Page 32 of If I Loved You
Emma went completely still and stared at him. “Oh bother.” Aside from being silly with Gretchen, and that had been years ago, Emma had never truly danced. “Perhaps we should have spent more time in preparation for this ruse we’ve brought to London.” Her shoulders dropped, the smile left her face. “I’m so sorry. You should have chosen someone who knew better how to go about in society. You should have—”
“I wanted you.”
Emma’s breath stopped coming right then.
The earl cleared his throat. “I wanted you to see London, and you were conveniently at hand,” he clarified to great effect.
“Yes, of course.”
“Too late to worry about dancing—”
“But it’s aball.”
He allowed only a slight and momentary frustration to cross his features. “Lady Marston will give us an assist, I’m sure.”
“Lady Marston?”
“Yes.” He glanced at the tall clock near the pillars of the staircase. “She will arrive at any minute. She will escort you, as it would be unseemly for me to do so.” At Emma’s blank look, he explained, “Essentially, you need a sponsor. You may not simply crash into thetonwith neither an invite nor a supporter.”
“Oh.”
“The dowager countess’s carriage has just pulled up, my lord,” said the butler, near the door. He grabbed the handle but did not pull it open immediately.
The earl stepped around Emma and received her cloak for the evening, which the butler had been holding.
Emma stared rather blindly at the stairs she’d cavorted down only moments before. How could she not have considered that she didn’t know the first thing about dancing?
The earl, laying her cloak about her shoulders just as the aged butler pulled open the door, caused Emma to startle. He turned her around to face him and left his hands on her arms, over the soft velvet of the cloak. “I am not concerned, and you shouldn’t be either. We’ll figure it out.”
Emma was sure her expression conveyed adequately her disbelief in this, but as she supposed it was too late to bow out, shesmiled grimly at the earl and allowed him to lead her outside and to the matron’s shiny black carriage.
“There she is,” said Lady Marston, from within the vehicle as the door was opened, “the extraordinary chit who dragged the jaundiced Lindsey into the park only two days ago.”
“Be kind, my lady,” the earl chided with a grin as he passed Emma into the carriage.
“You can count on it,” said the lady in such a way that Emma thought she should not count on this at all.
“I’ll see you within the hour,” he promised to Emma, and closed the door.
Emma faced the dowager countess and gave her a nervous smile, before she thought to thank her for her sponsorship.
Lady Marston spoke up as the carriage rolled away from the earl’s home. “Jaundiced, as in cynical, my dear,” the lady explained.
“I gathered,” Emma announced, though wouldn’t exactly have said the earl was cynical. Not all the time. “My lady, while I thank you for your support for me this evening, I fear I must reveal to you what I’ve only now shared with the earl, that I haven’t any experience or knowledge of dancing.”
Lady Marston, cane in hand and wearing a matronly gown of royal blue, made a noise that seemed to have no purpose, or rather none that Emma might interpret.
“This comes as no surprise, Miss Ainsley. At least less so to me than to your very benevolent earl.” Her shoulders lifted and fell.
Emma liked her somehow, despite the tinge of sarcasm that seemed to never be far away and now surrounded the wordbenevolent. She smiled prettily at the matron, even as she lifted abrow at the woman’s words. She knew her not at all, but suspected Lady Marston did not fret about many things in her life.
“My godson tells me you were acquainted with his father,” she said.
As Emma had to assume, by virtue of her personality, that this was not a woman you lied to, she imagined the earl had laid out the entire truth. “I was. He was a wonderful man.”
“Yes, he was. And I’ve been told that you have a child, as well.”
Ah, so it was to be an inquisition. Having just learned that the earl was her godson might explain this present line of questioning. Emma would not presume outwardly to know where it was going, but privately thought she had a pretty good idea. Indeed, the suspicious and knowing tone, which Lady Marston bothered not to hide, said nearly as much as the words themselves.
