Art and Artifice (24 page)

She wanted to scream like the peacock. She
felt just as trapped. All her efforts, all her plans, were in vain
if Lord Robert did not arrive. But she caught sight of neither Lord
Robert nor Jamie before a servant in glittering white livery shut
the double doors to the entry way, and Priscilla and her parents
turned to their waiting guests.

“That’s all right,” Ariadne murmured beside
Emily. “He’ll simply be fashionably late. That’s the perfect trait
for a villain.”

It certainly was. She could not imagine a
more potent way of torturing someone.

At the top of the room, Mr. Tate waved a
hand. “Welcome to you all! I can only say how proud I am to have
reached this moment in our dear daughter’s life.”

Mrs. Tate wailed and bowed her head,
shoulders shaking.

“Allow me, Father,” Priscilla said, leaving
her father to pat her overcome mother awkwardly on the shoulder of
her gown, which was turning a darker hue from her tears.

Priscilla spread her arms as if she longed to
hug each guest to her heart. “Welcome, dear friends, beloved
family! We are so delighted you could join us tonight. Let our
enchanted garden be yours.” She clapped her hands.

And a few of the statues woke, stretched,
waved white arms gracefully before falling back into new
positions.

The guests applauded.

“Thespians,” Ariadne explained. “From Drury
Lane.”

“Before we begin the dancing,” Priscilla
continued, “my dear friend, Lady Emily Southwell, has a gift for
her father, the Duke of Emerson. You’ll find it near the
entrance.”

Near the entrance? Emily had been so
concerned about locating Lord Robert she’d completely forgotten her
painting! She’d had Warburton deliver it only this afternoon. As
the other guests began moving in that direction, Emily hurried past
them to reach it first. Her father was already waiting beside it,
gazing at it. She could not tell what he was thinking, was afraid
to ask. Lady Minerva came up beside him and frowned at the piece,
and Emily refused to ask her what she thought. Priscilla had
followed her, and the Tates were close behind. Mrs. Tate sniffed
back a sob as if she thought something dreadful was going to
happen.

Emily certainly hoped she was wrong.

But her entire body started to tremble as
everyone stared at the painting. What would they say? When others
had criticized her battle scenes, she’d risen immediately to the
defense. If they criticized this piece, she thought she might
crumble into dust.

For from out of the painting, her mother
gazed with dark eyes. Her black hair was pulled back from her
narrow face, and no one but Emily knew how frizzy it could be in
the rain. She was wearing a white gown with a green sash, the
Emerson colors, and the smile on her face welcomed everyone she
saw. It said she had never met a stranger and never parted from a
friend. It said she believed herself with them even now.

A tear ran down Emily’s face, but she didn’t
wipe it away. It felt right, and she knew her mother would
understand.

“She always was a beauty,” Lady Minerva said
with a sigh. “You favor her, I think, Emily.”

Her father’s hand came to rest on Emily’s
shoulder. “You’ve captured that quality she had, that drew me to
her from the first. Well done, Daughter. This is the greatest gift
you could have given me.”

Emily’s heart was so full she felt it
pressing against the bodice of her mother’s lovely gown. “Thank you
both.”

She chanced a glance around and found
everyone gazing at her mother. More than one eye glittered.
Pricilla’s lips were trembling, and Daphne and Ariadne were wiping
at their cheeks. Even the hermit was staring at the piece. She’d
touched their hearts, and her own swelled to bursting. They were so
hushed, she could hear the sound of a clock chiming the hour
outside. She did not need to hear each beat to know the time.

It was nine, and Jamie had not come.

Another tear fell, but this one she wiped
away as Lady St. Gregory glided to her side. Once more the
sculptress was gowned in blue, this time of a cool hue that matched
the ice sculptures behind her. “An interesting piece, Lady Emily.
Not your usual style.”

A swath of purple caught Emily’s eye. Lady
Wakenoak had arrived at last. She was standing at the edge of the
crowd, an ostrich plume waving over her gray curls.

“Excuse me,” Emily murmured, leaving the
patroness of the Royal Society for the Beaux Arts frowning.

Lady Wakenoak surprised Emily with a kiss on
one cheek. “Lord Robert is here, the naughty boy,” she murmured in
Emily’s ear. “He’s made a game of the thing, you see. You’ll simply
have to find him.”

Find him? Emily straightened away from her with a
frown. What game was this? Why didn’t he approach her? Did he know
she had something planned? Had he outmaneuvered her?

Robert’s mother evidently had no such concerns, for
she bustled happily away. Emily turned to follow her and found the
hermit standing there. He ducked his head when she looked at him,
but for a moment she thought he meant to speak to her.

“Return to your cell,” Priscilla scolded, hurrying
up to them. “Honestly. What kind of hermit wanders about
ballrooms?”

As he slunk back to his corner, Priscilla
turned to Emily. “We’re about to start the dancing. Has Lord Robert
arrived?”

Emily nodded. “Yes. I just have to find
him.”

“I’d help, but I must lead the set. Sorry!”
She darted off in search of her partner. Emily didn’t dare
follow.

Lord Robert was here, somewhere, likely
watching her. She had to get him out among the other guests,
confront him with Lady Skelcroft’s brooch, prove to the world he
was a scoundrel.

Before something dreadful truly did
happen.

Emily stood by the dance floor, watching even
as she felt watched. Priscilla moved confidently through the
elegant turns, smiling so winningly that her partner, the elder son
of Lord Fishborne, missed his cue watching her and stumbled. Daphne
was more stilted, as if she feared no lady showed exuberance.

Still the feeling persisted, as if Emily were
being hunted. She glanced around, but no gaze met hers among the
courtly guests. Where was Lord Robert? Not among the dancers. Nor
could she spot him by the sofas. The hermit was surrounded by
giggling ladies; more laughter came from the maze. Wait – was that
a russet head by the buffet? Her heartbeat was as unsteady as her
steps as she started forward.

Suddenly, the door to the kitchens opened,
and out danced children dressed like fairies in fluttering gowns,
with gossamer wings on their backs. They darted through the group,
making bows, dipping curtseys, and handing out little packages of
comfits. The guests exclaimed in delight.

And she lost sight of him, if she’d ever had
him at all.

This was getting her nowhere! Priscilla could
tell her where a gentleman might hide. As the second dance ended,
Emily parted the beaus besieging her friend and begged a
moment.

“Of course,” Priscilla said, then clapped her
hands again. The statues twisted into more elaborate poses.

Before Emily could talk to Priscilla, a
gentleman pushed his way forward. He had brown hair and was only of
average height, but his gaze was keen and bright behind his
spectacles. He inclined his head to Emily before turning to
Priscilla.

“I doubt you remember me, Miss Tate,” he
said. “We met at Lady Baminger’s musicale when you were in town
last Christmas. I’m Nathan Kent.”

Emily had no time for this, but Priscilla
smiled politely. “A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Kent.” Her gaze
returned to Emily, as if she had already dismissed him from her
thoughts.

Emily would have liked to do the same, but he
was entirely too persistent. “Forgive the interruption,” he
continued with another smile to Emily, “but I came to beseech a
favor.”

He was doomed. Emily was here first, and, by
the way her friend lowered her gaze, Priscilla was going to
refuse.

Until he added, “For my employer, the Duke of
Rottenford.”

Priscilla’s head snapped up, and Emily felt
her own doom approaching. It wouldn’t matter what she said. She
would never get Priscilla’s attention now!

“The Duke of Rottenford?” Priscilla said
breathlessly.

“Yes, Rottenford,” Mr. Kent agreed with an
amused smile. “I serve as his personal secretary.”

“Priscilla,” Emily tried.

Priscilla fluttered her lashes and laid a
hand on the arm of his black evening coat. “I would do anything for
His Grace.”

Mr. Kent detached her hand from his arm.
“Then tell me the way through the maze. It’s blocking the stairs to
the retiring rooms and, after six glasses of your excellent punch,
it’s become rather urgent for His Grace to find his way
through.”

Priscilla’s smile remained on her face,
disguising any disappoint she must have felt that His Grace was not
requesting a dance. “I’d be delighted to tell His Grace, but I
cannot spoil the fun for my other guests. If you’d bring him to me,
I’ll whisper it in his ear.”

Now why couldn’t Emily have been born with
such cunning!

“Alas,” Mr. Kent said with a bit of steel in
his voice. “Crossing the room to your side might pose a difficulty.
Perhaps you’d be so kind as to whisper it in
my
ear.”

“No, Miss Tate,” another young man nearby called.
“Whisper it in my ear, and I’ll be happy to tell His Grace for
you.”

They all jostled to get closer, and Priscilla
held up a hand. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. We must have mercy. Mr.
Kent?”

Mr. Kent eyed Priscilla as if expecting some
trap, but he leaned closer, resting his hand on her elbow as softly
as a caress. Priscilla pressed her lips to his ear and murmured
low. He straightened and walked away, steps decidedly crooked. But
what amazed Emily was that Priscilla smiled dreamily.

“Priscilla, you must help me find Lord
Robert!” Emily begged.

“Who?” Priscilla asked, blinking.

Emily gave up. When she needed action, she
should have known who to ask. She dodged around the dance floor
once more and finally located Daphne and Ariadne near the far wall.
Ariadne was pale, but Daphne was deep in conversation with an
elderly gentleman, train over one arm. Had she found Lord Snedley
at last?

“Excuse us,” Emily said to the fellow,
seizing her friends’ arms and dragging them to the side. She met
their gazes and hoped she didn’t look as desperate as she felt. “I
need your help to find Lord Robert. I know he’s here
somewhere.”

“Of course,” Daphne said. “I was merely
trying to locate Lord Snedley. My night will not be complete unless
he pronounces me a success.”

Ariadne rolled her eyes.

“Once I deal with Lord Robert, I’ll be happy
to help you find him,” Emily promised her.

They started about the circuit again, peering
around, under, and over people. Ariadne kept silent, one hand
around her waist. It seemed even her emerald gown had not
emboldened her to converse with strangers. Even to the lady leading
her wolfhound.

“Gorgeous gown, my dear,” she said to Ariadne
as they paused near her. The beast at her side rubbed his jaw along
the floor as if trying to free himself. His mistress held out the
chain to Ariadne. “Be a love and hold my pet while I find my
partner to dance.”

Ariadne gasped, but she could not seem to
find the words as the lady pressed the leash into her hand.

“Actually,” Emily tried, nudging Ariadne, “we
were trying to find Lord Robert Townsend.”

“Look in Lady Skelcroft’s circle,” the lady
advised as she sailed onto the floor. The wolfhound and Ariadne
regarded each other. Only the wolfhound looked amused.

“Go on,” Ariadne said, so still she might
have been frozen in place. “Find him. I’ll be all right. Very
likely the creature is tame.”

“I could stay,” Daphne volunteered, but
Ariadne shook her head. In the end, they left her and hurried for
the dowagers’ circle, not far from the hermit’s grotto. Lady
Skelcroft sat beside Lady Minerva among the silver- and gray-haired
ladies.

Emily dipped a curtsey in front of her.
“Pardon me, your ladyship, but I’m trying to find my fiancé.”

Lady Skelcroft clutched her lace shawl
closer, the ruby brooch flashing. “I have not had the pleasure of
seeing Lord Robert this evening.” She convulsed suddenly, sneezing
three times in sharp puffs. Lady Minerva slid a little farther away
on the sofa.

“Pardon me,” Lady Skelcroft said with a
sniff. “It’s these horrid plants. Whatever possessed Miss Tate to
drag in the entire countryside?”

“I believe she was trying to portray an
enchanted garden,” Daphne said helpfully. “Gardens do have
plants.”

Lady Skelcroft sneezed again in bursts so
violent they apparently propelled her to her feet. “That is quite
enough! I’m sorry, Minerva dearest, but I’m going home.” Before
Emily or her aunt could say a word, she stormed for the door.

Emily stiffened. If Lady Skelcroft left, how
was Emily to confront Lord Robert with it?

“Go after her,” she told Daphne. “Convince
her to stay. I’ll find Lord Robert.”

With a nod, Daphne ran.

Around the room Emily went again, tighter and
tenser each moment.

Where was Lord Robert? How had he disappeared
so well?

Where was Jamie? Had she so demeaned herself
in his eyes that he could not bear to keep his promise and
come?

Priscilla met her beside the dance floor.
“Sorry, Emily, but this is not going as I’d planned. Rottenford is
lost in the maze, despite my precise instructions, and I have no
idea when he’ll escape. I’d find him, but I’m supposed to be the
hostess!” She clapped her hands. The statues twisted about again,
and two ended up on their rears. “Oh, for pity’s sake!”