Page 8 of Playing the Scoundrel

“Oh, hush. Enough of that.” Mrs. Dunn waved a hand and shook her head. “You know the bargain: you behave yourself and find a suitable match, and I will see to it that you receive an inheritance of five thousand pounds. Remember that. If people want to talk down to you or belittle you, take a moment to remind yourself of your worth. Not only monetarily, but also because the brilliant little mind you have. You’re worth more than half the people in attendance tonight.”

Mrs. Dunn was a fierce character, but Emma was grateful for her. Though her voice had an edge, the words did help to slightly ease Emma’s fears. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mrs. Dunn. I won’t let you down.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about that. Come along now.”

The carriage doors opened, and a curl of winter wind surrounded them. Tugging the shawl closer around her shoulders, Emma hurried into the assembly hall.

The world of London society filled and overtook the place. Emma tried to remember titles and faces as many stopped to greet Mrs. Dunn, but most of them were fleeting until they reached the ballroom. Every single person in the room made her feel so small and insignificant; they were all elegantly dressed, with their noses to the sky, and while Emma tried to remember Mrs. Dunn’s encouragement, her first instinct was to run from the room. But she couldn’t allow that desire to win. She had a purpose here, and she meant to fulfill it.

“Now you see that gentleman over there?” Mrs. Dunn said quietly, gesturing with her fan. “That’s Mr. Williams, a renowned fortune hunter. He knows better than to trifle with me, but if he dares to approach you, I give you leave to cut him directly.”

Emma couldn’t imagine turning away anyone so bluntly, but she would if it meant keeping her family name safe. “Yes, Mrs. Dunn.”

“And that gentleman there is Lord Havisham. He’s the worst kind of rake without a moral to his name. Should he seek you out for a dance, do not succumb to his charms. He will ruin you faster than… well, you know who.”

“I understand.” She had no desire to be in the man’s presence, let alone the same room, but there was little Emma could do when she was the one without title and didn’t belong.

Mrs. Dunn went on pointing out friends and foes until Emma’s eyes fell on a familiar face. Anger rose in her chest, for he was the one man she’d hoped never to see again. Mr. Godwin, the one who had spurned Laura intentionally, was now laughing and smiling with some other pretty young woman. How dare he enjoy himself when Laura remained at home with a broken heart.

“Do you know that man there?” Emma asked, motioning discreetly with her fan. If Mrs. Dunn really did know the whole of London society, perhaps she could get the truth of this scoundrel.

“Of course. That’s Henry Godwin. Why do you ask?”

Emma ground her jaw together. “He snubbed my friend at the last ball and was quite rude to her. I believe he’s a rake as well.”

Mrs. Dunn shrugged. “He’s just a careless flirt sometimes. He wouldn’t have bedded her.”

Emma gasped at her bluntness. “How could you possibly…”

“All these rakes have reputations to uphold, Emma. Some are completely harmless, while others are downright dangerous. Mr. Godwin is somewhere in the middle. He only dallies with widows and fallen women, but never with a married woman or an innocent. He’s an entertaining gent himself and surprisingly hassomemorals, so I don’t mind his company, but I don’t think you’re in any danger from him.”

Still shocked by the subject, Emma closed her gaping mouth and nodded. She had considered herself thoroughly educated after hearing of Judith’s experience from her very lips, but it still put her comfort on edge to hear such things discussed so nonchalantly in public.

And it didn’t improve her opinion of him in the least.

“Come, let us find a seat in the ballroom. My old bones need to rest, and you need to be on display, ready for a dance.”

Emma was amazed as Mrs. Dunn effortlessly parted the crowds and removed men from their seats, making room for her to come sit. She made the introductions and Emma again added names and faces to her mental list, but she was grateful when most of them ignored her and looked to Mrs. Dunn for conversation.

“Emma, look there,” Mrs. Dunn said, pointing across the room. A gentleman caught her gaze as she beckoned him over, and Emma suddenly grew nervous. “This gentleman will be your goal. For the rest of the season, I want you to be as available to him as possible. Mr. Amos Bernard is a fine gentleman, of good breeding, decent wealth, respectable character, and with some family scars of his own, so he’ll be willing to overlook yours.”

Swallowing hard, Emma put on her nicest smile for the gentleman approaching.

“How good to see you, Mrs. Dunn,” he said, bowing upon arrival. “And who is your pretty partner this evening?”

Emma flushed under his direct praise.

“I’m hoping to make her your dance partner before the evening is out. This is Miss Emma Follett, granddaughter of my dearest friend.”

Giving him a curtsy, Emma said, “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Bernard.”

“And I you.” His smile seemed genuine enough. “I’ve already promised the next set to another, but I’d be honored if you’d join me for the quadrille, Miss Follett.”

“I would be delighted, Mr. Bernard.”

He bowed again and excused himself, with Mrs. Dunn nodding in approval. “Don’t move yourself from this spot until he returns,” she whispered, then put on a false smile as they were approached by a group of elderly ladies.

So he was the one. Mr. Amos Bernard. She took the moment alone to watch how he interacted with people. He was a handsome enough man to be sure, as Emma could not find immediate fault with his appearance, and she was pleased that he seemed to be kind and sincere. While Mrs. Dunn had listed other traits society might value, she would want for nothing else in a man.

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