10. Chapter 10
Andrew woke up with the midmorning sun streaming in the window. Sitting up, he blinked, surprised he had slept so late. He was not surprised to find himself alone. Cursing, he glanced around the room for any signs his mystery lover had been there with him the night before.
Was he mad to think it had been Emma?
Lying back down, he threw an arm over his eyes to block out the sunshine. He recognized that laugh; he was sure of it. He’d heard Emma laugh and giggle enough over the last couple of weeks.
A jewel thief, though? Impossible!
Although…she had that enormous ruby ring hidden in her purse.
He frowned at the ceiling. No, he must find out more about Emma before jumping to any conclusions.
His thoughts were like a runaway carriage careening wildly through his brain.
He tried to reconcile all he knew about the lovely Miss Whittingham.
She was a lady who always found humor in calamity.
A lady who listened to his darkest memories without judgment.
A lady who bravely shouldered the responsibility of raising five younger siblings.
Was she also…a jewel thief who climbed into his room at night to seduce him with her passionate kisses?
A brief knock sounded at his door, and his valet, Winston, came bustling into the room. As usual, his dark brown hair was oiled back neatly, his uniform pressed and starched, and his white gloves pristine.
“Your Grace, your mother requests your presence at luncheon. Shall we get you dressed and shaved?”
Winston disappeared into the dressing room without waiting for Andrew to reply.
Extremely efficient and extremely bossy, Winston had been with Andrew for the past five years.
From what Andrew knew from Mr. Rhodes, Winston had previously worked for a gentleman who had mistreated him.
No one on the man’s staff had mourned when the gentleman was thrown from his horse and trampled to death.
Winston had shown up at Gilchrest House the very next day with his references and his trunk.
Andrew still wasn’t sure how Winston convinced Mr. Rhodes to give him a trial period, but he had been relieved to rid himself of the ancient man who’d been his father’s valet. Poor old Hobbs moved slower than molasses, and Andrew often found him propped up in a chair, asleep in the dressing room.
He raised his arm off his eyes, calling out to Winston. “I don’t think I am up for an interrogation by my mother today. Tell her I am ill, or I am hungover.”
Winston popped his head out of the dressing room. “Are you hungover, sir?”
“No…in fact, I am not. You know I am avoiding spirits.”
Winston raised one bushy eyebrow. “Are you ill, sir?”
“Oh, fine! Get me dressed,” Andrew grumbled in surrender. “You’d think a grown man could lie in his own bed in his own house and stew if he wants to.” He climbed out of bed and headed for the washbasin. “I am still the duke, am I not?” Splashing his face, he started his morning ablutions.
Emma woke up just a few hours after falling exhausted into her bed. Someone tickled the bottom of her foot. She tugged the foot back under the covers and pulled the blankets up over her head, trying to ignore the loud whispers coming from the foot of her bed.
“Emma, please wake up,” Abby chirped cheerfully. “Mrs. Fenway said we should let you and Lucy sleep this morning because you were both out late last night, but we are busting at the seams to know all the details about the ball!”
“It is almost half past eight in the morning,” Margie said with exasperation.
Half past eight? That was letting her sleep in?
Well, hang them both. Couldn’t she have one morning to sleep in late?
What she wanted was to go over every exquisite detail of last night in her head while she lolled about in bed.
Ha! Not likely. Emma peeked out at Fergus, who was curled up in the corner. “Fergus. Get rid of them please.”
Fergus rambled over to the girls and gave each of them a lick across the cheek. Margie and Abby both giggled and scratched his giant head.
“Traitor,” Emma mumbled from beneath the covers. And then a bit louder, “If you two go fetch me a cup of tea from Mrs. Fenway, I will tell you about the ball.”
“Right away, Emma.” The girls scrambled off the bed and hurried out the door.
Emma sighed and folded the covers down. This would give her at least twenty minutes more of peace.
But as she lay there with the morning light pouring into the room, she couldn’t get back to sleep. Daylight meant the return of her normal life and duties. She sat up, pushing the hair from her face. Fergus jumped up on the bed next to her, putting his head in her lap.
“Oh, Fergus, last night was wonderful,” she whispered.
“I don’t feel guilty at all, even if it makes me a woman of loose morals.
Don’t worry, I won’t go back. He is the duke, and I am just a slightly used viscount’s daughter, but oh, it was one delicious stolen night.
” She sighed again, hugging Fergus’ shaggy neck.
He gazed up at her with total understanding.
He was the best confidant a girl could have.
“Emma, Emma!” The boys raced into the room in their nightshirts and bare feet. “Are we going to the park today?”
They climbed in next to her, their warm little bodies snuggling under each arm. She kissed each of them on the head. Her real life wasn’t so bad. There were plenty of worries, but there were plenty of rewards as well.
“Yes, today we planned to sail our paper boats on the pond and have a picnic.”
“Hurray!”
“Now get dressed and go downstairs for some breakfast.”
The boys raced out, only to be replaced within ten minutes by her sisters, back with the tea and their questions. Lucy wandered in as well and was more than happy to tell the girls all about the evening while Emma quietly enjoyed her drink.
“Everyone was dressed to the nines. I have never seen so many jewels in one place! Some of the ladies even had jewels sewn onto their dresses. And the gentlemen all looked fine in their suits. The Duke of Gilchrest and Lord Langdon both danced with me, and afterward, my dance card filled. My feet are aching this morning, but it was so grand!” Lucy lay back on the bed.
“And you, Emma, did you dance with many a fine gentleman too?” Margie asked.
“Well, not nearly as many as Lucy. But I did have fun in spite of myself.” Emma grinned at her younger sisters.
Lucy turned her head toward her. “Where did you get off to last night?”
Emma’s heart raced. “I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t go anywhere.” She stared down into her tea.
“At the ball, in the middle of the evening, I was looking for you but couldn’t find you anywhere. Then you mysteriously appeared right at my elbow.”
“Oh, at the ball. Yes, well, I got a little lost trying to find the retiring room, that’s all.”
Abby bounced on the bed, trying to recapture Lucy’s attention. “So did you dance with anyone who you could fall madly in love with?”
“No, pet, not yet.” Lucy sat up and patted Abby’s hand.
“I don’t think you can fall in love with someone in the course of one dance.
Marriage is a very serious business. You have to keep your wits about you when choosing a husband.
” Over Abby’s head, she gave Emma a wink.
“Come on, let’s all go get dressed and leave Emma to her tea. ”
After the girls left her room, Emma leaned back against the pillows, contemplating what Lucy just said.
Can you fall in love with someone over the course of one dance?
At Abby’s age, she would have said yes, but experience had taught her that knowing someone, the true person, took time.
And you can’t risk your heart after just one dance.
She had indeed fallen in love with a boy while dancing.
Mathew Linford had been the pastor’s son at the parish church in the county where her family spent the summer when she was seventeen.
He’d been so handsome and friendly toward her at a time when she had felt hopelessly tall and awkward.
He asked her to dance at Mrs. Denbigh’s party, the first social event Emma had been allowed to go to by her parents.
He had been attentive, and she had quite fallen in love with him that night.
When Mathew came walking by their house, on the way to and from his own, he would stop to lean on the fence in front and wait for her to come out and say hello.
Then one day, a week or so after the party, when her parents were out visiting some neighbors, Matthew came by and convinced her to take a walk with him.
They meandered arm in arm through the tall grasses around the lake.
Matthew led her to a small fishing cabin, and with his sweet words and gentle kisses, she willingly gave him her virginity.
The whole experience had been less than exciting.
In fact, it had been rather painful and over quickly.
Afterward, she expected soft words and promises about their future, but Matthew had buttoned up his trousers and tucked his shirt back in with quiet efficiency.
He bent over to take her chin in one hand.
“That was fun, luv. Now don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, and you won’t tell anyone, and no one will get into trouble.
” He gave her a swift kiss. “I will see you soon. I promise.”
She had not seen him again. The very next day, unbeknownst to her, he left for London.
At church on Sunday, she learned his father had been able to acquire a commission in the Royal Navy for him, the date of his departure set months ago.
Devastated, Emma had cried in her room every night for two weeks.
The initial sharp pain of betrayal transformed into a ball of fear that she could be with child.
When her courses came a week later, she sent up a prayer of thanks.
She then firmly set aside her fleeting feelings of infatuation for Matthew, and with them, the wide-eyed trust of her youth.