Tempted By The Roguish Lord. Mary Brendan

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       Chapter Four

      ‘You seem a bit down in the dumps, Em. What’s up?’

      ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to be a sourpuss.’ Emma had been dwelling on her mounting problems as she and Dawn Sanders promenaded. They were intending to look at the window displays of the new French modiste who’d lately set up in business on Regent Street. ‘Nothing is wrong really.’ A bright smile lifted the frown from her face as she linked arms with her companion. She was actually enjoying herself; the two young women had been close since schooldays and were comfortable enough with one another to be able to discuss things that they couldn’t mention to anybody else. Even so, Emma daren’t confide in Dawn about recent events. A genuine concern that she could air was niggling at her, though. ‘I’m worried that Papa wasn’t back before I left. The physician has warned him to rest his bad leg or it will worsen.’ Her father had said he’d only be out an hour or two, but hadn’t returned. With such vital goings-on rumbling in the background she’d been brooding on what might have delayed him.

      Last autumn he’d stumbled while pruning the garden and an ulcer had developed on his shin. The pain of it often made him wobbly on his feet. Emma prayed he’d not tired himself out and taken a tumble while searching the East End for Robin. He had gone off earlier, buoyant about a reunion with his son. But he had warned his daughter to be constantly on her guard: stealth was called for, he’d said, until a good lawyer was consulted on the best way to bring her brother back into the bosom of his family. Emma had been made to promise—unnecessarily—that she wouldn’t breathe a word about any of it.

      ‘Mr Waverley called on my father just after midday and they went off together to their club.’ Dawn reassured her friend with a pat on the arm. ‘Your papa looked in fine fettle. They’re probably too mellow with brandy by now to notice their aches and pains.’ She grimaced. ‘Papa’s arthritis rarely keeps him at home. I wish it would,’ she added darkly. ‘Then he might not have met that woman.’

      Emma knew her friend was referring to the widow to whom Mr Sanders was betrothed. Dawn didn’t get along with her prospective stepmother and had told Emma—only half-joking—that she’d marry any gentleman who asked her just so that she wouldn’t have to live beneath the same roof as Julia Booth after the wedding at Michaelmas.

      ‘Oh, drat!’ Emma groaned. Up ahead was somebody she definitely didn’t want to bump in to. Joshua’s wife didn’t like her, as was perfectly understandable, considering the woman had first been married to Simon. It wasn’t only the scandal surrounding Simon’s death that had made Veronica bitter towards her. The woman had found out that Joshua had proposed to Emma Waverley, and been turned down, before he’d settled on her as a substitute. Emma wondered how much more resentful Veronica would feel if she ever found out Joshua was still lusting after his first choice.

      ‘Let’s browse the counters in here.’ Dawn had seen the direction of her friend’s consternated gaze and steered them towards a small haberdasher’s. Emma had told her she’d been propositioned by Joshua Gresham many months ago. ‘Has that disgusting lecher been bothering you again?’ she whispered.

      ‘He visited earlier,’ Emma informed her, gladly entering the shop with Dawn. ‘Unfortunately Papa had already gone out, but I managed to quickly get rid of him.’

      Or rather the Earl of Houndsmere had, ran through her mind. But she couldn’t tell Dawn about that gentleman without also going into how they’d met. And her night-time trip to see Robin had to remain a secret, even from her best friend.

      At a safe distance, it all seemed like the sort of thrilling adventure that happened to intrepid heroines in novels. Being rescued from robbers by a handsome earl, then dashing through dark streets in a racing phaeton with him at the reins, didn’t really happen to shabby-genteel spinsters. But it had happened to her. Alas, with her family’s well-being tangled up in it the gloss had been tarnished.

      It was no romantic fantasy. The Earl of Houndsmere could present as real a threat to them as did Joshua Gresham.

      Gossip about their eminent visitor would soon be circulating after he’d turned up in the middle of the afternoon, creating a stir among the neighbours. People would assume that he was one of her father’s creditors, although why he would personally chase his debt when he could afford to send duns would be more of a puzzle to those determined to get to the bottom of it.

      ‘Bother!’ Emma had seen Joshua’s wife and her companion follow them into the shop.

      ‘I’ll wager that’s no coincidence. She’s pursuing us and is out to cause a bad atmosphere,’ Dawn warned.

      ‘Well, she’ll get no help from me in the doing of it!’ Emma said in a pithy whisper. It wouldn’t be the first time the woman had attempted to humiliate her. Veronica Gresham had nothing to crow about and there had been times when Emma had felt tempted to tell the woman about her vile husband just to wipe the smirk from her face. But she would not...could not...while a lingering guilt over Simon’s death remained with her. And it would until the day she died, she imagined, even though she had been an innocent dupe in all of it. But so had Veronica been fooled by Simon.

      ‘Miss Waverley...’ Veronica called with sly amity. ‘Don’t run off just as I’m about to say hello.

      ‘Heavens above, but she is determined!’ Dawn hissed, giving Emma an encouraging smile.

      The older woman stopped by the same counter and turned to a mousy-looking lady at her side. ‘This is poor Miss Waverley, her debut far behind her and still on the shelf. Her father has begged my husband to loan him money to get her wed, but still nobody wants her, it seems. I wonder why that might be?’

      Emma was too shocked to react for a second then she clipped out, ‘Thank you for your concern, but Miss Waverley is quite content with her lot. Good day.’ Though white-faced with fury, she dipped her head before moving on with Dawn. ‘The cheek of the witch!’ she fumed when they were outside. ‘To do something so ill after years have passed.’

      ‘Awful, wicked woman! It is little wonder Simon was unhappy. Who would want to be shackled to her?’ Dawn wrinkled her nose in disgust.

      Emma murmured agreement. Simon had told her that he’d been forced into a marriage by his family and that he didn’t love his wife and never would. But he wouldn’t have told her anything at all if Robin hadn’t confronted them at a tavern, halfway to Gretna, and beat the truth out of him. She realised that they might have lived together as man and wife for months before she finally discovered that her husband wasn’t her husband at all because he already had a wife living in Yorkshire.

      ‘Perhaps Veronica has guessed Joshua has designs on you and is feeling more hateful than usual,’ Dawn said.

      ‘I’ll never be her rival for that swine. Actually, they are a perfect match.’ Emma realised that it was understandable, if unforgivable, that Simon had sought happiness elsewhere.