Scandal (7 page)

"His family lived around here at one time," Mrs. Ludlow said thoughtfully. "More than twenty years ago, I believe."

Emily, who had been expecting a gentle warning against leading the earl to think his attentions had a future, blinked in surprise. "So Miss Inglebright said."

"The boy and his mother left after the father died. Very sad situation, that was." Mrs. Ludlow looked as if she were about to say more but abruptly changed her mind. She shook her head quite firmly. "Never mind, dear. It was all over and done years ago and certainly does not signify now. Well, Emily, you must be certain to wear your best gown tomorrow night, eh?"

Emily smiled, wondering if the lecture and warning would come now. "I intend to," she said with just the smallest touch of defiance.

"Good, good. Young people should enjoy themselves when they can. Off with you, now, and I am certain the poor of Little Dippington will be most thankful for the clothes you brought by this afternoon."

So there was to be no warning. Emily heaved a sigh of relief as she walked back toward where she had tied her mare. Still, it was puzzling. No one seemed to feel she should be restrained from flirting with the earl. Nor, apparently, had anyone felt obliged to warn Blade about the Unfortunate Incident.

Emily began to wonder if the good folk of Little Dippington were actually hoping the romance would have a happy ending. But sooner or later someone would feel bound to say something to him.

When Simon showed up for the next meeting of the Thursday Afternoon Literary Society, Emily was finally forced to admit that matters were getting to the awkward stage. She knew in her heart of hearts she simply could not allow Simon to court her so openly when it was all so hopeless.

Guilt began nibbling at her. She knew she could not let this go on much longer. Scandal always emerged, sooner or later. If no one else was going to say what must be said, then she would have to deal with the awful task herself.

She dreaded the moment of truth more than she had ever dreaded anything in her life. But she reminded herself that she had known from the start that the love she felt for the Earl of Blade had been doomed. It was time to end the romantic masquerade.

Chapter 4

Emily came to the end of the Scottish reel, aware that she was laughing too gaily and feeling much too flushed. Her mood was one of unnatural cheerfulness and she knew the cause. She was fortifying herself for the task that lay ahead.

Her conscience would no longer allow her to put off telling Simon about the scandal.

This evening as she had dressed for the Gillinghams' party she had vowed to herself she would do what had to be done without further delay. As much as she loved the fantasy in which she was living, Emily knew she could no longer abide waiting for the ax to fall. She had to get the matter over and done. The longer things went on like this, the more she was going to feel sorry for herself when Simon eventually discovered the truth and walked away in disgust.

She had deliberately chosen to wear her very best gown, which had been made for her by the village seamstress. Tonight was the first time she had worn the pale green muslin trimmed with yellow ribbons and several rows of deep flounces. Her quizzing glass dangled discreetly on a ribbon attached to her gown.

The quizzing glass was a nuisance, but Emily refused to wear her spectacles tonight.

The deep neckline of the high-waisted dress had been designed to reveal a magnificent bosom. When Emily had ordered it she had somehow hoped it would magnify her less than impressive curves. When she had dressed earlier tonight, however, she had fretted that all it succeeded in doing was calling attention to the smallness of her own shape.

"Not a bit o' it," her maid, Lizzie, had insisted as she admired her mistress with delighted eyes. "It makes you look all airy and delicate like. As if you could fly away in the moonlight or somethin'."

Emily hoped she was right. She did not feel particularly light and airy tonight. There was a ball of lead in her stomach that seemed to be growing larger by the minute.

The Gillinghams' small ballroom was filled to the brim with the local gentry turned out in their finest. Lord and Lady Gillingham had a reputation for being kind enough to invite their less fashionable neighbors in once or twice a year. Simon's presence in their household appeared to have been an excuse for such an event.
Champagne
and a buffet of sweets and savories had been set out.

Simon had made himself and Emily the focal point of attention earlier when he had danced the first dance with her. Without her spectacles and lost in a romantic haze, Emily was able to ignore the many stares and curious looks she knew she and the earl had received. Simon, as usual, had not appeared to notice them either but that was because he never condescended to notice such things.

Emily could not imagine anything making a dent in Simon's calm self-confidence. That sense of inner strength and sureness that was so much a part of him could be a bit daunting at times, but it was certainly impressive.

Emily raised her quizzing glass for a few seconds and surreptitiously scanned the crowd until she spotted Simon talking to the vicar. Blade was, she decided, quite definitely the most glorious man in the room tonight. Of course, she was slightly biased. But there was no denying the fact that in his austere black and white evening attire Simon was dangerously attractive in a room that was overcrowded with brightly colored jackets and waistcoats.

"Good evening, Miss Faringdon. May I get you a glass of lemonade?"

Emily stifled a groan at the unwelcome sound of Elias Prendergast's voice. She lowered her quizzing glass, not needing any assistance in seeing the familiar fat, florid, heavily bewhiskered face.

Nor did she need her spectacles or the glass to see that the portly Mr. Prendergast had strapped himself into his corsets for the occasion. She could hear them creak when he moved.

"No, thank you," Emily murmured, thinking that what she really needed was a glass of champagne. She opened her fan and began fanning herself industriously as Prendergast leaned closer. The man smelled as if he had not bothered to bathe for the party. Prendergast was of the old school and had a strong distrust of the new fashion for frequent use of soap and water. He much preferred to utilize a quantity of perfume instead.

"Been meanin' to call on you now that I'm out of mourning, Miss Faringdon," Prendergast began with an air of importance. "Feel there is somethin' we should discuss."

Emily smiled politely. "I am persuaded that would not be at all correct, sir. Surely you will want to wait until my father is in residence."

"That's just it, damme," Prendergast said with obvious annoyance. "Yer father don't spend much time here in the country. Unpredictable in his comings and goings, ain't he?"

"He is very busy with his affairs in town. Lovely party, is it not?" Emily waved her fan in a graceful arc that took in the entire brightly lit room. "But, then, Lady Gillingham is always a gracious hostess."

Prendergast's bushy brows drew together in a scowl. He cleared his throat. Emily's heart fell. She had an awful premonition of what was coming next.

"Miss Faringdon, my dear, I feel that I am by way of being something of an adviser to you since your parent is so often absent," Prendergast said in ominous tones. "And it has come to my attention that we have a visitor in the neighborhood who has been seeing rather a lot of you lately."

"You shock me, sir. I had no idea you made it your business to pay heed to local gossip. I vow it must be very tiresome keeping up with it."

Prendergast snorted and glowered intimidatingly. It was well known that when she had been alive, Mrs. Prendergast had been a little mouse of a creature who would never have dreamed of making such a snippy remark.

"Now, see here, young lady. I am only too well aware of how a woman's head can be turned by the sort of romantical attention that Blade is lavishing upon you, Miss Faringdon, if you don't mind my saying so."

"But I do, sir. Mind your saying so, that is." Emily's smile grew bright and sharp as anger began to ignite within her. Prendergast was well on his way to spoiling what little time she had left with Simon.

Prendergast's heavy face congealed into a thunderous expression that Emily could see quite clearly without her glass.

"I speak only out of the deepest concern for your reputation, Miss Faringdon."

"Everyone knows my reputation is already beyond repair, sir. Pray do not concern yourself with it."

"Now, now, you must not be so hard on yourself," Prendergast admonished. "It's true enough that there is a nasty bit of scandal in your past. But you were young and foolish and made a mistake. These things happen to young gels. I, being a man of the world and not without some experience in schooling high-spirited females, am prepared to overlook the Incident."

"How very kind of you, sir."

"Well, yes, 'tis, rather. Blade, naturally, won't be able to do so. Got his family name and title to think of, y'know."

Emily's fingers clenched on the fan. "Pray, do not trouble yourself with any further advice, sir."

Prendergast drew himself up to his full height. He loomed over Emily, his corsets groaning. "Miss Faringdon, you once allowed your excessive passions to run way with you and in doing so brought social ruin upon yourself. Surely you have not forgotten the lessons learned on that unhappy occasion?"

"I assure you, I have forgotten nothing," Emily said through her teeth. "But you are beginning to annoy me, sir."

"Miss Faringdon, you misunderstand me. My intentions are quite honorable. I only wish to assist you by providing you with a respectable outlet for your rather high-spirited tendencies." He caught hold of her hand and crushed it between his damp, beefy palms.

"Please give me back my hand, sir." Emily tried unsuccessfully to withdraw her fingers from his sweaty grip.

Prendergast ignored her efforts, his fingers tightening painfully. He leaned closer until his bad breath and thick perfume nearly overpowered his victim. Then he lowered his voice to confidential tones.

"Miss Faringdon, I fully comprehend how difficult it must be for a woman of your high passions to be forced to be subjected to the depressing strictures of society. I feel certain that you would be far happier married. Within the sanctity of the marriage bed you would be able to give free rein to those impulses which you are now obliged to keep under control."

"Sir, if you do not let go of me this instant, I vow I will be forced to do something drastic."

But Prendergast was very intent on his mission now. "You need a man who can accommodate your excesses of emotion, my dear. I assure you I am that man. Furthermore, I intend to call upon your father at the earliest opportunity to tell him of my intentions."

"No," Emily gasped, horrified at the very thought.

"To that end," Prendergast continued as if he had not heard the alarm in her voice, "I have written him a letter informing him of the danger you are presently facing and assuring him that I will look after you until he returns to protect you from Blade's attentions."

"Attend to your own business, sir. I do not wish to be protected from his attentions."

"He is merely toying with your affections, my dear. Just as that other rake did five years ago."

Emily finally lost her temper. She folded her fan with a snap and brought it down quite sharply on the back of Prendergast's hand. The blow contained such stinging force that the sticks snapped.

"Yeow." Prendergast released her fingers abruptly, rubbing the back of his hand. The color in his plump cheeks was high. "Ah, Miss Faringdon, you are, indeed, a creature of great passions. I cannot wait until we are wed. I assure you I will manage you very well, my dear. Very well, indeed."

"Best not hold your breath waiting for that momentous occasion," Simon advised in his cold, dark drawl.

Emily jumped and whirled around to find that the earl had materialized at her elbow. She smiled brilliantly up at the dragon. He was satisfyingly large and ferocious, she thought, and he had lots of strong, white teeth. Furthermore, they were his own, which was more than could be said about Elias Prendergast's.

"Hello, my lord," Emily said happily. "I trust you are enjoying yourself?"

"Very much. I thought you might need this." He handed her a glass of champagne.

"How very perceptive of you, sir." Emily's fingers closed gratefully around the glass.

"Miss Faringdon prefers lemonade," Prendergast announced.

"You are wrong." Emily took a swallow. "At the moment Miss Faringdon has a strong preference for champagne."

Prendergast glowered at her unrepentant features. "We will discuss this matter further at a more convenient time, Miss Faringdon."

"What matter? My preference for champagne? I assure you, there is nothing to discuss."

"I was referring to other, more pressing concerns," Prendergast hissed. He inclined his head in a jerky motion. "If you will excuse me, I must speak to a friend." He took

himself off with a great dignity that was somewhat marred by the sound of his creaking corsets.

Emily stifled a small sigh. As obnoxious as Prendergast was, he was also right in one respect. She could not continue to lead Simon on any longer. She took another swallow of champagne and looked up at the earl. She was standing close enough to him to see that he was watching her with a familiar mocking amusement in his gleaming eyes.

"It would seem I have competition for your hand," Simon murmured.

Emily shook her head quickly, her curls bouncing. "Pay no heed to Mr. Prendergast. He has been something of a nuisance ever since his poor wife finally faded away. Simon, I must speak to you."

"You have my full attention."

"No, not here. Not now." She glanced furtively around, squinting to see if there was anyone standing too close. "Simon, I must speak to you in private."

"That sounds promising."

"I fear it is not a joking matter, my lord. Indeed, it is most serious. Please, when can I see you? This has gone on long enough and there are…" Emily broke off, raised her quizzing glass for another quick glance around, and then added in a very low, unhappy voice, "There are things you must be told."

"Ah."

"I have been very remiss in not informing you of these particular matters earlier in our relationship. It was quite cowardly of me, but I suppose I assumed someone else would perform the task for me."

"You alarm me, my dear. I feel like a character in a Minerva Press novel. I believe I am beginning to tremble with the Uneasy Dread of the Unknown."

"My lord, you know very well that nothing could make you tremble with dread," Emily said crossly. "I vow this is difficult enough as it is. Please do not mock me."

"I would not dream of it. Very well, if I am not allowed to tremble with dread, I shall muster my courage and meet you for this terrifying pronouncement. How about your library at, say, one o'clock this morning? You will be safely home by then and your servants should be in bed."

Emily dropped her quizzing glass in shock. "My library? You mean to come to St. Clair Hall? Tonight?"

"Can you arrange to be in the library alone at that time?"

"Well, yes. Of course I can. I frequently work in the library after the servants have gone to bed." She frowned, thinking about the practical problems involved. "I shall have to unbolt the front door for you."