Page 33 of If I Loved You
“I do. Her name is Bethany.”
“Charming,” was replied in such a way that Emma was convinced that the lady did not actually think so. “And what is it you hope to gain, if you should find your efforts to keep the very sharp and unpleasant claws of Lady Prudence out of Lindsey’s person are actually or somehow successful?”
“Gain? I haven’t anything to gain, but that I’ve helped the earl, as he—by way of his father—has helped me.”
“And now you’ve made your presence known—driving in the park, dinner with the Kingsleys, and tonight the Clarendon ball. Made your presence known amazingly. The drive through Hyde Park alone has the tongues wagging. Tonight ought to send them into a lather.”
Emma bit her lip, unsure what the good lady expected as a reply.
“Do I misspeak, Miss Ainsley?” Lady Marston queried, pressing her hands upon the top of her cane, which she employed more as an affectation, Emma was sure. “Perhaps you are unused to being the subject of so many rumors, but then your unprecedented descent into the park rather contradicts that, does it not?”
Emma demurred, her smile intact, “You do not misspeak, Lady Marston. The truth never upsets me. But rumors... how is that even possible?” She tilted her head, not daring so much as to point out to Lady Marston that she was the only person they’d spoken to inside the park.
A sly grin twisted the old woman’s mouth. “You were seen, and by hundreds. Or rather, Lindsey was seen, and your presence was noted. Rumors abound.” She leaned forward, her eyes begging Emma to do the same, which she did. “And it is more than probable that I was not the only one who made note of how his gaze all but devoured you. A dog salivating after his bone.”
Emma sat straight, removing her eyes from the woman, with a great lack of appreciation for the correlation. When she faced the woman again, she realized some bit of her apprehension about the woman had slipped, as had some of her respect. “What is it you would like to say to me, my lady, that has you beating around the bush so poorly and with such crass comparisons?”
Lady Marston arched a thin brow.
“He is toying with you, nothing more. He won’t marry you. He cannot marryyou.” She let that settle before adding, “It’s just the way it is, girl. I tell you that not to upset your dreams, but to bring reality to the fore. He just cannot. He and I have alreadydiscussed it, and he knows his career is too promising, too important, to trifle with, and certainly not for something so fleeting as lust. And with that said, I think the following less necessary, but I’ll drive the point home regardless—he won’t marry you, so do not allow him any opportunity to make you promises he won’t keep. He’ll say he will, or would, wed with you, of course; that’s part of the game. Do you understand me? Yes, I can see that you do. That’s a pretty flush, Miss Ainsley. It comes with innocence and naivete and hope, all dangerous things to possess in a city teeming with dissolutes and bounders.”
“’Tis a good thing then, that after tomorrow I shall likely never see it again, this city.” Fairly seething now, for the woman’s obvious judgments and false assumptions, Emma informed her, “As I’d said to the earl only a few days ago, my lady, people like me aren’t afforded the privilege of dreams. Your godson is safe from any manipulations by me.”
The carriage slowed then and lined up in the queue at the grand house of Lord and Lady Clarendon.
“See that it remains so,” Lady Marston said after a long silence, and only seconds before the door to the vehicle was pulled open.
Emma, then, was prepared not to enjoy herself at all, Lady Marston having stripped her of all giddy anticipation for the evening. And yet, once they stepped inside the home of the Duke of Clarendon, Lady Marston’s demeanor toward Emma changed. Perhaps having said her peace, having gotten that out of the way, the matron did what the earl obviously had asked of her: introduced Emma prettily, as if she were someone of no small consequence; smiled at her at times as if she’d known her forever and actually enjoyed her company; and once, even commentedthat, “If not for the fact that you depart London tomorrow, I’d put odds on you becoming the taste of the season. But damn that Lindsey, I’ll not know a moment’s peace tonight.”
Having followed Lady Marston through the foyer and around the first floor, they had eventually found their way up to the second-floor ballroom. Emma gasped and twirled around, taking in the splendor of the room. The ceilings were so high, the room so large, she thought the entire structure of the King’s Arms Inn might have stood inside it. Curious paper lanterns were strung all about, many potted greens and fresh flowers were grouped all around the room, and Emma’s jaw dropped when she realized the floor had been painted with a chalk picture. The room was crowded already, leaving Emma only to guess what the entire sketch might have been, but she saw clearly several spots that showed trees and a setting sun and a mounted horse, and the figure of a man gallantly depicted in an English military uniform.
She frowned, though. As lovely as the chalk art was, she watched several women with longer trains sweep across the floor, disturbing and blurring the scene with the hems of their gowns.
“Expensive, but wasteful,” Lady Marston commented at her side, seeing where Emma’s gaze had been. “Ah, here comes your new friend, Lady Prudence,” she said then, lowering her voice. “She thinks I enjoy her, hopes to gain favor with Lindsey by way of my appreciation. Will never happen.” And when the lady stood before them, garbed resplendently in a frothy pale-yellow confection, Lady Marston smiled widely and said, “You’ve met our sweet Miss Ainsley, I am to understand.”
“I have,” said Lady Prudence, literally looking down her nose at Emma, her gaze raking over Emma’s gown as if she found it distasteful.
She might have said more, but a young man approached them, his gaze on Emma with a lavish amount of appreciation, his mouth opened to speak before Lady Marston said sharply to him, “Off with you, Yeardley. You can make your exceptional presence known to Miss Ainsley when she is available. Presently, she is occupied.”
Thus thwarted, and gape-jawed still, the man sent one last glance to Emma, who offered him a sympathetic smile, before he pivoted and skittered away.
Lady Prudence said then to Lady Marston, “At some point, I should like to have discussion with you about—”
Another man stepped within their small circle, bowing politely to the matron, ignoring the Hindrance, and smiling eagerly at Emma.
“Hullo,” said Emma, when he seemed intent only on staring at her, and not actually presenting words.
“God’s wounds, Rutherford, say something to Miss Ainsley, lest she think you a bigger idiot than this lousy first impression,” Lady Marston barked with no small amount of impatience.
The man, with beautiful, large blue eyes, stuttered, “I—that is...how do you do?”
Emma smiled at him and his face all but melted. “Very well, kind sir.”
“He is theMarquessof Dorcester,” snapped Lady Prudence, “hence,my lord.”
“I will be whatever the fair Miss Ainsley wishes me to be,” he said, having composed himself, and proving himself a fine gentlemanfor having staved off Emma’s blushing embarrassment that had accompanied her regretful gaffe. “First, I am hoping to be a partner this evening for a dance.” His eyes never left Emma’s.
“Quite so,” Lady Marston said smoothly, “but return later, Rutherford, for that honor. Miss Ainsley has many introductions to make first.”
