The Hopeless Hoyden (11 page)

             
“You first, Em," he shot back with a sly smile.

             
She eyed him suspiciously, then tapped her lips thoughtfully with one slender finger and began pacing the room.  "The most obvious suspect is your cousin, of course."

             
“I presume you mean Cecil rather than Deborah."

             
She nodded her head abstractedly, continuing to wear a path in the floral design of the Axminster carpet.  “He certainly has the look for it.  His eyes are so...demonic."

             
“Demonic eyes?"

             
“Do not laugh, Gab.  Have you noticed that he keeps his eye lids half closed as though he were very sleepy, yet all the while he is tracking a person all about the drawing room."

             
“Can't say I've noticed," Gabriel answered when, in fact, he had, especially when Cecil's gaze was fixed on Emily or, rather, parts of Emily's anatomy.  He wondered if she was aware of his cousin's scrutiny of her or of his reputation as a womanizer.

             
“Then you should watch him carefully," she said. "I swear—“

             
“Ladies do not swear, Miss Pendleton,” he said.

             
She glared at him for a moment. “At any rate, there are times the man verily makes my skin crawl."

             
Ah, so she had noticed Cecil's interest.  By Jove, if the cad laid one finger on her....

             
“Aside from that," Emily's voice drew his attention once again, "there is a lot of damning evidence."

             
“Really, Emily, you must learn to curb your tongue."

             
She came to a halt in front of him, her arms hanging stiffly by her sides and her hand balled into fists.  "Stop acting like one of my cranky governesses and listen.  Please, Gab, this is important." 

             
His purpose hadn't been to tease her.  If anything, far from that.  He wanted only her happiness.  He certainly didn't want her worrying or fretting over him.  A cold fission of fear ran down his spine as it occurred to him that, because of him, she might be in real danger.

             
“I'm not laughing."  He reached out and tweaked one errant curl before tucking it behind her ear and gently rested his hands on her shoulders.  Searching her face, he saw no scratches resulting from her dive into the holly bush last night. Her hands, though, had not faired as well.  "I'm merely concerned for your safety.  Do you realize that if I play this game with you--"

             
“This is not a game, Gab."

             
“Exactly my point," he said, giving her a little shake.  "If I listen to you, I could be endangering your life.  I won't have that."

             
“Oh, Gab."  Tears pooled in her eyes.  "That sounds just like something one of my brothers would say," she said with a most unladylike sniff escaping her.  "And I feel the same about you.  So, you see...." She paused to use the back of her hand to swipe at one lone tear that had overflowed the dam, and squared her shoulders under his hands.  "I intend to help you whether you want me to or not."

             
It was obvious she meant what she said.  While he’d agreed to accept her help in the beginning to get her to come to Lindemann Park, he had not really thought that she would be so observant or bold about catching his enemy.  Those two evenings he’d caught her out chasing after men who might very well do her real harm proved that.  This impetuous woman-child would be safer with him than sneaking about on her own.  He'd probably be in less danger of harm, too, for that matter, as the memory of their first meeting flashed painfully to mind.  Yes, he decided, the smartest thing for him to do would be to graciously accept her help.  At least that way he'd have an idea of what she was scheming.

             
“I'll agree if you'll give me your word not to do anything without first consulting me."

             
“Done!" 

             
She hadn't hesitated for even a second, and he wondered if he'd made some mistake as she twisted out of his grasp and headed for the door. 

             
“I told Aunt Esmeralda I wanted to fetch a book to keep me busy.  I better get back to the drawing room before she becomes suspicious."

             
She was gone before he had a chance to question her further.  He looked at his hands, still suspended in the air where they'd caressed her shoulders, and wondered if she shared the feeling of having been cut adrift.

###

              Emily was glad to see Tom came over from the Grange soon after lunch.  She'd given the situation some thought and had decided to enlist his help in nabbing Gabriel's enemy.  But before she got an opportunity to speak with Tom, Sylvia Raines ushered everyone through the drawing rooms doors that opened on to the east lawn for a game of croquet. 

             
There was a delightful breeze fluttering the lacy flounce of Emily’s blue muslin gown and pulling on the brim of her straw hat.  The other ladies used netting to further protect their delicate complexions, but Emily relished the warmth of the sun's rays on her upturned face.  While the others were busy pairing off and making up rules to accommodate a game for five teams, Gabriel approached her with a mallet in each hand.

             
“This one is for you," he said holding out a green stripped mallet to her.

             
She was flattered as he had not picked out a mallet for any of the other ladies. 

             
"You never said if you liked croquet?" he said.

             
The smile he offered her was enough to set her pulses racing.  "I have only played a few times."  She saw Sylvia striding purposefully their way.  "It is not my best game."

             
His smile broadened.  "And what is your best game, Emily? 

             
His tone was teasing, and she flushed, remembering the feel of his arms about her.  Before she could answer, however, Sylvia commanded his attention, boldly placing one gloved hand on his sleeve.

             
“We are ready to start, Lindemann.  Will you come and lead off?" she said, leading him away.  She was all smiles for the Viscount, but the look the blond beauty tossed over her shoulder for Emily held pure venom.

             
Trailing behind, Emily found she was teamed with her brother, who seemed to have eyes only for Prudence.  The young girl was prettily dressed in a cherry poplin gown while a straw confection trimmed with matching ribbons topped her dusky curls.

             
Her brothers always considered croquet too tame a sport.  So Emily studiously watched the other players to get an idea of how to play.  It looked easy enough, as the players applied swift, sure strokes that sent their wooden balls across the smooth lawn.  Still, after several turns Emily and Tom lagged behind the others in points.  She'd only passed through one hoop.

             
Anxious to make a better showing, she pushed the brim of her straw hat back, then lowered her head and fixed a determined eye on her ball.  Tom's ball was well ahead of hers.  She figured a well aimed shot could place her ball next to his.  The trick was not to hit his ball as she tried to go through another hoop.

             
The crack of her ball knocking his off course drew his gaze from Prudence to her.

             
“Have a care, Em.  The goal is to win the game, you know,” were Tom’s encouraging words.

             
Unfortunately, on her next few turns she did little better and was soon annoyed with her brother's constant criticism.  But really, he of all people ought to be more understanding.  He knew how awful her aim was.

             
“I say, Em," he called over his shoulder when her ball sailed into his, this time knocking it out of bounds.  “You've no right whacking my ball."

             
“She has confused the mallet for a Scottish golf club," snickered Sylvia before tapping her ball through a wire gate.

             
“Or a cricket bat," laughed Deborah.

             
Emily felt Gabriel's gaze on her before she turned to meet his velvety brown stare.  He, too, was smiling, but he wasn't laughing at her.  His look was encouraging, and she faced Tom, who was stomping toward her, with more confidence.  “I did not do it on purpose, Tom.  It will not happen again."
              “You said that before, Em.  You ain't scoring any points for us, either," he said out of the side of his mouth to keep the others from hearing.  "Why can't you play like the other girls?  Try tapping the ball instead of clobbering it with that mallet."

             
“But the ball does not go very far."

             
“It’s a sight better than you hitting my ball out of play each time."

             
“Your turn, Tom," Freddy called out. 

             
It took Tom two shots to regain his position.  Emily didn't dare do more than tap her ball with him glowering at her the whole time.  When Cecil's ball knocked Tom's off the court again, Tom was close to losing his temper.  

             
“I am sorry, Tom," Emily whispered to keep that hateful Cecil from overhearing.

             
“Humph!"  Tom grunted before looking around.  They were by themselves, the others, having all passed them, were at the other end of the field.  "By the bye, Em, Aunt Esmeralda wants me to have a word with you about making a pest of yourself with Lindemann.  What do you suppose the old girl's hinting at?"

             
“Oh pooh.  Sylvia complained because Jane and I ran across the Viscount fishing.  Aunt Esmeralda's problem is she cannot believe he invited me here."

             
“That is rather queer, Em.  I mean, we ain't seen Lindemann in years.  Fact is, he wouldn't know either of us from Adam and Eve.   He’s been off fighting Napoleon, and when he’s in country, he runs with a lofty crowd, top of the trees and all that.  How is it he met you?"

             
Emily cast a suspicious glance his way, but Tom appeared ignorant of her first inauspicious meeting with Gabriel.  “We, ah, ran into each other, nothing more."

             
“And like that, he extended an invite to his house party?"

             
“Yes, just like that.  He is very neighborly, Tom.  Just consider how you barged into his house, then weaseled an invitation from him." 

             
“Hmmm."  He seemed to mull her explanation for a moment.  "You know, Em, I don't think Aunt Esmeralda's forgiven you for making a cake of yourself at Lady Addington's soirée.  You might try acting more like the other girls."

             
“What exactly do you mean, Tom?" Emily asked, crossing her arms while holding the mallet over her shoulder.

             
"Just like this.  Ladies don’t take a stance with their mallets in the air.”  He frowned at her and said, “It's for your own good, Em.  The Viscount can open doors for you.  That’s if you don't go and do a bacon brained thing like dancing by yourself in public again."

             
“What nonsense.  A year from now, no one will remember it was me."  But even as she said this, she lowered her mallet and looked about to see if anyone was watching her.  Her eyes flew immediately to where Gabriel stood politely listening to Sylvia, her blond head bent toward his, as he leaned over his ball preparing to make a shot.  And she remembered their conversation earlier that morning.  He’d kept addressing her as Miss Pendleton and admonished her for language a lady of Quality would not use. 

             
“You're wrong there, Em.  You’re a nine day wonder they haven't forgotten yet, and some of them tattlemongers have memories like elephants."

###

              The next morning, Gabriel arrived at the breakfast table to find Cecil had scheduled a quail hunt for the men.  Since young Pendleton wasn't expected until supper that night and Freddy and Ellison were indifferent hunters, that left Chesterfield, the only real enthusiast who thought the shoot an excellent idea.   Gabriel offered no objections, however.  After a quick consultation with Gresham, they were supplied with shotguns.  Gabriel along with Cecil led the group through the woods until they'd reached an area covered with few trees, low bushes and high grass.

             
Cecil unleashed the two bird dogs they'd brought with them and called the spaniels to heel.  “There’s enough of us to pulverize a bird,” he said.  “Why don't you and I each head up a group, Cuz?"                             Chesterfield quickly looked about, assessing the others.  “I'll pair up with Lindemann."

             
“No, I will," said Freddy with a mulish glint in his eyes.