Lady Emma's Dilemma (9781101573662) (5 page)

With a dreamy sigh, she turned shining eyes to her grandmother and said, “There really is nothing so congenial as a ball, is there, Grandmère?”

“I have certainly never tired of attending a party arranged by a brilliant hostess,” she stated as they began to descend the grand staircase.

Emma could see heads begin to turn toward them as they neared the bottom and she prayed she would not disgrace herself by tumbling down the last few steps.

“Ah, do not be conspicuous by looking, but my old friend Lady Arlington is approaching us and she is with her grandson, Lord Darley,” Grandmère said in a low voice as they stepped safely off the landing onto the deeply polished floor. “Now that is what I call a fine figure of a man. He is not only handsome, but imminently suitable.”

Smiling at her grandmother's refusal to give up match-making, Emma glanced over to see a plump matron in blue accompanied by a handsome blond man making their way toward them.

“Your grace! I was so hoping that we would see you this evening. May I please present my grandson, Lord Darley?”

“How good to see you, Lady Arlington.” The dowager's regal smile went from the curtsying lady to her bowing grandson. “And good evening to you, young man. It has been quite some time since I laid my gaze upon you, sir. This is my granddaughter, Lady Fallbrook.”

Lord Darley made a most elegant bow over Emma's hand. As he straightened she felt a momentary startlement at the intensity of his warm hazel gaze.

“It is a very great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Fallbrook.”

“How kind, sir.” Feeling a warm blush rising to her cheeks, Emma could think of nothing else to say. Had she been out of Society for so long that if an attractive gentleman showed his admiration she would blush like a school-girl? If she did not take herself in hand she would be in danger of becoming an antidote.

“My dear Lady Fallbrook!” A lilting voice cut through her musings. Emma turned from Lord Darley to see a dark-haired woman dressed in sapphire blue, her gamine face wreathed in smiles, approaching. Emma instantly smiled in response. It was her dear friend Amelia Spence-Jones. “How good to see you, Mrs. Spence-Jones!” They clasped their gloved hands in warm greeting.

“I thought you would never arrive. Oh, good evening, Darley,” Amelia said when she noticed Lord Darley at Emma's side. “I did not think we would see you here this evening. I know you will forgive me when I steal Lady Fallbrook from you, for I have not seen my friend in nearly six months. But my dear husband is here. I am sure you will find him in the billiards room.” The pretty brunette sent Darley a sweet smile and, without waiting for him to reply, placed her arm through Emma's and drew her away.

Emma could not mistake the look of disappointment that crossed Lord Darley's face. Amused by her friend's enthusiasm, she sent a smile to the handsome man and lifted her
shoulders in a helpless gesture. He returned her smile with a broad one of his own and made a sweeping bow.

Perhaps her behavior was not as gauche as she feared, she thought, feeling a measure of her natural confidence returning at his obvious regard.

Emma shifted her gaze to Grandmère, who was still engaged in conversation with Lady Arlington. Catching her eye, Grandmère sent her a quick smile and waved her off with a flutter of her fan.

“My dearest Emmaline!” Amelia said as she squeezed her arm. “Penelope and I have been beyond excited about seeing you this evening. We each promised that whoever saw you first would bring you to the other. Now I have lost sight of her in this mad crush! But we will have the nicest coze while we hunt for her. Oh!” she said, giving Emma's arm another squeeze. “It has been much too long! Your letters are always wonderful, but it is not the same as seeing you.”

“Indeed it is not.” Emma sent a fond smile to her old friend and was pleased to see how well she looked. Her deep blue gown flattered her striking dark eyes and alabaster complexion. “I am so happy that we shall have the entire spring to visit. I fear you shall grow sick of my company by the end of the Season.”

“Impossible! But truly, it is so exciting to have you here. You should hear what everyone is saying about you. No one can speak of anything else. Especially after the scene at Drury Lane last night—what gossip that caused!”

“Dear Amelia, surely you know that I do not care a fig what people say about me,” Emma stated as they navigated through the crowd. Despite her dismissive manner, Emma could not deny how amusing she found Amelia's words.

“You do not have to care what others say about you. That's why everyone is so curious to see what you will do next,” Amelia said as they sidestepped a clutch of dowagers.

“What I will do next? Heavens, you make me sound like Mrs. Willoughby and her white ponies. There is no reason
for anyone to discuss me. I lead an utterly placid life and have done nothing to draw any attention to myself.”

Amelia's sudden laughter was a mixture of shock and admiration as she glanced quickly to the other guests crowding around them.

“And that, my dear Lady Emmaline Fallbrook, is why your name is on everyone's lips. The fact that you would even mention Mrs. Wil—well, you know who, at Lady Colhurst's ball when anyone might hear you, is why you are becoming such a rage.”

“How silly,” Emma said with a shake of her head, hardly believing what her friend said.

“Thank goodness you have come to London,” Amelia continued as they walked beneath the gallery where the orchestra was playing a lively reel. “I confess I have been growing quite worried about you over the last year or two.”

Amelia's words caught Emma by surprise. “Good heavens! Why?”

“I confess that the last few times I have stayed with you at Maplewood I found the situation most disturbing. All the local mamas were bringing their daughters to you to make their curtsies before their first appearance at the local assembly balls. It was as if you were setting yourself up as some dowager, which was so dreadful, for you are so young and beautiful and used to be so fun-loving.”

Emma almost stumbled. “Used to be fun-loving?”

Amelia bit her lip, looking flustered as she struggled to respond.

Suddenly, Emma's expression broke into a smile and her bubbling laughter filled the tense silence. The guests nearest them turned and smiled at the pretty picture the two of them made.

“I'm not offended, dear Amelia. In fact, you are exceedingly observant. My life in Yorkshire has been very useful, very peaceful, and very boring. I have come to London to be young and gay. I think more than six years of respectable widowhood is enough for anyone.”

Amelia stopped and looked directly at Emma, a pleased and relieved expression spreading across her pretty features. “Oh, I am so happy to hear this! And you may count on me to help you have lots of fun. You know how my dear husband is so shockingly indulgent and encourages me in all my sprees. We shall set London on its ear with our high spirits. It will not be a challenge, for you are already cutting a dash with your sense of fashion. I just visited my milliner and heard several ladies ordering new bonnets with the ‘Fallbrook slant'.”

“You are teasing.”

“No, I vow it is true. Your uncluttered, elegant style makes the latest mode appear much too fussy. You have been in Town less than a week and already you are considered the best-dressed woman in the beau monde.”

“Heavens, what a burden! If I am considered fashionable it is only because I have given my dressmaker her head. I certainly don't care about setting any fashions.”

“Well, don't tell anyone—you'll spoil the illusion.”

“I had no notion that there was an illusion about me.”

“Yes, there is. And you should nurture it. A good illusion keeps everyone fascinated. You are lucky that you don't have to create one. Everyone believes you are the impeccable, unflappable, perfectly perfect Lady Fallbrook.”

“Tosh. I am no such thing. And I should hate to be considered so. Being perfectly perfect sounds dreadfully arduous to keep up.”

“Of course you are not perfect, but no one needs to know that. Believe me, you will have more fun if you keep up the façade. You know how the
ton
loves the unusual.”

“I think you are quite silly, but I have missed you greatly.”

“I have missed you too. Now where could Penelope be? This ballroom is not so large that we could completely lose her.”

As they moved past a gaggle of twittering misses, Emma was struck by the way they stared at her and whispered to
one another behind their fans. Perhaps Amelia's assertions were not so silly after all. Ignoring them, she scanned the guests for her friend.

“At last!” Amelia cried at her side. “We should have guessed that all of the most attractive gentlemen in the room would surround Penelope, though I do not see Lord Tunbridge among them. I would wager that he is in the billiards room with my husband.”

With a laugh at Amelia's wry observation, Emma looked over to see her oldest friend holding court in the midst of a group of attentive gentlemen. Emma smiled at the picture Penelope Tunbridge made with her wheat-colored curls and playful smile. They had not seen each other since the autumn and the last letter she had received from Penelope a week ago stated her skepticism that Emma would actually make the journey to London. Emma laughed to herself at how she was about to surprise her old friend.

At that moment, Penelope turned and the look of delight that spread across her heart-shaped face brought a warm glow to Emma's heart.

“Is it really Lady Fallbrook?” she said, reaching for Emma's hands. “So, my dear friend, has our constant haranguing finally compelled you to leave the wilds of Yorkshire and enjoy a little Society?”

Penelope's mossy green eyes were full of mischief and delight as Emma held out her hands in warm greeting. “My dear Lady Tunbridge, I shall confess that you and Mrs. Spence-Jones have been most persuasive. I am delighted to be in London again.”

“Wonderful!” The petite beauty turned back to her attentive group of gentlemen. “Oh, you must pardon my rag manners! Lady Fallbrook, have you met Mr. Fitzhugh, Lord Collinwood, and Sir John Mayhew? I know I need not introduce our delightful Mrs. Spence-Jones, for you gentlemen have long been acquainted with her.”

After greetings were exchanged with the gentlemen,
Penelope very prettily excused herself and her friends and drew the ladies away.

“I can hardly believe that you are here, Emmaline!” Penelope said once they were several yards away. “I have never seen you in better looks. You must tell me what occurred at the theatre last night, for no one can speak of anything else. My dear Tunbridge—despite how much I praise his patience—has grown positively weary of my rattling on about how excited I am at your arrival,” Penelope said, taking a breath, before continuing in her happy, lilting tone. “However, make no mistake, he is very pleased that you have finally come to Town. We are going to have the most splendid dinner party in your honor next week. It is going to be lovely. Amelia expressed her concern that you might have a previous engagement, and I said that if you did, you would just have to cry off, for I shall not easily share you. Besides, there won't be anyone worth spending an evening with who won't be at my house next Tuesday. So there. David and I have several other amusements planned for you, so there will be no nonsense about spending all your time with your grandmother. I know she would not want it anyway, for the duchess is quite busy with her own set. So you see? It is all arranged. We shall have the loveliest time now that you are here.”

Emmaline put her hands up in a mock attempt to fend off the onslaught of her friend's words. “Penelope, it is so nice to see you. How is your dear husband? And I trust that your delightful children are well?” she asked with exquisitely dry politeness.

Amelia laughed and Penelope sent them both a sheepish grin. “Oh, you. Forgive me for rattling on, but I have been on pins and needles waiting for you. Freddie and Jane are perfect. My husband is fine. I would hazard a guess that he is in the billiard room with Mr. Spence-Jones. I really am so very glad that you have finally come to Town.”

“I am too,” Emma said, meeting Penelope's warm gaze with her own.

Suddenly, the opening strains of a waltz filled the air and couples began to pair up and move to the floor.

Emma watched the dancers take their places with great interest. “I have been so long from Society that I confess myself a bit taken aback that Lady Colhurst would permit the waltz. Although I have never seen any real harm in it if the proprieties are observed.”

“There is nothing so delightful as a waltz, although some matrons still think it rather fast. I will give Lady Colhurst credit for being extremely modish,” Penelope stated, looking around. “Where is my husband? You would think he would be gentlemanly enough to come away from his gaming and dance with me once or twice.” Despite her words, Emma suspected that Penelope was not truly vexed at her husband's neglect.

“I am in complete sympathy with you,” Amelia said with a doleful shake of her head. “Roger used to be so attentive, but now that we have been married for all of seven years, dancing does not interest him the way it used to.”

Over Amelia's shoulder, a familiar figure caught Emma's attention and a smile spread across her features. “Dear Amelia, you are about to cause every married woman the pangs of envy.”

Penelope, who saw the same thing Emma did, smiled and nodded her head in agreement.

“Envy? Whatever for?” Amelia looked genuinely perplexed.

“Something most unusual is about to occur—A husband is going to ask his wife to waltz.” Although she was teasing the younger woman, Emma felt there was more than a bit of truth in her words.

In the highly sophisticated atmosphere of the
ton
, it was just not done for married couples to live in each other's pockets. But Emma was happy to see, as handsome Roger Spence-Jones wended his way toward his wife through the crowd, that there was at least one couple who obviously did not care about this particular fashion.