Page 66 of Emma & Edmund

"Mr. Anthony-"

"We are in the middle of an important conversation," Margaret clipped at the man now at them, taking a fresh glass of champagne. "Whatever business you have can wait."

"Unfortunately, Lady Ingham," Anthony countered immediately, "I have orders from the only person in this house I have to obey over you." Shooting a quick look to Emma, he continued, "Lord Lockhart would like a dance."

"He cannot even find her himself? Has he even met her brother? Emma, this is all so-"

"It's been a whirlwind of an evening, hasn't it?" Emma tried to smooth everything over, but the sharp look Margaret bore into her said she had very well failed at that goal. "Later tonight, I'll tell you everything I can."

"It had better beeverything." The weight of her emphasis was as obvious as the anger etched across her face. Emma could only offer a pathetic, stiff, hardly placating smile in place of a promise.

While she tried her best to not appear too excited to those she passed, Emma wouldn't deny the small bubble of delight. She didn't know what spell had befallen the people that surrounded her, but their glassy eyes and loud chatter only seemed to add to her glee.

“Mr. Anthony,” she whispered to the man leading her through a grin, “do you know what’s going on?”

“Not a clue.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“He told me to not be. All I can do at this point is trust him.”

Whatever the mystery surrounding Edmund may be - the most current mystery, anyway - it seemed to have worked.

Not a soul was afraid, the gossip was normal as one could imagine, and there was a certain levity in the air. The sudden attendance of their host brought new life to the party, and any lingering strangeness was drowned in the drink that was passed around with renewed vigor. An attempt by Anthony, no doubt, to further blur whatever veneer Edmund had donned.

She was only sidetracked once, when a giggling group of acquaintances asked if it was her turn for a dance. Apparently, in the short time since his arrival, Lord Lockhart had done quick work of acquainting himself with his long-neglected guests, having taken no less than two girls to the dance floor thus far.

"Oh, is that so?" Emma responded to the news with a tight smile, burning with the desire to know exactly which girls, and no doubt the group before her would know, but there was a greater need calling her away. The one to ensure that he not be given a chance to slide in another girl before her. "If you'll excuse me."

By the time she had finally broken through the wide doors of the ballroom, the poor room was nearly bursting with people. Allowing an area just large enough to host a dozen or so dancers, it felt as if as many guests as possible had crammed into the space. Done for the sole purpose of gleaning a glimpse, a word, or even stealing her dance.

The evidence of this was shown no more obvious than when she finally laid eyes on her compere.

Edmund wasecstatic. Moving through the crowd like a king, he made introductions, flattered the ladies, and bonded with the gentleman, all before moving on to the next so swiftly, so smoothly it hardly seemed like his first time.

Although, Emma realized, he didn't spend his whole life waiting for a chance like this for it to go in vain. It was admirable, really.

She had laid witness to Edmund's smile plenty of times before. When she looked at him now, there was something different about the spread of his lips, the baring of his teeth. The usual gentleness, the expected tenderness Emma had come to know had been wiped away, replaced with a glowing pride.

"Miss Thompson!" So enthralled, Emma was, with the changes in his face and demeanor, she failed to notice when the man himself was right before her. It was almost as startling as the way he addressed her, missing the familiar 'Emma' that rolled from his lips so nicely. It would be absolutely inappropriate, but she missed it, nonetheless.

Towering above her as he always did so well, Edmund beamed his glowing smile on her. While it might have been the same as he bestowed on the others, there was a glimmer in the onyx pools of his eyes that she recognized, one she hoped could be only for her.

"Your Grace, you called for me?" Emma dipped into a curtsy.

"Indeed," he answered after a bow of his own, "and you've arrived just in time." The swell of a new tune floated from the bandstand, beckoning a new round of dancers to the floor.

Emma's heart fluttered when Edmund offered his hand.

Chapter 18

It was far from the first time their bodies had pressed together but was easily the first with such an audience. Twirling with the most anticipated man Emma had ever known, she felt eyes on them from nearly every direction.

It was easy to forget Edmund was, well, himself. Without fear or concern surrounding them, the hands that held her and the eyes that stayed fixed on her felt so normal. Edmund felt normal.

"So, you'll tell me now, won't you?" Emma finally said lowly, once the waltz was underway. "What in the world is going on?"

"Why don't you tell me about that Mr. Tate I've seen you with so often?"

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