl of Lindsey. You may not marry a commoner. A country cousin, maybe, and even that I would advise against. But a chambermaid? You’ve a fine futurein politics, boy, that shouldn’t be driven off by some trifle, who are—let’s be honest—ten a penny.”
“Are they, though? Ten a penny?”
Lady Marston gasped. “Dear Lord, you’re in love with her.”
Zach said nothing. His jaw tightened. Something inside would not allow him to refute her supposition, even as that precise idea had never so much as entered the periphery of his mind.
He could literally see his godmother composing herself, forcing slow breaths, straightening her shoulders. Levelly, she pronounced, “No, they are not, I suppose, not ten a penny. They are rare, and wasn’t I and your parents lucky enough to know it? But Zachary, dear, this is different. She is worthy only in your eyes. They’ll eat her up. She would never rise above it—they wouldn’t allow it. Is that what you want to do to her? It wouldn’t end well.”
He sat silent, frustrated.
“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. But you are to be a great statesman. You need a partner of strength and wiliness, someone willing to play the game at your side. She’s not it. It would wipe out everything you love about her now.”
Zachary gave in to his own thoughtful perusal of his godmother, chewing the inside of his cheek as he did. “All that, gathered in so short a meeting? Quite remarkable, even for you, my lady.”
When the dowager only smacked him with a withering glare, he waved a negligent hand. “Be that as it may, I need an invitation for her for Kingsley’s dinner this evening,” he said. His godmother was no great fan of Lady Kingsley, but she was a society matron few would dare to refuse. “Additionally, I need you to sponsor her tomorrow night at Clarendon’s ball.”
A slow, calming blink of her eyes preceded her nod. “Very well. I will collect her at eight. Andyouwill not arrive until nine. At least give some show of insouciance.” As an afterthought, her forefinger raised swiftly from her cane, she added, “And you may dance only once with her! In that regard, I will not be budged.”
Zach grinned at his godmother. “Honestly, my lady, I haven’t any idea if she even knows how to dance.”
Thin, arched brows rose nearly into her hairline. “You are going to be the death of me, boy,” was issued in a slow and seething tone.
Zach left shortly thereafter, having amused himself greatly at the woman’s expense. But once seated inside his carriage and driving away, his grin faded.
In love with Emma Ainsley?
SHE TRIED VERY HARDnot to let the earl see exactly how nervous she was, how close to begging him to release her from her promise to help him.
As ever, he seemed to read her so well, though she’d not said a word within the confines of the carriage as of yet.
“Miss Ainsley, please do not trouble yourself,” he said into the darkness. “It is simply a dinner. Perhaps only twenty people or so.”
Emma attempted a smile and was glad for the shadows and the probability that he actually could not see what she was sure emerged as a pained grimace.
He added, a bit consolingly, “Think of it as similar to being in the midst of the crowded dining room or taproom at the King’s Arms Inn. Filled to the brim with persons infused with an appreciation for their own importance, who will want to talk about themselves, who will no doubt not give any regard to any answers you might make to the indifferent questions they may or may not put forth. You should expect to be bored to tears for all the talk of politics, and I apologize in advance for that.”
Only a few minutes later, they stood just inside the terraced house of Lord and Lady Kingsley. The foyer was a study of classic English design; black and white tiled floor, pilasters of rich marble, and wall coverings of muted gold silk.
The earl assisted her in the removal of her cape, which had arrived today with the gown she now wore. When her shoulders were freed of the luxurious sky blue cape of soft and light velvet, Emma turned to the earl but gave her gown a swift perusal, brushing away what she thought might be wrinkles in a certain spot in the skirt. Never in her life had she owned or worn silk, and here she was surrounded by it tonight. The sweet silk of the dress was of a summer blue, the skirt and bodice generously adorned with embroideredfleur de lis,fashioned with shiny gold threads. The peasant bodice was trimmed with a gold cord and the hem of the skirts, touching just at her ankle, showed a single layer of goldfleur de lislace. Beneath her gown, her legs were caressed by sumptuous silk hose and her feet were tucked into low-heeled slippers of gold satin.
She felt like a princess and had delighted at the earl’s initial response when she’d joined him in the foyer of his Mayfair home earlier. His gaze had raked her with fascination, the smile thathad lifted his gorgeous lips had come slowly and had thrilled her so much more than it should have.
He offered her the crook of his arm now, tucking his other hand over the fingers she placed on his sleeve and they moved as one to be received by their hosts.
Emma almost forgot to be nervous then, as the earl ducked his head and whispered at her ear, his breath teasing the curls there, “You are ravishing, Miss Ainsley,” which Emma personally thought entirely more exhilarating than his earlier generic, albeit appreciative statement of, “Well done, Miss Ainsley.”
“Lindsey,” said their host, a portly man not much taller than Emma herself. Lord Kingsley was easily twice the age of the earl, with thinning hair and a face that seemed to be folding in around its features, compressing his eyes and lips inside his puffy skin.
