The Hopeless Hoyden (16 page)

             
She contemplated skipping dinner, but she was hungry. Besides, sooner or later she’d have to face everyone. 

             
Taking pains to appear her best, she chose a cream-colored muslin trimmed with gold braid.  She instructed Grace to pull her curls back in a tight chignon, hoping the severe style would add sophistication to her toilette.  More than a little apprehensive at facing Gabriel, she waited until the last minute before going down to dinner, knowing that everyone would already be in the drawing room.  Her plan was to hide in her corner. 

             
But all was for naught, for Gabriel stood at the head of the stairs.

             
“I've been waiting for you, Emily," he said, taking her hand and threading it through the crook of his arm.  “I was beginning to fear you were not going to show.”  When she didn’t answer, he pressed her hand tight against his side.  She felt a tingling warmth begin to spread though her veins and flushed at the memories this conjured up.

             
Gabriel leaned his head closer to hers.  “I've decided to announce our engagement after dinner."

             
Her steps faltered in the middle of the stairs, bringing him up short on the step below her.  Meeting him on eye level, she shook her head. “No."

             
He sighed wearily.  "I fear Cecil can't be trusted to keep quiet--"

             
“I do not care--"

             
“And I will not have you made the brunt of my cousin's vile tongue."

             
“You do not want to marry me, Gab."

             
“Emily--"

             
“Hey, Gab!"

             
Looking over his shoulder, Gabriel saw Freddy, hailing him from the bottom of the stairs.

             
“Been looking for you," the baron said.  “Chesterfield said there's a cock fight in Cheltenham, two days hence.  Plan to go?"

             
Gabriel gave Emily an apologetic look and whispered, “We'll continue this discussion later."

             
As the trio made for the drawing room, Pickering was on hand to open the door and, after a nod from Gabriel, announced that dinner was served.               

             
Throughout dinner, Emily endured Cecil's dark stare, seemingly piercing through her.  Why Gabriel's cousin so disliked her was beyond her ken.  Admittedly, she detested the sharp bite to his drawling sarcasm and suspected he possessed the best motive for seeking Gabriel's demise.  Cecil, after all, was next in the line of succession.  But why should he look daggers at her?

             
Of course!  If she married Gabriel, that meant sons--making Cecil's chances of inheriting nil.  It was as plain as the freckles across the nose on her very warm face, as she contemplated that idea for a moment.  That was why Cecil was so furious when he came upon Gabriel and her.  And it explained why Cecil was so livid when Gabriel announced their engagement.               

             
Cecil had also been at Cleeve Hill.  He could easily have slipped that barbed piece of wood under Ajax's blanket.  And she saw him sneak out of the house the first night she was here, no doubt to meet up with his accomplice.  All along she’d suspected it was Cecil whom she’d overheard that fateful day plotting to take the Viscount’s life. 

             
Then it hit her.  When Cecil had let loose his vitriol today, she had heard that same note of vile that she’d heard from the gentleman plotting Gabriel’s murder in the woods.

             
Fidgeting, Emily realized they’d only completed the first course of mushroom soup, mutton, beef, and pheasant.  They still had the second course to go, along with desert.  Even after the meal ended, she would have to retire to the drawing room with the other ladies while the gentlemen drank their Port.

             
The evening seemed interminable.  But she had to talk with Gabriel.  She knew he also suspected his cousin was his enemy.  But now she had proof!

*** Chapter 8 ***

             
Emily was on pins and needles.  Time stretched from the interminable supper to her lonely vigil after dinner, waiting for the men to join the ladies in the drawing room.   At last she saw Gabriel appear in the doorway and was assailed with second thoughts.  Would he believe his cousin capable of plotting such a despicable crime, murder to obtain the title and inheritance? 

             
When his eyes came to rest on her, these thoughts flew from her mind as she suddenly recalled his intention to tell the house guests of the engagement.  Rising from her chair as he came over to her, she knew she first had to prevent the announcement.  After that, she’d reveal her discovery. 

             
As he took her hand and she met his velvety brown gaze, her pulse began to race.

             
“My lord, I must talk with you," she urgently whispered.

             
“Yes, my love," he said, bringing her hand to his lips, “in just a few moments, you may have all the time you want."

             
“But you do not understand.  I mean, you must listen to me.  You are doing this because of Cecil--"

             
“Trust me, Emily," he interrupted her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.  "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, quieting everyone in the room while Emily desperately struggled to free her hand.  But Gabriel must have suspected she'd bolt to forestall the announcement.  His grasp was like a vice. 

             
“It is my great honor to announce that the Honorable Miss Emily Pendleton has consented to be my future bride."  With that, he planted a chaste peck on her cheek while whispering out of the corner of his mouth nearest to her ear, “It’s not a funeral, Em.  Smile."

             
But Emily wasn’t so sure.  Sylvia and her mother both let out little shrieks of shock before pained smiles graced their faces.  Deborah looked disgusted. Freddy, who had been taking a sip of wine, sputtered a mouthful back into the goblet.  And Cecil looked like he wanted to kill someone before he made for the table that held a tray of wine glasses and several decanters of wine.

             
Plastering a grin on her countenance, Emily did as he bid, though for the moment it meant she was committing herself to him and dreadfully complicating the situation.  As everyone came up to the happy couple to extend best wishes, several people, including Chesterfield and Jane, appeared genuinely happy for her.  And Aunt Esmeralda was simply ecstatic.  So Emily smiled until she thought her face would crack. 

             
“You sly puss," Aunt Esmeralda said, pulling her aside and playfully slapping Emily's wrist with her ivory-spoked fan. “I should have guessed what you were up to when I saw you here.  And you never let on with the slightest hint.  What a smart one you are, to be sure!"

             
Lady Raines was considerably less enthused.  “Best wishes to you, my dear.  I suppose the
ton
won't be seeing much of you in the future as there's no need for you to do the Season now.  Of course, you do have an aversion for society, do you not?"

             
Sylvia could barely be civil.  With a flushed countenance that further attested to her anger, she grounded out her compliments through clenched teeth.  “How clever of you, Emily.  You have managed to do quite well for yourself.  And to think of all the people who swore Lindemann wasn't the marrying kind."

             
Of course, for Gabriel, the spiteful beauty was all smiles and happy wishes, bestowing two, nay, three warm congratulatory kisses on him.  Emily fumed inwardly and would have kicked the blond cat if Freddy hadn’t claimed her attention.

             
“Liked you best all along," the baron said, playing with a star-shaped patch on one chubby cheek.  “Parson's mousetrap'll be good for him.  Needs someone, you know.  Won’t say I ain’t surprised," he added before giving her a peck on the side of her mouth.  When he drew back, his eyes grew wide, and Emily watched, fascinated, as he brought his hand up to her face, one sausage index finger extended.               

             
“Beg pardon," he said, flicking the corner of her mouth with his nail, then swiping the air with the same hand.  He opened his palm to reveal the black star before moving aside.

             
“Excuse me," Deborah said, neatly cutting across Freddy's path.  “Emily dear, what a splendid match.  How nice that we’ll be cousins."  Deborah’s smile looked as strained as Emily's felt before she let out a brittle laugh.  “And just when is the wedding?"

             
“No date has been set as yet," Gabriel intervened, slipping an arm about Emily's waist, drawing her close to his side.  Emily wanted to hint that there might not be a wedding, at least anytime soon, but Gabriel's nearness effectively disturbed her senses, making it impossible for her to concentrate on much else.

             
Then Tom was before Emily with a huge grin on his face, lighting up his blue eyes.  "This is great, Em.  It even tops the time you rode Squire Stratton's prize bull."  His joy was obvious as he stuck out his hand to Gabriel.

             
But the Viscount gave her brother a quirky grin.  “You'll forgive me, Tom, but I'll forego your hand for now.  I find myself disinclined to release your sister."

             
“Like earlier, Cuz?"  Cecil, with one sardonic eyebrow raised, sauntered up behind Tom.

             
When Gabriel refused to rise to Cecil's baiting, Emily couldn't decide if she were glad or not.  From his expression, she guessed the Viscount would like to ram Cecil's teeth down his throat.  Emily figured the only reason Gabriel didn't was because of the questions such behavior would raise, questions that were better left unanswered.

             
Ellison, standing on the other side of Gabriel, had another matter on his mind.  “I say, was this the reason for all the noise I heard earlier?"

             
“What noise?" asked Tom.

             
“Gunfire," the dandy replied.  “I was in the garden, searching for the right flower to match my puce waistcoat, when I heard shots."

             
When Gabriel's chuckled, Emily cast a warning glance at him before saying, "Gab was teaching me to shoot--"

             
“No, Em!" Tom exclaimed.  “I promised Squire Stratton."

             
The expression of horror on her brother's face had Gabriel grinning broadly.  “It's all right, Tom.  She'll not get near a gun unless I'm around to protect the unsuspecting populace."

             
Ellison shook his head in confusion.  "I say, what's all this?"

             
“Em can't sight a target," Tom loudly pronounced for the edification of all.

             
“Really? I am surprised," crooned Sylvia.  "I would have thought our provincial miss would be a dead shot."

             
Aunt Esmeralda reached over and patted Emily's hand.  “Pay her no mind, Emily dear.  You landed your viscount.  I call that excellent marksmanship."

             
Fortunately, while Emily tried to ignore her fiancé’s suspicious coughing and Sylvia’s offended gasp, no one commented on Lady Spivey's remark.

             
“Great sport,” Freddy said.  “Shooting that is."

             
Cecil quirked one dark eyebrow.  “Do you think so, Fordyce?  Perhaps a small contest would be in order.  What say you, Cuz?"

             
“What a wonderful idea," seconded Sylvia, throwing Emily an arched look.  “A contest in which everyone participates?"

             
“Yes, fair lady," Cecil smirked.  “Gabriel can have the servants set up targets tomorrow.  Then we'll see just how much our dear Emily learned today.”

             
Emily inwardly cringed at Cecil’s crude double entendre, though Gabriel scowled at his cousin.  She was relieved when Gabriel let the slur go by and called for champagne instead of his cousin's blood. 

             
The rest of the evening passed in much the same way, and a melancholy haze enveloped Emily, even though Gabriel steadfastly stayed by her side.  This enabled her to endure with composure Aunt Esmeralda's giddy elation, Sylvia and her mother's snide innuendoes, and Deborah's sugary patronage.   

             
Even Ellison and Chesterfield acted queer, the former stating he regretted not having the opportunity to develop a more colorful relationship with her--whatever that meant--while the latter sought her opinion on the merits of night crawlers over blood worms for catching trout.

             
The only persons who truly seemed happy for her were Tom, Freddy, and Jane.  In an excessively jolly mood, Freddy commandeered from Pickering the tray of champagne filled goblets to pass around.  With a flourish, the baron proffered the silver server first to Emily.  She noticed he'd reapplied the black star, though the patch quivered with his wide grin and appeared dangerously close to falling off again.