Page 55 of To Marry and to Meddle
“Whichpartof the Season?” Lady Northbridge asked like a dog with a scent.
“The… latter part,” Emily hedged.
“Around which month?”
“One of the summer months,” Emily said vaguely, which was notuntrue, since she had, in fact, first visited the Belfry in July. She did not care to give Lady Northbridge any precise details.
“And how convenient it was that you and Lord Julian both attended the same house party,” Lady Northbridge continued, her tone implying that the likelihood of this being a coincidence ranked similarly to the likelihood of the Duke of Wellington and Napoleon enjoying a cozy meal together. “And without your dear mama to chaperone!”
“I was chaperoned by the Dowager Marchioness of Willingham,” Emily said serenely, glad to at least have this card to play. “I’m certain you don’t wish to imply that her ladyship is anything less than suitable as a protector of a young woman’s virtue?”
“No, of course not,” Lady Northbridge said hastily, paling at the very notion of ending up on the dowager marchioness’s bad side. “I merely meant that you and Lord Julian must have had the opportunity for many… walks.”
This, Emily thought with some exasperation, was why thetonwas so maddening. Walks! The way Lady Northbridge said the word, it sounded like a visit to a brothel.
“We enjoyed the opportunity to become better acquainted,” she said carefully, “in the company of our friends—who were, of course, the ones to first introduce us.”
“How delightful,” Lady Northbridge said, her gaze on Emily still as sharp as a razor. “I’m sure you did.”
Emily could feel herself growing more irritated by the moment, but did as she always did: took a deep breath, and smiled. It was a habit she had honed from years of practice. Then, as she was searching her mind for something—anything—to possibly change the subject to, her gaze landed on the clock. And, miracle of miracles, fifteen minutes had elapsed. She’d always thought the rule that calls should only last aquarter of an hour was ridiculous—and she, Violet, and Diana had, of course, completely ignored it among themselves, visiting one another for far longer than society deemed polite—but, in this moment, Emily thought it must be the best rule thetonhad ever come up with.
“Well, Lady Northbridge,” she said, working her face into an expression of mournful regret, “I’m afraid I must be going. I was having such a lovely time that I quite lost track of the hour.”
“Of course,” Lady Northbridge agreed, rising with Emily. A slightly crafty expression crossed her face. “You will be certain to give the marquess my best, will you not?”
“The marquess,” Emily repeated.
“The Marquess of Eastvale? Your husband’s father?” Lady Northbridge gave a trill of laughter that was one of the more horrifying sounds Emily had ever heard. “You do know which family you married into, do you not, Lady Em—Lady Julian?”
“Naturally,” Emily said, smiling as though this were indeed a hilarious joke. “However, I do not believe my husband and his father have spoken recently, given the marquess’s absence from town.”
“Of course,” Lady Northbridge said. “But I know they must be close—closer than appearances would make it seem, at least. Given all the efforts the marquess has taken over the years, of course. On Lord Julian’s behalf?”
“I beg your pardon?” Emily asked, frowning.
“My dear!” Lady Northbridge said, tittering. “You must know how well the marquess speaks of his son to various society hostesses.”
“Oh,” Emily said, thinking quickly. “Yes, of course.”
“Why, I doubt Lord Julian would still be invited anywhere at all if it were not for his father,” Lady Northbridge continued, seeming not to notice Emily’s confusion. Emily wasn’t certain whether that wasbecause she’d hidden it well, or because Lady Northbridge so enjoyed the sound of her own voice that Emily could have clutched her chest in shock and collapsed upon the drawing room floor without the baroness paying the slightest bit of attention. “The marquess has made it perfectly clear, of course, that anyone who snubs Lord Julian will regret it most heartily—and no one wants to offend a man as well-connected as Lord Eastvale, of course.”
This last bit was pronounced with just enough resentment to inform Emily that this was why her visit had been accepted today, despite Lady Northbridge’s clear disapproval of her marriage. It was fear of offending Lord Eastvale that kept the doors of society open to her—and to Julian. Emily was surprised she had never heard whispers of this before, but in truth she hadn’t known very much about Julian before she’d met him. She knew the name, of course, knew vaguely of the story of his theater, had heard rumors that he’d been disinherited by his father, but not much beyond that.
And yet, if Lady Northbridge was to be believed, it was because of his father that Julian had not been completely ostracized by polite society.
Her mind was racing, her thoughts tangled into a knot, but to Lady Northbridge she merely said, “The marquess is very protective of his family, I believe.”
Which was, apparently, nothing more than the truth.
The real question was: how was she going to tell Julian?
In the short term, as it turned out, she didn’t have to tell him at all. Julian had planned an evening out with Penvale that night—knowingPenvale as she did, Emily was quite certain that there would be a high-stakes card game on the agenda, and idly hoped that Julian would manage to escape without losing the deed to the house. But this meant that Emily was in bed asleep by the time Julian returned home that night. This was, in and of itself, not necessarily a bad thing—things between them had been slightly strained after their argument of the night before, and Emily was perfectly content to have an excuse to avoid any further dispute with her husband.
The next morning, Julian was abed late, and Emily departed for an appointment at the modiste before he made his way downstairs; by the time she returned home, he was gone—off to the Belfry, Bramble informed her.
Emily, however, decided that she was not going to let a bit of lingering awkwardness from their argument put her off from her desire to spend more time at the theater, so a couple of hours later she ordered the carriage brought round, and set off for the Belfry with one stop along the way.
“This is all rather thrilling,” Sophie said, peering out the carriage window half an hour later as they drew to a halt. “I must confess, nothing half so interesting ever used to happen to me before I met you and Violet and Diana.”
