Chapter 23
Afew days later, Emmeline was reading in the drawing room when Rafferty, Sebastian’s butler, appeared in the doorway. “A visitor, Miss.”
“Oh!” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll go get Sebastian.”
“The visitor is not for His Lordship, Miss, but for you.”
Emmeline’s heart did a somersault. Theo! Maybe he wanted to help her, after all. Maybe there was still a chance to get their relationship to a better point. Whichever point that would be.
She ran past Rafferty, but there was no figure in a dark cloak looming by the front door. Instead, a woman looked up, dressed in a warm woolen coat of dusk pink and a matching hat, partially obscuring her golden blond ringlets.
“Louisa?”
A bright smile lit her friend’s face. “It’s you!”
Emmeline froze, unsure of how to react. Then Louisa ran over to hug her, and Emmeline returned the embrace. “You shouldn’t be here. Won’t your mother be upset?”
“Pah.” Louisa waved her hand. “Mama is much too busy lounging around the house, complaining about how horrendous the weather is, even though it doesn’t affect her in the slightest.” Louisa reached her hand to her forehead in a theatrical reenactment.
“How did you know I was here?” Emmeline led her to the drawing room.
“You would not believe it, but I’ve been walking in Hyde Park a few days ago—seeing if I could spot one of those red squirrels, you know—the gray ones are easy enough to find, but the red ones—well, there I was, and I see this figure walking in the distance, and I swear she reminded me so much of you, but I was with Miss Thornton, and she was absolutely determined not to leave Rotten Row, so I couldn’t follow—but I asked if she knew the figure—that is, you—and she said no, but that she’d heard Viscount Haverston came to London this season with a cousin of his nobody knows, some American girl, and if anyone would be walking alone, she might be—I’m not sure if she meant that a new arrival wouldn’t have any friends, or if she was implying Americans don’t have enough manners—anyway—”
Louisa finally took a breath. “I thought I’d give it a try and see who she was. And it is you!” She took Emmeline’s hands in hers. “I missed you so much.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Oh, I was absolutely furious”—Louisa did another deep intake of breath—“for being left out of all the drama! I had to pester Daniel for days before he caved and told me what had happened. And Mama made me swear not to tell anyone, because if the news spread, it would affect my reputation, too.” Louisa rolled her eyes.
“If anything, it would make me more interesting. But Mama shall have her way.”
“But …” Emmeline bit her lip. “You’re not angry with me?”
“Only because you don’t get to be my sister.” Louisa raised an eyebrow. “Unless—”
“No, no. That story is finished.”
“Are you certain? You and Daniel would make such a lovely couple. And now that you’re gone, he’s behaving awfully again. He won’t dine with us, and he and Mama constantly argue—”
So Daniel was in London, too. Emmeline swallowed, unsure what exactly she felt—fear or nervousness. “Louisa,” she said, “you know I couldn’t pursue him, even if I wanted to. I’m not …”
“You’re not Maria Grey, no. You can tell me that exact tale some other time. But you’re still a relation of Lord Haverston, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“All right, all right. I won’t push the matter further.
But will you at least come to some balls?
Oh, please, please. I missed your company so much, and I shall be miserable for the entire season if you don’t join me.
I don’t know what it is with the London ladies—whenever I start talking, they suddenly have so many other things to do.
” Louisa drew her eyebrows together. “Lady Jersey’s ball is next week, and I must make a good impression on her.
If only she’d be willing to sponsor me! Have you met her yet? ”
“Uh, no—”
“Then you must!” Louisa leaned in conspiratorially.
“Please, come to the ball. I’ll have a carriage pick you up if necessary, but I can also come by, and we’ll walk if you wish.
Berkeley Square is close, anyway. I shall get you introduced, and you’ll see why they call her Silence—hmm, perhaps I’d be more fascinating if I had a nickname? Which one, you think, would suit me?”
“Sorry, what?”
“The nickname.”
“No—” Emmeline shook her head. “Silence?”
“It’s what they call Lady Jersey. It’s ironic, you see.”
Where the Silence lies low … on Berkeley Square. Could that be the solution to the next riddle?
“Emmeline, I was told you had a visit—” Sebastian strolled in, stopping dead in his tracks when he noticed Louisa.
She, conversely, jumped to her feet. “You!”
“Me,” he said.
Louisa looked to Emmeline. “He is Lord Haverston?” And then back to Sebastian. “You are Lord Haverston? What is this? Is it a habit of your family to take on false names?” She shifted to Emmeline again. “No offense to you, I’m sure you had a very good reason—”
“But I didn’t?” Sebastian asked with a mocking smile.
Louisa put her hands on her hips. “Well, did you?”
“Just the standard.” Sebastian moved to stand behind the sofa. “I went undercover as Mr. Wexley so I could finally find a woman who’ll have me for who I am and not for my title.”
“Good luck with that,” Louisa said. “Mar—I mean, Emmeline—I would still be glad if you attended some of the balls with me.” She smiled. “I will not hold him against you.”
Sebastian mockingly put a hand on his chest. “You wound me.”
“Think about it, won’t you?” Louisa said to Emmeline. “And send me a message if you do want to go. We’re on Grosvenor Square.”
After she left, Emmeline turned to Sebastian with raised eyebrows.
“Your friend is quite entertaining,” he said.
“To mock?”
“Hardly an unfair fight, don’t you think? Now that she knows where—and who—I am, she might even bring a gun next time. Or a cricket bat.”
Emmeline snorted. “About those invitations … would we happen to have one for Lady Jersey’s ball?”
“I believe we do. Are we thinking of going?”
“Louisa is going to be there.”
“I see.” Sebastian went over to the cabinet, pulled out a decanter, and poured himself a drink. “Well, I like my evenings challenging.”
“Chocolate tart?” Louisa offered, handing a little plate to Emmeline.
A few other guests milled around the dessert table, but most of the attendees of Lady Jersey’s ball were engaged in dancing or chatting in small groups around the ballroom.
Emmeline had a hard time deciding which was the more resplendent: the room, with its white gilded walls and vaulted ceiling, or the guests, glittering at least as much as the two massive chandeliers.
“Thank you.” Emmeline accepted the dessert as she glanced around the room. Louisa had assured her the duchess wasn’t coming—she had a headache—and the duke never attended such functions. She should be safe, and hopefully she’d gradually relax enough to dance.
And do some scouting.
Louisa almost choked on her tart. “There she is!”
“Who?” Emmeline searched the room, panicked. Did the duchess decide to come, after all?
Louisa grabbed her arm and steered her toward the grand curved staircase leading into the ballroom.
She pointed out a woman descending—or gliding, rather, considering how smoothly she walked.
She held her head high, a peacock feather in her coiffure trailing behind her.
Her dress—the latest style, from what Emmeline had seen on the fashion plates—matched the feather with a combination of blue and green silk embroidered with fine golden thread.
“Who is she?”
“That is the woman who will ruin all of our prospects,” Louisa muttered.
“Lady Cassiopeia Lennox. The only child of the Earl of Wescott and the Incomparable of last season.” She continued to munch on her tart, her gaze darkening.
“Twenty-four offers of marriage, the rumors say. Rejected every single one of them. And she can afford to do so. With that dowry, they’ll still pant after her like thirsty puppies. ”
Indeed, a group of admirers sprouted from the crowd and encircled Lady Cassiopeia, each of the young men fighting for his piece of precious real estate.
Oh, what Father would do, if that were me. A pang of sadness arose, but she pushed it down when Sebastian approached them.
He stopped next to her. “Who are we gawking at?”
“Lady Cassiopeia.”
“Hmm.” Sebastian followed her gaze and tilted his head. “Look at them, poor things.”
“I’m surprised you’re not joining them,” Louisa said, not taking her eyes off the earl’s daughter. “Her family is rich enough she wouldn’t be interested in you only for your title and money.”
“Ah, but for that, she’d have to be interested first.”
Emmeline raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I will not talk of embarrassments of last season,” he murmured, lips quirking in a smile. “Say, Cousin, would you still have room for me on your dance card?”
“Of course.” She raised her hand to offer him the card. She’d had a couple of gentlemen ask her for a dance—mostly because she was an unknown and they were curious—but she didn’t mind having the second half of the evening empty to search out her next clue.
Sebastian wrote himself down for a quadrille and stepped over to Louisa to inspect her card. “All empty. If I didn’t have a better sense of self-preservation, I might oblige you.”
“And if that were anyone but you, I’d accept,” Louisa returned.
“Tell me, Lady Louisa, have you ever visited the gallery in Parliament during a session?”
“I have not.”
“A shame. You should. With your input, they’d be over so much sooner.”
“Oh, you must truly despair, having nothing better to do than shape politics and be listened to.”
“I’m going to get some punch,” Emmeline said, with no sign of her being acknowledged as she slipped away. She moved toward the staircase, shaking her head at their bickering.