Page 55 of If I Loved You
I’m not quite sure how familiar you are with the politics and procedures of parliament, but I thought it prudent to remind you that I will remain in London for the time being as the session is heating up, as it normally does before it closes for the year. Sadly, our day does not begin in chambers until late afternoon, and often we find ourselves still upon the benches into the wee hours of the morning. I tell you this, and ask that you make my excuses to Bethany, as I had promised that we would ride regularly, and that will not, cannot, be the case until parliament closes for the season.
Lest you think I am enjoying myself, I will correct you with the news that yesterday I listened to one man speak for more than an hour and a half. He did not speak specifically to the bill to be brought before the House, but only that we should be having discussion aboutbringingthe bill before the House. Thus is my status here, annoyed, impatient, and wanting to be away from London.
You might reply to this correspondence with news from Hertfordshire, if you have any, and of the Daisies, to keep me entertained and somehow connected to you and true reality.
Lindsey
HER BOTTOM LIP HADfallen, remained lagging while she read the entire missive. And then read it again. The Earl of Lindsey had written her a letter.
Was this an olive branch? Did she want one?
She’d managed, over the past several days, to put the entire sordid encounter into perspective. She’d made a huge mistake, one she’d not like to repeat. He had felt guilty, for his role in losing her the position at the modiste’s and perhaps even for having taken her virginity, and hence, his unbelievable declaration of love.
She gave no quarter to how that bit of news had been presented, how he seemed equally as shocked as she by the words, the way his voice had hesitated as she was positive the earl’s never had before.I meant what I said, Emma.
In hindsight, she was embarrassed by her behavior, many aspects of it. She shouldn’t have done what she had with him. She certainly should not have liked it as much as she had, nor given it the amount of attention and recollection as she had over the last few days. She shouldn’t have overreacted, screaming at him as if she were naught but some bat from hell. She could not properly justify either behavior.
Likely, she was half in love with him, but she thought she should not be. Truthfully, aside from a simmering gaze that weakened her knees and his infinite affection for Bethany, what part of him was worthy of her love? His clever political mind and his drugging kiss? The fact that he was certainly the most handsome man she’d ever known? That little boy in him who wanted only to tend bees all his days? The man who ate her not-even-close-to-perfect stew and pretended he hadn’t almost choked, just to spare her feelings?
Rubbish, all of it. Above and beyond all that, he was overbearing and dictatorial and apparently intent only on causing her grief.
I meant what I said, Emma.
Emma tightened her lip and took his letter upstairs. She tucked it into the small desk in her chambers, after she read it through one more time, running her fingers over the dried black ink of his precise script.
THE RAINS STOPPED,and the post boy found Emma and Bethany just returning from Perry Green, their conveyance courtesy of the always amiable Mr. MacKenzie. With a slight blush to her features, Emma accepted the letter, already familiar with the bold scrawl across the front. She bid a good day to Callum, and then wasn’t quite sure how she managed to wait to open the envelope until Bethany was settled for her nap, but she did.
MISS AINSLEY,
I begin to believe your George Fiske might have had the right of it: putting thoughts to pen is both cathartic and engaging. Yet I am no George Fiske, of the fanciful words and earnest declarations, so I shall spare you an attempt to charm you with any such thing.
I enjoyed dinner yesterday, before our session, with Lady Marston, who inquires of your well-being. Curiously, after I’d explained your connection to Hadlee, she became rather animated, or as captivated by any subject as Lady Marston might be. Evenmore peculiar, her attention seemed to hover and waver between excitement and trepidation as I answered whatever queries I could in regard to your new—and, according to my godmother, her old—friend, Mr. Fiske.
I had wanted to mention to you, as we’d discussed about your lad, Langdon, that he should be presented to Mr. Talley, the stablemaster at Benedict House, when the time comes. I know very little of the boy, but Talley might serve nicely as a fine mentor. I daresay he’ll learn more and better in only weeks what he might have accumulated over the years.
Signing off now, heading back to the Palace.
Lindsey
TWO DAYS AFTER THAT, the post boy gave her what she deemed an annoyed scrunching up of his youthful face, until Emma passed him two farthings, to which he lost his frown and tipped his cap to her.
MISS AINSLEY,
Thurman has mentioned that you’ve asked for the carriage for Friday, this week. This pleases me, as it never sat easily with me that you and Bethany were on your own there at the Daisies.
Still taunting me with the promise of his support, Lord Kingsley insisted I take dinner with him, even as our session ended well after midnight. Dinner was reserved and informal, and while I continue to express my gratitude for your assistance in warding offthat aforementioned and addressed Hindrance, your absence has now rekindled her enthusiasm, and the quiet planned interlude of Lord Kingsley and myself was interrupted not once, not twice, but three times by nonsense and the woman who brought it. Thus, prepare yourself, Miss Ainsley. I may soon and again request your company.
Scattered thoughts here, but do you think Bethany might like to come to London? I imagined taking her to Bartholomew Fair, which comes ’round at the beginning of September. Kindly advise of your thoughts on this.
Lindsey
BITING HER LIP, EMMAre-read this latest letter three times. Several things came to mind as a result. First, she had to acknowledge that the Earl of Lindsey, whatever the status of their so often antagonistic relationship, was likely to be in her life for a very long time, if only vicariously through his affection for her daughter. Next, she pushed aside the not entirely unpleasant thrill that rattled her belly at his supposing he might send for her to assist him once again in his efforts to frustrate the Hindrance. Lastly, Emma’s shoulders fell, realizing that as he had asked a particular question, she felt rather bound to reply to his letter. Perhaps there was no harm in it; it was only words on paper. She might more easily ignore his missives if they were indeed written in the same vein as had been George Fiske’s, with efforts to woo her and beguile her with his words. But he did not; these were safe letters, ones to which she could foresee no harm in replying, although her response was forestalled by several days with the preparations for, and the coming of, her family.
By the time she did sit down to write the earl, Emma was quite intrigued by the burgeoning idea which had come to her, thatshemight dictate where next their relationship ventured. She could write to him as friends, not with the seething animosity that accompanied so many of their meetings and, obviously, not with any mention or hint of what she was now referring to asThe Second, But Far Greater Most Inglorious Blunder. She would speak to him in the letters as if she wrote only to Mrs. Smythe or any dear friend that she might have. It would set the tone for how they might go on, Emma unable to imagine that she could successfully cleave him from her life completely. She thought that an impossibility, because of his grand affection for Bethany and for the very fact that he now possessed the entire estate from which came her present income.
DEAR LORD LINDSEY,
Be forewarned—and politely at the very beginning of this missive—that I’ve never written a letter to anyone before in my life. Isn’t that amazing?
