Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon (9 page)

The two ladies she sat with talked,
seemingly oblivious to Mr. Cardiff’s perusal from across the
crowded room, yet Emma could focus on nothing else. She tried to
pay attention to her friends’ chatter, particularly since they’d
begun discussing a new gothic novel Miss Weston had been reading,
but every time she looked up, Mr. Cardiff’s eyes bored more fully
through her. Within minutes, she was a trembling, agitated
mess.

Morgan took Emma’s hand into her own,
drawing her back into their conversation. “Perhaps tomorrow you
could take Serena and me to Lord Burington’s new
library.”

Emma blinked at first, trying to sort
out who Serena was. Then she remembered that was Miss Weston’s
name. The other two must have already decided that they’d all be
the best of friends while she’d been otherwise occupied with
worrying over Mr. Cardiff’s interest.

“
I’m sure we could do
that,” she spluttered, hoping dearly they wouldn’t think her a
simpleton for her odd behavior. “I’ll make certain it is all right
with Lord Burington, and then we can form our plans.”

But at the moment, the only sort of
plan wishing to take root in her mind was a means to avoid Mr.
Cardiff at every turn.

Seated as she was with Sir Henry
Irvine on her right, Lord Jacob Deering on her left, Lord Jacob’s
cousin Mr. Deering occupying the seat across from her, and Mr.
Cardiff so far down the table that she couldn’t see him at all,
Emma couldn’t help but say a silent prayer of thanks to Vanessa. In
the last day, she’d had as much of Mr. Cardiff’s rancor as she
could handle.

Emma needed to start making herself
amenable to the eligible gentlemen at the party at once, which was
a daunting task, but at least she now had three of them surrounding
her. Granted, Lord Jacob was equally as sullen and brooding as Mr.
Cardiff, or perhaps even more so, but at least he didn’t glare at
her as though she had concocted the plague all by her lonesome. He
was rather handsome, with his dark hair and eyes. He would not be a
difficult man to look upon day after day, should a lady be granted
that honor.

And his cousin, Mr. Deering, was an
affable fellow. Not only that, but he was probably someone she
would do better to focus her attentions upon…a gentleman on a far
less lofty strata of society. He had a kind smile and a gentle air
to go along with Lord Jacob’s dark appearance.

Sir Henry, likewise, was the sort of
gentleman Emma ought to be setting her sights upon. He was a
baronet, so still above her station—but not nearly so far above her
as Lord Jacob. Still, he seemed quite at his ease among his betters
here. She would do very well if she made him as her
match.

Vanessa knew very well what she was
doing when she’d arranged the seating for supper.

Right that moment, Emma made up her
mind that she would do everything she could over the course of
supper to get to know both Sir Henry and Mr. Deering. She shouldn’t
set her cap upon a gentleman who would never deign to notice her.
It was best to aim for a target she had at least some small hope of
hitting.

A footman held a bowl of split pea
soup beside her while she placed some in her bowl, and the scent of
it wafted up to warm her nostrils. It was all she could do to
refrain from letting out a sigh of contentment. Once everyone had
been served, she picked up her spoon and filled it, then gingerly
moved it toward her mouth so as not to spill a drop.

Up and down the length of the oak
table, the sounds of silver meeting china and polite conversation
swelled.

After they’d been eating
for a bit, Sir Henry turned to Emma and smiled. “I couldn’t help
but notice you were reading
The Bride of
Lammermoor
earlier, Miss Hathaway. Tell me,
have you read any of the author’s other novels?”

Bother if she hadn’t
already garnered attention for her reading. She’d prefer to draw
notice for her lovely coiffure or commendable deportment. Emma
forced her agitation with herself aside and turned more fully to
Sir Henry. “I’ve read
Waverley
more times than I ought to have done, but this is
only the second of the author’s novels I’ve had the opportunity to
read.”

Mr. Deering leaned across
the table slightly, as though joining a secret discussion. “You’ve
not read
Rob Roy
yet?” His incredulous tone left her near giddy. When she
answered in the negative, he continued with, “Promise me you’ll
read it next so we can discuss it”

He wanted to discuss novels with
her?

Perhaps she wouldn’t have
to leave behind all parts of herself in order to gain a gentleman’s
notice. If he were the
right
gentleman.

“
I’ll have to see if Lord
Burington has it in his library,” she said with more confidence
than she felt.

“
Surely he does,” Lord
Jacob drawled. He took another spoonful of his soup, and then
passed a glare over to his more enthusiastic cousin. “Burington
must have five copies of every book ever published in that room.
It’s hideous.”

Hideous
was about the last term Emma would use for such a
grand library, but she kept her opinion on the matter to herself.
This fortnight was to be about ingratiating herself to as many
gentlemen as she could in order to relieve her parents’ worry, not
about alienating either those very gentlemen or herself.

Instead, she smiled across at Mr.
Deering. “If he has a copy, I would love to discuss it
tomorrow.”

“
Tomorrow?” He sat up
straighter, his brows lifting inquisitively. “Surely you couldn’t
read an entire novel so fast as that.”

“
On the contrary,” Serena
put in from next to him. Emma couldn’t be certain, but she thought
Serena gave her a little wink before she continued. “I have it on
the highest authority that Miss Hathaway reads two books a day.
Three, I’d wager, if she’s not too engrossed with other
goings-on.”

Emma couldn’t decide if she should be
pleased with Serena’s interjection or if she ought to be mortified
to have her reading habits set out so plainly before the party. She
blushed slightly, and it then intensified when Sir Henry gave her
an appraising look, his friendly, brown eyes sparkling.

“
A lady after my own heart.
I’ve not had the time to devote to my own desire to read of late,
but when I took my Grand Tour, I spent more time reading than I did
anything else…much to the chagrin of my companions.”

“
And to those who must
listen to you discuss it now,” grumbled Lord Jacob beside her
beneath his breath.

Emma glanced around, but no one else
seemed to have heard his comment. She decided to ignore it, to
pretend she hadn’t heard a thing. It seemed the wisest course of
action at this juncture. To keep from doing or saying anything
inappropriate, she placed another spoonful of soup into her
mouth.

Mr. Deering let out a hum of assent.
“Much of my time is now spent reading legal tomes, when I’d rather
read for enjoyment.”

“
Legal tomes?” Serena
queried. “Are you a barrister then, Mr. Deering?”

“
In my second year.” He
brushed the corners of his mouth with his napkin while a footman
lifted away his bowl of soup. When the servant backed away, he went
on. “I do have a bit more time for pleasure reading now than I did
during my schooling, but only just.”

“
Pity,” Lord Jacob said
amiably, which took Emma by surprise. He’d not seemed one to pity
anyone for any reason, up to that point. Or to be amiable, for that
matter. But then he looked down at the plate being placed before
him, with roast squab and parsnips, and the previous glower
returned to his features. “Pity you ever decided to return,” he
added so low, Emma was certain that no one could have heard him
besides her.

She’d think he was deliberately trying
to shock her or be provoking if she didn’t believe she rated as low
on his scale of notice as a slug.

Sir Henry then struck up a
conversation with Mr. Deering about their tours of the Continent,
granting Emma a moment to regain her bearings. Having a few things
in common with these two gentlemen would only serve to aid her
cause. Perhaps she could glean more of their interests throughout
the course of their meal. Even if she couldn’t, there was at least
some connection between them now, so she wouldn’t feel quite so
lost in a conversation—if she ever got up the nerve to start
one.

Sir Henry and Mr. Deering both looked
expectantly at her then, and she chastised herself for not paying
attention. She opened her mouth to apologize for her lack of
attention, but a voice at the far end of the table carried to her
over the din.

“
I can’t imagine why they
have brought her into society again. Her skin is ghastly with all
those scars! She’ll surely ruin the appetite of anyone in her
general vicinity, simply from her presence.” The biting words came
from Lady Portia Hemmings, a dark-haired, sharp-tongued debutante
who had made Emma’s skin crawl upon their first meeting. “Clearly
it has already affected Lord Jacob’s appetite.”

This diatribe only justified Emma’s
premonition about the woman. She glanced down to the other end of
the table, where Mr. Cardiff sat, but he clearly hadn’t heard it.
Nor had Lord Trenowyth, who was in mid-conversation with a
debutante whose name Emma couldn’t remember.

She bit down on her lip, halting her
apology to the gentlemen she’d been ignoring. Serena gave her a
brief shake of her head, questioning her with her eyes, and then
spoke, drawing the two gentlemen’s attention onto herself. She
mustn’t have heard what Emma had heard. There would be no need to
question if she had.

Surreptitiously, Emma turned her gaze
to where Morgan was happily chatting away with Lord Muldaire,
oblivious to the fact that another lady was boorishly denigrating
her character.

Whether Morgan had heard it or not
didn’t matter. Emma had. It left her mouth dry and her chest tight
and caused hot, stinging tears to form behind her eyes.

It was all so unfair. No one deserved
such treatment. Certainly not Morgan. And for that matter, Emma
didn’t deserve the treatment Mr. Cardiff so readily handed to
her.

Lord Jacob brushed the back of his
hand against Emma’s knuckles with a touch so soft she almost
thought she’d imagined it, but it was enough to make her realize
she had clenched both hands into fists. She forcefully loosened
them, and then met Lord Jacob’s gaze.

He was staring at her
almost kindly, however ridiculous that notion might be. Lord Jacob
Deering was a great many things, but her initial impression of him
did not lend itself easily to
kind
. He dropped his voice again to
where no one but Emma could hear him. “Don’t grant them the
satisfaction of seeing what they do to you. Lady Morgan does
not.”

Before she had wrapped her mind around
what he’d said, Lord Jacob cut off a bite of quail and filled his
mouth with it, turning to his other side to take up a conversation
with the lady seated there.

He was right, of course. She’d not do
herself any favors by delivering the gossips at the other end a
set-down with a full dining room looking on. Emma was here to
become a perfectly biddable, perfectly agreeable miss—one whom a
gentleman might wish to pursue. Not a single gentleman of her
acquaintance wished to pursue shrewish harridans who acted
inappropriately in social situations. Mother had done her best to
instill in both Emma and Vanessa a sense of proper decorum, and
Papa had shown them time and again that keeping silent while
amongst one’s betters was often the proper course of action. She
needed to simply keep her thoughts to herself until such time as
she could reveal them to someone she trusted, or she’d let both
Vanessa and David down.

Yet when she tried to return her focus
to her meal, another voice floated down the table, a masculine
timbre this time, assaulting her ears with more vitriolic comments
about her friend.

“
Pity she was unsuccessful
in her attempts. One would think, after three tries, she could have
gotten one of them right.”

“
And it’s a pity your
nursemaid was unsuccessful at teaching you simple manners and basic
human decency.” The words were out of Emma’s mouth before she could
stop herself. Indeed, she’d overturned her chair in her fury to
gain her feet. She must have knocked over a glass of wine as well,
as Sir Henry and two footmen desperately tried to mop it up with
napkins before it spilled over the table’s edge.