The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2) (4 page)

“Right you are, sir,” she frowned at him and left him alone by the fireside.

Edward ran his hands through his hair and sighed wearily. “What has got into you?” He stretched out his legs in front of him, laid his head back against the chair, and closed his eyes. “I need a jolly good night’s sleep.”

Chapter Six

Frances was miserable. She was
alone in Suffolk, thinking back on all that had transpired. Her father had actually taken the odious Albert Jarvis’ offer of marriage seriously. Father and daughter quarrelled bitterly the following day, him telling her in no uncertain terms that Mr Jarvis’ offer was accepted and that was an end to the matter in his estimation. Having fled the room in disgust the night of the proposal, Frances had absolutely no idea what sweetener had been added to the offer. She knew a great deal of money had to have passed hands in order for her father to agree to the match. The only saving grace was that she had one year in which to find an alternative husband.

Frances did not want a husband. She had never wanted a husband. In her opinion, husbands were overly complicated things. She was far happier with lovers. They were much less problematical and demanding. And if she grew tired of looking at one particular face, she could exchange it for another.

Try as she may, she could not occupy her mind in Suffolk. What she needed was society. What she needed were friends and acquaintances around her. She needed someone’s help in finding a soft, pliable man to marry, preferably one that did not mind, or even looked the other way, if she sought pleasures outside of the marriage bed.

She spent long hours pacing up and down the drawing room or taking long walks in the grounds trying to think of someone to whom she could be wed and have it convenient for the both of them. She thought of Malcolm Biddle, who was well known to be
not the marrying type
. With his well-known fancies, no one would ever believe that farce of a marriage even if he could be persuaded to agree to it. If only there was an alternative.

Reluctantly, Frances decided there was only one thing for it. She had to throw herself back into society and accept the advances of each and every gentleman who approached her in the hope that one of them would make a passable husband.

As though Providence itself was taking a hand in her life, when she arrived back at the house from one of her long walks, it was to find there was an invitation to a ball awaiting her.

She picked up the elegant invitation, squinting at the name on the card. Edward Emberton. The name was familiar. She was certain her father had mentioned him more than once before. Perhaps he was a politician. Her mind began to work quickly. If he was a politician, then perhaps he needed her help, or rather her father’s help. She knew he was unmarried by the absence of his wife’s name on the invitation card.

Slowly, the scheme began to hatch in Frances’ mind. She would use her father and his connections to persuade Edward Emberton to marry her. She chuckled at her own deviousness and made directly to the drawing room and her writing desk to reply in the affirmative to the invitation. She would be delighted to attend Edward Emberton’s ball. She just hoped he was fair to look upon and would be a pleasing catch.  If not, so be it.

* * * *

The day of the ball arrived far more quickly than Edward anticipated. The hustle and bustle in the house left him giddy, and he felt his excitement rise. He would be hosting his first ball. He was determined it would be a resounding success.

Just that morning his mother pointed out that he needed to seek out an eligible bride. He needed no more reminders. From the mounds of acceptance cards he received, he knew he would have more than his fair share of pretty faces to choose from. The only thing he needed to be sure of was that he chose not only to please himself but to satisfy the needs of his life in Parliament.

The very thought that he was now on display made Edward’s stomach turn. His parents had no intention whatsoever of introducing their sons into society in the acceptable fashion. He was not used to the endless parades of debutantes with their frippery, the language of the fan, and the interminably pushy mothers. This night would be a sort of baptism by fire, as Richard put it so eloquently while they dressed. His mother had done her level best to prepare Edward for the nonsense he would encounter from nearly every unmarried female that night. Edward did not know how much of it he would have to endure or, indeed, could endure.

He greeted his mother and steered her towards the drawing room, where they were joined by Richard and Grace. Shortly afterward, they were joined by the Colemans. The relief that flooded through his body upon seeing such friendly faces could not be measured.

“You cannot imagine how pleased I am to see you this evening, Doctor Coleman,” he bowed towards them both. “Miss Coleman.” Edward smiled gratefully at them both as he straightened up, and was rewarded with his own smile reflected back at him from Martha. “I think tonight may be somewhat of a trial for both of us, do you not think?” he asked her conspiratorially.

Martha blushed, “Yes, Edward, I do.”

“You know that I do think of you and your father as family. Indeed, you have been brought up as family, being my mother’s goddaughter. I will need to borrow you quite frequently, without a doubt, tonight to escape the machinations and desires of all the other eligible ladies we have invited.” He laughed and was gratified to see she laughed easily too.

Edward led them to the settee, and they all waited until it was deemed appropriate to enter the ballroom as the sound of carriage wheels crunching up on the gravel drive was heard. The temptation to drink more than one small glass of wine was great—at least it was great for Edward. He had never been so nervous in his entire life. Anxiety was not an emotion he was used to. He was an assertive man, but the prospect of a ballroom filled with young ladies hoping that he would choose one of them to be his bride filled him with abject horror and dread.

His mother saw the tension in him. As he escorted her from the drawing room to the ballroom, she whispered words of encouragement in his ear. “Do not fret so, Edward. I will be on hand at all times. So long as you keep one eye firmly upon me, you will not stray too far from our plan and not be pulled in by a pair of fine eyes or a curvaceous figure.”

Edward did not know which discomfited him more, the prospect of what awaited him within the ballroom or the words his mother just used.

He swallowed down his nerves and stepped confidently into the ballroom. Edward and Edwina took their places to one side of the door and awaited their guests to file in. Edward’s throat was dry, but he knew there was fun to be had if he only remained positive.

* * * *

Martha was elated. She replayed Edward’s words in her mind. “You know that I do think of you and your father as family…” Was he declaring his intentions to her? She stood in line with the rest of the family and was introduced to people whom she knew she had no hope of ever remembering the names of. Her spirits were higher than they had been in months. She was considered part of the family. How far that sentiment extended, she was not yet aware, but with Edward’s words repeating in her thoughts, Martha knew she was to have a splendid evening. She watched impassively as gentleman after gentleman and lady after lady passed her by. She was introduced to them, she curtsied, and they curtsied or bowed in response, but she was in a daze. She barely even looked at any of them. Her mind was entirely preoccupied on the words of the man at the other end of the line, Edward Emberton.

Had she been paying attention, she would have noticed when the beautiful Miss Frances Davenport entered the room and was introduced to Edward. She would have noticed how their eyes locked and remained so as he bowed and she curtsied in greeting. She would have noticed how his eyes followed her along the line and how he ignored the next few people, blindly bowing to them, not hearing their names or acknowledging their greeting. She would have noticed how Edward was wholly captivated by Miss Davenport.

Chapter Seven

Edward’s breath caught in his
throat as the raven-haired beauty entered the room and fairly floated towards him. Her eyes, the colour of emeralds, locked with his—and he was mesmerised. He felt his pulse begin to race and his passions rise up within him. It was with some difficulty that Edward dragged his attention back to his guests as they filed past him. He wondered who the woman was. She had, of course, been introduced to him. In that moment, his ears seemed to have malfunctioned, and he was aware of nothing other than those enthralling eyes.

His brother Richard jabbed him sharply in the ribs with his elbow. “Pick your jaw up off the floor before people notice you ogling that woman!” he snarled.

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Edward muttered shamefacedly. He felt humiliated that his brother had caught him staring at the lady in such a fashion that it was deemed to be ogling. He dragged his mind back to the matter at hand and bowed graciously to the couple standing before him, some distant relatives of his mother whom he had never seen before in his life.

The column of guests snaked its way from the ballroom out through the doors into the hallway, down the length of the house to the front doors. It seemed interminable. Edward’s back began to ache from all the bowing, and his throat grew drier by the moment. Relief came in the form of Stainton, his butler, who crept silently up behind him and whispered that he had a beverage for him. Edward gratefully turned round and accepted the glass of wine. “I would give anything for a cup of tea right now,” he whispered to Stainton, as he placed the glass back on the tray the butler held so steady.

“I will bear that in mind, sir, and have tea ready for you at a moment’s notice should you manage to escape and seek solitude.” The man bowed and disappeared almost instantly.

Again, Edward was grateful for his mother’s aid and regretted that so many times in his life he had referred to her help as interference. It was she who had procured a butler for him. And, if he was not mistaken, it was she who also interviewed and engaged Mrs Clamp, his housekeeper. He looked to his right and caught his mother’s eye, giving her a grateful smile. She returned a puzzled smile, and he made a note to thank her at some point during the evening for all she’d done.

“Well, this is a splendid turnout, make no mistake,” smirked the old man standing before Edward.

Edward turned his attention to the man before him with his mouth wide open. “My! Lord Davenport! What a surprise it is to see you here. I had thought, wrongly, I believe now, that you did not attend such gatherings.”

The old man guffawed and slapped him on the shoulder, knocking him off balance. “The young lass, my daughter, you see her there?” To Edward’s utter disbelief, Lord Davenport pointed his finger across the room to the very young lady that had caused Edward so much discomposure. “Frances…”

Now Edward knew her name.

“She absolutely insisted on coming and refused anyone else as chaperone. A feisty little miss if ever there was one.” He winked at Edward. “If you know what I mean.”

Edward had absolutely no idea what he meant, but smiled weakly and nodded his head all the same.

“Well, what can a father do under such circumstances, eh? So I’m here. I expect you and I’ll be talking at some point,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh?”

“Yes. That bill of Wilberforce’s. You’re behind it, aren’t you?” The old man frowned eyeing his host up and down.

Instantly, Edward’s mind snapped back and realisation dawned upon him. Lord Davenport was referring to Wilberforce’s abolition of slavery proposal to Parliament. “Yes, I am, sir. I wholeheartedly support it.”

“Hmm… You do, do you?”

Edward was unclear as to whether Lord Davenport approved of his support of the abolition of slavery bill or not, but Edward was not about to bow down or back out of something that was of such importance. “Yes, Lord Davenport, I do.”

Lord Davenport threw back his head and guffawed, a wheezing kind of laugh that made Edward immediately concerned about the man’s health. “Good! I like the man who knows his mind. We’ll talk later after all this frippery and chitchat nonsense.” He waved his hand around the room, and Edward hoped his mother did not overhear Lord Davenport referring to the ball she and Grace had so painstakingly arranged as frippery and chitchat nonsense.

“It would be a pleasure, sir.” Edward bowed gracefully and smiled benignly as Lord Davenport moved away down the line to be introduced to Richard.

So,
Edward thought,
her name is Frances. Miss Frances Davenport.
He smiled across the room in the general direction of that dark-haired goddess. As though she knew his thoughts, Frances turned and fixed him with a heart-stopping stare. If it was the last thing he did that night, he would dance with Miss Frances Davenport.

* * * *

Frances was more than pleasantly surprised with Edward Emberton. Something had passed between them when she was introduced to him, the likes of which she had not known before, something that made her pulse beat faster, her breath come in huge gasps, and her whole being tingle with an intensity that intrigued her. Frances Davenport knew about men, but no man had ever captivated her the way in which Edward Emberton now enthralled her.

She tried to feel light-hearted and joyful as she made her way around the room, giving her politest hellos to the other guests, while her mind and attention were back with Edward, where he stood greeting those still entering the ballroom.

Something made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and Frances turned to see her father, whilst being introduced to Edward, pointing in her direction and Edward’s eyes fixed upon her. Again, she stared into his ocean-blue eyes. It was as though the distance between them was nothing and they stood merely hair’s breadth apart. She was more uncomfortable with the sensation than she dared to admit. Every fibre of her being was on alert, aware of Edward’s presence. How hard her heart thumped against the inside of her bodice!

Wryly she thought that his being so enchanting would make her task easier. Not once while she was hatching a scheme to entrap a husband did she bargain on actually desiring the man she chose. Suddenly she felt happier with her lot. She felt confident that her scheme of marrying someone other than the abhorrent Albert Jarvis would yield rather pleasing results.

She smiled at her host coquettishly, hoping her eyes conveyed more than just a slight attraction. She hoped they told him she wanted to be chased and was more than willing to be caught by him.

* * * *

Martha spent most of the evening desperately hoping that each time Edward passed by her, he would turn, reach out his hand to her, and ask her to dance. He did not.

She was not oblivious to the fact that Edward could barely keep his eyes off the beautiful dark-haired woman who seemed to light up the whole room. Martha did not know her name. It did not matter. What mattered was a slow sinking feeling of realisation that Edward did not feel for her what she had so recently been persuaded he did.

Try as she might, she could not keep the smile fixed upon her face.  A second disappointment in such a short time made that small feat impossible.

“My dear Martha,” Edwina Emberton appeared at her side, “we simply must find you somebody to dance with. We cannot have you standing about in such a fashion all evening. Why, you are simply gawping at all the dancers! That indicates, young lady, that you wish to join in yourself,” Edwina gently teased.

Martha wished Edwina would just go away. She loved her godmother dearly, but right now she wanted to be left alone. She fought the impractical impulse to flee the ballroom, the house, and to go home that instant.

“Now, let me see if I can find you an available gentleman.” Martha protested that she did not wish to dance. “Nonsense,” Edwina replied, already scouring the room for an eligible partner.

To her astonishment, Edward appeared in front of them, out of breath and with the beautiful woman he seemed to favour that evening firmly holding on to his right arm. “Martha, why are you not dancing?” He turned to his mother breathlessly. “Mama, can you not find someone for Martha to dance with?”

“No, I assure you, I do not wish to dance!” Martha was feeling desperate and close to panicking.

“Oh fie!” Edwina waved her fan in Martha’s face. “All young ladies wish to dance at a ball. It is a fact.”

It may well have been a general rule that all girls at a ball wished to dance. For Martha, that wish faded as the minutes ticked by. There was only one partner she desired, and he was occupied. Martha shook her head.
No, “occupied” is not the word for it. Look at him, Martha, you fool. He is captivated by her.

At the very moment that Martha believed her heart would be broken forever, Edwina excused herself, having been hallooed from the opposite side of the room, and Martha stood alone. She realized at that moment that she was not meant for an Emberton son.

Slowly, and without drawing any attention to herself, Martha crept around the edge of the room and towards the doors. It seemed to her, in her desperate state, that she could hear Edward and the beautiful lady’s laughter high above the din of the chatter and the music at the far end of the room.

Each time she heard them laugh, she felt as though a dagger had pierced her heart. As she fled the room unnoticed, made her way through the entrance hall and out the front doors, down the steps, and towards the carriage Edwina Emberton had lent them, Martha hoped never to see another Emberton for the rest of her life.

When she finally finished crying, she realised the driver was waiting patiently outside the door and politely not looking in her direction. She sniffed and cleared her throat, “Would you be so kind as to fetch my father, Doctor Coleman? Tell him I am unwell and must return home.”

The driver bowed, pulled at the front of his hat, and turned on his heel. Martha watched with a heavy heart as he spoke to the footmen at the doors to Sandon Place in order to summon her father. She knew he would have questions, he would want to examine her; and as she was not truly infirm, she knew she could not fake symptoms to fool a doctor. She decided to tell him she became overheated and faint with all the excitement. She felt too ashamed of herself to own the truth.