Page 18 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter Seven

Emma couldn’t keep from smiling or escape the pain that poked at her cheeks from grinning so widely. She was certain Mrs. Dunn would have elbowed her in the side and told her to maintain a demure composure, but it was too joyous an occasion. Standing in the Montagu House, surrounded by all sorts of history, art, and ancient artifacts, it was her own personal heaven. They had already walked through the ground floor, which held a library of old printed books and manuscripts that were timeless. She was certain there was more to be discovered upstairs, like shells and fossils, but for now, Emma was lingering in the gardens with all the ancient Greek and Roman sculptures. Of all her hopes for her stay in London, this place surpassed them all.

She would have invited Laura to join her, but Emma was certain it would not have been as enjoyed or appreciated. Laura went out seeking societal benefit and did not share Emma’s same enthusiasm of historical artifacts. But Emma didn’t mind enjoying them on her own. The sun was actually somewhat warmer than it had been previously, which Emma appreciated, but Mrs. Dunn had preferred to stay near the doors of the house while Emma roamed the gardens. There were various statues planted next to the flowers and low-cut hedges, allowing the matron to still keep an eye on her, and Emma appreciated the time alone, instead of being rushed through. This was something she’d longed to enjoy, so Mrs. Dunn had allowed her to take her time, and Emma was soaking up every moment.

The marble statues were incredible, men and women, human and god alike. Bodies sculpted by ancient hands, preserved for hundreds of years, and brought all the way from Greece to be on display in London. It was breathtaking to see not only such talent and history, but to be standing within arm’s reach of it. Even with their broken heads and missing limbs, it was still a marvelous sight, and connected so many of Emma’s other studies. She’d read through books upon books about Greek and Roman history, theology, and astronomy, all of which had left her fascinated.

A pair of ladies under parasols walked behind Emma and paused to admire the statue but did not linger long before they moved on. Their conversation was whispered and not audible to Emma’s ears, but Emma didn’t mind. She preferred the quiet in her solitude.

Until theydidspeak loud enough for her to hear.

“Ah, look. There’s Mr. Godwin now.”

Emma froze. At first, it was out of shock – what was he doing there? It couldn’t have been a coincidence he’d come the same day she had, could it? And then she didn’t move because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be seen. How close was he? Would he recognize her?

Daring an inconspicuous glance over her shoulder, Emma caught a glimpse of him. He was walking through the garden doors of the museum and pausing to admire the sculptures himself. He had not stopped to greet Mrs. Dunn, so she couldn’t have been his informant. Emma admired the profile of his face, like she admired the sculptures in the garden. He was a handsome man, perhaps too handsome, and his fatal flaw was that he knew it, and used it to his advantage all too often. Emma tried not to notice how it still set her heart to pounding. She didn’t need to avoid being seen. Perhaps now would be another opportunity to use what beauty and draw she possessed to her advantage, anything to help her gain another step into his heart and make him fall for her.

“Perhaps we should walk around the other way, dear,” one lady said.

“Whatever for?”

“You’ve only recently come out of mourning yourself. And it’s been said he’s particularly dangerous to widows. I would hate for you to be in his path and become a target.”

Emma listened intently, keeping her eyes on the statue before her.

“Nonsense. Isn’t he a friend of the Duke of Norland? I’m confident he’s a man of character. Besides, I wouldn’t mind catching his attention. He is rather handsome.”

“It’s always the handsome men that ruin the good women and get away with it. Just like Lord Havisham and Miss Dale. His reputation left her an outcast forever. I couldn’t bear it if something like that happened to you.”

“And whose reputation has Mr. Godwin harmed?”

“It’s been said he dallies with Mrs. Palmer on a regular basis, or maybe she was simply a previous lover of his.”

Emma swallowed, the sudden conversation making her slightly sick. What was she doing, trying to lure in such a man? She had her goal to ruin him, but was it in vain? And what if she became the subject of gossip herself? The last thing Emma wanted to do was cause a stir in society. What she truly wanted to do was cause a stir within him, within his heart, while keeping her name spotless and out of sight. But she’d already endured one encounter with him in public, when he’d given her a thorough look over in the park, one that made her blush just to think of it. Had no one noticed but her? And if she were to be seen in his company again, would it begin to raise suspicion?

The sound of boots on the ground silenced the gossipers, but Emma could not miss their demure greetings. “Good day, Mr. Godwin.”

“Good day.” He returned their greeting in a chipper voice, the sound growing closer.

Emma kept her chin raised, eyes on the sculpture as if he were not standing directly behind her.

“There’s such beauty to be admired in the museum, isn’t there?”

Mr. Godwin’s voice rumbled low near her ear, and it caused gooseflesh to break out across her arms. The intimacy he’d created in that moment was nearly palpable, and even though Emma hated how her body continued to react to him, she counted it as instruction, for she would need to find a way to create such stirrings in him as well.

Attempting to appear unaffected, Emma turned slowly. “Indeed, Mr. Godwin. What say you of this statue? Straight from Greece itself.”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t speaking of the statue.” He smirked, moving to stand beside her.

Emma ducked her head, fighting off a blush.

“But you are correct. There is much talent and merit to be seen here. Great artistry.”

“And do you know the story this sculpture portrays?” Emma asked.

Mr. Godwin studied her for a moment before responding, but much more innocently than before. “I might, but something tells me you surely do. Won’t you enlighten me, Miss Follett?”

Emma turned to ensure Mrs. Dunn was still nearby, but she was lost in conversation with a friend on the stone bench beneath the flowering trees.

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