The Heir and the Spare (10 page)

As Marksmith left the room, he noticed a frown of disapproval on the ladies’ faces.

Emilia was horrified at the way Phillip had talked to the butler. But without further ado, Phillip’s voice lost its edge. He introduced them to his father, who was sitting on the couch staring blankly ahead and showed no indication that he even registered the presence of two ladies.

“Don’t mind him,” Phillip said. “He’s feeling a touch under the weather. But do sit, you must be tired from your journey.”

Emilia finally took a moment to look around the room. Why, there must be thousands of books there! Gazing at the leather volumes, wondering what sort of wonderful stories rested within, she barely noticed the butler’s return with a tea tray.

“Phillip,” she asked, “may I borrow a book or two from your library?”

“Borrow all the books you’d like. But do take care; reading overmuch damages your brain,” he said offhandedly, and poured a liberal dose of brandy into his tea.

“I’ve read hundreds of books, and I can assure you, my brain is not damaged,” Emilia replied coldly.

Uninterested in continuing the subject, Phillip invited them to take a tour of his stables later that afternoon. Lady Palmerston made a show of stifling a yawn at that. He then launched into a passionate account of his favorite horse, which was sure to make him piles of money at Ascot this year. He seemed completely oblivious to their lack of interest.

Emilia had thought this house party would give her a chance to know him better, to learn more about him. But thus far, she did not care for her newfound knowledge. He disapproved of books and reading, which ruled out one potential topic of conversation between them. As a city girl, Emilia had no interest in the details of horseflesh. And Phillip was either oblivious to the fact that no one in the room was listening to him—Lady Palmerston was smoothing the folds of her skirt, and the duke had his eyes half closed—or he just didn’t care.

The duke opened his eyes, perhaps aware that Emilia was looking at him. Perhaps not. His gaze seemed to be on the fireplace.

Phillip was interrupted by the arrival of more guests. A few familiar-looking gentlemen had arrived, and after an introduction so brief Emilia barely caught the names, Phillip was leading his guests off for a tour of the stables. Before Emilia and her aunt had a moment to discuss what had just transpired, two more guests were shown into the library.

The Marchioness of Stillmore was introduced. She was a tall woman, with hair pulled back into a neat bun. The sharp features of her face made her seem quite stern, however her brown eyes were unmistakably bright and friendly. She immediately sat down next to Lady Palmerston and began to explain that Lord Stillmore had taken ill, but had fortunately recovered. Unfortunately, she and her daughter had missed the start of the season, and she was just dying for some gossip. Lady Palmerston eagerly filled her in.

Her daughter Annabelle was tall and slender, with golden curls, eyes like her mother’s—though obscured slightly behind glasses—and a face so friendly that Emilia immediately forgot her dismay over Phillip. Annabelle took a seat next to Emilia and helped herself to tea, adding an extra lump of sugar when her mother wasn’t looking.

“I’ve heard about you, and I can’t believe we have not met already. You’re from America, correct? What is it like there? Everyone says it’s crawling with savages and that wolves run through the streets at night. I don’t quite believe it though.”

Emilia laughed. “No. Maybe in the frontier towns, but I’m from Philadelphia. We are quite civilized. Although, according to my aunt, we are decades behind the latest fashions.”

“Oh! The horror!” Annabelle said and laughed. “So I suppose you are here to catch a husband.”

“Yes. And you as well?”

“I am already engaged. As my mother said, ‘It’s about time.’ This is my third season out now, and I held out for a love match, while my mother held out for a title.”

“And did you both get what you wished for?”

“Yes. My fiancé, George, Earl Winsworth, is here. Phillip’s cousin. You’ll meet him, if you haven’t already.”

“No, not yet.”

“I think he’s taking a tour of the stables with Lord Huntley. I can’t imagine anything more tedious,” Annabelle said. “Unless it’s embroidery, which is phenomenally dull.”

“I hate embroidery!” Emilia said.

Emilia quite liked this Annabelle. Though she adored her aunt, it was nice to have someone her own age to talk to.

Gradually, more guests arrived—Phillip’s bachelor friends, and some young ladies and their chaperones. Informed that the rooms were ready for the ladies, they left to freshen up before dinner.

Emilia was shown to a room painted a buttery yellow. There was a large bed, a wardrobe, and a table and chair near a window that overlooked the back gardens. She looked out at a maze of hedges and overflowing rows of lavender and roses in full bloom. She could see, in the distance, a river cutting through gently rolling hills.

Her maid, Meg, arrived to help her dress for dinner, and Annabelle had come “to help.” She was not of much assistance, however. She kept repeating inappropriate jokes that she had bribed her maid to tell her. Emilia was laughing so hard that Meg was having difficulty tightening her stays. After making sure her mistress was dressed, coiffed, and suitably made-up, Meg took her leave. Emilia sat down on the bed next to Annabelle.

“So rumor has it that you are practically betrothed to Phillip. Is it true?”

“Well, he hasn’t asked yet. I sense he might. He has been courting me quite . . . ardently.”

“Is he as much of a scoundrel as they say?” she asked in a mischievous whisper.

“No!” Emilia wailed. “He hasn’t tried anything. All he has done recently is kiss my gloved hand.” And in a whisper she added, “I know I am not supposed to want him to, but I do wish he’d take some liberties with me. A kiss, perhaps.”

“I understand completely. Perfect gentlemen are so dull. Wonderful, but dull,” Annabelle said with a smile that showed she was thinking fondly of her fiancé.

“He did once, you know,” Emilia confided.

“Really?” Annabelle’s eyes widened. “Oh my, you must explain.”

“It was at the Carrington Ball, my first in London. And I had twisted my ankle while dancing with, well, never mind that. I was then awaiting a doctor in the library, alone, and Phillip came in and, well, we kissed.”

“Oh, how was it? What was it like?”

“Oh, Annabelle.” Emilia sighed. “It was just scorching and passionate, and there are just no words to explain.”

“No wonder he is paying you so much attention.”

“Yes, but he is so strange about it. The next time I saw him, it was almost as if he did not remember it. And then he asked me to promise that it would never happen again.”

“Did you promise?”

“No, I don’t think I did,” Emilia said with a grin.

“Here is what I think you must do,” Annabelle said, sounding very serious all of a sudden.

“What is that?”

“You must kiss him again.”

“Annabelle, I was already planning on it.”

As
the new friends descended the stairs together, Emilia couldn’t help but notice the threadbare pink carpet, which reminded her of the overgrown state of the gardens. She thought it odd that someone so immaculately dressed (and terribly upset about a bit of tea upon his breeches) would have a house with such an air of neglect. Of course, it wasn’t technically Phillip’s home yet, and His Grace did not seem up to the task of managing such a large house. But weren’t dukes and their heirs supposed to be fabulously wealthy? She didn’t much care if Phillip was or not, as long as he wasn’t hankering after just her fortune.

Lost in thought, Emilia missed a step. She caught hold of the railing in time to prevent her from falling to the bottom of the stairs. But there was the unmistakable sound of fabric tearing.

“I suppose you’ve heard about how clumsy I am,” Emilia said to Annabelle.

“Yes, and I am jealous that I didn’t think to fall into a handsome man’s arms. Excellent strategy. But let me check your hem.” Annabelle bent down to look.

“Is it bad?” Emilia asked.

“No, it’s barely noticeable. Let’s go in to dinner. I’m famished.”

The dining room was painted a shade of milky blue, and two enormous crystal chandeliers hung above the table. The duke was presumably taking dinner elsewhere, and so Phillip assumed his seat at the end of the long mahogany table.

Emilia found her place and turned to the gentleman on her right, and found it was Lord Roxbury.

“Good evening, Miss Highhart. We meet again,” he said. “But under the most unusual circumstance.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Huntley has never hosted a proper house party before. I wonder what has brought about this change in him,” Roxbury said with a pointed half smile at her. Was he suggesting that Phillip had arranged this on her behalf? The thought was somewhat thrilling.

“I’m tempted to ask what sort of house parties he hosted before,” Emilia responded.

“I would tell you,” Roxbury said, dipping his head closer to hers, “but your chaperone would have my head, and I’m rather fond of it.”

Emilia laughed. “So what sort of house parties do you host, Lord Roxbury?”

“I only attend house parties hosted by others. To host them myself reeks of domesticity.”

“And that is a bad thing?”

“For a sworn bachelor such as myself, yes,” he said resolutely.

“But you are always calling on young, unmarried women. And dancing with them, and flirting with them.”

“Shall I let you in on a secret, Miss Highhart?” he said, his voice dropping.

“Please do. I love secrets.”

“You take after your aunt, in that respect.”

“The secret, Lord Roxbury . . .”

“The secret is this . . . There are two ways men avoid matrimony. One is to generally avoid marriageable females at all costs. The other is to surround yourself with so many that your name can never be concretely linked to a particular one.”

“And that is your strategy, I suppose.”

“Precisely. Have I broken your heart?”

“I’m devastated. And here I thought you held a particular
tendre
for me.”

“It would be unfortunate if I did. Your heart is clearly engaged elsewhere.”

Roxbury nodded his head toward the end of the table. To Phillip. She had forgotten about him, and all it took was a silly conversation with another handsome man. Emilia eyed Phillip, but couldn’t catch his eye, for he was listening intently to a story told by one of his friends, one that caused them all to burst into laughter.

“Do share with us what is so amusing,” Lady Palmerston demanded.

“Ah, madam, it is not appropriate for ladies to hear,” Phillip responded.

“Then it is not appropriate for the supper table,” Lady Stillmore added.

The man seated on Emilia’s left, Lord Knightly as he introduced himself, leaned toward her and said, “Ah, yes, the pleasurable company of young ladies is forever tainted by the ubiquitous chaperone.”

“Perhaps,” Emilia replied. “But at least you only encounterthem a few hours per day, whereas we young ladies spend every waking moment in their presence.”

“Touché,” he said with a smile. “It must be quite tedious.”

“Actually, I find my aunt rather amusing.”

“Everyone finds Lady Palmerston amusing. However, as a bachelor, avoiding the machinations of chaperones can be quite exhausting. Your chaperone must have quite a task, keeping you out of the clutches of Huntley.”

“I think she only allows him to court me so she can come along and cut him down. And,” Emilia whispered, “I think she enjoys it.”

Lord Knightly laughed. He was handsome, with sandy brown hair and bright green eyes. She already liked him more than any of the other young men she had met—he seemed so genuine. In fact, had it not been for that scorching kiss with Phillip, she might have set her cap for Knightly. She wondered how many other men she had overlooked these past few weeks while thinking of nothing but That Kiss. Oh, that damned kiss. She could feel her cheeks getting hot at the memory. She must not think of such things at the dinner table.

“I’d give a fortune to know what caused that blush,” Knightly said quietly.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Really.” Unfortunately, she thought, it probably was nothing. Just one kiss that she ought to forget.

“Young ladies aren’t supposed to know things that cause blushes like that,” he said, attempting to sound stern, but the mirth in his eyes gave him away.

Emilia was saved from replying by the footmen bringing the next course, duck in orange sauce.

“How do you know Lord Huntley?” she asked.

“School days at Oxford, we belong to the same club, that sort of thing. Actually, I was better friends with—”

Phillip’s laugh rang out again. Emilia automatically turned to the sound. He was so handsome. It almost hurt to look at him. The candlelight lent a golden glow to his skin and cast shadows on the planes of his cheeks. When he was actually engaged in conversation, his eyes lit up and his mouth turned up at the corners. But why didn’t
she
bring that out in him?

At the conclusion of the meal, the ladies departed for tea in the drawing room, while the men stayed behind for port and cigars. Annabelle immediately pulled Emilia aside. “George, my fiancé, told me that there are the ruins of a castle from the Middle Ages on the property. He said we should go tomorrow if the weather is nice.”

“Oh, that sounds splendid! I’ve always wanted to see ancient ruins. I’ve read about them, but everything is too new in America, so I’ve never seen them. But I should hate to intrude on you two.”

“Nonsense. You know we couldn’t go without an entire entourage, lest someone be ruined at the ruins,” Annabelle said. Both girls giggled at that.