Rogue Grooms (31 page)

He was not the best dance partner Emily had ever had; his steps were a bit uncertain, not entirely smooth. Yet he was infinitely gentle with her, not spinning her off into the hinterlands as some gentlemen were wont to do when they grew too enthusiastic. Truly, she would rather dance with David than with any other man on earth.

“Yes. Thank you. It feels such a long time since Damien left us,” she answered, watching him closely. “You have been away an age.”

His hand tightened on hers for the merest instant. “Much too long, I begin to think,” he said.

The dance parted them, and for a while Emily could only watch him across the expanse of the set. It was not a great distance, but it felt a mile. Oh,
blast
the ridiculous rules! She wanted to
talk
to him.

When once again they came together, she asked, “And how do you find England after your years away?”

He laughed—a rich sound that made her want to laugh, too. “Cold, Lady Emily. Very cold.”

She did laugh then. After he left, she had made it her mission to read everything she could find about India. She had been dazzled by descriptions of heat so heavy it made the very air shimmer, of strange fruits and flowers, of breezes smelling of spices.

To go from that to
this
, gray, damp, rule-bound milieu, must be shocking indeed.

“We are having an unseasonably wet spring, even for England,” she said.
Weather?
She was talking of the
weather
, of all things? How ridiculous of her. “But it was quite lovely at Fair Oak the last time we were there, and it does not appear to have harmed the crops in any way. I am eager to go back to the country, as I am sure you must be to see Combe Lodge again.”

“I am. I fear I have neglected it shamefully.”

Emily saw a dark shutter fall over his gaze, one that spoke of worry and perhaps guilt. She understood those emotions all too well, and she hastened to reassure him. “Not at all. I ride over there often when I am at Fair Oak, and it prospers. It looks very well, the house and the fields, and I am sure you will be content when you see it.”

“Thank you, Lady Emily,” he said, and she fancied she heard a measure of relief. But she did so wish he could call her just
Emily
again.

“Everyone in the neighborhood will be glad you are in residence again.” She paused an instant before saying the words she was thinking, then let them all go in a rush. “Is your wife looking forward to seeing your family home? It has been many years since Combe Lodge had a mistress.”

The comers of his lips twitched—whether in amusement at her presumptuous question or in a flash of pain, Emily could not tell. She did not know which option she preferred less. Why could she not call that question back?
Why?

“I fear I am a widower,” he said.

A
widower!
Then he was not married, and yet he had once been. What a gulf separated them since they had been apart. She wondered what other experiences he had had that she could not begin to fathom.

“I am sorry,” she said simply. Inadequately.

“Thank you. My daughter is looking forward to the country, though she is as yet too young to be a proper chatelaine there. I have promised her a pony, and she talks of nothing else of late.”

A daughter. And, of course, she would be beautiful, as no doubt her mother had been.

“The countryside around Combe Lodge is ideal for riding,” was all Emily could think to say.

“Yes, I remember. I also remember that you were a bruising rider, who left everyone, including myself, in the dust.” He gave her a teasing little smile. “Are you still so fond of riding?”

She couldn’t help but smile in return, despite this new fit of self-doubt. Her rage to pepper David with questions had faded into worries that
he
would not be as interested in
her
. How could he be, when he had lived in an Indian palace with a beautiful wife and perfect, almost-pony-riding daughter? All Emily had done was run a farm, turning her hands rough and her mind hard.

“I do enjoy riding, though I do not get the chance as often as I would like,” she said, giving a little leap and a spin. “There is no place for a good gallop in Town. But my sister-in-law is teaching me to drive a phaeton. I hope to have my own very soon!”

He gazed down into her eyes as they turned, and she felt her cheeks grow warm beneath his dark regard. Oh, the curse of her pale skin, that blushes showed so clearly there! Other men looked at her all the time, and she never—ever!—blushed. She was becoming a complete ninny.

“A new chariot, Boudicca?” he asked quietly.

Hearing the old nickname in his new voice made her blush burn out of control, and she had to look away. Over David’s shoulder, she saw Georgina and Alex standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching her. Alex frowned in a most fearful way, as he always did when a man he did not know spoke to his sister. But Georgina looked almost—delighted.

“One I hope does not come with blades on the wheels,” Emily managed to answer, turning her attention back to her dance partner. “I should hate to frighten dogs and small children in the Park.”

David laughed, and the music came to its final crescendo. Could their dance be over already? Surely it had only just begun.

Emily curtsied as David bowed, all that was correct despite the thoughts roiling in her mind. As she straightened and took his proffered arm, he said, “May I escort you to supper later, Lady Emily? If you do not already have a partner.”

Did
she have a partner for supper? She could scarcely recall. But then, she could scarcely recall her own name at the moment. “Thank you, Lord Darlinghurst. I would enjoy that.” She turned to see Alex and Georgina moving toward them, the two of them obviously filled to the brim with filial determination. “You must allow me to present you to my brother, whom of course you already know, and my sister-in-law. They will be most eager to converse with you.”

Only after the introductions had been made, and Alex and Georgina engaged David in a lively discourse about Fair Oak and Combe Lodge, did Emily have a most startling thought. Not once during their dance had she thought about the dilemma of the Star. She had been faced with a person most closely concerned with the jewel, and she herself had pondered little else for days. Yet it had completely vanished when David took her hand in his.

How strange. And how worrisome.

 

The Wilton dining room was almost as long as the ballroom, but it felt a great deal more intimate and less crowded thanks to the arrangements of many small, round tables rather than one long expanse which all the guests had to crowd around. Great silver platters and tureens bearing all manner of delicacies graced each table, surrounded by clusters of hothouse flowers and gold-rimmed crystal goblets of ruby red wine and sparkling champagne.

Emily was ordinarily excessively fond of baked salmon, lobster tarts, white soup, and pineapple (indeed, she knew that if she was not equally fond of exercise, she would soon be quite as large as Lady Birtwhistle in her orange satin). Yet tonight she could do no more than nibble at a few grapes. And that was due entirely to the man who sat beside her.

They were seated at a small corner table with Alex and Georgina, who asked David a myriad of questions about his plans for Combe Lodge. Emily herself managed to articulate a few comments, but mostly she just watched David—this new, fascinating David—and listened to him as he spoke.

It still felt quite unreal—dreamlike, really—that he had suddenly appeared back in her world. His smile still held echoes of the friend she had once known, but it was not as open as it had once been. His laughter held a wry, hard note under its dark music.

Well, it
had
been many years. And no one knew better than Emily the toll that time could take. Nothing stayed the same for even a moment—not even friendship. She was not the same wild, carefree girl she was then. He could not be the same boy who spent patient time with her and was her faithful friend and playmate.

She listened to him speak of his English home, and longed to ask him about other things, things she knew of only from books. Monsoons, ghats and bathing in the sacred Ganges, rajahs atop jeweled elephants, dancing girls in bright silks and belled bracelets. Did the air truly smell of spices and jasmine in India? If she leaned close enough now, could she smell its echoes in his midnight hair?

She even moved toward him, just the merest fraction, when she was brought up short by the sound of her brother speaking her name.

Emily sat up straight, and blinked innocently across the table at Alex. Surely no one looking at her could have even an inkling that she was just about to sniff a gentleman’s hair!

“I beg your pardon, Alex? I fear I was examining Mrs. Harcourt’s extraordinary turban and did not hear you.”

“I was just telling Lord Darlinghurst that you are quite the expert on the most modern farming techniques, and he should ask your advice as well as my own concerning the fields at Combe Lodge,” Alex said, with an obviously puzzled frown. Emily was not usually so concerned with such things as turbans, and she had often expressed disdain for the fashion, which of course her brother would remember. She should have conjured up a better excuse for her rude inattention!

Emily gave him another smile, and thought what a very unromantic subject
farming
was compared to jasmine and spangled silks and moonlit nights in Hindu ruins. But she
had
kept up with new farming theories, regularly reading the agricultural reports. As much as she longed to, she could not leave her past work behind her entirely. Whenever she rode over Fair Oak, she thought of planting and crop circulation. And, if all that meant she could converse with David a bit longer, she was glad for it.

“Indeed,” she said. “While Alex was so bravely fighting for his country, I did what I could to learn about agriculture. The landscape and soil conditions at Combe Lodge are, of course, very similar to those at Fair Oak. I will be happy to share anything I have discovered.”

“Thank you, Lady Emily. You are most obliging,” David replied, giving her one of his small, wry smiles. She noticed then the tiny lines that smile etched about his dark eyes—lines carved there by the brilliant Indian sun. “I have much to learn. While I read a great deal on the voyage to England, books are no substitute for experience.”

Amen to that
, Emily thought. She sometimes felt that all she had ever seen of true life was in the pages of books. First, because books were the only amusement she could afford while she lived alone with her mother in the country. And now—now books were her anchor to a different reality, in the midst of this glittering, artificial world.

“Ah, but I hope you are not going to abandon Town for the country just yet!” declared Georgina, with one of her merry trills of laughter. “The Season may be almost over, yet there are many delights still to be had. The theater, of course, is always amusing, and there is the Merryvale rout and that ridiculous affair the Innises have devised to display their treasure one last time. And you must see the Elgin Marbles!”

Emily nodded in fervent agreement, pushing aside the distressing mention of the forthcoming Innis ball. She had already seen the Greek Marbles once, in their dark, cramped display room at the British Museum, and had been caught up by the
life
of them, the flowing, eternal beauty. “Oh, yes, you must see at least that before you leave London, Da—Lord Darlinghurst.” She felt her face warm anew at that near faux pas. Though she could not
think
of him as anything but David, it would never, ever do to say it aloud. She turned away to take a cooling sip of wine.

But he appeared not to notice her discomfiture at all. Or perhaps he was just being polite? “Thank you, Your Grace, Lady Emily. I would enjoy all of those things, especially the marbles, I am sure, but I do hope to leave soon for Combe Lodge. I have my nine-year-old daughter with me, and I fear she may grow bored in Town.”

“Our children are also here in Town, Lord Darlinghurst, and I know very well the importance of keeping little ones amused and out of mischief!” Georgina said. “They are probably too young to be company for Lady . . .” She paused, one dark red brow raised in inquiry.

“Lady Anjali,” David answered.

Georgina nodded, not even batting an eyelash at the exotic name. “For Lady Anjali, but perhaps she would enjoy some of the same amusements they do, such as Astley’s Amphitheatre or some of the museums of curiosities. And the Park is always most pleasant.” Georgina paused again, a speculative glance turned onto Emily.

Emily held her breath. Whenever her sister-in-law got that look in her eye, mischief was soon to follow. Georgina had recently been the orchestrator of her friend Mrs. Rosalind Chase’s marriage to the poet Viscount Morley, and the success had put matchmaking into her blood.

“Indeed, Lady Emily knows Hyde Park very well, she is always riding and walking there, often with my children,” Georgina continued. “Perhaps she could show you—and your daughter—the best sights.”

David glanced at Emily—a quick, unreadable look. She fancied she saw some uncertainty there.

But when he spoke, his voice conveyed no hint of reluctance or sense of being coerced. He smiled at her, and said, “I would be very happy if you would consent to drive with me in the Park, Lady Emily. We have many years to catch up on, after all.”

“Thank you, Lord Darlinghurst,” Emily answered politely, quietly, as if her stomach was not turning over with excitement. And all over a simple invitation to drive in the Park! “We have no engagements tomorrow afternoon.”

“Excellent. Tomorrow it is,” David said.

Georgina gave a satisfied little smile. “And I hope you and Lady Anjali will take tea with us next week, as well. It is always pleasant to get to know one’s neighbors!”