Julia London (8 page)

“And have you found the May Day Ball to your liking, Miss Forsythe?” he asked, his eyes never leaving her, one hand gripping hers firmly, the other riding high on her waist and covering her ribs.

“Quite,” she managed to get out, unthinkingly staring at his remarkably full lips. Full and glistening and—

“I’ve always found the spring season to be the best time of year for balls, as it is neither too cold nor too warm.”

Actually, Emily felt a little warm. “It’s quite lovely,” she rasped. “Perhaps the loveliest of all that I’ve attended thus far. Yet I understand that the annual Charity Auction Ball is much grander than this. Have you attended in the past?”

“I have, from time to time.”

“Do you think it is more or less grand than the May Day Ball?”

He chuckled at her eagerness. “In truth, I have not given it as much thought as that. I suppose I find all balls rather grand.”

“Then do you plan to attend this year’s Charity Auction Ball?” Emily asked, immediately regretting her words, realizing how forward she must seem.

As if to confirm it, he cocked one brow high above the other. “I have not as yet made plans,” he said politely.

Anxious to cover her gaffe, Emily quickly stammered, “You . . . you are a wonderful dancer, my lord.”

“How kind of you to remark. But I must give all credit to my partner, for she makes it quite easy to move about the dance floor,” he said, and twirled her around, pulling her closer as he did. Emily could only hope that her knees wouldn’t buckle with the force of her exhilaration.

She stared at his perfectly tied neckcloth for a moment, trying to push the feel of his hands on her body out of the forefront of her mind. When she looked up again, she noted that his gaze had shifted away from her; he was looking at someone else. “My mother and I enjoyed our ride in the park,” she said quickly to draw his attention back to her.

“Did you? I found it quite pleasant, particularly after the rain we’ve endured.”

“Yes indeed . . . I am glad the rain has gone for the time being, but I’m rather impressed with the spring flowers that have begun to pop up. They are flourishing in the park.”

“Quite right, Miss Forysthe. I am certain that in a fortnight’s time, the blooms will be a magnificent sight to behold.” He twirled her one way, then the other.

“Yellow tulips are my favorite,” she added breathlessly, and had a sudden image of him on her doorstep, an enormous bouquet of yellow tulips wrapped in bright paper in his arms.

“Mmm,” he said, twirling her around again.

“Do you have a favorite flower, my lord?”

The question seemed to take him aback; he blinked. “I don’t believe I have a favorite, Miss Forsythe. I like them all, I suppose. Including your yellow tulips.”

Emily beamed up at him. He smiled again, then shifted his gaze above her head, and spun her into the thick of the dancers. He did not speak again, and Emily, having quite exhausted her repertoire of suitable things to discuss with a gentleman when one is dancing, could not seem to find anything to say. It was as if her mind was completely blank, save the incredible sensation of his hands on her body.

As the dance came to its conclusion, Montgomery stepped back and bowed, and Emily curtsied, frantically thinking of how to keep his attention. As he escorted her from the dance floor, she could think of absolutely nothing civilized with which to keep him engaged, and in a moment of sheer insanity, she put the back of her hand to her forehead and said in a whimper, “I feel a bit weak.”

Montgomery instantly put his hand on her back to steady her and grabbed her arm. “Are you quite all right, Miss Forsythe?”

Not entirely, for she hadn’t thought past this bit of drama, and now she felt as if she’d gone too far with it. She didn’t know what to do—other than faint.

Right into his arms.

She heard the shriek of a woman, heard Montgomery bark for someone to clear the way, felt him pick her up, one arm beneath her knees, the other beneath her back, and carry her—
carry her!
—to the chairs along the wall. As he put her down in a chair, he pressed his palm to her face. “Miss Forsythe!”

Emily slowly opened her eyes—he was kneeling before her, looking terribly concerned. She had not imagined a moment such as this could be so unbearably romantic and chastised herself for not thinking of it weeks earlier than this. What if she’d fainted at the church social? That would have sped things along quite well.

“Dear God, Miss Forsythe, are you quite all right? Do you feel ill?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” she said weakly.

“Stand aside, son—I’m a physician,” an old man said and leaned down before Emily. Dr. Hamblen’s face loomed so large as he peered into her eyes that she could no longer see Lord Montgomery. Blast it all, Dr. Hamblen was ruining everything! Even worse, several people had gathered round her and were staring at her with fright and concern. All but Tabitha, that was, who appeared on Emily’s left and gazed down at her with complete disdain.

Emily ignored Tabitha and strained to see around Dr. Hamblen—who was now holding two fingers against the pulse in her neck—to see Montgomery.

He was standing back, his hands on his hips, his legs braced apart, watching intently as Dr. Hamblen examined her.

“Her heart is racing a bit, but I think it nothing to fret about,” the doctor proclaimed, straightening, and turning to Montgomery. “She’s a healthy young lady. I’ve seen this sort of thing more than once—young ladies just out become caught up in the sights and sounds of a ball, you see, but their tender constitutions are not mature enough to endure all the excitement.”

“Thank God it’s nothing serious,” Montgomery said and looked at Emily. “My dear Miss Forsythe, you gave me quite a fright,” he said kindly. “I should not have stayed with you so long on the dance floor.”

“Oh, no!” she insisted weakly. “It is not your fault, my lord! I am certain it’s the heat—I find it rather warm in here.”

“A spot of punch will cool her down,” Dr. Hamblen said.

“I’ll fetch it,” Tabitha sighed wearily.

Dr. Hamblen looked at Montgomery and smiled. “You need not fret, my lord. I suggest you go about your evening. I shall keep a close eye on her for a few moments and ensure she is suitably recovered.”

“You’re quite certain?”

“Absolutely,” he said, and Emily imagined kicking the good doctor in the arse.

Montgomery nodded, stepped forward, and lifted Emily’s limp hand to his lips. “Thank you for the honor of your dance,” he said. “And promise me that you will be more careful of vigorous dancing in the future.”

“It wasn’t the dance,” she said again. “I felt perfectly fine. More than fine, really.”

He chuckled as he stepped aside so that Dr. Hamblen might put his hand to her forehead.

A few moments later, when Tabitha returned with the punch, most of the onlookers had wandered off, including Dr. Hamblen, who had peered at her closely and proclaimed her quite recovered. Only two debutantes remained behind, their backs to her, but whispering to one another as they stole glimpses of Emily over their shoulder.

Tabitha sat on the edge of a chair beside Emily and handed her the punch. “How do you feel?” she asked with a bit of sarcasm in her voice that Emily did not care for.

“I am improved, but not fully recovered.” She sipped the punch.

“I’ll stay until you are,” Tabitha said with a sigh, and leaned back in her seat, to have had a look around the room. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Look who’s come, will you? It’s that scoundrel, Lord Connery!”

Emily looked to where Tabitha indicated. “The scoundrel?”

“Have you not heard the rumors about him?” Tabitha asked, lighting up. “Do you recall that we were speaking of the vicar’s widow?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes.”

“Well.” Tabitha paused, glanced around them to make sure no one was too close. “I attended a tea at Lady Southbridge’s just two days past and overheard her remark to Mrs. Bledsoe that Widow Becket would do well to have a care for her reputation, for more than one trustworthy person had seen her traipsing carelessly about Mayfair, unescorted, in the company of Lord Connery!”

“The devil you say!” Emily whispered harshly.

“It’s quite true!” Tabitha insisted. “Lady Southbridge said that they had been seen together in some scandalously disreputable locations and that honestly, it was not the first time since her husband’s tragic death Widow Becket had demonstrated a lack of care in either her whereabouts or the company which she keeps!”

Ah, for the love of God! Emily closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. Lady Southbridge’s atrocious lack of hearing was to blame for this mess.
Not
Lord Connery!
Lord Montgomery!
And now what was she to do?

“I really had never thought of her at all until you mentioned it,” Tabitha said.

“Widow Becket is quite free with her affections, you may be sure,” Emily muttered irritably. “Lord Connery, Lord Anyname, it matters not to her!”

“No!” Tabitha gasped loudly.

“Yes!” Emily said. “I’ve even heard it rumored that she’s been in the company of Lord Dillingham.”

That was met with cold silence from Tabitha.

“I’ve a horrid ache in my head,” Emily moaned, as she tried to make sense of her thoughts.

“Oh come now, you needn’t pretend with me,” Tabitha chastised her and took the cup from her hand. “I know what you’re about.”

At that moment, another, better idea occurred to Emily, and she opened her eyes. “What
I’m
about?”

Tabitha rolled her eyes and slumped back in her chair. “That bit of fainting—it was for his lordship’s benefit. Admit it.”

Emily gave her a wry smile. “You are ignorant at times, Tabitha,” she said with much superiority. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard the rumors about Montgomery, then, have you?”

“No. I suppose even
he’s
been seen with Widow Becket?”

“Not about Widow Becket!” Emily said crossly. “About for whom he intends to offer!”

Tabitha sat up now and scooted to the edge of her seat. “No! Who is it, then? Please don’t say that wretched Miss Smythe. She thinks herself so superior to us all!”

Emily chuckled low, took the cup of punch from Tabitha’s hand, drank her fill, set it aside, and clasped her hands in her lap.

“Emily! Don’t be coy!” Tabitha cried.
“Who?”

“Really, can’t you see it with your very own eyes?” she asked, laughing at Tabitha’s eagerness. “Who did Lord Montgomery seek out and accompany on a long ride about Hyde Park just yesterday? And who is the first person he danced with upon arriving at this ball? And might you guess
who
he inquired as to her favorite flower, then declared it
his
favorite flower, too, and furthermore, how early spring, what with all the
dancing,
and the
flowers,
and the
rides about the park,
is his favorite time of year?”

Tabitha’s eyes widened.

“That’s right,” Emily said, nodding. “He’s a particular interest in
me,
” she said, and watched Tabitha’s eyes widen with surprise. And all right, then, a bit of shock, too.

A few days after the May Day Ball, Kate and her father returned from their weekly calls to the elderly in a bit of a deluge; it was as if the heavens had opened up and poured out a sea of water on London. They were met in the foyer by William, a servant in the vicar’s employ.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Mrs. Becket, but ye’ve callers,” he said, taking her reticule from her.

“Callers? In this storm?” Papa asked, and exchanged a curious look with Kate. Together, they walked to the door of the small parlor of the vicar’s guest house and peeked inside.

There were four men inside, all right, and they surged to their feet almost as one the moment they saw Kate. Papa strode into the room; behind him, Kate hastily removed her bonnet and tried to smoothe her hair before following him.