“Lady Emilie,” Lord Willington said as he came up to her later that evening. She had been about to seek out some refreshment with her friends, but he was frowning at her rather sternly. She was very confused. He’d been all smiles and sweetness when they’d danced earlier. What could have happened in the meantime?
“My lord?” she asked. She indicated to her friends to go on without her.
“I am extremely annoyed with you,” he said, still glaring at her, although he’d had the good manners to nod a greeting to her friends before they’d gone off without her.
“I, er, I can see that, but I don’t understand why.”
“Because you are ruining my reputation!”
Her mouth dropped open. “Your… your reputation, my lord?”
“Yes, my reputation as a man colder than a block of ice in winter. I can tell you I worked very hard to develop that reputation and now… People are coming up to me and asking why I’m smiling!” He sounded peeved, but Emilie noticed one corner of his lips was twitching with mirth.
“Oh no!” she said, as if horrified. She put her hand to her mouth and looked up at him with distraught eyes. “I am so very sorry, my lord. I… I don’t know what to say. Please, sir, tell me what I can do to make things right again.”
His lips twitched again as she joined him in his little farce. “You will have to dance with me once more and this time… this time no smiling!”
She thought about that for a moment. “You do not think people will comment on our dancing twice in one evening?”
He lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant way. “No, just so long as it is clear that I am not enjoying your company.”
A little bubble of laughter burst from her mouth, but she quickly clamped it down. “I see. And, er, am I, too, not to enjoy myself while we dance?”
“Oh, no. You can have as much fun as you like. But I assure you, I will not.” And with that, he held out his arm for her to take as he led her out onto the dance floor once again.
Emilie was impressed. While she was charming and smiling, Lord Willington truly did manage to maintain a look of boredom or, if he smiled at all, it was nothing more than a cold, polite smile—throughout the entire dance.
As they executed a turnabout, she looked around at the assembled guests to see if anyone was actually noticing Lord Willington’s dour expression. Disturbingly, she found Lord Brice staring straight at her.
That would have been bad enough, but to make matters worse, he was speaking with Lady Findlater, the most notorious gossip of the ton, as he did so. What in the world could Lord Brice have to speak with Lady Findlater about? And why was he looking at her in that way as he did so? Emilie didn’t like this at all.
Thank goodness, Lord Willington was completely oblivious to what was occurring at the other end of the drawing room. Emilie shuddered to think of how he might react if he was aware of what his “friend” was up to. To ensure he didn’t, she continued in her silly attempts to break his lordship of his dour expression.
She hated the fact that she had seen Lord Brice. Now she was imagining many others were staring at her as well. It was her imagination, wasn’t it? She looked around and found Lady Findlater speaking with another older matron and then watched as that woman hurried to the side of another lady. The third woman turned to look at Lord Willington. Goodness, maybe he’d been right, and people were discussing his reputation as a cold fish. Well, if so, he was doing an excellent job of not smiling now.
As he was returning her to the side of the room where her friends were—with their refreshments, which Emilie was now quite desperate to partake of—she spotted her sister speaking with another matronly looking woman, although she probably couldn’t have been much older than Eliza. Strangely, Emilie’s sister turned at the same moment and looked right back at her.
The hair on Emilie’s arms prickled. Her sister did not look happy, not happy at all. Emilie began to wonder if she was the one people were gossiping about or Lord Willington. She couldn’t think why anyone would be talking about her. Well, there was nothing Emilie could do about it now, and she was certain she would be hearing from her sister before too long.
It was the very next morning, in fact, when Eliza came over to pay Emilie a call. Wisely, she brought Georgie with her. There was no better way to make sure Lady Tremelling was kept much too busy to pay attention to the sisters’ conversation.
“You are still carrying through with your revenge plan,” Eliza quietly said as she sat down next to Emilie.
No good morning. No pleasantries whatsoever. She got straight to the point. Emilie was a little taken aback, especially because she’d all but decided not to carry through with that plan. She’d been thinking about it ever since Lady Preston and she discussed it while sitting in the sideways coach waiting for Lord Willington to return. She’d thought about it even more that night as she lay wide awake replaying That Kiss in her mind over and over again—and still wishing he hadn’t had quite so much control over his passions.
“I don’t—” Emilie started, frowning at her sister.
“You must. You absolutely must carry on with it, Emilie.” Eliza had hardly ever spoken so forcefully.
“All right, but why? What’s happened? I noticed people talking last night. I’m certain I was simply being paranoid, but I could have sworn they were speaking about me. Or was it Lord Willington?” Emilie asked.
“Yes, people were talking. Thank goodness Livia Penderton is such a good friend! She told me what they were saying.” Eliza stopped speaking and looked down at her hands folded in her lap.
Emilie put her hand on top of her sister’s. “What were they saying?” She wasn’t entirely certain she actually wanted to know, but she had to know.
Eliza let out a breath. “They were saying it was clear that you are completely smitten with Lord Willington. You’re making a fool of yourself before him and all the ton, pushing yourself at him as you’re doing. And it’s abundantly clear that he, being the cold man he is, is not interested.” She looked Emilie in the eye. “It’s known he’s looking for a marriage of convenience, not love. He has told quite a number of people, apparently, that he disdains love matches and simply wants to marry a young woman from a good family who will not burden him unduly.”
Emilie could feel herself going cold as her sister spoke. She was throwing herself at Lord Willington? Well, she supposed she was. She was attempting to make him fall in love with her and, from what she could tell, it was working. The fact that her own emotions were beginning to become engaged as well was beside the point. She was certain her anger at the man would override any softer feelings she may have developed for him when she came to that point.
“Well,” Emilie said after thinking about this for a minute, “it is true that I’m trying to engage his interest.”
“But you are doing so to make him fall in love with you, not the other way around,” her sister hissed.
Emilie glared at her for a moment. “I am not falling in love with him while he, most certainly, is falling in love with me.”
“How do you know?” Eliza asked, speaking normally again.
“Because he kissed me. When we were at that tavern a few days ago, he kissed me—quite passionately, I might add.”
Emilie’s sister’s mouth dropped open. “He did?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was he looking so bored when he danced with you a second time last night?”
Emilie nearly laughed. “It was a joke! He said I was ruining his reputation as a cold fish and the only way I could make up for it was to dance with him while he looked bored. I was shocked he was able to maintain a straight face the entire dance—although I did catch his lips twitching a number of times.”
“A… a joke? He was doing it deliberately?”
“Yes!”
Eliza sighed. “All right, then. And you are certain he’s the one who is smitten and not you.”
“Absolutely,” Emilie lied. She might pay for that later, but she was becoming more determined by the minute that she had to rein in her own emotions and return to simply hating the man.
“And you are still carrying through with your plan?”
“Yes!” she reassured her sister.
Eliza just shook her head. “I have to say I’m impressed with your acting skills. It’s almost a shame you can’t take to the stage.” Finally, Emilie’s sister allowed a small smile to grace her face.
“Why, thank you. I’m certain it’s all the Christmas plays we put on every year.”
Eliza gave a little laugh. “That’s true. You were always excellent in them as well.”
“In truth, I’ve been trying to be more like Amelia,” Emilie admitted.
Eliza gave a little laugh and nodded her head, understanding immediately. But then she tapped her chin as she thought about it. “That’s excellent, but don’t forget to be yourself as well. It was you who he fell for all those years ago when Amelia was right there.”
“Oh, I am. I’m trying to do both,” Emilie said.
She then tilted her head a little and looked at her sister. Something had been nagging at her ever since Eliza had suggested this plan of revenge. Now was as good a time as any to ask.
“Eliza…” Emilie began slowly.
Her sister raised her eyebrows suspiciously.
“Why are you so determined that I go through with this plan?” Eliza opened her mouth to speak, but Emilie held up her hand to stay her. “Yes, I know now I’ve got to save my reputation but before this. You’ve been very… set on it. Is there a reason?”
Eliza let out a little huff. “I love you, you silly thing, and I want you to be happy. You deserve happiness. You deserve love. It’s why Mother went to this Lady Preston. We all just want you…”
“To not have a marriage like yours?” Emilie asked quietly.
“Yes. Please don’t think Alford and I don’t like each other. We do! But… we don’t love each other. You deserve to marry someone you love and who loves you with all their heart.” She reached out and took Emilie’s hand. “You deserve to be treated better than Willington has treated you. All women do. We deserve respect. Willington has shown you no respect whatsoever. He kissed you and fled. No man should be allowed to get away with that.”
Gabriel was working in his study that morning going over the estate books when there was a knock on the door. He was more than happy to be disturbed, so he called out for whoever it was to enter.
Mrs. Gibson, his grandmother’s lady’s maid, hesitantly inched into the room.
“Mrs. Gibson, come in. What is it that I may do for you?” he said, encouraging the woman. He’d had very little interaction with her woman, but she’d been with his grandmother for probably his whole life.
“I do beg your pardon, my lord,” she said, her voice so soft he could barely hear her.
“Not at all. I am just doing the most boring of tasks and happy to be given an excuse to put it aside.” He gave her a warm smile, hoping to put the woman at ease.
“Oh, thank you, my lord. It’s just… well, your grandmother—”
Gabriel jumped to his feet startling the woman. “Is she all right? Did she fall and hurt herself? Is there something else ailing her?”
The poor woman looked terrified. “She told me not to bother you, but it’s just so unlike her,” the woman started again. She began to wring her hands.
Gabriel let out a frustrated sigh. “Of course, she did. What is wrong, ma’am? Or should I just go up and—yes, why don’t I do that.” He started toward the door.
“Oh, my please, my lord, please don’t let on I told you. She’ll be ever so cross with me.”
He paused as he was about to pass her and gave her an awkward pat on her shoulder. “Have no fear Mrs. Gibson, after all these years it is unlikely my grandmother would turn you off for telling me she was ill.”
“Oh, no, I don’t expect she would. It’s just… well… when she gets cross, she doesn’t speak to me,” the woman admitted. “It’s very difficult and upsets me so.”
“Ah, of course. I understand. Well, have no fear, I won’t give you away.” He turned and continued out toward the door. “I assume she is in her room?”
“Yes, my lord. She is still abed.”
Gabriel gave a nod and strode out the door. He took the stairs two at a time, thinking of the excuse he would give to be invading her bedchamber.
He stopped just in front of the door to her private sitting room and knocked, knowing she wouldn’t be in there but would probably be able to hear him. When there was no answer, he moved one door down and knocked on her bedroom door. A weak voice called out. He couldn’t make out what she said, but he assumed it was permission to enter.
He opened the door and strode into the room with a smile on his face. “Good morning, Gran.” He stopped when he saw her still in bed. “What’s this? Didn’t feel like getting up today?”
“Oh, Gabriel.” Her voice was nearly as quiet as Mrs. Gibson’s had been and sounded hoarse.
He quickly gained her bedside. “What is it, Gran? Are you unwell?” he asked, showing his true concern.
She shook her head slightly. “I’m afraid I am just a bit… feeling a touch languid today.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” He sat at the edge of her large tester bed. “You have been going pretty hard ever since we arrived in London. Perhaps it’s just all catching up to you?”
She smiled. “Yes, that must be it. Do not have a care for me. I’m sure I’ll be well enough before too long.”
“Well, I should hope so. I had come up to ask if you wanted to go for a drive in the park this afternoon. Do you think you’ll be up for it?” He asked as he took her small, limp hand as it lay on her coverlet.
“Oh, no dear. I don’t think… not today.”
“Tomorrow then,” he said.
“I… I don’t know. I’ll see how I feel then.” She attempted to give him a brave smile, but he could see even that seemed to be almost too much for her. Her eyes drifted closed.
“Of course. Well, then, I’ll leave you to your rest.” He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
“I don’t feel warm, do I?” she asked, sounding half-asleep already.
“Feverish? No, not at all.”
“Oh, good. I’m just tired then.” She slid herself down a little farther under her covers.
Gabriel reached out and adjusted her pillows for her and then got up to quietly leave the room.
Mrs. Gibson was standing out in the hall. “Well?”
“You were absolutely right to come and fetch me, Mrs. Gibson. If she’s not feeling better by this afternoon, I’ll have the doctor in,” he told her, keeping his voice quiet so as not to disturb his grandmother.
The woman nodded. “Oh, thank you, my lord.”
He returned to his study but just couldn’t focus on his work. The way his grandmother had looked so… so old and shrunken in the huge bed. Usually, her vibrance made her look years younger, but now it was so easy to see just how very old she was. He had to think about it for a few minutes, but he believed she was close to seventy if not past that exalted age. He shook his head. Well, it was no wonder she was tired.
But when Gabriel went up to check on her again a little after three that afternoon, he found her sound asleep. Mrs. Gibson was sitting with her doing some mending.
“She hasn’t been asleep all day, has she?” he asked the woman quietly.
She just nodded, her forehead furrowed with worry.
Gabriel frowned and nodded. “I’ll go fetch the doctor.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord,” the woman said, sounding relieved.
He called for his phaeton, but when it arrived, he realized he didn’t know of any doctors in London. He’d never been sick, nor had any of his friends. He stood there for a good minute trying to think of what to do when suddenly it occurred to him that Lady Tremelling would probably know of someone. And then not only could he get the information he needed, but he would have an opportunity to see Lady Emilie as well.
That thought put a bounce in his step as he hopped up onto the bench and took the reins.