Colors of a Lady (8 page)

The fighting had died down since Napoleon’s
defeat at Leipzig, deeming it safer to travel around the Continent.
Anyone familiar with the events was expecting an official end to
the wars this year. Thomas was a bit doubtful considering how great
a military power Napoleon had proved to be. Whatever the outcome,
Lord Hartwell found himself selfish in hoping it did not interfere
with his plans.

“Oh! I think we have arrived,” Emma
announced. She yawned angrily, belatedly covering her mouth with a
gloved hand. “Excuse me,” she murmured.

A footman pulled the carriage door open
letting in the frigid air that Emma had almost forgotten. She
shivered and pulled her cloak closer around her.

“Thank you for the ride home, Thomas. Have a
pleasant night.” She gracefully moved to exit the carriage. She
took great care to not snag her delicate skirts.

“Shall I call upon you later this week and
take you to the museum? You mentioned before you had not been
yet.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea!” she
exclaimed, hopping out of the carriage. She lost her footing on the
icy sidewalk and slid a bit. Thomas lunged forward to offer some
assistant, his arms reaching out. “I am quite alright.” Emma
assured him as she steadied herself. “As I was saying, that sounds
wonderful. I cannot wait to see the Rosetta Stone! When shall we
go?” Emma paused, a sudden frown pulling at her lips. “I do not
have a chaperone though. My aunt has not yet arrived. Perhaps we
can postpone. I have not any clue where she is at this point.”

“I am sure I can a chaperone. I believe I
have some matronly relatives in town. Surely one will suffice as a
chaperone?”

“I suppose they must. I shall scarcely sleep
for thinking of our outing.”

“Do try to get some. You want to be alert
for the museum. A good friend of mine will give the tour. He has
worked there for many years.”

“Wonderful! Now, I need to go inside. It is
quite late and this is perhaps improper.”

“Naturally.” Thomas moved to leave the
carriage as well. He took her hand in his. “Have a good night.” He
placed a quick kiss on her palm.

Emma desperately wanted to ask if she would
see him before their trip to the British Museum. It would not do to
seem clingy. He would see her when he was free. He was not
required. Barely a day had passed where she had not been on the
receiving end of one of his charming smiles. She did not want to
miss them for a single moment. Then, there was that kiss.

“I do not believe I can call on you
tomorrow, but I will see you at the theatre, yes?”

“Wednesday night? Yes, of course. I heard
this one is really good.”

“Well, go inside then. Sleep well,
Emma.”

Inside the house, the butler Lewis stood
waiting in the foyer. He had been part of the household since the
girls were in nappies. He rose from a lowly footman to the exalted
position of butler. Lewis knew all of the intricacies of the
households, including their darker secrets. As such, he was quite
protective of the Wren family. Emma was a favourite of his for she
had a kind heart, always inquiring after his health. Caroline too
was kind but in her own particular way. The sort of discreet
kindness that resulted in a prepared basket to take to his ailing
mother.

Never before had he stayed up to await the
arrival of young Emma. Normally it was her sister who stayed out
late, cavorting until the sun began to rise on the distant horizon.
She had returned home with her parents and immediately retired to
her room, claiming to be intensely tired. Tonight, it was Emma who
twirled in after hours, winter at her heels. She pulled off her
cloak, depositing it into the waiting hands of her maid.

“Good evening, Lewis,” she announced, ever
cheerful. Her smiles never failed to brighten up even the dourest
of servants. That quality coupled with her ability to render Lady
Sheridan speechless made her beloved. She glanced down at the
puddle her shoes were making. “I am so sorry. I know that Anna has
probably already finished her cleaning for the evening.”

“It is fine, my lady. I delayed her since
you had not yet arrived. You are quite late today,” he observed.
Lewis shut the door firmly in place and locked it.

“I am aware. Tho-Lord Hartwell and I were
discussing our honeymoon and it ran overlong. We ran into a former
acquaintance of his.”

“Emma, you should not dawdle and discuss
your private business with the servants. You should leave your bad
habits here and not take them with you to your new home. I am sure
Lord Hartwell would prefer his wife to act as befitting her
station.”

“Mother, it is dreadfully late. I am not in
the mood for your lectures. I will treat Lewis and the others as I
see fit. When I marry Lord Hartwell and become mistress in his
home, I will still treat them as humans. They have lives as you and
I do. It may not be proper, but how I can spend my whole life being
waited upon by a group of people and not get to know them at
all?”

Lady Sheridan did not know why she continued
to berate her daughter on her behaviour. She had rarely heeded any
of the advice that her mother deemed important. She had to admit
that she was engaged despite all her flaws and Caroline was not.
She simply could not sleep soundly without correcting Emma. She was
not improper in public where it truly mattered, so perhaps it would
cause no issues. After all, Emma was to be married soon and her
actions would be Lord Hartwell's issue. Yet, she had many sleepless
nights.

That was easier thought than done. If Emma
had inherited anything from Lady Sheridan, it was her stubbornness.
She refused to admit she was wrong in berating her daughter. So,
she simply narrowed her eyes.

“Go to your room immediately.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at her mother. A
small part of her wanted to retort and insist she was not to be
ordered around anymore. But, it was late, after all. She was tired
and her bed was calling out to her. Emma decided to be a dutiful
daughter and appease her mother.

“As you wish.” She walked over to her mother
and kissed her on the cheek. “Good night.”

In shock from the unwarranted display of
affection, Lady Sheridan could do little other than stare up at her
daughter as she ascended the stairs. Lewis smothered a burgeoning
smile.

“Is there anything you require, My Lady, or
am I free to also retire?”

“Hmm…what? Oh yes, please carry on, Lewis.
You can sleep. The hour is late and we should all be asleep.” She
straightened her posture, assuming her role of Countess. Lewis
bowed as she swept past him and climbed the stairs. The butler then
finished up his duties of closing up the house for the night.

Emma opened the door to her chamber,
surprising Mary, her maid. The young woman had been bent over a
stack of books upon Emma’s desk, furiously rifling through one.

“Mary! I did not know you to be such an avid
reader,” she announced.

The maid dropped into a curtsy. “I just like
the feel of the pages, my lady.” She slammed the book shut. “Shall
I help you undress?”

“Yes, please. I am exhausted.”

Caroline had insisted since they first began
visiting London to have the room overlooking the street. Lady
Sheridan had insisted that she should take the bigger room that
overlooked the garden. It was quieter, more fitting for a lady. But
Caroline had ignored her and demanded the smaller room. She liked
the drama of the street view. Granted, they did live in Mayfair, so
it was perhaps not as interesting as she might have wished. But,
with the small balcony, she could sit outside when the weather was
nice (wearing a large sun hat though) and be admired.

But it was March and far too cold to recline
in the sunshine. Instead, she took to staring mournfully out the
windows into the pitch-black night sky. This night, after a
dreadful time at Almack's, she was awaiting the arrival of Emma.
Everyone in the house was. She had disappeared in Almack's. Not
quite disappeared, Caroline had seen Lord Hartwell and her walk out
onto an empty balcony.

In Caroline's esteemed opinion, it was far
too cold for any dilly-dallying outside. Emma was new to courtship
so she could be forgiven. The blonde had thought nothing of this
occurrence. They were engaged and despite what many believed, she
had no plans on breaking their betrothal. Emma was her sister and
she had always been infatuated with Lord Hartwell. It was nothing
for Caroline to give him up to her. It further helped her
plans.

Shortly after the couple had disappeared
outside, an unknown woman accosted Caroline. After the encounter,
she learned this woman was Lady Genevieve Carradine, newly arrived
from the Continent. She was also a fright. Caroline disliked her on
sight because Lady Carradine's looks nearly matched her own. Close,
but did not surpass. Despite Caroline's own ignorance of this new
face, Lady Carradine greeted her by name.

“Lady Wren, have you seen Lord
Hartwell?”

“Even if I did know his whereabouts, why
would I give them to you?”

“I am an old friend of Lord Hartwell's. I
want to see him and he will be most pleased in seeing me again. I
do light up this droll ballroom.”

“I am sure you are aware, if you are
approaching me for his location, that he is betrothed to my
sister.”

Lady Carradine had wrinkled her nose. This
thought was far too distasteful for her to even comprehend. “I had
heard such news, yes.” She fanned herself absently. Caroline's eyes
focused in on the silk fan edged in lace. The quality of it was
extraordinary; it must have cost a small fortune.

“I am afraid I am neither my sister's nor
Lord Hartwell's keeper. Perhaps you could ask Lady Worthing. She
keeps an eye on them both better than I do.”

“That foul blonde girl with her insipid
friends?” She asked, tossing her head back. “I visited them first
and she would not tell me.”

Caroline did not find this news shocking.
Lavinia may want Lord Hartwell for herself, but she was not so low
as to direct a dreadfully beautiful woman to his location. That was
simply too cruel.

“Then I simply do not know what to tell
you.”

Lady Carradine looked Caroline over, eyes
searching her face. She shrugged her shoulders. “It is no matter. I
always end up getting what I want.” Her bow-shaped lips quirked
into a smug smirk, before she took her leave.

As soon as she was a respectable distance
away, Lavinia and her friends surrounded Caroline. They all spoke
out-of-turn, their voices jumbled together and she could not make
out their explanations. With a hand, Caroline silenced the
trio.

“You, Lavinia, explain.”

“That is Lady Carradine, formerly Miss
Worthing. She has spent most of her life on the Continent and knows
many of the young men. It is rumoured she has been a mistress of
the Prince Regent and many other high-profile men. That is how she
got her marriage to an earl. Lady Jersey is even afraid to cross
her because of the powerful men behind her.”

“How intriguing,” Caroline replied. She was
impressed despite her disapproval of the woman. Women who commanded
respect, no matter how they achieved it, were always of
interest.

“She's absolutely horrid. All of our suitors
have been far more impressed with her than us tonight,”
Mademoiselle La Roux whined.

“If they are truly interested in you then
why would they be so distracted by a married woman? She is
unattainable,” offered Caroline.

“According to the rules of marriage, yes,
but I am not so sure,” Lavinia whispered. This topic of
conversation was highly inappropriate for the hallowed walls of
Almack's. If any of the proprietresses heard, surely they could be
banned. Since none of them had any good marriage prospects, it was
best to keep this topic quiet.

The clip clopping of horse's hooves echoed
throughout the empty streets. It was past the time of the steady
rumble of carriages as the ton returned to their dwellings. The
coach was slowing to a stop in front of the Sheridan townhouse. It
must be Emma.

Sure enough, her short sister hopped out of
the carriage with all the grace of a newborn fawn. She, of course,
slipped on the ice and barely kept her balance. Lord Hartwell, ever
the gentleman, was quick to aid her. Caroline clucked her
tongue.

“They're like something out of a romance
novel,” she murmured, face pressing against the glass.

In minutes, Emma was safely inside. The
coach disappeared down the street towards the more impressive
lodgings of the Duke of Kellaway. Caroline left her perch at the
window. She walked over to her writing desk and picked up the note
she received today.

It came from some unknown admirer. Perhaps
admirer was too kind of a term since the contents were vaguely
threatening. Whoever it was, this person had awful handwriting. At
least have the decency to perfect your script before sending notes
to daughters of earls.

Dear Lady W,

Your sister’s nuptials draw ever more near.
Would you care to hear of some news that will surely send Lord H
sprinting back into your arms?

It, naturally, remained unsigned. Caroline
wondered if this “news” had much to do with those rumours of Emma
with a soldier. No one of any sense gave that tale much credit. The
ton actually rallied behind the younger daughter even while she was
away in the country. That could not be the secret.

Her sister hardly had a stellar life, so she
could truly not think of any event or secret that would cause every
upright man to forsake her fortune. Especially not Lord
Hartwell.

“That reminds me...,” she said to herself,
rifling through the papers on her desk. Two days ago, she had
received a note from the man himself. He asked for her aid in
setting up a surprise for Emma. He was also employing the help of
their aunt, who was already in town. Quite odd of her to not send
around her card to announce her arrival. But Aunt Lucille always
did whatever she wanted and had not suffered for it. It was still
dashed odd.