A Christmas Wedding Wager (11 page)

'You are taking a risk, Miss Harrison, a definite risk.' Dr Milburn shook his head, his blond locks slightly swaying. 'I trust you made sure he was well wrapped up before you both ventured forth?'

His eyes lowered to her neckline. Emma felt her flesh crawl. She wished she had brought lace with her, but to retreat now would be to admit she had made a mistake.

'My father has improved a good deal recently.' Emma raised her chin, and ignored the tiny pain in the back of her eyes.

'I put it down to stimulating dinner conversation myself,' Jack remarked, straightening his cuffs and moving so that he had subtly placed his body between Emma and Dr Milburn.

Dr Milburn looked him up and down with a raised eyebrow. 'And you are?'

'Jack Stanton. I believe we knew each other in our younger years at school. You are Charles Milburn.'

'Ah, yes, I can place the features. You were a charity case. I heard you were working for Harrison and Lowe again.' Dr Milburn's voice was cold. 'I suppose it explains why Miss Harrison has arrived with you.'

'Mr Stanton is one of the foremost civil engineers of our day, Dr Milburn.' Emma kept her voice steady.

'Indeed, Miss Emma.' Dr Milburn gave a cough. 'I must have heard the latest gossip wrong. I could have sworn that he had returned to his old post.'

Emma bit her lip. The insult to Jack was unmistakable. She could tell from his stance that the barbed comment had hit home. After all he had achieved, he remained vulnerable.

'Mr Stanton is looking after the project while my father recovers,' Emma said. 'He is Robert Stephenson's new partner, and has been entertaining my father and me with his tales of railways in far-flung places.'

She waited, and saw Jack's shoulders relax slightly, and Dr Milburn's frown increase.

'Hopefully you are making sure he takes his tonic, Miss Harrison. You must not underestimate its importance for a man in your father's condition. I have seen so many like him--fine one day, and the next they are at death's door. I am sure it is not a fate you wish on your father.' Dr Milburn drawled the words.

'No, indeed.' Emma cringed. The last thing she needed was Dr Milburn dropping hints about her father's health in the presence of the man most likely to exploit the information. And she had to remember that Jack was the enemy, not Dr Milburn.

'Edward Harrison needs medicine for a chill?' Jack asked. 'What is wrong with him?'

'I recommend all my elderly patients take my tonic.' Dr Milburn puffed up. 'It does wonders for them. I am sure it helped prolong the late Mrs Harrison's life.'

'My father has a very independent mind.'

'I know, but I am counting on you, Miss Harrison. You will save a dance for me, won't you?'

'But not a polka. She is already spoken for with that dance,' Jack said smoothly, but his eyes were cold.

'Perhaps the Sir Roger de Coverley. It is a fine dance, very respectable.' Dr Milburn indicated that he considered the polka to be beneath him. 'The committee have decreed, in accordance with tradition, that the reel will be the last dance. A festive way to end this holiday ball.'

Emma glanced from Jack to Dr Milburn. Jack Stanton appeared close to creating a scene.

What had happened between these two in the past? She hid a smile. Dancing with Dr Milburn would show Jack that she was not without partners.

'Yes, I believe I am not engaged for that one.'

'I look forward to it with great eagerness, Miss Emma.' Dr Milburn made a bow and was gone.

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing untoward had happened. She started to go towards the chandelier room, but Jack's fingers held her elbow. She turned to see his intent face--

black hair framing even darker eyes.

'How long has Charles Milburn been your father's doctor?'

'For the last five years or so. He was wonderfully kind when Mama was dying.' Emma tilted her head. 'Dr Milburn serves as Papa's personal physician and the company's doctor.'

'We knew each other at school.' Jack forced his jaw to relax, forced his mind not to revisit the petty cruelties Milburn had inflicted on those unable or unwilling to stand up for themselves.

'I had always wondered who Milburn reminded me of, and now I know.'

'Who?' Emma tilted her head, and her curls touched the white column of her throat.

'A man I was unfortunately acquainted with in Brazil.' Jack chose his words with care.

'And this person was not someone you were overly fond of?'

'He was a conman and murderer,' Jack stated, and watched Emma pale.

'Dr Milburn kept my mother alive.' Emma's voice became chilled. 'Mama lived for his visits.

He has been helpful with my father, who is not the best of patients. People change. You have.'

'As you say, people change.'

'Father would have a match between Dr Milburn and me, but I suspects he says it in fun.'

Emma gave a little laugh. She could hardly confide her unease to Jack. Dr Milburn was fine as her father's physician, but as a husband--never! 'He knows I am determined on my spinsterhood.'

Jack's eyes travelled down her face, finally resting on her neckline. A bold, caressing gaze that caused a strange warmth to grow inside her. Emma resisted the urge to pull her neckline higher. 'In that dress, you look anything but a spinster.'

'I shall take that as a compliment.' Emma looked at him from under her eyelashes.

'It was an observation, Miss Harrison. Pray do not mistake the two.'

Several men claimed Jack's attention before Emma had time to give a suitable retort. She glared at his back.

'Emma Harrison!' Lucy's laughing voice called out from the increasing throng of people. 'Of all the things!'

Emma spotted her friend, sitting with the other young matrons as the dancers swirled around them. The room baked in the glow of the crystal chandeliers. The committee had ensured the rooms were festooned with greenery, giving it a very festive look.

'Is there something wrong?' Emma asked, as she noticed Lucy's brows puckering.

'I haven't seen you wear a dress like that in years...not since...well, since your mother became seriously ill,' Lucy replied, holding out her hand. 'Are you going back on the marriage mart? Giving up on your determination to lead the solitary life?'

Emma shook her head. 'I made an unwise bargain.'

'A bargain? Do tell me more.' Lucy patted the seat beside her and Emma sank gratefully down. She had forgotten how many petticoats a ballgown required, and how much the weight increased. 'If you look now, you will see that my sister-in-law is seething.'

'Why?' Emma looked with interest to where Lottie Charlton stood, listening to Dr Milburn.

'She does appear to have swallowed a rather nasty plum. Perhaps she is not enamoured of Dr Milburn's conversation.'

'You upstaged her entrance. Lottie had consigned you to the shelf, and you--you have leapt off it in spectacular style tonight. That dress, Emma!'

'I have done nothing of the sort.' Emma gestured with her fan towards the increasing crowd of men who surrounded Lottie. The petite blonde was half hiding her face behind a fan, and laughing flirtatiously at something Jack said. Emma ignored the stab of jealousy. 'She is quite the picture. You can see from here the officers lining up to beg her acquaintance from one of the stewards. You will see. I shall have my normal place at your side for most of the dances while she is the reigning belle.'

'Reigning belle she may be, but Lottie is also a minx. She has enticed Mr Higgins to put mistletoe up, and is determined to catch your Jack Stanton under it.' Lucy nodded to where the kissing ball presided in the centre of the room. 'It's also hidden in the garlands. She will come to no good one of these days, and be married off to the wrong man.'

'He is not my Jack Stanton,' Emma retorted, and then worried that she had said the words too quickly. She should have concentrated on Lottie's misdemeanours--a much more suitable subject, and having little or no peril.

'You arrived with him, and there's a sort of glow about you tonight that I haven't seen in many years.' Lucy folded her hands in her lap and gave a very superior smile. 'It makes you look years younger, less like a dried-up prune.'

She ignored the glow, and the prune comment. Lucy had obviously mistaken strain and heat from the chandeliers for something else. And her clothes were suited to the purpose.

'Only because Jack Stanton forced my hand,' Emma said between gritted teeth.

She restrained her fingers from fiddling with the pearl button of her glove. A lady does not fidget--words her mother had tirelessly repeated rose up again. Her life now was very different from one that her mother would have considered proper.

'Forced you?' Lucy put her hand over her mouth, but Emma saw the amused glint in her eyes.

'I find it hard to believe that any man could force you to do anything. You have grown formidable, Emma.'

'You have been a friend for a long time, Lucy, and I shall allow that remark to pass.' Emma lifted her fan to hide her expression. It was all right for Lucy to talk. She had chosen Henry Charlton six years ago, after she had been out for a while but before her star had started to wane. It was not a love-match, but one in which Lucy professed herself content. 'But even old friends should not presume to take liberties.'

'Stuff and nonsense, Emma, we have been friends for ever.' Lucy laid a gloved hand on Emma's arm. 'What I worry about is what will happen if your father remarries.'

'I don't think that is a possibility.' Emma gave an arch laugh and hoped. She had not confided in Lucy about her father's illness and her fears.

'You do need to think about it.' Lucy's hand tightened. 'He is not that old, and he is possessed of reasonable fortune. See how that farmer's widow from the Tyne Valley circles.'

Emma shifted uncomfortably as a cold chill passed down her. She had been in charge of the house ever since her mother became ill--seven long years. If her father did remarry she would be delighted for him, but the house would cease to be her domain. 'I can always be a companion.'

'Emma, you are not one of life's companions--ready to fetch and carry, read aloud dull religious tracts and do endless tatting and netting.'

'You didn't think I would make a good nurse either,' Emma reminded her. 'You made many dire predictions and told me that I would abandon Mama and wed before the year was up.'

'Sometimes I think you persisted simply because you delight in proving everyone wrong.'

Lucy's brown eyes twinkled. 'I have known you for a long time, Emma Harrison.'

No, I persisted because my heart ached. Emma caught her lip between her teeth. Where had that thought come from? She banished it. She was happy and content with her life. Her sole concern was her father, and keeping him alive. 'There may be something in that, Lucy.'

'Miss Harrison.' Jack's warm voice washed over her. 'Here I discover you. You appeared to have been swallowed up by the crush.'

'I did not know you needed to discover me.' Emma slowly lowered her fan, placed it in her lap, but her insides trembled. She had hoped that Jack would be content with her simply appearing at the ball. 'I thought I was visible from all angles.'

'Have you forgotten? We are to polka.' His manner was light but his eyes were cold. 'The first dance is the polka. I do not see any point in wasting more time. And you do not appear engaged for the dance.'

Emma's heart sank. Now that it came to it, she was less than certain that she could do it. She knew the steps. But to be out in the middle amongst all those people--people who could remember when she'd been the belle of the ball instead of being led out onto the floor for the Sir Roger de Coverley at the very end. 'I had thought I would have longer.'

'Longer? Longer to get up your nerve, or to find an excuse as to why you are suddenly afflicted with pains in your legs and cannot dance?'

'Emma, you never said that Mr Stanton had asked you to partner him for a dance. You silly puss.' Lucy's eyes twinkled with mischief. 'And here I thought you were to keep me company until Dr Milburn claimed you. Pray, take her away, sir. She does precious little dancing these days, not like when we were young. I should like to see her polka.'

'She claims to know the steps, but I have my doubts.' Jack's gaze challenged her.

'You doubt my word, but I am no liar, Mr Stanton. I do know the steps.'

'She is shocking, isn't she?' Lucy put her finger to her lips. 'I trust she will not tread on your toes.'

'I have never trodden on anyone's toes.' Emma put her hand on one hip. 'Really, Lucy!'

'Emma is far more interested these days in silly calculations about wind speeds and tides,'

Lucy continued, as if Emma had not spoken. 'For ever going on about them. I mean, who would be interested in such things as a topic of polite conversation?'

Emma's breath stopped in her throat. She was torn between the desire to shake Lucy and the pride she took in her own ability.

'Indeed? I had not realised her interest in civil engineering extended as far as that.'

'Oh, yes. You should see her designs for the new bridge. I saw the early sketches, and then how--'

'Lucy Charlton, you are allowing your tongue to run away with you,' Emma said quickly.

'Sometimes I don't think you know what you are saying.'

'But I do know what you are trying to do, Emma Harrison! And I quite agree with Mr Stanton that you should not be allowed to sit on the sidelines when other lesser dancers take to the floor.'

Lucy's elbow dug into Emma's back, forcing her to stand. Emma shot a black look at her friend.

'Tell him,' she said in an urgent undertone. 'Tell him you were teasing me.'

'I am funning, Mr Stanton.' Lucy fluttered her fan. 'She has been sitting here tapping her foot to the music. She is the same old Emma Harrison that she was years ago. You have come to her rescue not a moment too soon. She was using her hand to stifle a yawn.'

'And I thought you enjoyed my company, Lucy,' Emma protested, but she gave her friend a grateful look. She had to tread very carefully where Jack was concerned.