True to her word, as soon as Emilie entered Lady Loughton’s soiree, she began looking about for Lady Preston.
“What in the world are you doing, Emilie?” her mother whispered, giving her a sidelong glance.
“Looking for Lady Preston. Do you see her?”
Her mother seemed a bit taken aback at the idea that Emilie would actually seek the woman out, but she looked about anyway, only not quite as obviously as Emilie had been. “No, I don’t see her. But I’m certain she’ll be here. She always attends the most sought after invitations.”
Emilie supposed she had to be satisfied with that. “Well, then, I suppose I’ll join my friends. I see Miss Merrill over by the—”
“Wall?” her mother interrupted. “Absolutely not. I would like you to stay by me this evening.”
“But why?” Her mother never insisted they stay together at parties, and certainly not soirees where there would be no dancing, only people milling about exchanging gossip.
“Because I think it would be better for your reputation if you weren’t always seen with the wallflowers. If you are going to marry Lord Willington—”
“There is no reason to think that will happen, Mother,” Emilie interrupted.
Her mother scowled at her. “Your brother has given the gentleman permission to court you. Where else might you believe that is to lead? To him going off into the country to oversee his estate?”
Emilie frowned at her mother. “Honestly, I don’t believe it’s going to lead anywhere. I think the man has been avoiding me. It doesn’t matter what Evan has given him permission to do or not do.”
“Since when?” her mother said, now truly turning toward her.
“Since Lady Farnsworth’s party,” Emilie said, deliberately lifting one shoulder and letting it drop as if she didn’t care.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. Mother, we’ve already discussed this the other day,” Emilie reminded her.
Her mother thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. You did say he’d looked annoyed with you. But I hadn’t realized he had begun actively avoiding you.”
Emilie just sighed, but as she did so, she caught sight of Lady Preston entering the drawing room just behind her mother. “Oh! There she is. Excuse me, I’m going to discuss this with her and see if she has any suggestion as to what I can do about Lord Willington.”
If her mother could have looked any more surprised, Emilie had never seen it. It was with a great deal of satisfaction that she went over to the lady who was surveying the company. As soon as her eyes lit on Emilie coming toward her, she smiled a welcome to her. “Lady Emilie, how lovely to see you this evening,” she said.
“And you, my lady. I was wondering if I might have a word?” Emilie asked, giving the lady a curtsy.
Lady Preston inclined her head and took Emilie’s arm, leading her into a slightly less crowded area of the room. “How are things with Lord Willington?”
“Well, not very good, I’m sorry to say,” Emilie said, rather surprised to truly feel as upset about this as she knew was expected of her.
“Oh dear!”
Emilie explained everything that had happened at the party the other night—dancing with Lord Willington and then Lord Brice—and, just as she did with her mother, she left out the part of him attempting to kiss her.
Lady Preston, however, was much more astute than Lady Tremelling. She narrowed her eyes at Emilie and asked, “Did he take you out onto the balcony after your dance, by any chance?”
Emilie found the hem of the lady’s dress suddenly very interesting.
“I see,” Lady Preston said before Emilie could even say anything. “Well, there you have your answer. Lord Willington saw Lord Brice take you out onto the balcony and, knowing the gentleman’s reputation, assumed you’d gone with him willingly.”
“But I didn’t know of Lord Brice’s reputation! If I had, I wouldn’t have even danced with him, let alone allowed him to take me outside,” Emilie protested. “And it was Lord Willington who introduced me to him.”
“He did?” Lady Preston looked surprised.
“Well, he wasn’t given much of a choice. The man specifically asked for an introduction,” Emilie admitted.
Lady Preston just pursed her lips together as if to say, I figured as much. “Well, knowing all this, I’m not surprised Lord Willington has come to a wrong conclusion—that you were a willing participant in whatever Lord Brice might have attempted. Er, I assume he did attempt something?”
“He did,” Emilie admitted. “But my brother has taught me how to effectively repel such unwanted behavior. I left him doubled over in pain when I returned to the party.”
Lady Preston’s lips twitched, but she managed to keep from laughing outright. “I don’t suppose Lord Willington was aware of this. He probably only saw you go out, not when you came back in.”
Emilie sighed. “But then, what am I to do? Should I explain to him exactly what happened?”
“Well, you should, but not, I think here or tonight…” The lady was clearly thinking, trying to come up with some sort of plan. “Do not say anything to him if you see him again. Unfortunately, it might not be as difficult as you might think. It’s possible that he may continue to avoid you. If he does not, be warm and charming, but don’t mention Lady Farnsworth’s party or what happened there. I will come up with an appropriate place and time for you to speak with him about what really happened.” She patted Emilie’s arm. “Have no fear, Lady Emilie, I’ve got some excellent ideas running about in my mind. It shall all work out well.”
As it turned out, Emilie needn’t have worried about what she would say to Lord Willington because he never came to Lady Loughton’s soiree. That in itself was worrisome—and made Emilie’s life a great deal easier at the same time.
She randomly stabbed a needle into her embroidery. Her mother was sitting across from her with her own stitching but somehow managed to execute it in a much more calm and measured fashion.
Never in her life had Emilie felt so conflicted. On the one hand, she truly wanted to get her revenge on the man. On the other, she felt bad for doing so. She would much rather just leave him alone and have him continue to ignore her. If he did so, she wouldn’t have to come up with any sort of excuse as to why she couldn’t marry him at the end of the Season. It wouldn’t even be a possibility, and her life would be so very much easier. She could only wish he would.
On the other hand, she missed him. She had no idea why or how, but she just felt… hollow. And sad.
She gave herself a good shake. She was being ridiculous! She did not miss him. She had avoided a bad situation. Then why had she spoken with Lady Preston? She could have just left well enough alone. Perhaps she should have. But just the thought had made her feel so low she knew she could not have.
And now it was too late.
As if to prove her right, the footman came in just then with a note on a tray. “This was just delivered for you, Miss.”
She set aside the mess that was her embroidery to take the note. Could this be from Lady Preston? Had she, in fact, come up with a plan for getting Emilie and Lord Willington back together.
“Well? Aren’t you going to open it?” her mother asked, sounding exasperated. “It is addressed to you. I could very well have opened it for you, but you always become so upset when I do so.”
“I appreciate you did not, Mother,” Emilie said, taking a seat at the edge of a chair. Taking in a deep breath, she opened the letter and scanned it. She looked up at her mother, who was watching her avidly.
“It is an invitation from Lady Preston to go on a picnic to Greenwich.”
“Greenwich? That’s rather far,” her mother exclaimed.
“I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s very pretty,” Emilie said.
“It is. Very rural, but there are lovely areas for picnics along the riverbank. When does she say it will be? I’ll have to see if we’re available or change around—”
“The invitation specifically states you are not included—with her most sincere apologies,” Emilie added quickly.
At her mother’s surprised expression, Emilie hastened to explain. “She says there isn’t enough room in her coach for a large party and doesn’t believe it would be wise to make it one. She’s invited me and Lord Willington only and will be our chaperone.”
“Only you and his lordship?” her mother asked.
“Yes.” Emilie handed over the note.
Her mother quickly read it through and then lowered it to her lap. “Well, I suppose she feels this would be a good way to get the two of you back on good terms. I suppose I must trust in her intuition that this is the right way of going about it.”
“You did hire her,” Emilie said, with a little satisfaction at being able to throw that back at her mother.
The lady just frowned. “Very well. You may write back to Lady Preston, thanking her for the invitation and telling her you will be expecting her tomorrow morning.”