Miss Cheney's Charade (27 page)

“Peter inherits this one day. He said that of all our houses, it is his favorite,” Lady Titheridge informed Emma in passing while they hurried up to the second floor.

“I can well see why,” Emma replied, wondering who might reside here with Sir Peter come the day he gained this lovely home as his.

A bath in a copper slipper tub revived Emma. The sight of her appearance in the looking glass, dressed in a charming green-blue sarcenet gown edged with fine lace did wonders for her disposition. Braddon threaded a pretty matching ribbon through her curls, offered a dash of lavender scent, then stood back to survey her results.

“You will do. I doubt if Lord Worcester will see his companion of the road in this pretty young lady.” She shared a look of knowing with Emma.

Emma glanced at the looking glass and admitted she looked considerably different.

When she joined Lady Titheridge, she curtsied deeply, then offered her appreciation for the use of the lovely gown.

“You ought not do so much, my lady, but I do thank you. It could have been most awkward to appear in George’s clothing before Lord Worcester. I will take great care of the gown. Had you sought out my dresses at home, my mother would have been most alarmed.”

“Sensible girl,” her ladyship said with approval. “But the dress is yours. I have not had such a diverting time in an age. Bless dear Peter for believing an old lady like me would be able to keep up with you young people.”

“You are not the least old. I suspect you are younger in heart than any of us,” Emma said with a laugh.

There was the sound of a door slamming shut, then boots crossing the entry tile. Emma gave Lady Titheridge a warning glance, then turned to face the entryway.

In moments Sir Peter and Lord Worcester stood in the doorway. Both men looked weary, yet satisfied about something.

“Hullo,” Sir Peter said in greeting with a smile for Emma. “We finally arrived. Had to see that Swinburne boarded the boat to Guernsey.”

“Did you actually see the boat leave?” Lady Amelia said from behind them.

“No,” Lord Worcester admitted. “But he boarded and they were ready to pull anchor when we took off.”

“I do not trust that man in the least,” she snapped. “And as for Mr. Swinburne . . . Edward, if you had possessed one ounce of brains, I would not have been subjected to his odious attentions at all!” She glared at her beloved, then whirled about and left the house for the garden in what could only be described as a huff.

“Better go after her,” Sir Peter advised. “Don’t want her thinking up any other harebrained scheme to win you.”

“You are off the mark there. She hates me,” Edward replied with a gloomy face. He turned and headed in the direction his irate little love had gone.

“Ah, the path of true love is never smooth,” Lady Titheridge said with a delighted smile.

“I was glad you found us in time. What happened to George?” Sir Peter inquired of his aunt while searching the room as though expecting to see George pop up from behind a chair.

“Well, he had to leave for Sussex,” her ladyship said blandly. “A message came for him, and Emma thought to come along with it. Seems
the
workmen had found something interesting, and George felt obliged to hurry back.”

“Indeed? how curiously interesting.” He turned again to Emma, giving her a highly speculative look.

“I do hope it is something momentous,” Emma said, followed by a delighted smile. “I know he wishes to marry Miss Johnson, and George may be patient when it comes to digging up Roman ruins, but not for his dear Beatrice.”

“That is as it ought to be,” Lady Titheridge said with a sidelong glance at Sir Peter. “A gentleman who waits too long to declare himself may find he is too late ... missed the ship, as it were.”

“Well, I think Worcester may make up for that lapse, dear aunt.” Sir Peter settled onto the largest, most comfortable-looking chair in the room, seeming on the verge of falling asleep if given a few moments of peace.

“And you are so certain that I refer to Edward?” her ladyship said archly.

“Who else?” he said, followed by that sleepy grin that Emma could not fail to note and appreciate.

Ignoring her ladyship’s implications that were so vague they meant nothing to her, Emma sought a place to rest. She settled securely on a chair near the window where she could watch Sir Peter and even note the happenings in the garden if she leaned forward a trifle.

“What happens next?” Lady Titheridge said, bent on discovering what her provoking nephew intended to do.

“I believe I shall embark on a nap, then a meal, then return to London in that order. With Swinburne out of the way, I can dismiss the man from Bow Street and that former pugilist as well.”

“You are so certain that Swinburne was behind the attempted robbery?” Emma said with a frown.

Sir Peter nodded. “I had Harry Porter inquire into his background. Seems as though Swinburne has relatives in Guernsey with French connections. And Swinburne is in dire need of funds. Ergo, he must be the one.”

“I hope so. What a dreadful man he is, to use Amelia so badly.” Emma shared a look with her ladyship that said a great deal concerning the problems that faced a young woman who possessed a goodly portion.

“She has escaped with less difficulty than might be expected or that she possibly deserved,” Sir Peter declared, barely suppressing a yawn.

“I only hope that you have the right of it, and that with Swinburne out of the way you may know peace,” Lady Titheridge said shrewdly, apparently not having a great deal of faith in her nephew’s calculations of the moment.

He yawned hugely behind a hastily raised hand, then rose from the chair. “Another minute and you will have to walk around a sleeping body.” He strolled from the room and tramped up the stairs and out of sight.

Emma rose to stand by the window, contemplating the mental image of Sir Peter’s sleeping body until she realized the impropriety of her thoughts.

“Oh, dear,” Lady Titheridge said at once.

Emma wondered if her ladyship read minds.

With her gesture at the garden to the rear of the house, Emma looked up to view the spat between Lady Amelia Littleton and Edward, Lord Worcester. It appeared to be a battle royal.

“I do not feel inclined to interfere with those two,” Lady Titheridge stated decisively. “Anyone who steps between combatants is likely to find his own nose bloodied.” At Emma’s startled glance, her ladyship added, “My late husband was fond of saying that, which is why he always stayed out of wars and the like. He had no intention of dying in a duel.”

“If I may inquire, how did his lordship go aloft?” Emma asked, feeling that with her ladyship it would not be an impertinence.

“He caught a dreadful cold and would not go to bed. Died four days later. Which only goes to prove, I suppose, that when your time has come, no matter what you would do, you go.” Lady Titheridge wandered off from the room. Emma could hear her footsteps fading away down the hall.

Emma reflected on this bit of philosophy while watching the altercation in the garden. Suddenly realizing that she ought not even be observing so intimate a matter as a quarrel between two who truly did love one another—in spite of contrary opinions—she also left the room.

* * * *

Out in the garden Amelia faced Edward with fiery resolution. “Shall we agree to disagree about this, Edward?” She stood face-to-face with him, her hands clenched at her sides, hidden in the folds of primrose yellow muslin.

“Now that sounds like a first-rate idea,” he agreed. “I vow you have had me flummoxed.”

“I wished you to see me as other than the little girl next door,” Amelia said, taking a tentative step toward him.

“You succeeded admirably,” he admitted with a grin. “I find myself quite attracted to my little neighbor.”

“Oh, I fear I do love you, you know, for all my sins. I fought it and tried not to love you, for you must be the most utter wretch in the country, but ‘tis no use. I still love you,” she said suddenly, sounding utterly exasperated with herself, “and all you can do is treat me like an infant.”

“I say!” Edward replied, much struck with this admission. “Upon examination, I believe I care for you as well, little one.” He bent to kiss her, and she gave him a smile that should have warned him.

“I am
not
an infant,” she insisted quietly. Then Lady Amelia Littleton wrapped her loving arms about Edward, Lord Worcester, and proceeded to demonstrate just how grown up she had become.

* * * *

Emma discovered Lady Titheridge in the morning room, going over some mail. “May I be of any help, my lady?” Emma asked politely.

“Actually, I was wondering if George might be able to return to London should we need him.” Lady Titheridge gave Emma a cautionary look.

“Need him?” Emma echoed. “What do you expect to happen? And how in the world could I, that is, George, help?” She groped for a chair, seating herself with care while anxiously watching Lady Titheridge.

Her ladyship crossed to check that the hallway was empty, then turned to face Emma. “I am not so convinced that Swinburne is the culprit. Oh”—she waved her hand dismissively— “he kidnapped that little peagoose for money, but I wonder if the dandy would actually steal the Egyptian jewels.
That
is a messy business, and requires bold marksmanship. Now tell me, does Reginald Swinburne seem to you the sort of person who could perform such a daring deed?”

“Not in the least,” Emma replied truthfully. “I have been mulling it over and reached the same conclusion.”

“So, we are agreed that you will be on call should you be needed. I confess that I worry about my nephew. I am dreadfully fond of the boy, and he has no heirs to succeed him. I would see him married and settled down with at least half a dozen children about his knees. To do that he has to be alive and find him a wife.”

Emma could feel the heat in her cheeks and prayed that she did not blush a fiery red as sometimes happened. She might wish that she had a place in Sir Peter’s future, but it was rather silly to daydream about it as she had been doing.

“I am sure he will oblige you before too long. He seems a dutiful nephew,” Emma replied in a colorless voice.

“I am counting upon that,” her ladyship said.

Before Emma could discover what might be contained in that obscure remark, Amelia and Edward appeared in the doorway, looking at once meek and triumphant, if such a thing were possible.

“Edward and I have seen the light,” Amelia announced with an evangelistic fervor.

“What she means is
that
we mended our fences and are to be married,” Lord Worcester explained with a wry look at his treasure. “Since our parents are best of friends, I misdoubt there will be the slightest complaint in that quarter.”

“Good.” Lady Titheridge studied the pair, then said, “I think you both should rest, then we shall have a meal before going on to London. The news of your betrothal will allay any gossip.” At their astonished expressions Lady Titheridge continued. “I know, we are all tired, but Peter desires to return to London immediately, and I believe we should all go with him. It should not be dangerous,” she concluded in a hesitant voice, as though she was certain it might be the opposite.

“Amelia and I could follow later,” Lord Worcester said hesitantly, placing a protective arm about his little termagant.

“Oh, no,” Amelia declared. “If Lady Titheridge thinks there might be trouble, I, for one,” and she glared at her Edward, “intend to be along. Besides, I do not wish to be thought coming.”

Her downcast and demure expression brought a chuckle to all in the room.

“Why do we not all take a nice nap before it is time to leave? I have no doubt Sir Peter will wish to hurry once he awakens.”

Immediately seeing the reason of this, Amelia went up the stairs with Emma. Just outside her room she paused. “This has turned out very well for me, dearest Emma. I only hope it goes as well for you.”

Pretending not to understand her point, Emma merely nodded and slipped inside her door.

Several hours later the group straggled into the dining room to survey the repast that had been set out for them.

“I say,” Lord Worcester said in wonder, “I had not realized how hungry I was.”

“I cannot eat more than a morsel,” Amelia declared, looking at the food with mild revulsion. “I have consumed enough to last me a week.”

Emma smiled, then said, “You were exceedingly clever to pretend hunger. It saved you from disaster.”

Amelia tossed a smug glance at Edward, then sipped tea and munched a ginger biscuit.

Sir Peter changed the topic, and the others fell to their meal with hearty appetites.

Only slightly more than another hour had past when the traveling coach drew up before the house again. Emma was sorry to leave, for there was great charm here. She had admired the view from her bedroom window before coming down to join the others. She would liked to have spent days exploring the pretty gardens and the stream that wandered along the property.

“You do realize that it will be late before we arrive in London. Can anyone think of a plausible reason for this particular group to be absent from the city for two days?” Lady Titheridge asked as they sipped coffee and tea following their meal. “In the event that someone is so inquisitive as to ask, that is.”

“Indeed,” Emma chimed in, “we cannot allow a hint to escape that Mr. Swinburne absconded Town with Amelia at his side.” She looked to Sir Peter for a solution, as he seemed to be the one who thought up most things.

“Why does everyone look at me?” he complained. “We have a near six-hour journey ahead of us. May I suggest we put our minds to good use while on the way?”

That effectively broke up the meal, and they straggled out to where the traveling coach and the barouche awaited them.

“Ladies into the traveling coach,” Sir Peter said and gestured. “Worcester and I will attempt to set a record in the barouche,” he concluded.

Since Emma had already determined that to be the best plan, she gave him an impatient look, then hopped into the carriage with no further words exchanged.