The Gentleman Spy: A Guardian/Ward Historical Romance

Chapter 22

Emerald had enjoyed the theatre—the tragedy more than the farce—but was aware throughout of the stares drifting her way and the whispers that followed. The dowager, in the carriage on the way home, reminded Emerald again of her novelty and how quickly such a thing would wane. ‘The more you are seen, the less you will be spoken of,’ Lady Avon said.

So, the day following the theatre, Emerald could be found looking at the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum. And the day after that, she attended tea and cards at the home of Marchioness Lawmore, an old friend of the dowager and a woman who introduced Emerald to more hostesses whose invitations would matter most during her first season.

It had been a shock to Emerald, despite knowing the dowager and her husband had come down to town regularly before his death, to see how many friends she had, how welcomed she was, how much deference was paid to her. At every opportunity, she pulled Emerald forward, saying things like, ‘I don’t know what I’ll do with myself when some fortunate gentleman whisks her away from Oakmoss,’ or, ‘She’s such a part of the family, I’m always shocked to hear someone refer to her as Miss Doubleday.’ The words were sincere; Emerald never thought otherwise, but she also knew what the dowager was doing by signalling the family’s full support. Her dowry might not compare to that of an heiress, but a man who married Emerald could depend upon her connection to the Calverleigh family.

‘Oh, Em, how lovely you look,’ remarked the dowager as Emerald came into the drawing room, the demi train of her white silk satin dress trailing behind her. ‘If Beau isn’t already receiving letters of interest on your behalf, he will after tonight to be sure. How wrong it was of me to keep you cooped up in the country for so long.’

This expressive speech sent a streak of heat across Emerald’s cheeks. The dowager was taking Emerald to her first ever private London ball, given by Lady Cawdry. Emerald spared an unkind thought for the man who’d requested her first set but was once more absent from her life, even as her rational mind told her he never meant to dance every first with her and was easily able to concoct all sorts of reasons he might say such a thing just to tease her.

‘Everyone is anxious for the season to begin in earnest, myself included, and tonight will be a crush, I’m sure,’ remarked the dowager as she bundled Emerald out of the townhouse on Grosvenor Square.

She shoved her nerves deep down on the short ride and reminded herself that in Kent she’d had full control of an entire estate—surely a ballroom was nothing compared to that. By the time she and the dowager were stepping to the forefront of the glittering crowds, Emerald’s chin was lifted, her eyes sparkled as if she was keeper of a great secret known to only her, and the poise and grace she’d honed over her years at Oakmoss carried her through like one born to the highest rungs of the ton.

‘Quite the crush, is it not, Miss Doubleday?’

‘Mr Babin.’ Emerald smiled. ‘I was not sure we would see you in London, and I cannot say I anticipated your company at a ball.’

‘I arrived only hours ago and found myself swept up in a friend’s evening plans. The surprise is not an unpleasant one, I hope?’

‘In a city where I know almost no one beyond my own small party, any face from Kent is a welcome one.’

‘How do you find London thus far?’

‘There is so much to do and to see I hardly know where to begin. With a little more time, perhaps I’ll have my bearings.’ Emerald glanced at the dowager, who was in conversation with several women she recognised from her afternoon of tea and cards.

‘Is it just you and the dowager down for the season?’

Emerald laughed. ‘You mean is my guardian here, and can we expect a repeat of the scene from the drawing room?’ Mr Babin smiled at her jest, but a sudden flutter of uncertainty rippled in her stomach as she recalled Beau’s warning.

‘A man with not one but two diamonds to keep watch over cannot be faulted for his dedication to the task, although I suspect his motives for one vary from the other.’

There was much to make of his little speech, and Emerald wasn’t sure which part garnered the greater share of her attention.

He put a hand to his heart. ‘My apologies, I’ve overstepped.’

‘No.’ She shook her head, even though she felt perhaps he had pushed the bounds of what was proper, given their tenuous connection. ‘Only I do not follow and am not quite certain I should seek clarification.’

‘We are nearly neighbours, are we not? I’m a simple man, but it would take one much simpler than I not to notice the way he looks at you is not at all the same way he looks at his other charge. I had thought perhaps such was at the root of the tension in the drawing room that day.’

Emerald willed away the colour stealing up her neck. ‘Not at all. Quite the opposite. We’re rather spiky where the other is concerned.’ To her own ears, the nonchalance in her voice sounded forced, but she hoped it wasn’t so for Mr Babin. He held her in a long, contemplative gaze, as if weighing the truth of her words. ‘How do you know the viscountess?’ she asked, hoping to change the subject. She had a hard enough time pushing Beau from her mind despite the large stretch of country separating them and had no wish to allow the man a significant portion of her concern when he was nowhere near.

‘I don’t, not personally, anyway. Her son is an acquaintance of mine with whom I’ve had some business dealings. It’s him I have to thank for my invitation to tonight’s event.’

‘Are you enjoying yourself?’

‘Yes, and if you consent to dance with me, my pleasure in the evening will be complete.’

She agreed. If she refused, she would be forced to sit out the rest of the dances. When they stood across from one another, waiting their turn, Emerald said, ‘You consider us nearly neighbours, and yet we know so little of one another, or at least I about you.’

‘I am an open book. You only have to tell me what it is you wish to know.’

‘Oh, I suppose whatever you’re willing to share.’

‘You know I’ve two sisters. One lives outside of Brighton, and the other in Yorkshire. My mother spends most of her time at one or other of their houses; she finds it too depressing to remain in the home she shared with my father. He passed some time ago, and I miss him often.’

Emerald softened a little. ‘I quite understand the feeling. My father used to say, “après la pluie, le beau temps,”and I’ve repeated it often.’

‘You speak French like you were born there. I’ve longed to hear it spoken so beautifully. My paternal grandmama is French, though of course it’s not so fashionable to say so now.’

‘Is? She benefits from good health then?’

‘Indeed,’ confirmed Mr Babin. ‘But she’s quite old now and lives near Dunkirk with a cousin and two dogs nearly as blind as she is,’ he added with a fond chuckle.

Their turn was next, and the movements of the dance limited their conversation. He returned her to the dowager at the end of the set, expressed his delight in spending a half an hour in Emerald’s company, and bid her a good evening before moving on to secure his next partner. The rest of the night passed in a blur of silk and superfine, and by the time the carriage was called to return her and the dowager to Avon House, Emerald’s feet were sore and her head swimming with new names and faces.

Still, despite partners who had been agreeable or handsome or even the few who dared to be both, when Emerald snuffed out her candle, the only man occupying her thoughts, much to her dismay, was the one a hundred miles away at Oakmoss. A sudden heaviness pinned Emerald to her bed, and it was with effort she lifted a heavy hand to rub the pain in her breast so acute its origin could be nothing other than a broken heart.